Ex Lib r is 
 C. K. OGDEN 
 
 
 
 
 THE LIBRARY 
 
 OF 
 
 THE UNIVERSITY 
 
 OF CALIFORNIA 
 
 LOS ANGELES
 
 / 
 
 
 
 \ 
 
 }
 
 DICTIONARY 
 
 OF 
 
 ANECDOTES.
 
 A 
 
 DTCITIOINARY 
 
 OF 
 
 ANECDOTES 
 
 CHIEFLY HISTORICAL, 
 
 AND ILLUSTRATIVE OF 
 
 CHARACTERS AND EVENTS, 
 
 ANCIENT AND MODERN. 
 
 DRAWN FROM GENUINE SOURCES, AND ALPHABETICALLY 
 ARRANGED ACCORDING TO THE RESPECTIVE SUBJECTS. 
 
 IN TWO VOLUMES. 
 
 VOL. I. 
 
 THIRD EDITION. 
 
 LONDON: 
 
 Printed by B. M'Millan. Bow-Street, Covent-Gnrdtn ; 
 
 FOR SHERWOOD, NEELY AND JONES, 
 PATERNOSTER-ROW. 
 
 1816.
 
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 .4? C~> #""!* O #?~\ *-*) r
 
 PREFACE. 
 
 COLLECTIONS of Anecdotes are common in our 
 language as well as in most others ; nor has the Editor 
 of the one now offered to the Public, any inclination to 
 depreciate the value of those labours by which he has 
 frequently been amused, and of which, in this Selec- 
 tion, he has occasionally profited. 
 
 But it must be allowed, that even some of the best of 
 these Compilations have deviated from the strict pro- 
 priety of their title, by giving criticisms and opinion?, 
 fictitious narratives, and pieces of poetry, as Anecdotes, 
 to which appellation most unquestionably such articles 
 can have no legitimate claim. 
 
 Most of these works are also defective in the mode of 
 arrangement. ; the greater part of them being miscella- 
 neous, observing no order in the disposition of the sub- 
 jects ; while those which preserve some form of classifi- 
 cation, place the Anecdotes under the names of the per- 
 sons concerning whom the matters are related. This last 
 method, however, is not particularly objectionable; 
 though it by no means possesses the advantages derived 
 from the plan pursued by Wanley, in his " Wonders of 
 the Little World ;" where the most striking phenomena 
 of human nature are disposed in a regular manner under 
 their respective heads and qualities. But even this mode 
 does not seem to be the best for a collection of histori- 
 cal facts and extraordinary circumstances, which have
 
 Vlll PREFACE. 
 
 no connexion with moral system. The French " Dic- 
 tionnaire des Anecdotes," appeared to the Editor as a 
 model which might be successfully imitated in our lan- 
 guage, even though it should be necessary to relate 
 many stories over again which have been already repeat- 
 edly told. In his endeavours to produce a work of en- 
 tertainment, he has sedulously examined numerous vo- 
 lumes, both English and French ; some of thein very 
 scarce, and others large and expensive; from which he 
 has culled the most striking and agreeable incidents that 
 appeared likely to prove instructive and amusing. 
 
 After all, this is not pretended to be a complete Col- 
 lection, which indeed can never be the case, since new 
 researches and observations will always afford new sup- 
 plies of literary luxury.
 
 ANECDOTES, 
 
 ABSENCE. 
 
 BlSHOP BURNET was famous for that ab- 
 sence of thought which constitutes the character 
 of what the French call Vetourdie. It happened 
 that at Paris, about the year 1680, several ladies 
 of quality were imprisoned on suspicion of poi- 
 soning, and among the rest, the countess of 
 Soissons, niece of cardinal Mazarin, and mother 
 of the famous prince Eugene of Savoy. In the 
 latter end of queen Anne's reign, when the prince 
 came over to England, bishop Burnet, whose 
 curiosity was as eager as that of any woman in 
 the kingdom, begged of the duke of Marlbo- 
 rough, that he might have the satisfaction of be- 
 ing in company with a person whose fame re- 
 sounded throughout Europe. The duke com- 
 plied with his request, on condition that he would 
 be upon his guard against saying any thing that 
 might give disgust ; accordingly he was invited 
 to dine with the prince, and other company, at 
 
 VOL. I. B
 
 Z ABSENCE. 
 
 Marlborough -house. The bishop, mindful of the 
 caution he had received, resolved to sit silent 
 during the entertainment, and might have kept 
 his resolution, had not prince Eugene, seeing 
 him a dignified clergyman, taken it in his head to 
 ask who he was. Tic no sooner understood that it 
 was Dr. Burnet, of whom he had often heard, 
 than he addressed himself to the bishop, and 
 among other questions, asked when he was last at 
 Paris. Burnet, fluttered by this unexpected ad- 
 dress, and still more perplexed by an eager desire 
 to give satisfaction, answered with precipitation, 
 that he could not recollect the year, but it was at 
 the time when the countess of Soissons was im- 
 prisoned. He had scarce pronounced the words, 
 when his eyes meeting those of the duke, he in- 
 stantly perceived his blunder, and was deprived 
 of all the discretion he had left. He redoubled 
 his error, by asking pardon of his highness : lie 
 stared wildly around, and seeing the whole com- 
 pany embarrassed, and out of countenance, re- 
 tired in the utmost confusion. 
 
 The same bishop, dining one day with Sarah 
 duchess of Marlborough, the conversation turned 
 upon the ingratitude of the government to the 
 great man her husband, who was then deprived of 
 his places: Burnet aptly enough compared the 
 duke to Bclisarius ; when her grace asked what 
 was the principal occasion of his misfortune and
 
 ABSENCE;. 5 
 
 tlownfal. " Oh, madam," said iBurnet, ec poor 
 35elisarius had a sad brimstone of a wife !" 
 
 Sir John Hill, in his Treatise on the Hypo- 
 chondria, relates the following remarkable anec- 
 dote : 
 
 The late Dr. Stukely has told me, that one 
 day, by appointment, visiting Sir Isaac Newton, 
 the servant told him he was in his study. No 
 one was permitted to disturb him there ; but as it 
 was near dinner time, the visitor sat down to wait 
 .for ihim. After a time dinner was brought in a 
 boiled chicken under a cover. An hour passed, 
 and Sir Isaac did not appear. The doctor ate 
 the fowl, and covering up the empty dish, bid 
 them dress their master another. Before that was 
 ready, the great man came down ; he apologized 
 for his delay, and added, " give me but leave to 
 take my short dinner, and I shall be at your ser- 
 vice; I am fatigued and faint." Saying this, he 
 lifted up the cover, and without any emotion, 
 turned about to Stukely with a smile : " See," 
 says he, " what we studious people are : I forgot 
 I had dined." 
 
 When the earl of Portland was lord treasu- 
 rer of England in 1634, he had, like other great 
 statesmen, a crowd of suitors; among others was 
 Mr. CaDsar, master of the Rolls, who had been 
 b2
 
 4 ABSENCE. 
 
 soliciting (he place of one of the six clerks in 
 Chancery for his son, Mr. Robert Caesar, in the 
 room of Mr. d'Ewes, but was disappointed in 
 his expectations ; the lord treasurer, although 
 he had promised it to Mr. Caesar, having given it 
 to Mr. Keene, but promised to urge his majesty 
 in favour of Mr. Caesar the next vacancy that 
 happened; but the treasurer was as negligent as 
 formerly, when lord Tullibarne eagerly solicited 
 for Mr. Caesar, and was promised. Tired with 
 useless application, he desired the treasurer to 
 declare his intentions; and he answered, that his 
 intentions were for Mr. Caesar ; but, that he 
 might not forget it in future, he desired a token 
 of remembrance, which the other readily com- 
 plied with, and wrote on a paper, " Rcmember 
 Caesar !" In the hurry of business even this was 
 forgotten. Some time after, while the earl was 
 looking over some loose papers, he observed one 
 with this writing " Remember Caesar!" The 
 former circumstance had escaped his recollection ; 
 therefore, being greatly alarmed, he summoned 
 his friends, to have their opinion upon it, who 
 .til agreed that an attempt on his life was in agita- 
 tion, and desired him to use every precaution. 
 In eonsequence of this his house was barricadoed, 
 guards were placed all around, and every thing 
 had the appearance of danger and apprehension, 
 when lord Tullibarne waited upou him again,
 
 ABSENCE. 5 
 
 but could not gain admittance, till he informed 
 one of the treasurer's friends of the circumstance 
 of the note, which brought the whole to the earl's 
 recollection, and he complied with lord Tulli- 
 barne's request, Mr. Caesar being appointed one 
 of the six clerks. 
 
 This anecdote is taken from an old manuscript 
 in the British Museum ; but it is circumstantially 
 related in lord Clarendon's first volume of the 
 History of the Rebellion. 
 
 The celebrated Hogarth was one of the most 
 absent of men. Soon after he set up his car- 
 riage, he had occasion to pay a visit to the 
 lord mayor. When he went the weather was 
 fine ; but he was detained by business till a vio- 
 lent shower of rain came on. Being let out of the 
 mansion-house by a different door from that at 
 which he had entered, he immediately began to 
 call for a hackney-coach. Not one could be pro- 
 cured, on which Hogarth sallied forth to brave 
 the storm, and actually reached his house in Lei- 
 cester-fields without bestowing a thought on his 
 own carriage, till Mrs. Hogarth, astonished to see 
 hijn so wet and hurried, asked him where he had 
 left it. 
 
 The Rev. George Harvest, author of an ela- 
 borate Treatise on Subscription to Articles of 
 b3
 
 6 AHSENCE. 
 
 Faith, and a volume of excellent sermons, was a 
 most extraordinary character. He was educated 
 at Eton and King's college, Cambridge, and be- 
 coming acquainted : with Mr. Arthur Onslow, 
 speaker of the house of commons, he procured 
 him the living of Thames Ditton, in Surrey, 
 and lord Onslow, the speaker's son, was parti- 
 cularly fond of his company, so that Harvest 
 spent a considerable part of his time at Ember- 
 court, his lordship's seat in that parish. He was 
 a man of learning and genius ; but his ideas were 
 sometimes so confused, that he has been fre- 
 quently known to write a letter to one person, and 
 address it to another, who could not devise from 
 whom it came, because the writer had forgotten 
 to subscribe his name to it. 
 
 A friend and he walking together in the Tem- 
 ple-gardens one evening, previous to the meeting 
 of the club called the Beef-steak Club, in Ivy- 
 lane, to- which they were going, and to which 
 Smollet, Johnson, and others, belonged, Mr. 
 Harvest picked up a small pebble, of so odd a 
 make, that he said he would present it to lord 
 Bute, who was an eminent virtuoso. After they 
 had walked some time, his friend asked him what 
 o'clock it was to which, pulling out his watch, 
 he answered, that they had seven minutes good. 
 Accordingly they took a turn or two more, when, 
 to his friend's astonishment, he threw his watch
 
 ABSENCE. 7 
 
 into the Thames, and with great sedateness put 
 the pebble into his fob. 
 
 Mr. Harvest being once in company with Mr. 
 Onslow in a boat, began to read a favourite 
 Greek author with such strange theatrical ges- 
 tures, that his wig fell into the water, and so im- 
 patient was he to get it, that he jumped into the 
 fiver to fetch it out, and was with difficulty 
 fished out himself. 
 
 When lord Sandwich was canvassing the uni- 
 versity of Cambridge for the chancellorship, Mr< 
 Harvest, who had been his school-fellow at Eton, 
 went down to give hirn his vote. Being at dinner 
 there in a large company, he suddenly said 
 " Apropos! whence do you, my Lord, derive 
 your nick-name of Jemmy Twitcher ?" " Why," 
 answered his lordship, " from some foolish fel- 
 low." " No," replied Harvest, " it is not from 
 some, but everybody calls you so." On which 
 his lordship, to end the disagreeable conversa- 
 tion, put a large slice of pudding on his plate, 
 which effectually stopped his mouth for that 
 time. 
 
 On another occasion, having accompanied the 
 same nobleman to Calais, they walked on the 
 ramparts. Musing on some abstract proposition, 
 Harvest lost his company; and as he could not 
 speak French, he was at a loss to find his way to 
 the inn ; but recollecting that the sign was the 
 b4
 
 8 ACTING. 
 
 Silver Lion, he put a shilling in his mouth, and 
 set himself in the attitude of a lion rampant. 
 After exciting much admiration, he was led back 
 to the inn by a soldier, who thought he was a 
 maniac escaped from his keepers. 
 
 Having to preach before the clergy at a visita- 
 tion, he provided himself with three sermons for 
 the purpose. Some wags of his brethren, to whom 
 he mentioned the circumstance, contrived to get 
 the sermons from his pocket, and having sepa- 
 rated the leaves, sewed them all up without any 
 regard to order. The doctor began his sermon, 
 and soon lost the thread of his discourse : he be- 
 came confused, but still went on, and actually 
 preached out, first the archdeacon and clergy, 
 next the churchwardens, and lastly the whole 
 congregation ; nor would he conclude, if the sex- 
 ton had not informed him that all the pews were 
 empty. 
 
 There are many strange circumstances related 
 of him, and some of them are beyond the boun- 
 daries of probability. He died at Ember^court 
 in 1789, aged 61. 
 
 ACTING. 
 
 Though that great performer, James Quin, 
 made his first appearance at Drury-lane in 1718,
 
 ACTING. 9 
 
 yet it was not till the year 1720 that he had an 
 opportunity of displaying his great theatrical 
 powers. Upon the revival of the Merry Wives 
 of Windsor at Lincoln's-inn-fields, of which 
 Rich was then manager, there was no one in the 
 whole company who would undertake the part of 
 FalstafF; Rich was therefore inclined to give up 
 all thoughts of representing it, when Quin hap- 
 pening to come in his way, said, " If he pleased, 
 he would attempt it." " Hem !" said Rich, tak- 
 ing a pinch of snuff il you attempt FalstafF! 
 why (hem !) you might as well think of acting 
 Cato after Booth. The character of FalstafF, 
 young man, is quite another character from what 
 you think (taking another pinch of snufF) ; it is 
 not a little snivelling part, that-that in short, 
 that any one can do. There is not a man among 
 you that has any idea of the part but myself. It 
 is quite out of your walk. No, never think of 
 FalstafF never think of FalstafF it is quite 
 quite out of your walk, indeed, young man." 
 
 This was the reception his first effort of step- 
 ping out of the Faggot- walk met with, and for 
 some days he laid aside all thoughts of ever doing 
 FalstafF, or indeed speaking upon the stage, ex- 
 cept it were to deliver a message. Ryan, who 
 at that time had the ear and confidence of Rich, 
 Having heard Quin, long before he thought of 
 coming upon the stage, repeat .some passages in.
 
 K> ACTING. 
 
 the character of Falslaff, prevailed upon the ma- 
 nager to let Quia rehearse them before him; 
 which he accordingly did, but not much to his 
 master's satisfaction. However, as the case was 
 desperate, and either the Merry Wives of Wind- 
 sor must have been laid aside, or Quin perforin 
 FalstafF, this alternative, at length, prevailed 
 upon Rich to admit James into this part. 
 
 The first night of his appearance in this cha- 
 racter, he surprized and astonished the audience i 
 no actor before ever entered into the spirit of the 
 author, and it seemed as if Shakspeare had by 
 intuition drawn the knight so long before for 
 Quin only to represent. The just applause he 
 met with upon this occasion is incredible : conti- 
 nued clappings, and peals of laughter, in some 
 measure interrupted the representation ; though it 
 was impossible that any regularity whatever could 
 have more increased the mirth, or excited the ap- 
 probation of the audience. Jt would, however, 
 be injustice to the other performers, not to ac- 
 knowledge that they greatly contributed to the 
 success of the piece, which had a very great run, 
 and was of eminent service to the company. Ryan 
 was excellent in .the part of Ford; S pillar, rec- 
 koned among the greatest comedians of that? 
 time, performed one of his strongest parts, that 
 of Dr. Cains ; and Boheme, another very good 
 actor, did Justice Shallow.
 
 A-CTING. 11 
 
 When Quin engaged at Drury-lane, about the 
 year 1731, he succeeded the elder Mills in all the 
 capital parts of tragedy; and Delane suppl'ed 
 his place at Lincoln's-inn-fields, after having 
 performed for some time with tolerable success at 
 Goodman's-fields. But it was upon Booth's quit- 
 ting the stage, on account of his illness > that Quin 
 shone forth in all his splendour ; and yet he had 
 the diffidence, upon the first night of his appear- 
 ing in Cato, to insert in the bills, that the part of 
 Cato zcould be only attempted by Mr. Quin. 
 The modesty of this invitation produced a full 
 house, and a favourable audience; but the actor's 
 own peculiar incrit effected more. When he came 
 to that part of the play where his dead son is 
 brought in upon the bier, Quin, in speaking these 
 words, 
 
 Thanks to the gods ! my boy has done his duty ! 
 
 so affected the whole house, that they cried out 
 with a continued acclamation, Booth outdone! 
 Booth ouidonel 
 
 Yet this was not the summit of his applause ; 
 for when he repeated the famous soliloquy, he 
 was encored to that degree, that though it was 
 submitting to an impropriety, he indulged the 
 audience with its repetition. 
 
 There was at that time upon Drury-lane theatre 
 u subaltern player, whose name never appeared
 
 J2 ACTING. 
 
 in the bills. His name was "Williams, and he 
 was a native of Wales. He performed the part 
 of the Messenger in the above tragedy, and in 
 saying, " Caesar sends health to Cato," he pro- 
 nounce;! the last word Keeto, which so struck 
 Quin, that he replied with his usual coolness, 
 u Would he had sent a better Messenger." This 
 reply so stung Williams, that he vowed revenge; 
 and following Quin into the green-room when he 
 came off the stage, after representing the in- 
 jury he had done him, by making him appear 
 ridiculous in the ej'es of the audience, and thereby 
 hurting him in his profession, he demanded sa- 
 tisfaction as a gentleman. Quin, with his usual 
 philosophy and good humour, endeavoured to 
 rally his passion. This however only served to 
 add fuel to the rage of his antagonist, who with- 
 out farther remonstrance retired, and waited for 
 Quin under the Piazza, upon his return from the 
 tavern to his lodgings. 
 
 Immediately on seeing Quin, Williams drew 
 and attacked him; but in the rencontre he him- 
 self received a mortal wound. Quin was tried 
 /or this affair at the Old Bailey, and the verdict 
 was manslaughter. 
 
 When Gauiiick was last at Paris, Preville, the 
 celebrated French actor, invited him to his villa. 
 Our Roscius, being in a gay humour,, proposed
 
 ACTING. 13 
 
 to go irt one of the hired coaches that regularly 
 ply between Paris and Versailles, on which road 
 Preville's villa was situated. When they got in, 
 Garrick ordered the coachman to drive on ; but 
 the fellow answered, that he would do so as soon 
 as he had .got his complement of four passengers. 
 A ca-price immediately seized Garrick ; he deter- 
 mined to give his brother player a specimen of 
 his art. While the coachman was attentively 
 looking out for passengers, Garrick slipped out 
 at the door, went round the coach, and by his 
 wonderful command of countenance, a power 
 which he so happily displayed in Abel Drugger, 
 palmed himself upon the coachman as a stranger. 
 This he did twice, and was admitted each time 
 into the coach as a fresh passenger, to the asto- 
 nishment and admiration of Prcville. Garrick 
 whipped out a third time, and addressing him- 
 self to the coachman, was answered in a surly 
 4onc, "that he had already got his complement," 
 and would have drove off without him, had not 
 Preville called out, that as the stranger appeared 
 to be a very little man, they would, to accommo- 
 date the gentleman, contrive to make room for 
 him. 
 
 Mr. Cumberland, in his Memoirs, gives the fol- 
 lowing account of a celebrated Spanish actress. 
 I was not often tempted to the theatre, which
 
 14 ACTING. 
 
 was small, dark, Unfurnished, and ill-attended 5 
 yet when the celebrated tragic actress, known by 
 the title of the Tiranna, played, it was a treat, 
 which I should suppose no ofher stage then in 
 'Europe could corrtpare with. That extraordinary 
 woman, whose real name I do not remember, and 
 "whose real origin cannot be traced, till it is set- 
 tled from what particular nation or people we are 
 to derive the outcast race of gipsies, was not less 
 formed to strike beholders with the beauty and 
 commanding majesty of her person, than to asto- 
 nish all that heard her, by the powers that nature 
 and art had combined to give her. My friend, 
 count Pietra Santa, who had honourable access 
 to this great stage-heroine, intimated to her the 
 "very high expectation I had formed of her per- 
 formances, and the eager desire 1 had to see her 
 in one of her capital characters, telling her at the 
 same time that I had been a writer for the stage in 
 my own country. In consequence of this inti- 
 mation, she sent me word that I should have no- 
 tice from her, when she wished me to come to 
 the theatre, till when, she desired I would not 
 present myself in my box upon any night, though 
 her name might be in the bill, for it was only 
 when she liked her part, and was in the humour 
 to play well, that she wished me to be present. 
 
 In obedience to her message I waited several 
 days, and at last received the looked-for sum-
 
 ACTINGS 15 
 
 mons. I had not been many minutes in the the- 
 atre before she sent a mandate to me to go home, 
 for that she was in no disposition that evening for 
 playing well, and should neither do justice to 
 her own talents, nor to my expectations. I in- 
 stantly obeyed this whimsical injunction, know- 
 ing it to be so* perfectly in character with the ca- 
 pricious humour of her tribe. When something 
 more than a week had passed, I was again invited 
 to the theatre, and permitted to sit out the whole 
 representation . I had not then enough of the 
 language to understand much more than the inci- 
 dents and action of the play, which was of the 
 deepest cast of tragedy, for in the course of the 
 plot she murdered her infant children, and exhi- 
 bited them dead on the stage lying on each side 
 of her, whilst she, sitting on the bare floor be- 
 tween them (her attitude, action, features, tones, 
 defying all description), presented such a high- 
 wrought picture of hysteric frenzy, laughing 
 zcild amid severest zcoe, as placed her, in my 
 judgment, at the very summit of her art ; in fact, 
 I have no conception that the powers of acting 
 can be carried higher; and such was the effect 
 upon the audience, that whilst the spectators in 
 the pit, having caught a kind of sympathetic 
 frenzy from the scene, were rising up in a tumul- 
 tuous manner, the word was given out by autho- 
 rity for letting fall the curtain, and a catastrophe,
 
 16 ACTING. 
 
 probably too strong for exhibition, was not allowed 
 to be completed. 
 
 A few minutes had passed, when this wonderful 
 creature, led in by Pietra Santa, entered my box : 
 the artificial paleness of her cheeks, her eyes, 
 which she had dyed of a bright vermillion round 
 the edges of the lids, her fine arms bare to the 
 shoulders, the wild magnificence of her attire, 
 and the profusion of her dishevelled locks, glossy 
 black as the plumage of the raven, gave her the 
 appearance of something so more than human, 
 such a Sybil, such an imaginary being, so awful, 
 so impressive, that my blood chilled as she ap- 
 proached me, not to ask, but to claim my applause ; 
 demanding of me if I had ever seen any actress, 
 that could be compared with her in my own, or 
 i\ny other country ? " I was determined," she 
 said, " to exert myself for you this night ; and if 
 the sensibility of the audience would have suffered 
 me to have concluded the scene, I should have 
 convinced you that I do not boast of my own 
 performances without reason." 
 
 This account brings to mind the description of 
 the celebrated Mrs. Cibber, as given by Victor in 
 his History of the Theatres. In 1745 she first 
 performed the part of Constance in "King John," 
 which she executed in so superior a manner as to 
 extinguish the merit of every other performer.
 
 ADVICE. 17 
 
 (hough Mr. Garrick represented the king, she 
 surpassed all that have followed her in that cha- 
 racter. When she entered with dishevelled hair 
 and wildness in her eyes, having lost her son, 
 " her pretty Arthur," the Cardinal and others at- 
 tempting to comfort her, she sunk on the ground, 
 and looking round with a dignified wildness and 
 horror, said, 
 
 " Here I and sorrow sit! this is my throne: 
 " Let kings come how to it." 
 
 Nothing that ever was exhibited could exceed this 
 picture of distress ; and nothing that ever came 
 from the mouth of mortal was spoken with 
 more dignified propriety. The late Mrs. Woff- 
 ington, who was excellent in many parts of this 
 character, could never succeed in this particular 
 passage. Mrs. Gibber never executed it without 
 a burst of applause from the whole audience. 
 
 ADVICE. 
 
 Sir Richard Onslow and sir Anthony Ashley 
 Cooper were one day invited by sir John Danvers 
 to dine with him at Chelsea, and desired to come 
 early, as he had an affair of moment to commu- 
 nicate to them. They went ; and being sealed, 
 sir John told them, that he had made choice of 
 them, both for their known abilities and particu- 
 tol. i. c
 
 18 ADVICE. 
 
 lar friendship to him, in order to advise with 
 them in a matter ot great consequence. He had, 
 he said, been a widower many years, and began 
 to want somebody that might ease him of the 
 trouble of housekeeping, and take some care of 
 him in his old age ; and to that purpose had 
 thought of a woman whom lie had known some 
 years ; in short, said he, 'tis my housekeeper. 
 The gentlemen, "who were well acquainted wilh 
 the family, and had a great regard for sir John's 
 children, now grown up, were somewhat mortified 
 at this declaration; and accordingly sir Richard 
 Onslow frankly began to set the impropriety 
 of marrying at his years before him, particularly 
 to such a woman ; and then he was going to enter 
 into a description of her, when sir Anthony, inter- 
 rupting him, said, "Give me leave, sir Richard, 
 to ask our friend one question, before you pro- 
 ceed:" So addressing himself (o sir John, " Tell 
 me truly," said he, " are you not already mar- 
 ried ?" Sir John, after a short pause, answered, 
 " Yes, truly he was, the day before." " Well 
 then," replied sir Anthony, " there is no more 
 need of our advice; pray let us have the honour 
 to see my lady, wish her joy, and so to dinner." As 
 they were returning to London, sir Richard said, 
 " I am obliged to you for preventing me from 
 proceeding in a description which must have been 
 very disagreeably received ; but how came it into 
 your head to ask a man, who had invited us for
 
 ADVICE. 19 
 
 the purpose of having our advice about the pro- 
 priety of his marrying, whether he was already 
 married or not V* " Why,'* said sir Anthony, 
 " the man and the manner gave me a suspicion 
 that, having done a foolish thing, he wanted to 
 cover himself with the authority of our advice." 
 
 A rich old country neighbour of scrjeant Faza- 
 kerley, who had often endeavoured to steal his 
 advice, taking an opportunity one day, in the 
 course of a morning's ride, to ask his opinion 
 upon a point of some consequence, he gave it very 
 fidly and explicitly upon the business ; but some 
 time afterwards, the squire, coming to the other's 
 chambers in a great hurry, said, " Zounds ! Mr. 
 Fazakerley, 1 have lost four thousand pounds by 
 your advice." " Uy my advice, neighbour, how 
 so ?" replied Mr. Fazakerley. " W hy ," said the 
 other, " you were wrong in the opinion you gave 
 me in such an affair." " My opinion," says the 
 serjoant, turning to one of his books, " I don't 
 remember having ever had any such case before 
 me : 1 see nothing of it in my book." " Book ! 
 no," replied the other, " it was as we were riding 
 out together at such a time." " Oh," says (he 
 serjeant, u I remember it now, but that was only 
 my travelling opinion ; and to tell you the truth, 
 neighbour, my opinion is never to be relied upoi^ 
 unless the case appears in my fee-book." 
 c 2
 
 20 
 
 ALARM. 
 
 In July, 1759, a report was spread atLondon, 
 and many places in Kent, that the French were 
 landed, the occasion of which was this : commo- 
 dore Boys, at Deal, seeing two vessels in the offing 
 rigged in an unusual way, made signal for his 
 cruisers, then at anchor in the Downs, to slip and 
 chase them ; and soon after he went on board his 
 own ship, to give such further orders as might 
 appear to be necessary. A subaltern officer quar- 
 tered at Deal, not much relishing these disposi- 
 tions, sent away in great haste to general Bos-- 
 cawen, who commanded at Dover castle, to know 
 what he was to do with his little regiment of thirty 
 men, for that the French boats were in sight, the 
 cruisers in chase, arid the commodore gone on 
 board. The general, on receiving such positive 
 information from one of his own officers, unfor- 
 tunately did not slay to make further inquiry, 
 but instantly forwarded the letter which he had 
 received to the secretary at war, by an express 
 messenger, who spread the news through every 
 place that he passed, and reached London time 
 enough to occasion unspeakable confusion before 
 his news could be contradicted. The commo- 
 dore knew nothing of all this, though he was so 
 unfortunate as to bear the blame of it: he was
 
 ALCHYMY. 21 
 
 indeed, as well lie might, very angry when he 
 heard of it, and instantly sent off expresses to 
 contradict, and as far as possible to remedy the 
 inconveniences occasioned by the oyer haste of 
 the former one. The vessels proved to be two 
 small Dutch hoys going quietly about their busi- 
 ness. 
 
 ALCHYMY. 
 
 In the memoirs of Mrs. Thomas, known in 
 the literary world by the poetical name of Co- 
 rinna, is the following, story, which shews such a 
 degree of extravagant credulity as almost to sur- 
 pass belief, were it not (hat we are assured sir 
 Richard Steele was a sufferer by the same impo- 
 sition, and that even the philosophic Boyle la- 
 boured in the same pursuit. The mother of Mrs. 
 Thomas became iicquamted with a person who 
 was denominated a conjuror, and capable of 
 raising the Devil. Mrs. Thomas discerning in 
 this man a genius which might be improved to 
 better purposes than deceiving the country peo- 
 ple, desired him not to hide his talents, but to 
 pusli himself in the world by the abilities of 
 which he seemed possessed. " Madam," said he, 
 " 1 am now a fiddle to asses, but I am finishing a 
 great work which will make those asses fiddle to 
 c 3
 
 22 ALCHYMY. 
 
 me." She then asked what that work might be ? 
 He replied, " his life was at stake if it took air, 
 but lie found her a lady of such uncommon can- 
 dour and good sense, that he should make no 
 difficulty in committing his life and hope to her 
 keeping." All women are naturally desirous 
 of being trusted with secrets: this was Mrs. 
 Thomas's failing: the doctor found it out, and 
 made her pay dear for her curiosity. " 1 have 
 been," continued he, " many years in searcli of 
 the philosopher's stone, and long master of the 
 smaragdine table of Hermes Trismegistus ; the 
 green and red dragons of Raymond Lully have 
 been also obedient to me, and the illustrious sages 
 themselves deign to visit me; yet it is but since 1 
 had the honour to be known to you that 1 have 
 been so fortunate as to obtain the grand secret, of 
 projection. I transmuted some lead I pulled off 
 my window last night into this bit of gold." 
 Pleased with the sight of this, and having a na- 
 tural propensity to the study, the lady snatched 
 it out of the philosopher's hand, and asked why 
 he had not more? lie replied, " it was all the 
 lead he could find." She then commanded her 
 daughter to bring a parcel of lead which lay in 
 the closet, and giving it to the chymist, desired 
 him to transmute it into gold on the morrow. 
 Tie undertook it, and the next day brought her 
 an ingot weighing two ounces, which, with the
 
 ALCHYMY. 23 
 
 utmost solemnity, he avowed was the same lead 
 that she had given him, and now transmuted into 
 gold. 
 
 She began now to engage him in serious dis- 
 course ; and rinding by his replies, that he 
 wanted money to make more powder, she inquired 
 how much would make a stock that would main- 
 tain itself? He replied, fifty pounds after nine 
 months would produce a million. She then beg- 
 ged the ingot of him which he protested had been 
 transmuted from lead, and, flushed with the hopes 
 of success, hurried to town, to knovv whether it 
 was real gold, which proved to be fine beyond 
 the standard. The lady now fully convinced of 
 the truth of the empyric's declaration, took fifty 
 pounds out of the hands of the banker, and en- 
 trusted him with it. The only difficulty which 
 remained, was, how to carry ou the work without 
 suspicion, it being strictly prohibited at that 
 time. It was therefore resolved to take a Utile 
 house a few miles from London, where he was to 
 erect a laboratory as a proressed chymist, and to 
 deal in such medicines as were most vendible, by 
 the sale of which the expencc of the house was to 
 be defrayed during the operation. The widow 
 was accounted the housekeeper, and the doetor 
 and his man boarded with her ; to which she add- 
 ed this precaution, that the laboratory, with the 
 two lodging rooms over it, in which the doctor 
 c 4
 
 24: ALCHYMY. 
 
 and his man lay, was a different wing of the build- 
 ing from that where she and her daughter and 
 maid servant resided ; and as she 1; new that some 
 time must elapse before any profit could be ex- 
 pected, she managed with the utmost frugality. 
 The doctor mean time acted the part of a tutor to 
 miss, in arithmetic, Latin, and mathematics, to 
 which she discovered the strongest propensity. 
 
 All things being properly disposed for the 
 grand operation, the vitriol furnace was set to 
 work, which requiring the most intense heat for 
 several days, set fire to the house ; the stairs were 
 consumed in an instant, and as it surprised them 
 all in their first sleep, it was a happy circum- 
 stance that no life perished. This unlucky acci- 
 dent was 3001. loss to Mrs. Thomas ; yet still 
 the grand project was in a fair way of succeeding 
 in the other wing of the building. But one mis- 
 fortune is often followed by another : the next 
 Sunday evening, vvhile she was reading to her lit- 
 tle family, a sudden and violent report, like a 
 discharge of cannon, was heard ; the house, being 
 timber, rocked like a cradle, and the family were 
 all thrown from their chairs on the ground. They 
 looked with amazement on each other, not 
 guessing the cause, when the operator, pretending 
 to revive, fell to stamping, tearing his hair, and 
 raving like a madman, crying out " undone, un- 
 done, lost and undone for ever !" lie ran directly
 
 ALCHYMY. 25 
 
 io the laboratory, when unlocking the door, he 
 found the furnace split, and the precious amalga- 
 itium scattered like sand among the ashes. Mrs. 
 Thomas's eyes were now sufficiently opened to 
 discern the imposture, and with a very serene 
 countenance, told the empyric that accidents 
 would happen, but means might befallen upon to 
 repair this disappointment. The doctor observing 
 her so serene, imagined she would grant him 
 more money to complete his scheme; but she 
 soon disappointed his expectation, by ordering 
 him to be gone, and made hi in a present of five 
 guineas, lest his desperate circumstances should 
 induce him to take some violent means of pro- 
 viding for himself. 
 
 Whether deluded by a real hope of finding out 
 the philosopher's stone, or from an innate prin- 
 ciple of viilany, cannot be determined, but he 
 diJ not yet cease his pursuit, and still indulged 
 the golden delusion. He now found means to 
 work upon the credulity of an old miser, who, 
 upon the strength of his pretensions, gave him his 
 daughter in marriage, and embarked all his trea- 
 sure in the same chimerical adventure. In a 
 Avord, the miser's stock was lost, and the empyric 
 himself and the daughter reduced to want. This 
 unhappy affair broke the miser's heart, who did 
 not many weeks survive the loss of his cash : the 
 doctor put a miserable end to his own life by
 
 '2(j AMAZONS. 
 
 drinking poison, and left his wife with two young 
 children, in a state of beggary. 
 
 AMAZONS. 
 
 Ulasta, a young woman of Bohemia, was 
 taken into the service of Libussa, the wife of 
 the grand duke of Prezemislas of Poland, and, ac- 
 cording to the usages of the Sarmatians, was ha- 
 bited in a warlike dress. She surpassed all her 
 companions in field exercises, in shooting with 
 the bow and arrow, managing the horse, and in 
 throwing the javelin. But having been deceived 
 by the perfidy of her lover, she conceived the 
 most deadly hatred against all the male sex, and 
 contrived to bring over to her sentiments many 
 other women, who in one night arose and slew 
 their husbands and brothers, and ranging them- 
 selves under the orders of Ulasta, determined on 
 overturning the government of Poland. These 
 amazons formed a considerable army, and de- 
 feated the troops of Prezemislas, but falling into 
 an ambuscade, Ulasta was slain ; and her death 
 terminated a war as singular as it was sangui- 
 nary. This was at the beginning of (he thirteenth 
 century.
 
 AMAZONS. 27 
 
 The history of Denmark affords a curious in- 
 stance or* female heroism, Avilda, daughter of 
 the king of Gothland, was very handsome, but 
 contrary to the manners and disposition of her 
 sex, she exercised the profession of piracy. Sigar 
 king of Denmark solicited her in marriage, but 
 was refused. This amazon despised the usual 
 arts of courtship, and was neither to be won by 
 costly presents, nor allured by flattering addresses. 
 Sigar, therefore, perceiving that Avilda was not 
 to be gained by the usual arts of lovers, took the 
 extraordinary resolution of addressing her in a 
 method more agreeable to her humour. He 
 titled out a fleet, went in quest of her, and en- 
 gaged her in a furious battle, which continued 
 two days witiiout intermission, ana having gained 
 the victory, Sigar obtained possession of a heart 
 which was only to be conquered by valour. 
 
 Bonna, an amazon of the fifteenth century, has 
 less general renown than her shining qualities 
 seem to have merited. Brunoro, a warrior of 
 Parma, saw her in the lowest state of rusticity. 
 Struck with an indescribable expression in her 
 countenance, he attached her to himself, and 
 took her every where with him, dressed in the 
 habit of a man. She soon became an excellent 
 politician, and gained such ascendancy over the
 
 28 AMAZONS. 
 
 sagacious nobles of Venice, that they appointed 
 her protector, Brunoro, general of their troops, 
 -with a large salary. Thinking herself bound to 
 share with her husband in all his dangers, she 
 fought by his side at the head of his troops, and 
 in storming the strongest fortresses She died in 
 1466, leaving behind her an astonishing reputa- 
 tion for address and bravery. 
 
 The following extraordinary rebellion, which 
 happened in the reign of Boleslaus, surnaraed the 
 Bold, king of Poland, deserves to be quoted for 
 its singularity. This monarch had been absent 
 with his army for the space of seven years, in the 
 conquest of Russia and Hungary : which long 
 absence (say the historians) introduced confusion 
 in Poland, and filled the country with events as 
 extraordinary as any recorded in history, and 
 scarce credible if they had not been paralleled by 
 something similar in well-attested ancient annals. 
 ThePolish women, exasperated at the indifference 
 of their husbands, and the preference given to the 
 females of Kiovia, resolved on signal revenge, and 
 raised their slaves to the beds of their masters. 
 The whole sex conspired in the same infamy, en- 
 tered into solemn obligations of general prostitu- 
 tion, and thereby dishonoured themselves and 
 family from motives of revenge and jealousy. 
 Margaret, the wife of count Nicholas of Zemboi-
 
 AMAZONS. 29 
 
 sin, alone withstood the universal corruption) and 
 preserved her fidelity. She resisted all solicita- 
 tions, and refused covering herself with crimes 
 because her husband had given way to tempta- 
 tion. Advice of this strange revolution was re- 
 ceived at Kiovia, and it excited terrible commo- 
 tions. The soldiers laid their dishonour on the 
 king ; and forgetting that themselves had given 
 way to the torrent of corruption, exclaimed 
 against Boleslaus as a prince who had stained 
 his former glory by the most shameful volup- 
 tuousness, who had reaped no other fruits from 
 the conquest of Russia than those of shame, and 
 who had been the chief instrument of the irrepa- 
 rable dishonour of his whole army. The effect of 
 these violent prejudices and resentments against 
 the king, was a general desertion. Almost the 
 whole army, impatient of revenge, returned to 
 Poland, leaving their sovereign alone in the heart 
 of Russia. 
 
 Before their return the women had endea- 
 voured to screen themselves against the resent- 
 ment of their husbands, by persuading their lovers 
 to take arms ; and they had indeed seized upon 
 most of the strong fortresses, in which they with- 
 stood, and for a long time foiled, all the attempts 
 of the conquerors of Muscovy. The women, ac- 
 tuated by despair, fought by the sides of their 
 gallants, formed themselves into battalions.
 
 30 AMAZONS 
 
 seemed animated with a fury altogether irresisti- 
 ble, sought out their husbands in the heat of bat- 
 tle, and endeavoured to efface the stain of adul- 
 tery by the most cruel parricide. They were, 
 however, on the point of being subdued, when 
 Boleslaus arrived with his few remaining Poles, 
 and a vast army of Russians, to heighten the 
 scene of horror, and inflict equal punishment on 
 the women, their gallants, and his own soldiers, 
 who had deserted his carnp. The king's cruelty 
 united the women, their husbands, and slaves ; 
 several desperate battles were fought, the country 
 was overflowed with the blood of its children, the 
 rebels were at length subdued, and the few who 
 had escaped the sword, died in loathsome pri- 
 sons, or under the excruciating pains of torture. 
 
 The following anecdote is taken from a very- 
 pleasing little volume, entitled " Great Events 
 from Little Causes," by M. Richer, who says he 
 copied the story from some memoirs which ca- 
 sually fell into his hands. 
 
 Madeline de Scnetaire, widow of Guy de St. 
 Exuperi, retired, after the death of her husband, 
 to the castle of Miraumont, where she determined 
 to pass the rest of her days in widowhood. She 
 was not one of those women who, by an affected 
 external decorum, endeavoured to conceal the 
 irregularities of their private life; but ignorant of
 
 AMAZONS. 31 
 
 the artifices of vice, she only used that circum- 
 spection which virtue dictates ; and received the 
 respectful homage of many of the young nobility, 
 whom her beauty attracted to her. 
 
 There were several of them one day with her at 
 the castle of Miraumont, when she saw Mental, 
 the king's lieutenant of Limosin, who, at the 
 head of some cavalry, was conducting several 
 persons to prison, only because they were sus- 
 pected to be Hugonots. Handsome women are 
 generally compassionate; Madeline de Senetaire 
 could not see, without tender concern, these un- 
 fortunate people dragged to prison ; the more she 
 viewed them, the more her compassion increased, 
 insomuch that she conceived an ardent desire to 
 relieve them ; and ruminating some time on the 
 means to effect their release, she turned to the 
 young noblemen who were with her, and said, 
 " You complain that I never give you an oppor- 
 tunity of proving the sincerity of your desire to 
 serve me; I will now afford you the wished-for 
 satisfaction : you must go with me to the deli- 
 verance of those poor creatures whom Mental 
 hath loaded with chains, and is conducting to 
 prison: they are men; therefore let us consider 
 what they sutler, not what they believe." 
 
 The nobles were ready in a moment, and thus 
 called upon by beauty, never thought of deli- 
 berating. The widow, dressed like an amazon,
 
 32 AMAZONS. 
 
 put herself at their head, led them against Mental, 
 and dispersing his troops, put them to flight and 
 set the prisoners free. The king's lieutenant, 
 enraged that a woman should oblige him to aban- 
 don his prey, assembled above one thousand men, 
 with which he besieged the castle of Miraumont. 
 The spirited widow, however, sallied out with her 
 forces, whom love rendered invincible, and falling 
 upon Mental, he was again defeated, notwith- 
 standing the superiority of his numbers. He now 
 sought for shelter in a neighbouring castle, but 
 before he could reach the place he received a shot 
 which brought him from his horse, and he ex- 
 pired a few hours after. Henry III. being in- 
 formed of the affair, gave orders to several officers 
 to march with their troops and raze the castle of 
 Miraumont to the ground. This news spreading 
 throughout the province, where Madame deSene- 
 taire was greatly respected on account of her birth 
 and virtues, all the gentlemen considered it as their 
 duty to assist her, and accordingly made her a 
 tender of their services. In consequence of this, 
 the officers who had orders to besiege the castle, 
 were afraid even to enter the province, and the 
 lady remained in peace.
 
 33 
 
 AMBASSADORS. 
 
 JJeutuand be Saeignac be la Mothe 
 Fenelon, great uncle to the celebrated arch- 
 bishop of Cambray, was ambassador at the Eng- 
 lish court, and being required by Charles IX. 
 and Catherine de Medicis to assign some reasons 
 to queen Elizabeth in excuse for the infamous 
 massacre of the Huguenots on the night of St. 
 Bartholomew, he obly refused. " Sire," replied 
 lie to the king, " by attempting to palliate that 
 horrid transaction, I should become one of its ac- 
 complices ; your majesty should employ those to 
 excuse the measure who were the advisers of it." 
 Finding that Charles was greatly provoked by 
 this answer, Fenelon observed, iC A king may 
 crush a gentleman by the weight of his power; 
 but he can never take away his honour." 
 
 When queen Elizabeth proposed to Dr. Dale 
 the employment of being her ambassador in 
 Flanders, among other encouragements, she told 
 him that he should have twenty shillings a day 
 for his expenses. " Then, Madam," said he, 
 " I will spend nineteen shillings a day." " And 
 what wiU you do with the odd shilling?" asked 
 the queen. "I will reserve that for my Kaie 7 
 and for Tom and Dick ;" meaning his wife and 
 
 VOL, [, D
 
 34: AMBASSADORS. 
 
 children. This induced the queen to enlarge his 
 allowance. During the doctor's stay abroad, 
 he once sent, in a packet to the secretaries of state 
 two letters, one to the queen and the other to his 
 wife ; but that which was intended for the queen, 
 was superscribed " to his dear wife;" and the 
 other " for her most excellent majesty :'* so that 
 when the queen opened her letter, she found it 
 beginning with " sweet heart," and afterwards 
 met with the expressions " my dear," and " dear 
 love," and others of a like kind, acquainting her 
 with the embarrassed state of his circumstances. 
 This mistake occasioned much mirth, but it pro- 
 cured the doctor a supply of money. 
 
 The doctor being engaged with some other am- 
 bassadors in a negotiation, a dispute arose con- 
 cerning the language in which they should treat : 
 the Spanish minister said that the French would 
 be the most proper, " because," said he to Dr. 
 Dale, " your mistress calls herself queen of 
 France." " Nay then," said the doctor, " let us 
 treat in Hebrew, for your master calls himself 
 king of Jerusalem." 
 
 John Basilowitz, the czar of Russia, perceiving 
 sir Jeremy Bowes, the ambassador of queen Eliza- 
 beth, with his hat on in his presence, thus re- 
 buked him: " Have you not heard, sir, of the 
 person I have punished for such an insult ?" He
 
 AMBASSADORS. 35 
 
 liad in fact punished him very savagely, by caus- 
 ing his hat to be nailed to his head. Sir Jeremy 
 answered, " Yes, sir, but I am the queen of Eng- 
 land's ambassador, who never yet stood bare- 
 headed to any prince whatever : her I represent, 
 and on her justice I depend to do me right if I 
 am insulted." 
 
 " A brave fellow this," replied the czar, turn- 
 ing to his nobles " a brave fellow this, who dares 
 thus to act and talk for his sovereign's honour : 
 which of you would do so for me?" 
 
 The same monarch was naturally very hasty 
 and passionate ; but could check his anger, as the 
 Jesuit Possevin experienced, when, in one of their 
 conversations concerning the church of Rome, to 
 which great efforts were made to bring over this 
 prince, the czar not allowing the pope's lineal 
 succession from St. Peter, or his being justly en- 
 titled to the appellation of sole head of the uni- 
 versal church; Possevin answered, that lie might 
 as well deny his own succession from Wolodo- 
 niir ; and that, if he questioned the justice of the 
 papal authority, he wondered why he, and his 
 predecessors, had ever sent an embassy to Rome. 
 Basilowitz thereupon started up, and told the 
 legate, that he must surely think he was talking 
 to an ignorant peasant. Every one present be- 
 gan to tremble for Possevin : but the czar, sitting 
 down again a moment after, kissed him as a toke* 
 d2
 
 36 AMBASSADORS. 
 
 of reconciliation, changed the discourse, and 
 desired they might never more meddle with mat- 
 ters of religion, lest something worse should un- 
 guardedly escape him : and the next day he 
 again made excuses for his warmth. 
 
 When Busbequius was ambassador at Constan- 
 tinople, a chiaux or guard was placed at his door, 
 by order of the government, to prevent any cor- 
 respondence being held with him. All the Ma- 
 hometans have the greatest hatred to swine, of 
 which aversion Busbequius and his friends availed 
 themselves to deceive the vigilance of the guard. 
 His account is as follows : " This humour of 
 theirs being known, we put a pretty trick upon 
 them. When any body had a mind to send me a 
 secret message, he would inclose it in a litllebag, 
 together with a roasting pig, and sending it by a 
 youth, when my chiaux met him, he would ask 
 what he had there? Then the boy, being instructed 
 before, would whisper him in the ear, and say, 
 that a friend of mine had sent me a roasting pig 
 for a present. The chiaux thereupon would 
 punch the bag with his stick, to see whether the 
 boy spoke truth or no, and when he heard the 
 pig grunt, he would run back, as far as ever he 
 could, saying, " get thee in with thy nasty pre- 
 sent ;" then, spitting on the ground, and turning 
 to his fellows, he would say, ' 'tis strange to see
 
 AMBASSADORS'. 37 
 
 how fond these christians are of this filthy, im- 
 pure beast ! they cannoi forbear eating it, though 
 their lives lay at stake !' Thus he was hand- 
 somely choused, and the boy brought me safe 
 whatever messages were sent me." 
 
 The Spanish: ambassador at the court of Charles 
 II. talking one day with an English nobleman 
 upon the best means of gaining (he king of Eng- 
 land over to the protection of Flanders by an im- 
 mediate assistance; his lordship observed, that the 
 surest method was to obtain the influence of the 
 king's mistress, upon which the Don haughtily 
 observed, " My lord, I had rather my king 
 should lose half his dominions, than preserve any 
 part of them by the favour of a courtezan." Ba- 
 rillon, the French ambassador, however, was less 
 scrupulous, and thereby he succeeded in every 
 thing. 
 
 When lord Stair was ambassador at Paris hi- 
 ring the regency, he gave orders to his coachman 
 to give way to nobody except the king ; mean- 
 ing that an English ambassador should take the 
 pass, even of the regent, bu without naming 
 him. The host was seen coming dowu a s;reet 
 through which the coach passed. Col. Young, 
 who was master of the horse, rode to the window 
 of the coach, and asked lord Stair, " if he would 
 b3
 
 38 AMBASSADORS. 
 
 be pleased to give way to God Almighty." He 
 answered, " by all means, but to none else;" and 
 then stepping out of the coach, paid respect to 
 the religion of the country in which he was, and 
 kneeled in a very dirty street. 
 
 Louis XIV. was told that lord Stair was one 
 of the best bred men in Europe. " I shall soon 
 put him to the test," said the king ; and asking 
 lord Stair to take an airing with him, as soon as 
 the door of the coach was opened, he bade 
 him pass and go in : the other bowed and obey- 
 ed. The king said, " the world is in the right 
 in the character it gives : another person would 
 have troubled me with ceremony." 
 
 His lordship made a most splendid appearance 
 in his embassy, and being naturally inclined to 
 gallantry and expense, soon became a favourite 
 with the ladies, by whose intrigues he was enabled 
 to discover secrets, which otherwise might have 
 escaped the penetration of the most sagacious and 
 vicilant minister. Jn the management of the 
 ladies, whose favour he courted, he was forced 
 to observe the greatest delicacy ; play, lie per- 
 ceived, was their predominant passion, and as he 
 was equally inclined that way, he easily ob- 
 tained by means of cards, many private amuse- 
 ments, in which he could not have indulged on 
 any other pretence. The duchess of Maine was 
 one of those illustrious personages whom the earl
 
 AMBASSADORS* 39 
 
 look most pains to engage in his interest. She 
 was passionately fond of play ; of an inquisitive 
 and busy temper ; of vast capacity, and of a 
 discernment so quick, that it was no easy matter 
 to impose upon her : she was among the number 
 of ladies too that affected to pry into the affairs 
 of the continent, and who had gained an ascen- 
 dancy over the regent, so as not to be altogether 
 iirnorant of the most secret transactions of state. 
 His excellency, by losing large sums with this 
 lady, and paying her the most particular respect, 
 insensibly worked upon her affections, but had 
 not reaped the least advantage from her in point 
 of politics, till an accident happened that brought 
 about, in an instant, what he had long laboured 
 at in vain. Being engaged as her partner in 
 play, the run of ill-luck turned against them, 
 and the duchess at last was obliged to borrow of 
 the earl a thousand Louis d'ors. His excellency 
 told her he had yet twice that sum at her service, 
 and pressed her to continue play, which she re- 
 fused. Next morning early, she sent a message 
 to the earl, desiring instantly to speak with him. 
 It is no unusual thing in France, for ladies to 
 receive morning visits from gentlemen in bed ; 
 neither was the ambassador at all surprised, when 
 he found himself alone in the chamber of one of 
 the princesses of the blood-royal : she spoke of 
 the money she had borrowed with some concern, 
 d4
 
 40 AMBASSADORS. 
 
 as a matter she was very unwilling should take 
 air; but his lordship interrupted bcr by saying, 
 ' it was impossible it should, tor he had forgot- 
 ten it himself, and should not have recollected it 
 had not her highness put his memory to the rack 
 by refreshing it." 
 
 The duchess made no reply, but entered into 
 a discourse on politics, in which she discovered 
 to him that the court of Sweden was then medi- 
 tating, in concert with France, a descent, upon 
 England and Scotland, in favour of the house of 
 Stuart : by which timely discovery the scheme 
 was defeated, and li is excellency acquired the 
 reputation of an. able and active minister. 
 
 When his lordship was ambassador in Hol- 
 land, he made frequent entertainments, to which 
 the foreign ministers were constantly invited; not 
 excepting the ambassador of France, with whose 
 nation we were then on the point of breaking. 
 In return, the abbe de Ville, the French ambas- 
 sador, as constantly invited the English and 
 .Austrian ambassadors upon the like occasions. 
 The abbe was a man of vivacity, and fond of 
 punning. Agreeable to this humour, he one day 
 proposed a health in these terms : " The ltising 
 Sun, my master," alluding to the device and motto 
 of Louis XIV. ; which was pledged by the whole 
 ' ompauy. It came then to the baron de Keis- 
 backY turn to give a toast, and he, to counte-
 
 AMBASSADORS. 41 
 
 nance the abbe, proposed the Moon, in compli- 
 ment to the empress queen ^ which was greatly 
 applauded. The turn then came to the carl of 
 Stair, on whom all eyes were fastened ; but that 
 nobleman, whose presence of mind never forsook 
 him, drank his master, king William, by the 
 name of Joshua, the son of Nun, who made the 
 Sun and Moon stand still. 
 
 Frederick the Second, king of Prussia, was re- 
 markable for an extravagant humour of support- 
 ing a regiment of the tallest men that could pos- 
 sibly be procured ; and he would give a fellow 
 of six feet and a half high,' eighty or a hundred 
 guineas bounty, besides the charge of bringing 
 him from the farther part of the globe, if it so 
 happened. One day while his majesty was re- 
 viewing this regiment of giants, attended by all 
 the foreign ambassadors, and most of the officers 
 of rank both in the court and army, he took oc- 
 casion to ask the French minister, who stood 
 ncav him, if lie thought that his master had an 
 equal number of troops in his service able to en- 
 gage those formidable men? The Frenchman, 
 who was no soldier, said, he believed not. The 
 king, pleased with such a reply from a native of 
 the vainest nation in the world, asked the Imperial 
 ambassador the same question ; and the German 
 frankly declared his opinion, that he did not
 
 42 AMBASSADORS. 
 
 believe there was such another regiment in the 
 world. " Well, ray lord Hyndford," said the 
 king to the British ambassador, " I know you 
 have brave troops in England ; but would an 
 equal number of your countrymen, do you think, 
 beat these ?" " I will not take upon me abso- 
 lutely to say that," replied his lordship, " but 
 I dare be bold to say, that half the number would 
 try." 
 
 Admiral Keppel being sent to Algiers for the 
 purpose of demanding satisfaction for the inju- 
 ries done to his Britannic majesty's subjects by the 
 corsairs of that state, the Dey, enraged at the 
 boldness of the ambassador, exclaimed, " that 
 he wondered at the insolence of the English mo- 
 narch, in sending him a message by a foolish 
 beardless boy." The admiral immediately re- 
 plied, that " if his master had supposed his wis- 
 dom was to be measured by the length of beard, 
 he would have sent his deyship a he-goat." 
 
 Unused to such spirited language, this reply 
 put the Dey beside himself, and forgetting the 
 laws of nations, ordered his mutes to attend with 
 the bow-string, saying, that the admiral should 
 pay for his audacity with his life. Unmoved by 
 this menace, the ambassador took the Dey to a 
 window facing the bay, and shewing him the 
 English fleet, told him that if it were his plea-
 
 AMBITION. 45 
 
 sure to put lrim io death, there were Englishmen 
 enough in that fleet to make him a glorious fune- 
 ral pile. The Dey was wise enough to take the 
 hint ; the admiral came off in safety, and ample 
 restitution was made. 
 
 AMBITION. 
 
 One of the most extraordinary instances of 
 ambition and hypocrisy in the history of the 
 world, is exhibited in the rise of pope Sixtus V. and 
 the manner of his elevation to the papal chair. 
 
 He was born of poor parents, in the march of 
 Ancona, at a village called Le Grotte, in the 
 lordsh ip of Montalto. H is father, Francis Peretti, 
 who was a common ploughman, could not afford 
 to give him any education, and, when he was 
 nine years old, hired him out to one of his neigh- 
 bours to look after his sheep and hogs. lie did 
 not long continue in this occupation; for being 
 desired by a Franciscan friar, who had lost his 
 way, to shew him the road to Ascoli, he deserted 
 his hogs, and ran before him to the town. The 
 friar, after he had found his road again, desired 
 him several times to return ; but the boy refusing 
 t ) leave him, he at length asked him if he woidd 
 take upon him the habit of his order, which he 
 described as very austere : to which the boy re-
 
 44 AMBITION. 
 
 plied, " That he would willingly suffer the pains 
 of purgatory, if he could be made a scholar." 
 He was accordingly received, with the consent of 
 his parents, into the convent of Franciscans at 
 Ascoli, where lie made a surprising prognss in 
 learning- In his thirteenth year he assumed the 
 habit of that order, but still retained his own 
 name I^elix. He soon distinguished himself at 
 several disputations, and acquired a considerable 
 reputation as a preacher; but at the same time 
 raised himself many enemies by his impetuous 
 disposition. He early discovered a great ambi- 
 tion : and thoirgh he was hated by j^is brother 
 monks, yet, by his abilities, he acquired the 
 esteem of cardinal Carpi, by whose interest he 
 obtained several promotions ; and having ingra- 
 tiated himself with father Ghisilieri, afterwards 
 Pius V. and with the Colonni family, he obtained 
 the office of inquisitor-geicral at Venice, where, 
 by his overbearing behaviour, he so greatly 
 offended the senate, that, on the death of Paul 
 IV. he was obliged to consult his .safety by flight. 
 However, on the Hection of Pius \]f. lie returned 
 to that city: but at last, being apprehensive of 
 the resentment of the senate, lie provided a gon- 
 dola, by which he made his escape in the night. 
 At Ins return to Home he was made consultor of 
 the inquisition, and soon after went with the 
 legate Campagnon, as chaplain, to Spain. While
 
 AMBITION. \5 
 
 he was in that kingdom, his friend Ghisilieri 
 being chosen pope, he was created general of his 
 order, afterwards bishop of St. Agatha, and at 
 last a cardinal; and, to enable him to support his 
 dignity, the pope assigned him a pension, and 
 besides, made him a present of a considerable sum 
 of money. 
 
 Upon his promotion to (he sacred College, 
 which happened in the 49th year of his age, he 
 quite altered his manner of life: and to conceal 
 his aspiring views, affected a total disregard of 
 all worldly pursuits, and became humble, meek, 
 patient, and affable ; which mask of hypocrisy 
 he wore with great perseverance fifteen years. He 
 led a retired life, exercised himself in works of 
 piety, spent much of his time in the confessional 
 chairs, seldom appeared at the consistories, and, 
 during the last three years of the pontificate of 
 Gregory, affected to be very infirm ; so that he 
 was often saluted in a manner that "would not 
 have been very' agreeable to any body else, 
 " God help you, poor old man ; you have 
 almost run your race!" 
 
 To this artifice he owed his promotion, for the 
 conclave being divided between opposite parties* 
 it was agreed upon by both to elect one who was 
 too weak to govern, and could not live long. 
 The cardinals, out of contempt, used to call him 
 lite Ass of La Rlarca ; so that their astonish-
 
 46 AMBITION. 
 
 merit was inexpressible when lie threw off bis dis- 
 guise. While they were crowding towards him 
 to congratulate him, he sat coughing and weep- 
 ing, as if some great misfortune had befallen him ; 
 but he no sooner perceived, on the scrutiny, that 
 there was a sufficient number of votes to secure his 
 election, than he threw his staff, with which he 
 used to support himself, into the middle of the 
 chapel, stretched himself up, and appeared taller, 
 by almost a foot, than he had done for several 
 years before. This behaviour alarming the car- 
 dinal dean, he called out, " Stay a little, there 
 is a mistake in the scrutiny :" but Montalto, with 
 a stern look, boldly answered, " There is no 
 mistake ;" and immediately began himself the 
 Te Deum^ in such a strong and audible voice, 
 that the whole conclave were at first struck dumb; 
 but at length accompanied him in a tame and 
 spiritless manner. After the hymn, the master 
 of the ceremonies asked him, according to form, 
 " Whether he was pleased to accept of the pa- 
 pacy ?" To which he replied, somewhat sharply, 
 " it is impertinent to ask whether I will accept of 
 whatl have already accepted. However, to satisfy 
 any scruple that may arise, I tell you I accept it 
 with great pleasure, and would accept another, 
 if I could get it ; for I find myself strong enough, 
 by the divine assistance, to manage two papa- 
 cies." While the cardinals were putting on his
 
 AMBITION. 4/ 
 
 pontifical robes, he stretched out his arms with 
 great vigour anil activity ; upon which one of 
 them said, in a familiar way, " 1 perceive, holy 
 father, the pontificate is a sovereign medicine,/ 
 since it can restore youth and health to old sick 
 cardinals :" To which he replied, in a grave and 
 majestic manner, u So I find it." After cardinal 
 Farnese had performed the ceremony of the ado- 
 ration, he said to him, " Your holiness seems 
 quite a different sort of a man from what you was 
 a few hours ago." " Yes," said he, u I was then 
 looking for the keys of paradise, whicli obliged 
 rac to stoop a little ; but now I have found them, 
 it is time to look upwards, as I am arrived at the 
 summit of all human glory, and can climb rio 
 higher in this world." In his passage from the 
 conclave to St. Peter's, the people, who at first 
 would not believe that he was the same person 
 with the old decrepid cardinal Montalto, cried 
 out, Ltong live the pope; and added, according 
 to custom, Plenty, holt/ father, plenty and jus- 
 lice! To which he replied, " Pray to God for 
 plenty, and I will give you justice." 
 
 Soon after his coronation, he sent for his sister 
 Camilla, with her daughter, two grandsons, and 
 her niece, (he daughter of his deceased brother, 
 who, upon their approach to Rome, were met by 
 three cardinals, who dressed them in magnificent 
 habits, and conducted them to the Vatican. But
 
 48 AMBITION. 
 
 Sixtus disdaining, in such a trifling matter, to be 
 obliged to the cardinals, pretended not to know 
 his sister, till she had resumed her former dress ; 
 then he received her kindly, and declared, that 
 nobody should make a princess of her but him- 
 self. He assigned her a considerable revenue, and 
 gave her one of his palaces for her residence; at 
 the same time advising her to conduct herself 
 with that sober modesty which became the mean- 
 ness of her birth, and the gravity of those who 
 were related to the papal chair : he conferred the 
 dignity of a cardinal on the eldest of her grand- 
 sons, Alexander Peretti, who was then about 
 eighteen years of age, and afterwards distin- 
 guished himself by his learning and abilities. 
 The king of Spain and the grand duke of Tus- 
 cany offered to confer titles of honour on his 
 sister, which Sixtus refused; however, he ex- 
 pressed his satisfaction with the behaviour of the 
 Venetians, who ordered public rejoicings upon 
 his exaltation, and admitted the family of Peretti 
 to the honour of nobility in their state, being 
 afraid of his resentment for their treatment of him 
 when he was inquisitor at Venice. 
 
 When Sixtus in his youth resided at Macerala, 
 he went one day to a shoemaker's shop to buy a 
 pair of shoes. After some dispute about the 
 price, the shoemaker told him, he would take 
 no less than seven julios, or three shillings and
 
 AMBITION* 49 
 
 sixpence. Montalto offered him six julios, which, 
 was all the money he had, and said, " Perhaps 
 1 shall be able to give you the seventh some time 
 or other." " Some time or other," replied the 
 shoemaker ; " but when will that be ? when you. 
 come to be pope ?" " Yes," said Montalto, " that 
 I will with all my heart, and pay you interest 
 foryour money too."' 4 Well then," answered 
 the shoemaker, " since 1 see you are notwithout 
 hopes of being pope, you shall even have them 
 upon those terms." Montalto having asked him 
 his name, and noted the transaction in his diary, 
 after his promotion sent to Macerata, to know if 
 the shoemaker was alive; and being informed 
 that he was, ordered the governor of that place 
 to send him directly to Rome, guarded by one of 
 his officers. The poor shoemaker was extremely 
 frightened : and having entirely forgot the trans- 
 action with the young friar, which had happened 
 forty years before, began to recall to his mind all 
 the sins that he had committed in his life, con- 
 sidering for which of them he conld be cited to 
 appear before his holiness. Upon his arrival at 
 Rome, Sixtus asked him, if lie had ever seen him 
 at Macerata? The shoemaker, trembling, told 
 him, No. The pope again asked him, if he ever 
 remembered to have sold a pair of shoes to a 
 young friar, and to have given him credit for a 
 julio ; but he protesting that he knew nothing at 
 
 VOL. I. 2
 
 bo 
 
 AMBITION. 
 
 all of the matter, Sixtus related to him the ngree- 
 ment they had formerly made, and ordered his 
 steward to pay him the julio, with the interest 
 for forty years, which amounted to two julios 
 more. The shoemaker went away very much 
 dissatisfied, loudly complaining to every one he 
 met, that the pope had put him to the expense 
 of forty crowns, to come from Macerata to Rome 
 to receive three julios. Sixtus being informed of 
 his behaviour by his spies, ordered him to return, 
 and demanded of him if he had a son. The shoe- 
 maker answering, " Yes, and that he was a honest 
 priest of the order of Servi," the pope sent for him 
 to Rome, and before thedeparture of his father, con- 
 ferred on him a bishopric in the kingdom of Naples. 
 Rut he served an Augustine monk, called 
 father Salviati, still better, and this story is more 
 humorous than the former. In 1564, Mon- 
 talto left the general chapter of his order at Flo- 
 rence, without the leave of I) is superior, who sent 
 orders to all the convents that were under him on 
 the road from that city, to stop the fugitive. Mon- 
 talto was aware of this, and therefore he lodged 
 in no house belonging to his own order. lie lay 
 one night in a small convent of Augustincs, where 
 father Salviati, then a young man, was prior. 
 He treated the stranger with great civility, and 
 the next morning lent him four crowns on his 
 note, which, however, Montalto gave him in a
 
 AMBITION. 51 
 
 fictitious hand and a counterfeited name. Sixtus, 
 when he became pope, on meeting with this cir- 
 cumstance in his journal, ordered the general of 
 the Augustines to send father Salviati to Rome, 
 as he wanted to speak to him. The prior at that 
 time was engaged in a contest with his bishop, 
 and the prelate had made a complaint against 
 him to the congregation of cardinals. The ge- 
 neral thought that his holiness had sent for 
 Salviati to reprimand him upon this account ; 
 and what confirmed him in his opinion was, the 
 grave manner in which the pope communicated 
 his orders. Accordingly, that he might g'we com- 
 plete satisfaction, he gave orders that Salviati 
 should be conducted to Rome under a guard of 
 four brothers. The bishop, when he heard how 
 Salviati was taken to Rome by order of the pope, 
 was wonderfully pleased, and talked in this high 
 strain to his chapter : " 'Tis necessary," says he, 
 " to mortify these insolent monks, that they may 
 learn the respect due to their prelates." 
 
 As soon as Salviati came to Rome, he was 
 brought into the presence of the pope, who began 
 to interrogate him very severely upon his conduct 
 in his office. Salviati concluding that it was the 
 affair between him and the bishop that (he pope 
 meant, began to make the best defence he could. 
 His holiness, who had never heard any thing of 
 the matter, replied, " J am sure you are in the 
 E 2
 
 52 AMBITION. 
 
 wrong, and have been wanting in respect to your 
 bishop, who is a man of worth ; but it was ano- 
 ther business that I sent for you about : you are 
 accused of misemploying the revenues of your 
 convent, and I must call you to account for it.*" 
 Salviati began now to pluck up his spirits, as he 
 was conscious that an inquiry into this part of 
 his conduct would be to his credit. He replied 
 to the pope, that " he submitted freely to any 
 punishment his holiness should inflict, if any 
 mal-administration of the society's revenue should 
 be proved against him." Sixtus answered, " Have 
 a care what you say, for I have in my hand 
 proofs sufficient to convince you." Salviati being 
 well assured of his innocence, shrugged up his 
 shoulders and was silent while the pope went on : 
 *' Js it not true, that in 1561, when you were 
 prior, a Franciscan monk lodged at your house, 
 to whom you gave four crowns ? And should 
 you, I desire to know, have disposed of the pub- 
 lic money so?" Salviati now recollecting the 
 thing, but not imagining that Sixtus was tlte 
 man he had lent the money to, said, " It is true, 
 most holy father, and I should have let him had 
 more if lie had asked it, because he looked like a 
 honest man ; but 1 have since found him a cheat- 
 ing rogue, for having signed a feigned name, 
 k whereby I never have been able to discover him. 
 or io get the money." At this the pope fell a
 
 AMBITION. 53 
 
 laughing, and'said, " Don't trouble'yourself about 
 looking after him any farther, as you will not 
 find him ; but lie ordered me to pay the debt, 
 and return you thanks. Are you not satisfied 
 "with my taking his place and becoming your 
 debtor ?" By this time Salviati began to think 
 that his holiness bore some resemblance to the 
 man whom he had culled a cheat, and though 
 the last words were encouraging enough, yet the 
 poor man was sadly disturbed how to excuse the 
 affront he had put upon him. Sixtus, however, 
 did not leave him in suspense, but said, " It's 
 time now to give you my thanks, as I am the bro- 
 ther you was so kind to ; and as 3011 gave me half 
 your cell, it is but reasonable that I should give 
 you a lodging." Accordingly he gave him hand- 
 some apartments in his palace, and some time 
 afterwards promoted him to a considerable bishop- 
 ric, which occasioned the following sarcasm of 
 Pasquin : :c Bishoprics are now four crowns a- 
 piece." 
 
 The following instance of the effect of an early 
 impression made upon an active mind, is recorded 
 in Dow's History of Hindostan. Alia ul Dien, a 
 weak luxurious prince, resigned the sovereignty 
 of that country to Beloli, an Afghan, about the 
 year UjO : 
 
 We are told., says our author, that when Beloli 
 
 E O
 
 54: . AMBITION. 
 
 was yet a youth in his uncle's service, one day he 
 was permitted to pay his respects to a famous 
 dirvesh of Sammana, whose name was Sheidai. 
 When he sat in a respectful posture before him, 
 the dirvesh cried out, in an enthusiastic manner, 
 " Who will give two thousand rupees for the 
 empire of Delhi?" Upon which Malleck Beloli 
 told him, he had only one thousand six hundred 
 rupees in the world, which he ordered his ser- 
 vant to bring immediately and present to the 
 dirvesh. The dirvesh accepted the money, and, 
 laying his hand upon the head of Beloli, saluted 
 him King. 
 
 The companions of Beloli ridiculed him very 
 much for this action ; but he replied, " That, 
 if the thing came to pass, he had made a cheap 
 purchase ; if not, the blessing of a holy man 
 could do him no harm." 
 
 Upon a mind naturally ambitious, and in an 
 age of superstition, this prediction of the dirvesh 
 might have great effect, in promoting its own 
 end ; for when a man's mind is once bent upon 
 the attainment of an object, the greatest difficul- 
 ties will be often surmounted, by a steady per- 
 severance. 
 
 The following instance of the cure of ambition, 
 as related by LampridiuSj is entertaining and in- 
 structive.
 
 AMBITION. 55 
 
 Ovinias Camillas, a senator, aspired to the 
 empire. Alexander Severus being informed o* 
 it, invited Camillas to the palace, and testified 
 how much he was obliged to him for voluntarily 
 under taking the burthen of government, when 
 others must be constrained to it against their in- 
 clination. After this he carried Camillas to the 
 senate, associated him in the empire, and gave him 
 an apartment in the palace ; made him eat at his 
 own table, and ordered him to be clothed with 
 imperial robes, even more magnificent than his 
 own. About this time there occurred a war 
 which required the emperor's presence. Alex- 
 ander offered to take Camillas with him, which 
 of course could not be refused. Alexander went 
 on foot, and Camillas was obliged to do the 
 same : but being of a delicate constitntion, he 
 was tired at the end of two leagues. Then Alex- 
 ander obliged him to get on horseback ; but as 
 Camillas could not keep up with him, he ordered 
 him a carriage. At length, being greatly fatigued, 
 Camillas requested it as a favour that he might 
 renounce the dignity, protesting that he would 
 rather die than lead such a life. Accordingly 
 Alexander gave him leave to retire to an estate in 
 the country, where he lived contentedly, and in 
 affluence, daring the remainder of that reign ; but 
 it is said that the succeeding emperor caused him 
 to be put to death.
 
 56 
 
 ANCESTRY. 
 
 Oxe of the most remarkable instances of the 
 pride of ancestry, is the following, extracted 
 from Mr. Polvvhele's History of Devonshire. 
 
 In the parish of Clyst St. George, in Devon- 
 shire, is an estate called Sucpitch, belonging to 
 a family of the same name, of whom we have 
 the following account, as drawn up by a gentle- 
 man on the spot in the year 1768 : 
 
 The family of Sucpitch was certainly settled 
 here before the Conquest, where they may re- 
 main unextinct for centuries to come, as the pre- 
 sent sire has grand-children of vigorous consti- 
 tution. Notwithstanding these Sucpiiches have 
 possessed the same spot for such an immense suc- 
 cession of time, possibly as long before the Con- 
 quest as since, not one of all their race has been 
 conspicuous for any achievement or exploit, or 
 celebrated in our annals for one heroic or famous 
 action. What makes this yet the stranger is, 
 that not a collateral braireh hath thrown any lus- 
 tre on them. , Hence it is evident, that for so 
 many ages it can only be said they have existed, 
 and not that they have had the honour of living 
 to their country, their neighbours, or themselves. 
 With a most supine indolence, they have in a
 
 ANCESTRY. 57 
 
 manner slumbered over their little farm, winch 
 is blessed with fertility and every advantage of 
 land and water ; inattentive to those numberless im- 
 provements and embellishments, no less in point of 
 profit, than beauty, of which it is capable. Their 
 sole dissipation has been hunting and shooting-, 
 which they (I speak of time Immemorial) have 
 rather pursued as the business, than the amuse- 
 ment of life. Tiie various rural scenes and nu- 
 merous objects with which this spot is finely di- 
 versified, afford proper subjects for a landscape. 
 From seventy pounds per annum, at which it 
 was rated (though occasionally for a qualification, 
 they could easily prove it worth one hundred 
 pounds), an opulent gentleman with taste and 
 judgment, by erecting water-mills, embanking 
 the marshes (improving the arable is impossible), 
 might easily advance it to ,500/. 
 
 In length of time, the tide has fritted and made 
 several channels and serpentine canals through 
 these marshes, by which soles, and a variety of 
 sea-fish, daily make their way from the main 
 river, up to the garden-wall and orchard hedges. 
 Duck, widgeon, &c. may be shot almost from 
 the windows. Though they kept on hunting till 
 the neighbouring glebes were verdant with bar- 
 ley, vet they never failed having the best crop. 
 The first who roused from the family lethargy, 
 #nd deviated for once into the right path, was the
 
 58 ANCESTRY. 
 
 old gentleman, that is, the father of the present 
 (the oldest within memory), who planted in 
 hedge-rows above seven hundred elms, which 
 many years since, an experienced person told me, 
 annually gained sixpence a tree. This great grand- 
 father admitted me to a familiar acquaintance 
 with him, which he thought no small favour. lie 
 valued himself highly on his extraction and ho- 
 nesty, though he had not a worthy action to re- 
 late of any one of his predecessors, nor a title to 
 boast of in the whole line, beyond that of head- 
 constable or church-warden. He substituted an- 
 tiquity for merit, and esteemed his eldest ances- 
 tor the best gentleman. His narratives and fa- 
 bulous stories he told to others till he believed 
 them himself. Often Ins he repeated to me, 
 though he thought it always new, that Cyrus, 
 Jang of Prussia, discovered their founder in 
 the woods sucking a bitc/i. He looked down 
 on his illustrious neighbours at Powderh am -castle 
 as his juniors, and would by no means allow 
 the noble house of Courtenay to be coeval with 
 the family of Sucpitch. The son (now the grand- 
 father) has been one of the strongest men in the 
 kingdom ; one of exorbitant passions, which, 
 uncultivated by education, he was never taught 
 to regulate. The want of restraining the impe- 
 tuosity of his temper, oftentimes involved him in 
 troubles. Mr. Grosse, formerly lord of the ma-
 
 ANCESTRY. 59 
 
 nor, sued him for a trespass and assault, in pre- 
 senting his loaded piece, and threatening to shoot 
 the 'squire. The defendant produced at the trial, 
 by way of flourish (though not very material to 
 the issue), two small parchment grants, or feoff- 
 ments, which none present could read through- 
 out, nor ascertain their era, being without date or 
 seal ; however the bar was satisfied of their being 
 passed before tiie Conqueror's time. These curi- 
 ous antique charters are tiieir only archives, which 
 may not be unworthy the notice of antiquaries. 
 From the Conquest, their progeny may not how- 
 ever have been numerous, owing to their longe- 
 vity; the great grandfather, who died fifteen 
 years ago (1753), was aged ninety, and his 
 son now is about eighty. 1 apprehend that possi- 
 bly the present generation is not more than the 
 seventh degree from that period. 
 
 The noble family of Hay, in Scotland, owes its 
 origin to a famous action. About the year 980, 
 the Danes having invaded that kingdom, a 
 battle was fought between them and the Scots, in 
 which the latter being defeated, fled towards 
 Perth. They were obliged to pass through a 
 very narrow defile between the mountains and 
 the river Tay. A countryman with his two sons 
 who happened to be there, made himself master 
 of the defile, exhorted the fugitives to make a
 
 60 ANCESTRY. 
 
 stand against the enemy, and stop the passage, 
 to hinder tbera from proceeding in their flight. 
 He also armed himself with what came next to 
 his hands, and his sons having armed themselves 
 with pieces of their ploagh, they fell with such 
 fury upon tlie enemy, that the Scots, animated 
 by their example, gained a complete victory over 
 the Danes, who were entirely expelled the coun- 
 try. Hay, the peasant, was conducted by the 
 army to the palace of Kenneth III. who gave 
 him a considerable part of the spoils, and the 
 flight of a falcon in good lands ; that is, a falcon 
 was let loose, and notice taken where it perched, 
 and all the lands situated between his rise and the 
 place where he rested, were given to Ha}-. The 
 place where the falcon pitched is still called 
 Falcon-stone. The king also gave to Hay a 
 coat of arms which were argent three escutcheons 
 gules; to signify, that the courage of three men 
 had saved the kingdom. 
 
 The grant given to the founder of this fa- 
 mily, reminds us of the first of the illustrious 
 name of Lesley in the same country. Bartho- 
 lomew Lesley came from Hungary with queen 
 Margaret about tiie year 1067. He married one 
 of the queen's maids of honour, and was in such 
 favour with the king Malcolm, especially for 
 building and strenuously defending the fortress
 
 ANCESTRY. 61 
 
 of Edinburgh, that he not only created him a 
 knight, and made him governor during life, of 
 the said fortress, but granted him likewise, as a 
 reward of his services, that taking one day's 
 journey from Dunfermline northward on the same 
 horse, in whatever county he stopped to bait, he 
 should possess for ever all the lands a mile round. 
 First then he arrived at Fecial, now called Les- 
 ley, in Fife; next to Innerlepad, in Angus; 
 thirdly, to Feskie, or Eskie, in Mearns ; fourthly, 
 to Cushnie, in Mar; and lastly, to a place called 
 from that time Lesley in Ganith, where his horse 
 failed. On his return, when the king asked him 
 where he had left his horse, he is said to have 
 answered, ' ; xil the Lesse Lei/ beside the mair .'* 
 then the king taking notice that the place an- 
 swered his name, said, " Lord Lesley shalt thou 
 be, and thy heirs after thee;" and at the same time 
 confirmed to him the donation of all those pos- 
 sessions ; which Alexander his son likewise ra- 
 tified, as still appears by a royal diploma to the 
 baron of Lesley, in the time of John Lesley, 
 bishop of Ross ; and many of these estates still 
 hold of Lesley earl of Rothes, as their lord. 
 
 M. dc St. Foix, in his " Histoirc de 1'Ordre 
 du St. Esprit," relates a pleasing anecdote of 
 marshal Fabert, who nobly disdained to creep 
 into that order under a fictitious pedigree. Fabert
 
 62 ANCESTRY. 
 
 rose solely by his merit to the dignity of a mar- 
 shal of France, in 1656. Three years after, 
 Louis XIV. wrote him word, that he would not 
 forget him in the instant promotion of the knights 
 of his orders. 
 
 Marshal Fabert shewed tills letter to his inti- 
 mate friend M. de Tcrmes, and told him that a 
 gentleman of a very ancient family, but poor, 
 named Fabert, like himself, had often attempted 
 to persuade him that they were both descended 
 from the same family ; but that, being certain 
 this was mere flattery of that gentleman, he 
 had always refused the genealogies offered him. 
 " Now," added he, " I will not have to-day my 
 mantle honoured with a cross, and my soul dis- 
 honoured by an imposture. I will write to the 
 king." 
 
 lie accordingly wrote; and the king's answer 
 concluded with these remarkable words : " Those 
 whom I am going to invest with the order, can 
 never derive from it so great a lustre in the world, 
 as you acquire by declining it upon so virtuous a 
 motive."
 
 63 
 
 ANTIPATHY. 
 
 Dr. Zimmermann, in Iiis curious Treatise 
 on Experience in Physic, gives the following re- 
 lation : 
 
 Happening to be in company with some Eng- 
 lish gentlemen, all of them men of distinctian, 
 the conversation fell upon antipathies. IVlany of 
 the company denied their reality, and consi- 
 dered them as idle stories ; but I assured them 
 that they were truly a disease. Mr. William 
 Matthews, son to the governor of Barbadoes, 
 was of my opinion, because he had himself art 
 antipathy to spiders. The rest of the company 
 laughed at him. I undertook to prove to them, 
 that his antipathy was really an impression on 
 his mind, resulting from the determination of a 
 mechanical effect. Lord John Murray under- 
 took to shape some black wax into the appearance 
 of a spider, with a view to observe whether the 
 antipathy would take place at the simple figure 
 of the insect. lie then withdrew, and soon after 
 came in again with the wax in his hand, which 
 he kept shut. Mr. Matthews, who in oilier re- 
 spects was a very amiable and moderate man, 
 immediately conceiving that his friend really had 
 a spider in his hand, clapped his hand to his 
 sword with extreme fury, and running back to-
 
 64- ANTIPATHY. 
 
 wards the partition, cried out most horribly* 
 All the muscles of his face were swelled, Iiis eyca 
 rolled in their sockets, and his body was immove- 
 able. We were all exceedingly alarmed, and im- 
 mediately ran to his assistance, took his sword 
 from him, and assured him that what he had 
 conceived to be a spider, was nothing more than a 
 piece of wax which he might see upon the table, 
 He remained some time in this spasmodic state ; 
 but at length he began gradually to recover, and 
 to deplore the horrid passion from which he still 
 suffered. His pulse was very strong and quick, 
 and his whole body was covered with a cold 
 sweat ; after taking an anodyne draught, lie re- 
 sumed his usual tranquillity. 
 
 We are not to wonder at this antipathy. The 
 spiders at Barbadoes are very large, and hideous. 
 Mr. Matthews was born there, and therefore his 
 antipathy is easy to be accounted for. Some of 
 the company undertook to make a little waxen 
 spider in his presence. lie saw this done with 
 great tranquillity ; but he could not be persuaded 
 to touch it, though he was by no means a timo- 
 rous man in other respects. Nor would he follow 
 my advice, to endeavour to conquer this anti- 
 pathy by first drawing parts of spiders of diffe- 
 rent sorts, and after a time whole spiders, till at 
 length he might be able to look at portions o 
 real spiders, and thus gradually accustom him-
 
 ANTIPATHIES. 65 
 
 self to whole ones, at first dead ones, and then 
 living ones. If it had been any way possible 
 to overcome his antipathy, such a method would 
 have been the most likely to have succeeded. 
 
 Tire czar Peter the Great had a strong antipa- 
 thy to a black insect of the scarabeus or beetle 
 kind, which is common in Russia, where they 
 are called taracan ; but naturalists give them 
 the name of dermtstej or dissecting scarabeus. 
 
 Though Peter was far from being subject to 
 childish fears, or womanish fancies, one of these 
 insects sufficed to drive him out of an apartment, 
 nay, even out of the house. In his frequent jour- 
 nies in his own dominions he never went into a 
 house without having his apartment carefully 
 swept by one of his own servants, and being as- 
 sured that there were no taracans to fear. One 
 day he paid a visit to an officer at his country 
 house, which was built of wood, at a little dis- 
 tance from Moscow. The czar expressed his 
 satisfaction with what was offered him, and with 
 the order he observed in the house. The com- 
 pany sat down to table, and dinner was already 
 begun, when he asked his landlord if there wen*, 
 taracans in his house ? 
 
 " Not many," replied the officer, without re- 
 flecting; "and the better to get rid of them, I 
 have pinned a living one to the wall." At the 
 
 \ o l . t . r
 
 66 ANTIQUARIES. 
 
 same time be pointed to the place where the insect 
 was pinned, and which still continued to palpitate. 
 Unfortunately, it was just beside the czar, in 
 whom the unexpected sight produced so much 
 emotion, that he rose instantly from the table, 
 gave the officer a violent blow, and left his house 
 with all his attendants. 
 
 ANTIQUARIES. 
 
 The deceptions to which antiquaries are 
 liable, might be illustrated by many instances. 
 In the year 1505, three marbles were found near 
 the cape of Roco de C intra in Portugal ; upon 
 which were the following verses in old cha- 
 racters : 
 
 Sibylla vaticinium occiduis decretum 
 Volventur saxa Uteris, et ordine rectis, 
 Cum videas Occidens Orientes apes. 
 Ganges, Indus, Tagus, erit mirabile visu, 
 Merces commutabit suas, uterque sibi. 
 Soli aterno, ac Lunx decretum. 
 
 This was considered as a Sybilline oracle, de- 
 scriptive of the nautical discoveries then made 
 by the Spaniards and Portuguese. But after- 
 wards it was found that Cajado, an eminent 
 poet, had got the inscription engraved upon the 
 marbles, and then privately buried them near to 
 the city of Cintra. ' After some time he invited a
 
 ANTIQUARIES. 67 
 
 party of friends to his country house ; and during 
 the banquet, his servant brought word that cer- 
 tain stones were found inscribed with unknown 
 characters, and that certainly there was some 
 treasure hidden on the spot. Away ran the com- 
 pany, and the most learned of tliem began to de- 
 cypher the inscription, which excited universal 
 wonder. The* king, however, was made privy 
 to the cheat, but as it tended to further his views, 
 being then bent upon the discovery of new lands 
 for the aggrandizement of his crown, he caused 
 the marbles to be lakl up in his museum. 
 
 Paris de Grassis, bishop of Pesaro, in the six- 
 teenth century laid a similar snare for antiquaries, 
 iie composed an epitaph upon a mule, and hav- 
 ing caused it to be engraved upon a piece of mar- 
 ble, buried it in his vineyard. Some time after 
 he ordered some trees to be planted in the place, 
 in consequence of which the marble was disco- 
 vered. At first little notice was taken of it, but 
 afterwards the literati exercised their ingenuity 
 upon the marble as a genuine antique, and pro- 
 duced some profound dissertations upon the in- 
 scription. 
 
 Our learned countryman, Dr. Stukely, author. 
 of the Itinerary, and other archaeological works- 
 of great value, was once deceived in a curious 
 i 2
 
 68 ANTIQUARIES. 
 
 manner. As the doctor and some other learned 
 persons, among whom was Mr. Pine the engraver 
 and herald, were visiting certain antiquities in 
 Hertfordshire, they came to a place called Cae- 
 sar's Stile, situated on the brow of an eminence. 
 No sooner was the place named, than the doctor 
 stopped all of a sudden, and after an attentive 
 survey of the neighbouring ground, pronounced 
 it directly to be the scite of a fortified pass, which 
 Caesar had left behind him in hi# march from 
 Cowey-stakes to Verulam. Some of the com- 
 pany demurring to this opinion, a debate arose ; 
 and an aged labouring man coming up, the doc- 
 tor asked him with great confidence, whether that 
 was not called Caesar's Stile ? " Ay, master," said 
 the old man, u that it is ; I have good reason to 
 know it, for many a day did I work upon it for 
 old Bt;b Caesar, rest his soul. He lived in yonder 
 farm, and a sad road it was before he made this 
 stile." 
 
 Dr. Vaillant, the great medallist, travelled into 
 Greece and various parts of Italy, in quest of 
 objects to enrich the French king's cabinet. Hav- 
 ing succeeded much to the satisfaction of Col- 
 bert, that able minister and liberal patron of 
 literature, engaged him in 1764 in another tour 
 for the same purpose. Vaillant accordingly em- 
 barked at Marseilles with some other gentlemen,
 
 ANTIQUARIES. 69 
 
 who proposed as well as himself to be at Rome 
 at the approaching jubilee. But an unfortunate 
 accident disappointed their curiosity ; for on the 
 second day of their voyage, they were taken by 
 an Algerine corsair. After a captivity of near 
 five months, he was permitted to return to France, 
 and received at the same time twenty gold me- 
 dals which had been taken from him. He em- 
 barked in a vessel bound to Marseilles, and was 
 carried on with a favourable wind two days, 
 when another corsair appeared, which gained 
 upon them very fast. Vaillant dreading the mise- 
 ries of a fresh slavery, resolved, however, to secure 
 the medals which he had received at Ugiers, and 
 swallowed them. But a sudden turn of the wind 
 freed them from this adversary, and carried their 
 ship upon the coast of Catalonia. On getting a- 
 shore, Vaillant felt himself extremely incom- 
 moded with the medals he had swallowed, which 
 might altogether weigh five or six ounces, and 
 therefore did not pass off like Scarborough waters. 
 He had recourse to two physicians, who were 
 somewhat puzzled with the singularity of the 
 case ; however, nature relieved herself from time 
 to time, and lie became possessed of the greatest 
 part of his treasure when he got to Lyons. Here 
 he explained with much pl< asure to his friends, 
 those medals which were already come to Hand, 
 as well as those which were daily expected; 
 i 3
 
 70 ANTIQUARIES. 
 
 among which last was an Otho, valuable for its 
 great rarity. Vaillant afterwards travelled into 
 Egypt and Persia, and obtained many treasures 
 at the risk of his life. He died at Paris of an 
 apoplexy in 1700, aged 76. 
 
 Pichler, the celebrated engraver on gems, 
 laboured assiduously upon a very beautiful stone, 
 with the hopes of producing a work in the style 
 of the antique. Scarcely had he accomplished his 
 task before the stone disappeared, and he could 
 only suspect that it was stolen by his apprentice j 
 but without any proofs of the fact. Not long 
 afterwards, Alfani, a celebrated antiquary of 
 Rome, called upon Pichler to shew him an in- 
 valuable gem which he had just purchased of 
 Christiani, another virtuoso, for fifty sequins ; 
 and this man bought it, as he said, of a country- 
 man, who found it while he was ploughing. How 
 great was the astonishment or Pichler, on finding 
 that it was his own work! He asked Alfani if he 
 was certain that it was a genuine antique? u It 
 is not to be questioned, 1 ' replied he, " no modern 
 could approach the perfection of such a piece! 1 ' 
 Pichler was gratified with this applause of his 
 performance, and for that time kept the secret to 
 himself. Same time after, the fortunate possessor of 
 this valuablerelic called again upon him, and said, 
 ' 1 am going to Paris, where 1 know some connois-
 
 ANTIQUARIES. 71 
 
 seurs who will pay me well for this acquisition : 
 could you not imitate it so exactly, that the copy 
 may be mistaken for the original?" Pichler pro- 
 mised to exert his skill ; and accordingly he set 
 about copying his own work, and with such exact- 
 ness, that it was extremely difficult to perceive 
 any difference. For this Alfani gave him forty 
 sequins, and sold both as originals, to two emi- 
 nent collectors at Paris. Some months after, 
 the two connoisseurs happened to meet each 
 other. " Here," said one, in a triumphant tone, 
 " is an inestimable gem which I have lately pur- 
 chased." " Yes," replied the other, " I see you 
 have bought the copy of the original' on my fin- 
 ger, which I purchased of don Alfani." "You 
 are joking," answered the former quickly; " mine 
 is the original, and yours is a copy!" High words 
 ensued, and a wager to a considerable amount 
 was laid ; the determination being left to Pichler. 
 The two gems were sent to the artist, who wrote 
 back for answer, u You may withdraw your 
 wager, for I engraved both the gems myself." 
 It ought to be observed, that Pichler found the 
 thief in his apprentice, who hir^d a countryman 
 to sell the stone to Christiani, as an antique which 
 he found in the earth ; a fraud not uncommon in 
 Italy. 
 
 f 4
 
 ARMS. 
 
 The extravagant esteem in -which the study 
 of heraldry was held two centuries ago, appears 
 in the ponderous compilations on the subject of 
 armorial bearings, -which abounded all over Eu- 
 rope. Johan le Feron, advocate in the parlia- 
 ment of Paris in the reign of Charles IX. instead 
 of employing himself in his business, devoted all 
 his time to the blazoning of arms and escutcheons, 
 on which subject he wrote several volumes filled 
 -with the most extravagant absurdities. He traced 
 the origin of arms up to the Creation, and being 
 once asked what -was the coat of Adam, he 
 gravely answered, li Three fig leaves ;" for which 
 lie assigned this sage reason : that after the fall, 
 our first parents made themselves a covering of 
 those leaves. 
 
 The following curious anecdote shews how 
 tenacious men were of the heraldic distinctions of 
 their own families, even in our own country. 
 The family of the Drakes, of Ashe in Devonshire, 
 was very ancient and honourable, and first seated 
 at Exmouth, in the same county, where there had 
 been no less than ten successions, all of the name 
 of John. Sir Bernard Drake, in the reign of 
 Elizabeth, was a great courtier and a brave naval
 
 ASTROLOGY. 73 
 
 commander. He was a person of so high a spirit, 
 that he gave the famous sir Francis Drake, who 
 was not related to him, a box on the ear, for 
 assuming his arms, which were a wivern dis- 
 played, gules. This being reported to the queen, 
 she was so provoked as to give a new coat to sir 
 Francis, and for his crest, a ship on a globe held 
 by a cable with a hand out of the clouds, and in 
 the rigging hung up by the heels, a wivern with 
 wings displayed, gules; of which, when she 
 asked sir Bernard his opinion, he boldly au- 
 swered " Madam, though you could give him a 
 finer, yet you could not give him an ancienter 
 coat than mine." 
 
 ASTROLOGY. 
 
 Louis XT. of France, having a famous astro- 
 loger in his court, and intending one day to go a- 
 hunting, asked him, " Whether it would be fair 
 weather, or whether he did not suspect it would 
 rain ?" The astrologer having consulted his astro- 
 labe, answered, that "the day would be fair and 
 serene." The king determined therefore to pursue 
 his design ; but having rode out of Paris, and 
 coming near the forest, he met a collier driving 
 his ass, laden with coals, who said, that " the
 
 74 ASTROLOGY. 
 
 king had better return, because in a few hours 
 there would be a great storm." But as what 
 such people say is but little regarded, the king 
 made no account of it, but rode into the forest, 
 and was no sooner there, than the day grew dark, 
 thunder and lightning came on, and the rain fell 
 in such abundance, that every one endeavouring 
 to save himself, the king was left alone, and had 
 nothing to trust to for his safety but his horse's 
 swiftness. Next day the king, having sent for 
 the collier, asked him, " where he had learned 
 astrology?" and " how he could so exactly tell 
 what weather should happen ?" The collier 
 answered, " Sir, I was never at school, and in- 
 deed can neither read nor write; nevertheless I 
 keep a good astrologer in my house, who never 
 deceives me." The king being amazed, asked 
 him, " what was his astrologer's name ?" Upon 
 which the poor man, quite abashed, answered, 
 " Sir, it is the ass which your majesty yesterday 
 saw me driving, laden with coals : as soon as bad 
 weather is coming, he hangs down his ears for- 
 ward, and walks more slowly than usual, and 
 rubs himself against the walls : by these signs, 
 Sir, I certainly foresee rain, which was the rea- 
 son that yesterday I advised your majesty to re- 
 turn home." The king hearing this, cashiered 
 bis astrologer, and gave a small salary to the
 
 ASTROLOGY. 75 
 
 collier, that be might make much of his ass ; 
 and said with an oath, " that for the future the 
 collier's ass should be his astrologer." 
 
 One of the star-gazing tribe having foretold 
 something disagreeable to the same monarch, his 
 majesty resolved upon his destruction. Accord- 
 ingly the next day he sent for the sage, and pri- 
 vately ordered his people, upon a signal given, 
 to throw the conjurer out of the window. As 
 soon as the king saw him, " You that pretend," 
 said he, " to be such a wise man, and to know 
 so perfectly the fate of others, inform me what 
 will be your own, and how long you have to 
 live r" The astrologer, who now began to appre- 
 hend some danger, answered with great presence 
 of mind : " I know my destiny, and am assured 
 that 1 shall die three days before your majesty." 
 The king upon this, was so far from having him 
 thrown out of the window, that, on the contrary, 
 lie took care not to suffer the astrologer to want 
 for any thing, but did all that was possible to re- 
 tard the death of a man, when his own was so 
 eloscly to follow. 
 
 It is not to be denied, that many instances have 
 been related on good authority, which appear at 
 first sight to give a colour to the pretensions of
 
 76 ASTROLOGY. 
 
 the astrological science. The following passage 
 is found in Mezeray's History of France: 
 
 A certain person who was very well acquainted 
 with marshal Biron, told me a remarkable thing 
 of him. The marshal used to laugh at the 
 predictions of the astrologers whom the curiosity 
 of Catherine de Medicis had brought in great re- 
 quest at the court ; but some time before he died, 
 some of their predictions having had their ac- 
 complishment, he gave as much credit to them, 
 and became as superstitious in that respect, as he 
 had been before incredulous. One of the for- 
 tune-tellers having predicted that he should be 
 killed by a cannon-ball, it made such an impres- 
 sion upon him, that he confessed to his friends 
 whenever he heard a gun go off, he could not 
 help trembling for fear, and bending his head. 
 At the siege of Epcrnai, in 1592, hearing a shot 
 whistle, he stept aside to avoid it, but unluckily 
 fell in the exact line of it, and so fulfilled a predic- 
 tion which perhaps had not come to pass, if he 
 had laughed at it. 
 
 Camerarius gives this remarkable instance of 
 the pernicious effects of astrology : 
 
 A rich man of Lyons, having caused a calcu- 
 lation of his nativity to be made, and fancying 
 ihat his death was certainly foretold in the horo-
 
 ASTROLOGY. 77 
 
 acope, very rashly distributed all his wealth 
 among the poor, and persons pretending to be his 
 friends, so that he left himself little or nothing; 
 but being deceived by the astrologer, he was 
 forced to beg charity for his subsistence, living 
 to a great age, and much longer than he ex- 
 pected. 
 
 The, most famous astrologer in England, was 
 William Lilly, the Sidrophel in Hudibras. Of 
 this extraordinary seer, the following pleasant 
 story is related in the Biographia Britannica, 
 on the authority of his successor, Dr. Case : 
 
 A person who wanted to consult Lilly on some 
 important point, coming to his house one morn- 
 ing early, the astrologer himself came to the 
 door, and seeing a very disagreeable object which 
 somebody had lately left there ; and being much 
 offended with the sight and the smell, wished he 
 did but know who had treated him in that 
 manner, that he might punish them accordingly ; 
 which his customer observing, when the conjurer 
 demanded his business, " Nothing at all," replied 
 he, " for I am sure, if you can't find out who 
 has laid their tail at your own door, it is impos- 
 sible you should discover any thing relative to 
 me ;" and so left him. 
 
 Sfoflerus, a noted astrologer, foretold, that in
 
 7S ASTROLOGY^ 
 
 the month of February 1524, there would be se- 
 veral conjunctions in the watery signs, portend- 
 ing a general flood, and such a devastation aa 
 had never been heard of since the days of Noah ; 
 which so frightened numbers of men and women 
 in France, Spain, Italy, and Germany, that some 
 provided ships, others who lived in the low lands 
 took provisions with them to the mountains, 
 where they made solemn processions, and spent 
 their time in devotional exercises. But the month 
 of February proved perfectly fine, and the fol- 
 lowing months serene and fruitful, whereby God 
 made it appear, says an historian of that time, 
 thafastrology is no certain science. 
 
 But the most extraordinary instance of astro- 
 logical superstition and vanity, is recorded of 
 the noted Jerom Cardan, who having ventured 
 to foretell by the rules of his art, the precise year 
 when he should die, starved himself to death, 
 that he might verify his prediction. The obser- 
 vations of Bayle upon this conduct are worth 
 transcribing : " Cardan was afraid of surviving 
 the falsity of his prognostics, and so tender of his 
 honour, that he could not endure the reproach 
 of having proved a false prophet, and wronged 
 his profession. Fcav people in the like case stand 
 up with so much courage and affection for the 
 honour of their art."
 
 ASTROLOGY. 79 
 
 John Evans, an astrologer, was a native of 
 Wales, and educated at Oxford ; after which lie 
 entered into orders, and obtained a curacy in 
 Staffordshire, from whence he was obliged to re- 
 move on account of some offences committed by 
 him, for besides debauchery, which was his 
 chief crime, he gave judgment upon things lost, 
 which, as Lilly saith, is the only shame of astro- 
 logy. The description given of his person is 
 whimsical enough. He was of middle stature, 
 broad forehead, beetle-browed, thick-shouldered, 
 flat-nosed, full lips, down-looked, of black, cur- 
 ling, stiff hair, and splay-footed. Such a por- 
 trait might have deserved the notice of Lavater, 
 though it is rather in the style of the advertise- 
 ments for thieves in the Hue and Cry. " To give 
 him his right, saith the same author, he had the 
 most piercing judgment, naturally upon a figure 
 of theft, ami many other questions as was by un- 
 derstanding men known ; yet for money he would 
 give contrary judgment." This is a curious con- 
 fession of astrological honesty ; but it is ra- 
 ther unaccountable, that any credulous person 
 should wish 1o bribe a conjurer to give a false 
 prediction. The moral picture of Evans corres- 
 ponded most aptly with that of his outside, and 
 sets him forth altogether as a very amiable per- 
 sonage. 
 
 He was much addicted to debauchery, and
 
 80 ASTROLOGY. 
 
 when in drink, would be very abusive and quar- 
 relsome ; so that he was seldom without a black 
 eye or a bruise, the effects of his quarrelsome 
 disposition. 
 
 Among other branches of his mysterious occu- 
 pation, he constructed antimonial cups, upon 
 the sale of which he principally subsisted. These 
 cups were supposed to possess extraordinary heal- 
 ing virtues ; and even now they form a lucrative 
 article of traffic in Germany, where quackery 
 and the occult sciences are still respected. 
 
 Evans also published almanacks and prog- 
 nosticons (as Wood calls them). The first alma- 
 nack printed by him was in lb'13; and has a 
 Latin dedication to the bishop of Worcester. This 
 was calculated to the latitude of Worcester ; but 
 another for ! 625 was adapted to that of Shrews- 
 bury. At the end of the latter, is this advertise- 
 ment : " At my house, the Tour Ashes, in the 
 parish of Enfield, within the county of Stafford, 
 are taught these arts, viz. to read and understand 
 the English, Latin, Greek, and Hebrew, to 
 know in a very short time ; also to write the run- 
 ning secretary, set secretary, Roman, Italian, 
 and court hands; also arithmetic, and other 
 mathematical sciences." 
 
 From this place he was obliged to remove, on 
 account of his irregular mode of living: he then 
 settled with his family in the Minories, near Aid-
 
 ASTROLOGY. 81 
 
 gate, and afterwards in Gunpowder-alley, in Lon- 
 don, where he carried on the lucrative business 
 of casting nativities, and had the honour of in- 
 structing in that art, the renowned William 
 Lilly, who stands at the head of English astro- 
 logers, and has been immortalized by Butler in 
 his Hudibras, under the name of Sidrophel. 
 
 To return to Evans, his pupil, Lilly, and after 
 him the Oxford biographer, Anthony Wood, 
 very gravely inform us, that he was not only an 
 astrologer, but versed in still profoundcr sciences, 
 and that lie could compel spirits to appear at his 
 command from the " vasty deep." Of his skill 
 in necromancy those sagacious historians give us 
 two curious instances, which cannot but prove 
 amusing to our readers, as shewing to what 
 lengths of credulity the minds even of sensible 
 and learned men may be carried. 
 
 " There was in Staffordshire," saith Lilly, ll a 
 young gentlewoman who had for her preferment 
 married an aged rich person, who being desirous 
 to purchase some lands for the maintenance of 
 his wife, di:I at length buy them in the name of 
 a gentleman who was her dear friend, and for her 
 use. After the said aged man was dead, the 
 young widow could by no means procure the 
 deed of purchase from her friend the gentleman ; 
 whereupon she applied herself to our author,' 
 John Evans, a minister, who for the sum of 
 
 vol. i. c,
 
 82 ASTROLOGY. 
 
 forty pounds, promised to have the deed de- 
 livered into her hands. Evans thereupon ap- 
 plied himself to the invocation of the angel Sal- 
 mon, of the nature of Mars, read his Litany in the 
 Common Prayer-book every day at select hours, 
 wore his surplice, and lived orderly all that time. 
 At the fortnight's end Salmon appeared, and 
 having received his commands what to do, did 
 in a little time after return with the very deed, 
 and laid it gently upon a table, where a white 
 cloth was spread, and then being dismissed, va- 
 nished. The deed was, by the gentleman who had 
 kept it, placed among other of his evidences in a 
 large wooden chest, and in a chamber at one end 
 of his house ; but upon Salmon's removing and 
 bringing way the deed, all that part of the build- 
 ing was quite blown down, and all his own pro- 
 per evidences torn all to pieces." So far, it ap- 
 pears this exertion of the black art was ser- 
 viceable to the interests of justice ; but the other 
 was mischievous, and had like to have been tra- 
 gical. 
 
 " While the said Evans," says our author, 
 " lived in the Minories, which was in 1630 or 
 1631, he was desired by one -who called himself 
 lord Bothwell, and sir Kenelm Digby, to shew 
 them a spirit. He promised them so to do : and 
 when they were all in the body of the circle which 
 he had made, Evans, upou a sudden, after some
 
 ASTROLOGY. 83 
 
 time of invocation, was taken out of the room, 
 and carried into the field near Battersea Cause- 
 way, close to the Thames. Next morning a 
 countryman going by to his labour, and espy- 
 ing a man in black clothes, came unto him, 
 awakened him, and asked him how he came there. 
 Evans by this understood his own condition, in- 
 quired where he was, how far from London, and 
 in what parish ; which, when he understood, he 
 told the labourer he had been late at Battersea 
 the night before, and by chance was left there by 
 his friends. The lord Both well, and sir Kenelm 
 Digby, who went home without any harm, came 
 next day to the house of Evans, to know what 
 was become of him ; and just as they came into 
 the house, in the afternoon, a messenger came 
 from Evans to his wife, to come to him at Bat- 
 tersea ; which she did, and conveyed him home. 
 This story being told by Evans to William Lilly, 
 he inquired upon what account the spirits carried 
 him away ? To which Evans made answer, that 
 " he did not at the time of his invocation make 
 any suffumigation, at which the spirits were 
 vexed." 
 
 This singular character died before the break- 
 ing out of the civil wars. 
 
 in the life of that able mathematician, Thomas 
 Simpson, we are told that he devoted himself i 
 g2
 
 84 ASTROLOGY. 
 
 first to this study, and made an advantageous pro* 
 fession of it. He was a weaver at Market Bosworth, 
 in Leicestershire, and had no other education than 
 barely being able to read. In the year 1724, 
 the 11th of May, there happened a great eclipse 
 of the sun, which proved total in several parts of 
 England. This phenomenon, so aweful to many 
 who are ignorant of the cause of it, struck the 
 mind of young Simpson with a strong curiosity 
 to enter into the reason of it, and to be able to 
 predict the like surprising events. It was however 
 five or six years before he could obtain his desire, 
 which was gratified by the following accident, 
 feeing at the house of a relation, where he 
 resided some time, a pedlar came that way, and 
 took a lodging in the same house. This man, to 
 his profession of an itinerant merchant, had joined 
 the more profitable one of a fortune-teller, which 
 he performed by means of judicial astrology. 
 Every one knows with what regard persons of this 
 cast are treated by the inhabitants of country 
 villages: it cannot therefore be surprising, that 
 an untutored lad of nineteen should look upon 
 this man as a prodigy, and regarding him in 
 this light, should endeavour to ingratiate himself 
 in his favour; in which he succeeded so well, 
 that the sage was no less taken with the quick 
 natural parts of his new acquaintance. The ped- 
 lar iutending a journey to Bristol fair, left in the
 
 ASTROLOGY. 85 
 
 hands of young Simpson, who had already 
 taught himself to write, an old edition of Coc- 
 ker's Arithmetic, to which was subjoined a short 
 appendix on algebra, and a book of Partridge, the 
 almanack-maker, on genitures. These he perused 
 to so good purpose during the absence of his 
 friend, as to excite his amazement on his return ; 
 in consequence of which, the astrologer set him- 
 self about erecting a genethliacal scheme, in order 
 to presage Thomas's fortune. The wizard having 
 very maturely considered the position of the hea- 
 vens, secundum artem, did, with much confi- 
 dence, pronounce, that within two years time 
 young Simpon would turn out a greater man 
 than himself. 
 
 Not long after this, Simpson, being pretty well 
 qualified to erect a figure, did by the advice of his 
 friend make an open profession of casting nativi- 
 ties ; from whence he derived a pretty pittance, so 
 that he quite neglected his weaving, and soon be- 
 came the oracle of Bosworth and its environs. 
 Scarce a courtship advanced to a match, or a bar- 
 gain to a sale, without consulting the infallible 
 Simpson about the consequences. Helping folks 
 to stolen goods, he always declared above his 
 power; and that as to life and death, he had no 
 knowledge. All those called lawful questions, 
 he readily resolved, provided the persons were 
 certain as to the horary data of the horoscope ; 
 
 g3
 
 S6 AUTHORS. 
 
 and he has often declared, with such success, 
 that, if from very cogent reasons he had not been 
 thoroughly convinced of the vain foundation and 
 fallaciousness f his art, he never should have 
 dropt it, as he then thought himself in conscience 
 bound to do, and accordingly abandoned it at 
 once. The surprising progress which this in- 
 genious man made in mathematics, procured him 
 the professorship in the Royal Academy at Wool- 
 wich ; and after his death, in 1761, the king 
 gave a pension to his widow, together with hand- 
 some apartments adjoining to the Academy. 
 
 AUTHORS. 
 
 Of the excessive and disgusting vanity of 
 men of letters, the following are remarkable in- 
 stances : 
 
 A bookseller having signified his wish to pub- 
 lish a portrait of Julius Scaliger, the latter wrote 
 to him, and the letter is really extant, that if 
 even the artist could unite together, the different 
 graces of Massanissa, Xenophon, and Plato, he 
 would after all give to the public but a very 
 weak and imperfect representation of his amiable 
 person. 
 
 Salmasius was once in the French king's ii- 
 brar} r , with two other scholars as vain as himself,
 
 AUTHORS. 87 
 
 one of whom observed, that the three persons pre- 
 sent would be offered the chief place in an assem- 
 bly of all the scholars in Europe. " You two 
 then must be of another party/' replied Salma- 
 sius, " for to me alone would that distinction be 
 given." 
 
 Dennis, the critic and dramatic writer, whose 
 name is perpetuated by the satirical muse of 
 Pope, had the most extravagant notions of his 
 own importance. 
 
 His tragedy, entitled, " Liberty Asserted," 
 which became popular on account of the viru- 
 lent abuse of the French nation with which it 
 abounded, was of such political consequence in his 
 own eyes, that he imagined Louis XIV. would 
 make a point at the peace of having the author de- 
 livered up to his resentment. Under this appre- 
 hension he actually applied to the duke of Marl- 
 borough for his good offices when the treaty of 
 Utrecht was in agitation. The duke gravely told 
 Dennis, that he had little interest with the per- 
 sons then in the ministry, but that he hoped the 
 danger was not so great as he imagined ; for that 
 lie himself had made no application for security 
 in the articles of peace, and yet he could not 
 help thinking that he had done the French king 
 almost as much harm as Mr. Dennis had done. 
 
 As a farther instance of the poet's fears, it is 
 g4
 
 8S AUTHORS. 
 
 related, that being upon a visit to a friend who 
 lived on the coast of Sussex, he saw a ship mak- 
 ing towards the land ; when taking it into his 
 head that this was a French vessel coming to 
 seize him, he exclaimed, that he was betrayed, 
 and instantly made the best of his way to Lon- 
 don, without taking leave of his host. 
 
 When his tragedy of " Appius and Virginia" 
 was performed, Dennis, to augment the terror of 
 the scene, invented a new kind of theatrical thunder, 
 more sonorous and alarming than what had been 
 generally used, and which indeed was so well ap- 
 proved as to continue to be employed to the pre- 
 sent time. His tragedy soon disappeared from 
 the stage ; but Dennis some time after happening 
 to hear his own thunder at the performance of 
 Macbeth, " 'Sdeath," he exclaimed, " how the 
 rascals use me! They will not let my play run, 
 and yet they steal my thunder !" 
 
 The following anecdote is an instance of vir- 
 tuous pride, and of that laudable spirit of inde- 
 pendence, which the consciousness of superior 
 genius preserves*' unbroken even in adversity and 
 under persecution. 
 
 The famous Italian poet, Dante, being banished 
 from his native city of Florence, obtained an asy- 
 lum at Verona, and had for his patron, Can della 
 Scalla, or the prince of that country. There wen:
 
 authors. 89 
 
 in the same court several strolling players, game- 
 sters, and other persons of that description, one 
 of whom, distinguished for his ribaldry and buf- 
 foonery, was much caressed beyond the others. 
 The prince one day, when this man and Dante 
 were both present, highly extolled the former, 
 and turning to the poet, said, " I wonder that 
 this foolish fellow should have found out the 
 secret of pleasing us all, and making himself ad- 
 mired, while you, who are a man of great sense, 
 are in little esteem :" to which Dante freely re- 
 plied, u You would cease to wonder at this, if 
 you knew how -much the conformity of charac- 
 ters is the source of friendship." 
 
 Jf an author is poor lie is sure to be slighted ; 
 and what is worse, his literary brethren, and even 
 those who are inferior to him in merit and ac- 
 quirements, will treat him with contumely. Who 
 can read the following anecdote, without feeling 
 sentiments of indignation and compassion ? 
 
 Calvin, in one of his furious moods, accused 
 poor Casta! io, who translated the Bible into ele- 
 gant Latin, with being a thief, in these words : 
 " What was it, pray, but a natural dishonesty, 
 which prompted you with a hook to steal wood 
 for tiring ?" In reply to this strange charge, Cas- 
 talio enters into this explanation : " that being in
 
 90 AUTHORS. 
 
 very great indigence, and unwilling to leave off 
 his translation of the Scripture, he took a hook at 
 his leisure hours, to pull up the pieces of wood 
 which floated on the river: this wood belonged 
 to nobody ; so that," continues he, " I might ap- 
 propriate it to myself without fraud, to have 
 wherewith to warm myself. The fishermen and 
 many others made use of the hook as well as my- 
 self; and it was done in the sight of all the town 
 of Basil." He adds, " that during the over- 
 flowing of a river which discharges itself into the 
 Rhine above Basil, above one hundred persons 
 employed themselves to stop the pieces of timber 
 which drove down towards the city, and that he 
 and four of his friends stopped many, for doing 
 which, the magistrates caused fourpence per 
 head to be given them, besides the wood." 
 
 "When Churchill finished his Rosciad,he waited 
 on an eminent bookseller with the copy, but he 
 had suffered so severely by the publication of 
 poetry, that he was determined to have nothing 
 more to do with any of the rhiming sons of Apollo, 
 unless he was indemnified from sustaining any 
 loss. This condition Churchill could not com- 
 ply with . The bookseller, however, recommended 
 a worthy young man to him, who had just ven- 
 tured his little fortune in the uncertain sea of ink,
 
 AUTHORS. 91 
 
 and who would probably run the risk of publi- 
 cation. Churchill waited on him, and found 
 very thing to his wish. 
 
 The poem was printed, advertised, and at the 
 end of five days ten copies were sold. Churchill 
 was thunderstruck, and the bookseller was little 
 less chagrined. At the end of four days more he 
 called again, and found that six more copies were 
 sold : the poet was almost frantic, and hurried 
 away to a friend to acquaint him with his hard 
 fate. His friend, who was intimate with Garrick, 
 posted to him the next morning, and informed 
 him what a beautiful picture of his astonishing 
 abilities had just appeared in the Rosciad. Gar- 
 rick swallowed the gilded pill, instantly sent for 
 the poem, read it, and sounded its praises where- 
 ever he went. The next evening the publisher 
 had not a single copy left, and in a few weeks so 
 many editions went oif, that Churchill found him- 
 self richer than any poet whose estate lay at that 
 time on Parnassus. 
 
 The most agreeable writers are not always the 
 most pleasing in their behaviour, or witty in 
 conversation. When Hudibras came out it soon 
 became the general favourite, and the merry mo- 
 narch Charles II. was never without a copy in 
 his pocket. The earl of Dorset, who was consi- 
 dered as the Mecaenas of his time, concluding
 
 92 AUTHORS. 
 
 that the author of so inimitable a performance, 
 must be as amusing in his discourse as fascinating 
 in his works, expressed a desire to Mr. Fleet- 
 wood Shepherd to spend an evening in Butler's 
 company. Accordingly Mr. Shepherd brought 
 them together at a tavern, as if by accident, and 
 without mentioning his lordship's quality to the 
 poet. Mr. Butler, while the first bottle was 
 drinking, appeared very flat and heavy ; at the 
 second bottle, brisk and lively, full of wit and 
 learning, and a most pleasant agreeable compa- 
 nion ; but before the third bottle was finished, 
 he sunk again into such deep stupidity and dul- 
 ness, that hardly any body could have believed 
 him to be the author of a book which abounded 
 with so much wit, learning, and pleasantry. 
 Next morning, when Mr. Shepherd asked his 
 lordship's opinion of Mr. Butler, the earl an- 
 swered, " He is like a nine-pin, little at both 
 ends, but great in the middle." 
 
 The following pleasant story of Mr. Gay, soon 
 after he had composed his tragedy called the 
 Captives, is related by Victor in his History of 
 the Theatres. He had interest enough with the 
 late queen Caroline, then princess of Wales, to 
 excite her royal highness's curiosity to hear the 
 author read his play to her at Leicester-house. 
 The day was fixed, and Mr. Gay was com*
 
 AUTHORS. 93 
 
 mancled to attend. He waited some time in a 
 presence-chamber with his play in his hand ; but 
 being a very modest man, and unequal to the trial 
 to which he was going, when the door of (he draw- 
 ing-room, where the princess sat with her ladies, 
 was opened for his entrance, he was so much 
 confused, and concerned about making his pro- 
 per obeisance, that he did not see a low foot- 
 stool that happened to be near him, and stumb- 
 ling over it, he fell against a large screen, which 
 he overset, and threw the ladies into no small 
 disorder. Her royal highness's great goodness 
 soon reconciled this whimsical accident, but the 
 unlucky author was not so soon clear of his con- 
 fusion. 
 
 One of the greatest examples of literary indus- 
 try of this or any other country, was Dr. John 
 Campbell, author of the Political Survey of Bri- 
 tain, a "work of sterling merit. A gentleman who 
 happened to dine with the doctor at the house of 
 a common acquaintance, observed that he should 
 be glad to purchase a complete set of his works. 
 The hint was not lost ; for the next morning the 
 gentleman was surprised at the appearance of a 
 cart before his door, loaded with books, and the 
 bill amounted to seventy pounds. As Dr. Camp- 
 bell compiled a part of the Universal History, 
 and of the Biographia Britannica, we may suppose
 
 94; AUTHORS. 
 
 that these two ponderous articles formed a part of 
 the cargo. The doctor was accustomed to obtain 
 a number of copies of his publications from the 
 printers, and keep them at his house for such op- 
 portunities. A gentleman who called upon him 
 one day exclaimed with surprise, " My dear sir, 
 is it possible that you can have read all these 
 books?" " Nay," answered Campbell, laughing, 
 " I have written them all." 
 
 Campbell was a nonjuror, and most zealously 
 attached to the house of Stuart. It happened 
 that a messenger who was employed by the Jaco- 
 bites in England, to carry on a correspondence 
 with the pretender, had prevailed upon the doc- 
 tor to write a letter to the pretender's secretary, 
 and as the messenger was in sir Robert Walpole's 
 pay, lie carried it with the rest to that minister, 
 who sent for the doctor the following morning 
 (as he often did at other times, having frequently 
 employed his pen in writing in defence of his 
 administration), on pretence of talking to him 
 about something he was to write. Sir Robert took 
 him to a window which looked into the street, 
 and while they were standing there together, he 
 had contrived that the messenger should pass by, 
 and looking up, moved his hat at them : upon 
 which sir Robert asked the doctor if he knew that 
 man, and who he was ? The doctor, in some alarm, 
 immediately answered, that he was very well ac-
 
 AUTHORS. 95 
 
 quatnted with him, and that he could assure him 
 he was a worthy honest man. " He may be so," 
 said sir Robert, " but he is certainly a very care- 
 less one, for he gave me a letter yesterday which 
 I believe was not intended to come into my hands, 
 and I think its direction is your hand-writing !" 
 then pulling out the letter, he gave it to him un- 
 opened. The doctor fell upon his knees, and 
 vowed, that as he had given him his life, it 
 should be devoted to his service, and he never 
 ceased to be his advocate throughout the remainder 
 of his life. And sir Robert was so well convinced 
 of his sincerity, that he would have given him a 
 valuable place ; but the doctor would not sacri- 
 fice his principles to his interest, and therefore 
 declined the offer, continuing a nonjuror as long 
 as the pretender lived. 
 
 Numerous instances might be produced of the 
 thoughtless extravagance of literary men ; but 
 few authors were more remarkable for a careless 
 indifference to worldly concerns than Goldsmith. 
 One great point of pride in the character of this 
 ingenious writer, was to be liberal to his poor 
 countrymen in distress. Pride is not an impro- 
 per expression, because he did this with some 
 degree of ostentation. One man who was artful, 
 never failed to apply to him as soon as he pub- 
 lished any new work, and therefore was likely to be
 
 96 AUTHORS. 
 
 in cash. This person succeeded twice, but some- 
 times found that all the copy money was gone be- 
 fore the doctor's works saw the light. Goldsmith, 
 tired of his applications, told him to write him- 
 self, at the same time ordering him to draw up a 
 description of China, interspersed with political 
 reflections, a work which a bookseller had ap- 
 plied to Goldsmith for at a price which he de- 
 spised, but had not rejected. The idle careless- 
 ness of his temper may be collected from this, 
 that he never gave himself the trouble to read the 
 manuscript, but sent to the press an account 
 which made the emperor of China a mahometan, 
 and placed India between China and Japan. Two 
 sheets were cancelled at Goldsmith's expence, 
 who kicked his newly created author down stairs. 
 While Goldsmith was in the pay of Newberry 
 the bookseller, and lived in Green Arbour Court, 
 he was a tolerable economist, and lived happily; 
 but when he emerged from obscurity, and en- 
 joyed a good income, he had no idea of saving, 
 or any degree of care; in consequence of which 
 lie was extremely necessitous several mouths in 
 the year, and seldom free from demands which 
 he could not discharge. When the pressure of 
 the evil roused him to a sense of his condition, 
 he retired to a farm house in Hampshire, where 
 he lived for little or nothing, letting nobody know 
 where he was, and employing almost the whole
 
 AUTHORS. 
 
 97 
 
 clay in writing ; so that he did not return to Lon- 
 don till he was so well stocked with manuscripts, 
 as to be able to clear himself. Those intervals of 
 labour and retirement he often declared were 
 amongst the happiest moments of his life. Some 
 years before his death he was much embittered by 
 disappointment. A noble lord had promised him 
 a place ; the expectation contributed to involve 
 him, and he often spoke with asperity of his 
 dependence on what he called moon-shine. He 
 enjoyed brilliant moments of wit, festivity, and 
 conversation ; but the bulk of all his latter days 
 were poisoned with want and anxiety. 
 
 In the suite of his pensioners (and he generally 
 enlarged his list as he enlarged his finances) was 
 the unfortunate Jack Pilkington, of scribbling 
 memory, who had served ihe doctor so many 
 tricks, that lie despaired of getting any more 
 money from him, without coming out with a 
 chef cCceurre once for all. He accordingly called 
 on the doctor one morning, and running about 
 the room in a fit of joy, told him his fortune was 
 made. " How so ?" says the doctor. " Why," 
 says Jack, " t he duchess of Marlborough, you 
 must know, has long had a strange penchant for a 
 pairofu:77c mice ; now,as I knewthey were some- 
 times to be had in the East Indies, I commissioned 
 a friend of mine, who was going thither, to get 
 them for me, and he is this morning arrived with 
 
 VOL, i. h
 
 98 AUTHORS. 
 
 two of the most beautiful little animals in nature." 
 After Jack had finished this account with a trans- 
 port of joy, he lengthened his visage, by telling 
 the doctor all was ruined, for without iico gui- 
 neas to buy a cage for the mice, he could not 
 present them. The doctor unfortunately, as he 
 said himself, had but half a guinea in the world, 
 which he offered him. But Pilkington was not to 
 be beat out of his scheme ; he perceived the doctor's 
 watch hanging up in his room, and after apologiz- 
 ing for the indelicacy of the proposal, hinted, that 
 if he could spare that watch fur a week, lie could 
 raise a few guineas on it, which he would repay 
 with gratitude. Goldsmith would not be the means 
 of spoiling a man's fortune for such a trifle. He 
 accordingly took down the watch, and gave it to 
 him ; which Jack immediately took to the pawn- 
 broker's, raised what he could on it, and never 
 once looked after the doctor, till he sent to borrow 
 another half guinea from him on his death-bed ; 
 which the other, under such circumstances, very 
 generously sent him. 
 
 Goldsmith had not the same love of something 
 new that prevails at present so much in our writ- 
 ings and our opinions. tc Whatever is new," said 
 lie, " is in general false." Goldsmith was a great 
 admirer of the poems pretended to have been 
 written by Rowley, a monk at Bristol, in the 
 fourteenth century ; and when he was at Bristol
 
 AUTHORS. 99 
 
 he wished much to purchase Chatterton's manu- 
 scripts of them, then in the possession of Mr. 
 George Catcott. The doctor, however, had no- 
 thing but his note of hand to offer for them. 
 " Alas, my dear sir," replied Mr. Catcott, " I 
 fear a poet's note of hand is not very current upon 
 our Exchange at Bristol." 
 
 Many writers of popular name have been in- 
 debted to casual circumstances for their elevated 
 distinction. 
 
 When Thomson produced his " Winter," the 
 best of his Seasons, the poem lay like waste paper 
 in the shop of the bookseller, and to the great 
 mortification of the author. At last Mr. Mitchell, 
 a gentleman of taste and rank, having read the 
 piece with pleasure, took it in his pocket, read 
 passages from it in all companies where he visited, 
 and in a few days, the whole impression being 
 disposed of, the poet was enabled to complete 
 his design. 
 
 The following anecdote of the ingenious Dr. 
 Langhorne, and a living writer of great eminence, 
 is a pleasing instance of literary friendship and 
 politeness. 
 
 In 1773, the doctor resided for a few months 
 at Weston-supra-mare, in Somersetshire, for the 
 benefit of the sea air. Mrs. Hannah More, at 
 h 2
 
 100 AUTHORS. 
 
 the same time, and on the same account, resided 
 at Uphill, a mile from Weston. Meeting one 
 day upon the sea strand, the doctor wrote, with 
 the end of his stick, upon the sand : 
 
 Along the shore 
 
 Walk'd Hannah More ; 
 Waves let this record last : 
 
 Sooner shall ye, 
 
 Proud earth and sea, 
 Than what she writes, be past. 
 
 John Langhorne. 
 
 Underneath, Mrs. More scratched with her 
 whip, these lines : 
 
 Some firmer basis, polish'd Langhorne, chuse, 
 To write the dictates of thy charming muse : 
 Her strains in solid characters rehearse, 
 And be thy tablet lasting as thy verse.' 
 
 Hannah More. 
 
 The doctor praised her wit, and copied the 
 lines, which lie presented to her at a house near 
 the sea, where they adjourned ; and Mrs. More 
 immediately wrote under them as follows : 
 
 To the Rev. Dr. Langhorne. 
 
 Langhorne ! whose sweetly-varying muse has pow'r, 
 To raise the pensive, crown the social hour; 
 Whose very trifling has the charm to please, 
 With native wit and unaffected ease : 
 How soon obedient to thy forming hand, 
 The letters grew upon the flexile sand!
 
 AUTHORS. 101 
 
 Should some lost traveller the scene explore, 
 And trace thy verses on the dreary shore, 
 What sudden joy would flash his eager eyes, 
 How from his eyes would burst the glad surprize ? 
 Methinks I hear, or seem to hear him, say : 
 " This Ietter'd shore has smooth'd my toilsome way, 
 " Hannah ! (he adds) tho' honest truths may pain, 
 " Yet here I see an emblem of the swain ; 
 " As these frail characters with ease imprest, 
 " Upon the yielding sand's soft watery breast, 
 " Which, when some few short hours they shall have stood, 
 " Will soon be swept by an impetuous flood ; 
 " Presumptuous maid, so shall expire thy name, 
 " Thou wretched, feeble candidate for fame ! 
 " But Langhorne's fate in yon firm rock* T read, 
 " Which rears above the cloud its tow'ring head : 
 " Long as that rock shall rear its head on high, 
 " And lift its bold front to the azure sky; 
 " Long as these adamantine hills survive, 
 ' So long, harmonious Langhorne, shalt thou live : 
 " While envy's waves shall lash, and vainly roar, 
 " And only fix thy olid base the more." 
 Uphill, Sept. 11, 1773. Hannah More. 
 
 The clergyman of Weston, being in company, 
 was asked his opinion of these verses, which he 
 thus expressed : 
 
 Weston may justly boast a bard divine, 
 And Uphill too, great praise is due to thine. 
 
 * Breandown is a high rocky mountain, that extends itself into 
 the sea a full mile in length, and forms an isthmus from the main 
 land, which is divided from Uphill by the river Axe.
 
 102 AVARICE. 
 
 Weston's great genius we must all confess, 
 Uphill! thy maid will " Search for Happiness*." 
 Rise, Fame, and to the world their works repeat, 
 Then as their merit, will their praise be great. 
 
 Davio Powell. 
 
 AVARICE. 
 
 The famous professor of physic, James 
 Sylvius, degraded himself by his avaricious spirit 
 and sDrdid conduct. His lectures drew to Paris 
 numbers of students from all parts of Europe ; 
 but though he accumulated a considerable for- 
 tune, he was so narrow-minded, that when any 
 of his scholars failed to bring him their monthly 
 money, he fell into a violent passion, and once 
 he swore before them all, that he would leave off 
 reading lectures, if the other pupils did not turn 
 out the defaulters, or oblige them to pay him. 
 He lived a wretched life, allowing nothing but 
 bread to his servants, and having no fire all the 
 winter. He had two remedies against the cold ; 
 one was playing at foot-ball, and the other was 
 carrying a large log of wood from the cellar to 
 the garret. Thus, as he observed, while he 
 saved the expense of fire, he promoted his health 
 by exercise. He died at Paris in 1555, aged 77. 
 
 * Mrs. More had just before published her poem, entitled 
 " The Search ajter Happiness."
 
 AVARICE. 103 
 
 That great events spring from trivial causes, 
 was perhaps never more strikingly exemplified 
 than in the history of Guy's Hospital. 
 
 Guy, the founder of that noble edifice, was 
 a bookseller in Stocks-market, between Cornhill 
 and Lombard-street. He had a maid-servant, 
 whom he agreed to marry ; and, preparatory to his 
 nuptials, he had ordered the pavement before his 
 door to be mended so far as to a particular stone 
 which he marked . The maid, while her master 
 was out, innocently looking on the paviours at 
 work, saw a broken place they had not repaired, 
 and mentioned it to them ; but they told her that 
 Mr. Guy had directed them not to go so far. 
 " Well," says she, " do jou mend it : tell him 
 I bade you, and I know he will not be angry." 
 It happened, however, that the poor girl pre- 
 sumed too much on her influence over her wary 
 lover, with whom the charge of a few shillings 
 extraordinary turned the scale entirely against 
 her : for Guy, enraged to find his orders exceeded, 
 renounced the matrimonial scheme, and resolved 
 upon perpetuating his name, by building and 
 endowing an hospital. This man was so com- 
 plete an exemplar of economy, that the celebrated 
 Vulture Hopkins once called upon him to learn 
 a lesson in the art of saving. On being intro- 
 duced into the parlour, Guy, not knowing his 
 h 4
 
 104; AVARICE. 
 
 visitor, lighted a candle; but when Hopkins 
 said, " Sir, I always thought myself perfect 
 in the art of getting and husbanding money, 
 but being told that you far exceed me, I have 
 taken the liberty of waiting upon you to be satis- 
 fied on this subject." " If that is all your busi- 
 ness," replied Guy, ct we can as well talk it over 
 in the dark as in the light," at the same time 
 carefully putting out his farthing candle with the 
 extinguisher. This was evidence enough to 
 Hopkins, who acknowledged Guy to be his mas- 
 ter, and took his leave. 
 
 M. \ r adille was perhaps the most remarkable 
 person ever known at Paris. He lodged as high 
 up as the roof would admit him, to avoid noise 
 and visits; and he maintained a poor old woman 
 to attend him in his garret, allowing her only 
 seven sous per week, or a penny a-day. His 
 usual diet was bread and milk, and for indul- 
 gence, some poor sour wine, on a Sunday, on 
 which day he constantly gave one farthing to 
 the poor ; being one shilling and a penny per 
 annum, which he cast up, and after his death, 
 his extensive charity amounted to the enormous 
 sum of forty-three shillings and fourpence. This 
 prudent economist had been a magistrate at Bou- 
 logne, from which situation he was promoted to 
 Paris, on account of the reputation of his wealth,
 
 AVARICE. 105 
 
 which he lent upon undeniable security in the 
 public funds, not caring to trust individuals with 
 his life and soul. While a magistrate at Bou- 
 logne, he maintained himself by taking upon him 
 the office of milk-taster-general in the market, so 
 that from one to another, he filled his belly and 
 washed down his bread at no expense of his own, 
 nor, doubtless, from any other principle than 
 that of serving the public by regulating the good- 
 ness of milk. When it was necessary for him to 
 visit Paris, knowing that stage-coaches were ex- 
 pensive vehicles, he determined to travel on foot ; 
 and, to avoid being robbed, he was careful to 
 take with him neither more nor less than the con- 
 siderable sum of threepence sterling, to carry him 
 one hundred and thirty miles; and with the 
 greater facility to execute his plan, he went in 
 the character of a poor priest, or mendicant, and 
 no doubt gathered some few pence on the road, 
 from the pious and charitable persons he met 
 with who w r ere strangers to his person. 
 
 The great value which a miser annexes to a 
 farthing, will make us less surprized at the at- 
 tachment he must have to a guinea, of which it is 
 the seed, growing by gentle gradations into pence, 
 shillings, pounds, thousands, and ten thousands, 
 which made our calculator say, " take care of 
 the farthings, and the pence sm\ shillings will 
 take care of themselves. These seniina of wealth
 
 106 AVARICE. 
 
 may be compared to seconds of time, which 
 generate months, years, centuries, and even eter- 
 nity itself." 
 
 When he became excessively rich (being in 
 the year 1735 worth seven or eight hundred 
 thousand pounds sterling, which he begot or mul- 
 tiplied on the body of a single shilling, from the 
 age of sixteen to the age of 72), he one day in 
 summer, heard a woodman going by at the sea- 
 son in which the people of Paris stock themselves 
 with fuel for the winter; Vadille accordingly 
 agreed with the man at the lowest rate possible, 
 but contrived to steal from him several logs, with 
 which he loaded himself to his secret hiding hole, 
 and thus contracted a fever in that hot season. 
 In this condition he sent for a surgeon to bleed 
 him, who asking half a livre for the operation, 
 was dismissed. The miser then sent for an apo- 
 thecary, who being equally extravagant in his 
 demand, a poor barber was called in, who un- 
 dertook to open a vein for threepence a time. 
 " But," says this worthy economist, " how often 
 will it be requisite to bleed ?" " Three times," 
 said the operator. "And what quantity of blood 
 do you intend to take ?" " About eight ounces 
 each time," answered the barber. "That will 
 beninepence! Oh, too much, too much!" ex- 
 claimed the miser; " 1 have determined to go a 
 cheaper way to work : take the whole quantity
 
 AVARICE. 107 
 
 you design to take at three times, at once, and 
 that will save me sixpence;" which being in- 
 sisted on, he lost twenty-four ounces of blood, 
 and died in a few days after, leaving all his vast 
 treasures to the king, whom he made his sole 
 heir. Thus he contracted his disorder by pil- 
 fering, and his death by an unprecedented act 
 of parsimony. 
 
 In the reign of Louis XV. M. Foscue, one of 
 the farmers-general of the province of Languedoc, 
 by grinding the face of the poor, had amassed 
 an immense sum of money, which being made 
 known to the government, he was fined to a consi- 
 derable amount. But not willing to comply with 
 the demand, he pleaded extreme poverty ; and 
 lest the inhabitants of the province should give 
 information to the contrary, he resolved to hide 
 his treasure in such a manner as to escape the 
 strictest examination. Accordingly he dug a 
 kind of cave in his cellar, so large and deep, that 
 he could descend into it by a ladder ; and at the 
 entrance was a door with a spring-lock, which on 
 shutting would fasten of itself. After some time 
 M. Foscue was missing; diligent search was 
 made after him every where, but to no purpose, 
 and at last his house was sold. The purchaser 
 beginning to rebuild it, discovered a door in the 
 cellar, and going down, found the unhappy man
 
 108 AVARICE. 
 
 lying dead on the ground, with a candlestick 
 near him ; and on searching further, the mass of 
 wealth which he had accumulated was found. 
 It was supposed that he went into the cave, and 
 the door, by some accident, shutting after him, 
 he was out of the call of any person, and pe- 
 rished for want of food. He had ate the can- 
 dle, and gnawed the flesh off' both his arms ; and 
 thus died the miser and oppressor, in the midst of 
 his ill-gotten treasure, the victim of avarice. 
 
 The celebrated sir Hans Sloane, though he 
 expended prodigious sums in making a collection 
 of curiosities, was of a most penurious disposition . 
 At the age of 90 he complained bitterly to Dr. 
 Mortimer, then secretary to the Royal Society, 
 that all bis friends had deserted him; upon which 
 the doctor observed, that Chelsea was at a conside- 
 rable distance from the residence of most of them 
 in London, and therefore they might probably 
 meet with much disappointment, on finding that 
 he kept no table, but usually dined on a boiled 
 egg, to which indeed a half-starved fowl was 
 added, when Dr. Mortimer had been detained 
 several hours in shewing sir Hans' famous col- 
 lection to distinguished foreigners. This gentle 
 remonstrance put the old baronet quite out of hu- 
 mour, and he exclaimed: " Keep a table! In- 
 vite people to dinner ! What, would you have
 
 AVARICE. 109 
 
 me ruin myself? Public credit totters already, 
 and if there should be a national bankruptcy, or 
 a sponge to wipe out the national debt, you may 
 yet see me in a workhouse!" His landed estates 
 at this time were considerable, and his collection 
 was estimated at many thousands beyond the 
 price given for it by parliament, to incorporate it 
 with the British Museum, which however was 
 twenty thousand pounds. 
 
 About forty years since, one Mr. Eyre, who 
 had a place in a public office, and had besides 
 a good fortune, was transported for stealing writ- 
 ing paper. 
 
 This man originally served his time with Mr. 
 Shuckburgh, bookseller, in Fleet-street. On 
 the death of his father, who left him an affluent 
 fortune, he commenced gentleman ; took lodgings 
 in Salisbury-court, Fleet-street, and either mar- 
 ried, or seemed to be married, to a young woman, 
 by whom he had several children. Soon after this 
 connexion, an aunt of his died in Somersetshire, 
 to whom he was heir at law. She had been at- 
 tended during a long and tedious illness, by a 
 physician in the neighbourhood, who, from friend- 
 ship, not only promoted her recovery (some years 
 before her death), but would not accept of any 
 fee for his long attendance on her. His kindness 
 and assiduity so highly ingratiated him into her
 
 110 AVARICE. 
 
 esteem, that she made a will, whereby ahe be- 
 queathed him all her fortune ; and when he 
 waited upon her one day, she presented him with 
 it, saying, "Pray, doctor, read that paper at 
 your leisure." He accordingly took it with him : 
 but upon seeing her again, represented that he 
 had a sufficient competency to live easily ; that 
 he had no higher ambition than to attend his pa- 
 tients, serve them, and merit their good opinion; 
 but, that if he were to accept the bequest, he 
 might forfeit their esteem. In fine, with great 
 difficulty he persuaded her to make a new will, in 
 which she bequeathed the doctor only one thou- 
 sand pounds, appointing him one of her executors. 
 Upon the demise of the old lady, the doctor 
 wrote to her nephew in London, informing him 
 that he had succeeded to his aunt's fortune, and 
 desiring him to come down to give the necessary 
 orders for her funeral. Mr. Eyre accordingly 
 went into Somersetshire, and was met by the 
 doctor, who informed him there was a will in 
 his favour, in her bureau, directing him to the 
 drawer in which it was. Mr. Eyre went upstairs, 
 and finding his aunt's testament, with the item in 
 favour of the doctor, immediately burnt it. The 
 doctor, upon seeing him again, asked him if he 
 had found the will. Eyre, at first, denied having 
 met with any one; but being hard pressed, at 
 length acknowledged that he had destroyed it.
 
 AVARICE. Ill 
 
 saying, there was no occasion for a will, as he 
 was by law heir to the whole estate. " Yes," 
 says a friend of the physician's, " but there was 
 a legacy of a thousand pounds in behalf of the 
 doctor do you intend to pay that ?" " I know 
 nothing of any legacy," replied Eyre, " and 
 shall pay none." This so enraged the physi- 
 cian, though he despised the money, that he im- 
 mediately said, " if that's the case, you have 
 destroyed the will, and have no one to shew : 
 let me tell you 1 have one ;" and immediately 
 produced the will in his possession, whereby he 
 became successor to a fortune of near twelve 
 thousand pounds. 
 
 The following circumstance, which happened 
 not long ago, shews to what an extravagant 
 length of absurdity and meanness, a penurious 
 disposition will carry men : 
 
 A rich old country 'squire near Beaconsfield, 
 who possesses an immense property in the funds, 
 besides being lord of six or seven manors, having 
 lost his wife, was told that he ought to have an 
 escutcheon placed on the front of the house. 
 Not being willing to go to the proper expense, 
 and caring little about heraldic propriety, he 
 bribed the sexton to help him in removing an old 
 hatchment from the church, which, though it 
 was the memorial of an ancient bachelor, the
 
 112 AVARICE. 
 
 'squire erected without any alteration, as the tes- 
 timony of his respect for his spouse. The hatch- 
 ment however was missed ; an action ensued, 
 and the 'squire was obliged to return the stolen 
 goods, as well as to pay heavy costs. 
 
 In Beaumont's entertaining travels in the Alps, 
 &c. is the following affecting story : 
 
 " We had no sooner finished our repast, and 
 satisfied the good woman for her hospitality, 
 than we took our leave : but on passing the 
 wooden cross, my guide left me to prostrate him- 
 self on a stone at the foot of it. At his return, 
 looking particularly pensive, and heaving a deep 
 sigh, he exclaimed, ' Alas ! had that poor crea- 
 ture known when to have been satisfied, he might 
 have been still alive!' This naturally excited my 
 attention, and tempted me to inquire into the 
 cause. He then began his tale by saying, that 
 lie had been offering his prayers for the repose of 
 the soul of a relation who had perished some 
 years before in a melancholy manner. Then 
 pointing to a stupendous mountain, he added, 
 that his relative, strong, robust, and an expert 
 huntsman, had in the course of his excursions, 
 discovered by chance in the same mountain, the 
 vein of a mine, containing particles of gold and 
 silver. Delighted at this unexpected treasure, 
 he hastened to his wife, and disclosed t he secret,
 
 AVARICE* 
 
 113 
 
 upon a promise not to divulge it, lest he should 
 be taken up by order of government. He then 
 made daily visits to this mine, and eacli time 
 brought away a small quantity of the ore, which 
 his wife disposed of at Genoa. He at last accu- 
 mulated sufficient to enable him to purchase a 
 portion of land, on which he built a cottage. 
 He continued this course several years, and 
 though his daily collections were but small, and 
 those obtained at the risk of his life, yet he per- 
 sisted in his exertions, and in process of time, 
 had the pleasure of rendering the situation of his 
 family comfortable and easy. But alas ! as An- 
 tonio observed, not knowing when to be satis- 
 fied, he lost with his life, the fruit of his hazard- 
 ous and incessant labour. One evening, as usual, 
 he went to the mountain, the access to which was 
 of the greatest difficulty, and when- he mtered the 
 rock, still forced to run imminent danger pre- 
 vious to reaching the mine, which he could 
 effect no other way than by lying down and push- 
 ing himself forward through an opening formed 
 between the strata, and scarcely wide enough to 
 admit his body. When he had gained as far 
 as he thought necessary, he loosened the ore, and 
 slid back the same way. But unfortunately at 
 this time, a stone detached itself from the in- 
 terior of the cave, and fell on his shoulders, 
 though not with sufficient force to occasion in- 
 
 VOL. I. I
 
 114 AVAAICE. 
 
 stant death, but enough to prevent his extricating" 
 himself either one way or the other ; and he was 
 left to perish in this horrible situation, without 
 the least possibility of assistance. His wife, not 
 seeing her husband return at the usual hour, be- 
 gan to fear that some accident had happened ; 
 and requested a friend to accompany her to the 
 spot ; when, as she approached the mountain, 
 she heard the groans and lamentations issuing 
 from this den, which was inevitably to serve as 
 the living tomb to her wretched husband. The 
 unfortunate woman's grief was beyond descrip- 
 tion, on finding that no help could be given, 
 though every endeavour was tried : and thus did 
 he remain in this lamentable state five or six days ; 
 and when dead, his body was forced to be taken 
 from the rock limb by limb. She then collected 
 the remains, and had them buried near her cot- 
 tage, and a wooden cross erected over his grave, 
 where mimberless masses have been said for the 
 repose of his soul, he having died without con 
 fession.'" 
 
 That there is such a thing as hereditary avarice, 
 is clearly evinced in the character of old Elwes, 
 whose mother starved herself to death, though 
 possessed of one hundred thousand pounds, and 
 her brother, sir Harvey Elwes, with a property of 
 two hundred and fifty thousand pounds, main-
 
 AVARICE. 115 
 
 tained his family at a yearly expenditure of one 
 hundred and ten pounds. John Elwes, the ne- 
 phew of sir Harvey, in the early part of his life, 
 used to dress and live like other people ; but this 
 was not the way to please the uncle, so when he 
 went to visit the old baronet at his seat, he used to 
 stop at a little inn at Chelmsford, where he began 
 to dress in character a pair of small iron buckles, 
 worsted stockings darned, a worn-out old coat, and 
 a tattered waistcoat, were put on, and onwards he 
 rode to visit his uncle, who used to contemplate 
 him with a miserable kind of satisfaction, and 
 seemed pleased to find his heir attempting to 
 come up with him in the race of avarice. There 
 would they sit saving pair ! with a single stick 
 upon the fire, and with one glass of wine occa- 
 sionally, betwixt them, talking over Die extra- 
 vagance of the times; and when evening shut in, 
 they would retire to rest as " going to bed saved 
 candle-light."" 
 
 But the nephew had then, what he had always, 
 a very extraordinary appetite, and this would 
 have been a monstrous offence in the eye of the 
 uncle ; so Mr. Elwes was obliged to pick up a 
 dinner, first with some neighbour in the country, 
 and then return to sir Harvey with a little dimi- 
 nutive appetite that was quite engaging. 
 
 A partridge, a small pudding, aud a potatoe, 
 i c 2
 
 116 AVARICE. 
 
 did the business ! and the fire was suffered to go 
 out while sir Harvey was at dinner, as eating 
 was quite exercise enough. 
 
 Of this sir Harvey, the entertaining biogra- 
 pher of John Elwes gives the following anec- 
 dotes : 
 
 As he had no acquaintances, no books, and no 
 turn for reading the hoarding up and the count- 
 ing his money, was his greatest joy. The next 
 to that, was partridge setting ; at which he was 
 so great an adept, and game was then so plen- 
 tiful, that he has been known to take 500 brace 
 of birds in one season. But he lived upon par- 
 tridges, he and his whole little household, con- 
 sisting of one man and two maids. What they 
 could not eat, be turned out again, as he never 
 gave away any thing. 
 
 During the partridge season, sir Harvey and 
 his man never missed a day, if the weather was 
 tolerable, and his breed of dogs being remarkably 
 good, he seldom failed in taking great quantities 
 of game. At all times, he wore a black velvet 
 cap much over his face, a worn-out full-dressed 
 suit of clothes, and an old great coat, with 
 worsted stockings drawn up over his knees, lie 
 rode a thin thorough-bred horse, and " the horse 
 and his rider" both looked as if a gust of wind 
 would have blown them away together.
 
 AVARICE. 117 
 
 When the day was not so fine as to tempt him 
 abroad, he would walk backwards and forwards 
 in his old hall, to save the expense of fire. 
 
 If a farmer in the neighbourhood came in, he 
 would strike a light in a tinder-box that he kept 
 by him, and putting one single stick upon the 
 grate, would not add another till the first was 
 nearly burnt out. 
 
 As he had but little connection with London, 
 he always had three or four thousand pounds at 
 a time in his house. A set of fellows, who were 
 afterwards known by the appellation of the 
 Thacksted gang, and who were all hanged, 
 formed a plan to rob him. They were totally 
 unsuspected at the time, as each had some appa- 
 rent occupation during the day, and went out 
 only at night, and when they had got intelligence 
 of any great booty. 
 
 It was the custom of sir Harvey to go up into 
 his bedchamber at eight o'clock, where, after 
 taking a bason of water-gruel, by the light of a 
 small fire, he went to bed, to save the unnecessary 
 extravagance of a candle. 
 
 The gang, who knew the hour when his ser- 
 vant went to the stable, leaving their horses in a 
 small grove on the Essex side of the river, walked 
 across, and hid themselves in the church porch 
 till they saw the man come up to his horses. 
 They then immediately fell upon him, and after 
 i3
 
 118 AVARICE. 
 
 some little struggle, bound and gagged him : they 
 then ran up towards the house, tied the two maids 
 together, and going up to sir Harvey, presented 
 their pistols, and demanded his money. 
 
 At no part of his life did sir Harvey ever be- 
 have so well as in this transaction. When they 
 asked for his money, lie would give them no an- 
 swer till they had assured him that his servant, 
 who was a great favourite, was safe : he then 
 delivered them the key of a drawer in which 
 were fifty guineas. But they knew too well he 
 had much more in the house, and again threat- 
 ened his life, without he discovered where it was 
 deposited. At length he shewed them the place, 
 and they turned out a large drawer, where lay 
 seven and twenty hundred guineas- This they 
 packed up in two large baskets, and actually 
 earned off. A robbery which, for quantity of 
 specie, was perhaps never equalled. On quitting 
 him, they told him they should leave a man 
 behind, who would murder him if he moved for 
 assistance. On which he very coolly, and with 
 some simplicity, took out his watch, which they 
 had not asked for, and said, " Gentlemen, 1 do 
 not want to take any of you ; therefore, upon my 
 honour, 1 will give you twenty minutes for your 
 escape : after that time, nothing shall prevent 
 me from seeing how my servant does." He was 
 as good as his word; when the time expired, he
 
 AVAEICE. 119 
 
 went and untied the man ; but though some 
 search was made by the village, the robbers were 
 not discovered. 
 
 When they were taken up some years after- 
 wards for other offences, and were known to be 
 the men who robbed sir Harvey, he would not 
 appear against them, saying to Mr. Harrington, 
 his lawyer, " No, no, I have lost my money, 
 and now you want me to lose my time also." 
 
 Of what temperance can do, sir Harvey was 
 an instance. At an early period of life, he was 
 given over for a consumption, and he lived till 
 betwixt eighty and ninety years of age. 
 
 Amongst the few acquaintance he had, was an 
 occasional club at his village of Stoke ; and there 
 were members of it, two baronets beside him- 
 self, sir Cordwell Firebras, and sir John Barnar- 
 diston. However rich they were, the recknaing 
 was always an object of their investigation. As 
 they were one day settling this dinVult point, an 
 odd fellow, who was a member, called out to a 
 friend who was passing, " For Heaven's sa've, 
 step up stairs and assist the poor! here are three 
 baronets worth a million of money , quarrelling 
 about a farthing." 
 
 But if the character of the uncle was extraor- 
 dinary, that of the nephew was still more so. ile 
 was fond of play to such a degree, as to sit up 
 two days and a night without intermission- till 
 i4
 
 120 AVARICE. 
 
 be and his party were nearly up to the knees in 
 cards. Yet after sitting tip a whole night at play 
 for thousands, with the most fashionable and pro- 
 fligate men of the time, amidst splendid rooms, 
 gilt sophas, wax lights, and waiters attendant oh 
 his call, he would walk out about four in the 
 morning, not towards home, but towards Smith- 
 field, to meet his own cattle, which were coming 
 to market from Thaydon Hall, a farm of his in 
 Essex! There would this same man, forgetful of 
 the scenes he had just left, stand, in the cold or 
 rain, bartering with a carcass butcher for a shil- 
 ling ! Sometimes, when the cattle did not arrive 
 at the hour he expected, he would walk on, in 
 the mire, to meet them ; and, more than once, he 
 has gone on foot the whole way to his farm with- 
 out stopping, which was seventeen miles from 
 London, after sitting up the whole night. 
 
 Had every man been of the mind of Mr. Elwes, 
 the race of innkeepers must have perished, and 
 post-chaises have been returned back to those 
 who made them; for it was the business of his 
 life to avoid both. He always travelled on horse- 
 back; and to see him setting out on a journey was 
 truly curious : his first care was to put two or 
 three eggs, boiled hard, into his great-coat 
 pocket, or any scraps of bread which lie found 
 l >aggage he never took then, mounting one of 
 his hunters, his next attention was to get out of
 
 AVARICE. 121 
 
 Loudon, into that road where turnpikes were the 
 fewest. Then, stopping under any hedge, where 
 grass presented itself for his horse, and a little 
 water for himself, he would sit down and refresh 
 himself and his horse together. Here presenting 
 a new species of Bramin, worth five hundred 
 thousand pounds. 
 
 On the death of his uncle, Mr. Elwes came 
 to reside at Stoke, in Suffolk. Bad as was 
 the mansion-house he found here, he left one 
 still worse behind him at Marcham ; of which 
 the late colonel Timms, his nephew, used to 
 mention the following proof. A few days after 
 he went thither, a great quantity of rain fell in 
 the night ; he had not been long in bed, before 
 he felt himself wet through ; and putting his 
 hand out of the clothes, found the rain was 
 dropping through the ceiling upon the bed 
 he got up and moved the bed : but he had not 
 lain long before he found the same inconvenience. 
 Again he got up, and again the rain came down. 
 At length, after pushing the bed quite round 
 the room, he got into a corner where the ceiling 
 was better secured, and he slept till morning. 
 When he met his uncle at breakfast, he told 
 him what had happened. " Aye! Aye!" said 
 the old man " / dont mind it myself ; but to 
 those zcho do, that's a nice corner in the rain!" 
 
 Mr. Elwes was one of the best gentlemen riders
 
 122 AVARICE. 
 
 in (he kingdom. His knowledge in horses was 
 no way inferior ; and therefore, while he rode 
 before the whole county of Suffolk, the horses he 
 rode were the admiration of every body. As no 
 bad proof of this, he had offered him for one of 
 his hunters the sum of 300 guineas, and for ano- 
 ther 250; a sum in those days almost incredi- 
 ble, when a very good horse might have been 
 bought for fifteen pounds. 
 
 To modern sportsmen, accustomed to warm 
 clothing and hot stables, his manner of treating 
 them may appear singular. As soon as they 
 were perfectly dry from hunting, if the weather 
 was clear, he always turned them out for two or 
 three hours, let the cold be ever so intense. Thus 
 they walked off the stiffness occasioned by fa- 
 tigue, and preserved their feet : to this he at- 
 tributed their being able to carry him when one 
 of them was 22 years old. 
 
 To Mr. Elwes, an inn upon the road, and an 
 apothecary's bill, were equal subjects of aversion. 
 The words " giW and " pay" were not found 
 in his vocabulary; and therefore when he once 
 received a very dangerous kick from one of his 
 horses, who fell in going over a leap, nothing 
 could persuade him to have any assistance. He 
 rode the chase through, with his leg cut to the 
 bone ; and it was only some days afterwards, 
 when it was feared an amputation would be ne-
 
 AVARICE. 123 
 
 cessary, that be consented to go up to London, 
 and, hard day ! part with some money for ad- 
 vice. 
 
 No hounds were more killing ones than those 
 of Mr. Elwes. The wits of the country used to 
 say, " it must be so, or they would get nothing 
 to eat." In truth, it may be credited they lived 
 but sparingly : scarcely will it be believed, that the 
 whole fox-hunting establishment of Mr. Elwes, 
 huntsman, dogs, and horses, did not cost him 
 three hundred pounds a year ! 
 
 In the summer, they always passed their lives 
 with the different tenants, where they had u more 
 meat and less work ;" and were collected together 
 a few days before the season began. 
 
 During this time, while he kept hounds, and 
 which consumed a period of nearly fourteen years, 
 Mr. Elwes almost totally resided at Stoke, in 
 Suffolk. From thence he made frequent excur- 
 sions to Newmarket ; but he never engaged on 
 the turf. 
 
 A kindness, however, which he performed 
 there, should not pass away without remem- 
 brance. 
 
 Lord Abingdon, who was slightly known to 
 Mr. Elwes in Berkshire, had made a match for 
 seven thousand pounds, which it was supposed 
 he would be obliged to forfeit, from an inability 
 to produce the sum, though the odds were greatly
 
 124 AVARICE. 
 
 in his favour. Unasked, unsolicited, Mr. Elwes 
 made him an offer of the money, which he ac- 
 cepted, and won his engagement. The genero- 
 sity of this act no one will deny ; but it was the 
 fate of Mr. Elwes to combine some great actions 
 with a meanness so extraordinary, that he no 
 longer appeared one and the same person. 
 
 The anecdote which accompanied it, 1 had 
 not long ago from a clergyman, on whose autho- 
 rity I can place the most perfect reliance. 
 
 On the day when this match was to be run, 
 he had agreed to accompany Mr. Elwes to see 
 the fate of it. They were to go, as was the 
 custom of Mr. Elwes, on horseback, and were 
 to set out at seven in the morning. Imagining 
 they were to breakfast at Newmarket, the gen- 
 tleman took no refreshment, and away they went. 
 They reached Newmarket about eleven, and 
 Mr. Elwes began to busy himself in inquiries 
 and conversation, till twelve, when the match 
 was decided in favour of lord Abingdon. He 
 then thought they should move off to the town, to 
 take some breakfast : but old Elwes still conti- 
 nued riding about till three, and then four ar- 
 rived ; at which time the gentleman grew so 
 impatient, that he mentioned something of the 
 keen air of Newmarket-heath, and the comforts 
 of a good dinner. " Very true," said old Elwes; 
 " very true so here, do as I do!" offering him
 
 AVARICE. 125 
 
 at the same time, from his great-coat pocket, a 
 piece of an old crushed pancake, which he said 
 he had brought from his house at Marcham, 
 two months before but, " that it was as good as 
 new." 
 
 The sequel of the story was, that they did not 
 reach home till nine in the evening, when the gen- 
 tleman was so tired, that he gave up all refresh- 
 ment but rest; and old Elwes, having ha- 
 zarded seven thousand pounds in the morning, 
 went happily to bed with the reflection, that he 
 had saved three shillings ! Such were the extraor- 
 dinary contradictions of this extraordinary man ! 
 Bat not amongst strangers alone, was money 
 with him the dearest object of his life. He had 
 brought with him his two sons out of Berkshire, 
 and certainly if he liked any thing, it was these 
 boys. But no money would he lavish on their 
 education ; for he declared, that, " putting 
 things into people's heads, was the sure way to 
 take money out of their pockets." 
 
 That Mr. Elwes was not troubled with too 
 much natural affection, the following little anec- 
 dote will testify. One day he had put his eldest 
 boy upon a ladder, to get some grapes for the 
 table, when, by the ladder slipping, he fell 
 down, and hurt his side against the end of it. 
 The boy had the precaution to go up into the 
 village to the barber, and get blooded : on his
 
 126 AVARICE. 
 
 i 
 
 return, he was asked -where he had been, and 
 what was the matter with his arm ? He told his 
 father that he had got bled. " Bled! bled!" 
 said the old gentleman ; " but what did you 
 give?" " A shilling," answered the boy. "Psha!" 
 returned the father, " you are a blockhead : 
 never part with your blood." 
 
 From the parsimonious manner in which Mr. 
 Elvves now lived, for he was fast following the 
 footsteps of sir Harvey, and from the two large 
 fortunes of which he was in possession, riches 
 rolled in upon him like a torrent. And had he 
 been gifted with that clear and fertile head, 
 which, patient in accumulation, and fruitful in 
 disposition, knows how to employ as well as to 
 accumulate ; which working from principal to 
 interest, by compounding, forms a principal 
 again, and makes money generate itself; had he 
 possessed such a head as this, his wealth would 
 have exceeded all bounds. But Nature, which 
 sets limits to the ocean, forbade, perhaps, this 
 monstrous inundation of property ; and as Mr. 
 Elwes knew almost nothing of accounts, and 
 never reduced his affairs to writing, he was 
 obliged, in the disposal of his- money, to trust 
 much to memory; to the suggestions of other 
 people still more. Hence, every person, who 
 had a want or a scheme with an apparent high 
 interest, adventurer or honest it signified not, all
 
 AVARICE. 127 
 
 was prey to him, and he swam about like the enor- 
 mous pike, which, ever voracious and unsatis- 
 fied, catches at every thing, till it is itself caught ! 
 Hence are to be reckoned visions of distant pro- 
 perty in America; phantoms of annuities on lives 
 that could never pay, and bureaus filled with 
 bonds of promising peers and members, long dis- 
 membered of all property. I do not exaggerate 
 when I say, I believe Mr. Elwes lost in this 
 manner, during his life, full one hundred and 
 fifty thousand pounds ! But perhaps in this or- 
 dination, Providence was all-wise. In the life of 
 Mr. Elwes, the luxuriant sources of industry or 
 enjoyment all stood still. 
 
 He eucouraged no art ; he bestowed not on 
 any improvement : he diffused no blessing around 
 him, and the distressed received nothing from 
 his hand. What was got from him, was only 
 obtained from his want of knowledge by know- 
 ledge that was superior; and knaves and sharp- 
 ers might have lived upon him, while poverty 
 and honesty would have starved. 
 
 But not to the offers of high interest alone were 
 his ears open. The making him trifling presents, 
 or doing business for him for nothing were little 
 snug allurements, which, in the hands of the 
 needy, always drew him on to a loan of money. 
 A small wine-merchant, -who had these views, 
 begged his acceptance of some very fine wine.
 
 128 AVARICE. 
 
 and, in a short lime, obtained the loan of some 
 hundred pounds. 
 
 Old Elwes used, ever after, to say, " it was 
 indeed very jine wine, for it cosh him 20/. a 
 bottler 
 
 Thus was there a reflux of some of that wealth 
 which he was gradually deriving himself every 
 comfort to amass. For, in the penury of Mr. 
 Elwcs, there was something that seemed like a 
 judgment from Heaven. All earthly comforts 
 he voluntarily denied himself: he would walk 
 home in the rain, in London, sooner than pay a 
 shilling for a coach : he would sit in wet clothes 
 sooner than have a fire to dry them : he would 
 eat his provisions in the last state of putrefaction 
 sooner than have a fresh joint from the butcher's ; 
 and he wore a wig for above a fortnight, which 
 I saw him pick up out of a rut in a lane, where 
 we were riding. This was the last extremity of 
 laudable economy ; for, to all appearance, it 
 was the cast-off wig of some beggar ! The day in 
 which 1 first beheld him in this ornament, ex- 
 ceeded all power of face, for instead of a brown 
 coat, which he generally wore, he had .been 
 obliged to have recourse to the old chest of sir.Ter- 
 vaise, from whence he had selected a full-dressed 
 green velvet coat, with slash sleeves; and there 
 he sat at dinner in boots, the aforesaid green 
 velvet, his own hair appearing round his face*
 
 AVARICE. 129 
 
 and this black stray wig at the top of all. A 
 captain Roberts, who was with us at th<; time, 
 and who had a great respect for Elwes, -was un- 
 able to sit at dinner for laughing. 
 
 When this inordinate passion for saving did 
 not interfere, there are upon record some kind 
 offices and very active services undertaken by 
 Mr. Elwes. He would go far and long to serve 
 those who applied to him : and give however 
 strange the word from him would give himself 
 great trouble to be of use. These instances are 
 gratifying to select: it is plucking the sweet briar 
 and the rose from the weeds that overspread the 
 garden. 
 
 When Mr. Elwes was at Marcham, two very 
 ancient ladies, in his neighbourhood, had, for 
 some neglect, incurred the displeasure of the 
 spiritual court, and were threatened with imme- 
 diate " excommunication." The whole import 
 of the word they did not perfectly understand, 
 but they had heard something about standing in 
 a church, and a penance, and their ideas imme- 
 diately ran upon a white sheet. They con- 
 cluded, if they once got into that, it was all 
 over with them : and, as the excommunication 
 was to take place the next day, away they hur- 
 ried to Mr. Elwes, to know how they could make 
 submission, and how the sentence might be pre- 
 vented. No time was to be lost. Mr. Elwes 
 
 VOL. I. jfc
 
 130 AVARICE. 
 
 did that which, fairly speaking, not one man 
 in five thousand would have done ; he had 
 his horse saddled, and putting, according to 
 his usual custom, a couple of hard eggs in 
 his pocket, he set out for London that even- 
 ing, and reached it early enough the next morn- 
 ing to notify the submission of the culprit 
 damsels. Riding sixty miles in the night, to 
 confer a favour on two antiquated virgins, to 
 whom he had no particular obligation, was really 
 what not one man in five thousand would have 
 done; but where personal fatigue could serve, 
 Mr. Elwes never spared it. 
 
 The ladies were so overjoyed so thankful 
 " so much trouble and expense! what returns 
 could they make ?" To ease their consciences 
 on this head, an old Irish gentleman, their 
 jieighbour, who knew Mr. Elwes's mode of 
 travelling, wrote these words : " My dears, is it 
 expense you are talking of? Send him sixpence, 
 and he gains iwopencehy the journey." 
 
 Mr. Elwes, from his father, had inherited 
 some property in houses, in London; particu- 
 larly about the Haymarket, not far from which 
 lie drew his first breath for, by his register, it 
 appears he was born in St. James's parish. To 
 this property he began now to add, by engage- 
 ments with one of the Adams, about building, 
 which he increased from year to year to a v^ry
 
 AYAItlCE. 131 
 
 large extent. Great part of Marybone soon 
 called him her founder. Portland-place and 
 Po'rtman-square, the riding-houses and stables 
 of the second troop of life-guards, and build- 
 ings too numerous to name, all rose out of his 
 pocket. And had not lord North and his Ame- 
 rican war kindly put a stop to this rage of raising 
 houses, much of the property he then possessed 
 Would have been laid out in bricks and mortar. 
 
 The extent of his property, in houses, soon 
 grew so great, that he became from calculation 
 his own insurer ; and lie stood to all his own 
 losses by conflagrations. He soon, therefore, be- 
 came a philosopher upon fire. And I remember 
 well, on a public-house, belonging to him, be- 
 ing consumed, that he said, with great compo- 
 sure " Well, well, there is no great harm done : 
 the tenant never pakl me ; and I should not have 
 got quit of him so quickly in any other way." 
 
 In possessions so large, of course it would hap- 
 pen that some of the houses were without a tenant, 
 and therefore it was the custom of Mr. Elwes, 
 whenever he went to London, to occupy any of 
 those premises which might happen to be vacant. 
 He had thus a new way of seeing London and its 
 inhabitants, for he travelled, in this manner, 
 from street to street ; and whenever any body 
 chose to take the house where he was, he Was al- 
 k2
 
 J3 AVARICE. 
 
 ways ready to move into any other. He was 
 frequently an itinerant for a night's lodging; 
 and, though master of above a hundred houses, 
 he never wished to rest his head long in any 
 he chose to call his own. A couple of beds, 
 a couple of chairs, a table, and an old woman, 
 were all his furniture, and he moved them about 
 at a minute's warning. Of all these moveables, 
 the old woman was the only one that gave him 
 trouble, for she was afflicted with a lameness that 
 made it difficult to get her about quite so fast as 
 he chose: and then, the colds she took were 
 amazing, for sometimes she was in a small house 
 in the Haymarket ; at another, in a great house in 
 Portland-place ; sometimes in a little room and 
 a coal fire; at other times with a few chips 
 which the carpenters had left, in rooms of most 
 splendid but frigid dimensions, and with a little 
 oiled paper in the windows for glass. In 
 truth, she perfectly realised the proverb, for 
 she certainly was u here to-day, and gone to- 
 morrow." 
 
 The scene which terminated the life of this old 
 woman, is not the least singular among the anec- 
 dotes that are recorded of Mr. Elwes : but it is 
 too well authenticated to be doubted. I had the 
 circumstanee related to me by the late colonel 
 Timms himself.
 
 AVARICE. 133 
 
 Mr. Ehves had come to town in his usual way, 
 and taken up his abode in one of his houses that 
 was empty. Colonel Timms, who wished much 
 to see him, by some accident was informed that 
 his uncle was in London, but then how to find 
 him was the difficulty. He enquired at all the 
 usual places where it was probable he might be 
 heard of: he went to Mr. Hoare's, his banker, and 
 to the Mount coffee-house, but no tidings were 
 to be heard of him. Not many days afterwards, 
 however, he learnt from a person whom he met 
 accidentally, that Mr. Elwcs had been seen going 
 into an uninhabited house in Great Marlborough- 
 street. This was some clue to colonel Timms ; 
 and away he went thither. As the best mode of 
 information, he got hold of a chairman, but no 
 intelligence could he gain of a gentleman called 
 Mr. Elwes. Colonel Timms then described his per- 
 son, but no such gentleman had been seen. At last 
 a pot-boy recollected that he had seen a poor old 
 man opening the door of the stable, and locking 
 it after him : and from every description, it agreed 
 with the person of old Mr. Elwes. Of course 
 colonel Timms went to the house : he knocked 
 very loudly at the door, but no one answered. 
 Some of the neighbours said they had seen such a 
 man, but no answer could be obtained from the 
 house. On this added information, however, 
 colonel Timms resolved to have the stable door 
 k3
 
 134 AVARICE, 
 
 opened, and a blacksmith was sent for, and they 
 entered the house, together. In the lower parts. of 
 it ajl was shut and silent. On ascending the, 
 staircase, however, they heard the moans of a. 
 person seemingly in distress. They went to the 
 chamber, and there, upon an old pallet bed, lay 
 stretched out, seemingly in death, the. figure of 
 old Mr. Elwes,. For some time he seemed insen- 
 sible that any body was near him ; but, on some 
 cordials being administered by a neighbouring 
 apothecary who was sent for, he recovered 
 enpugh to say, " that he had, he believed, been 
 ill for two, if not three days, and that there 
 was an old woman in the house, but for some 
 rpason or other she had not been near him : that 
 she had been ill herself, but that she had got 
 well, he supposed, and gone away." 
 
 On repairing to the garrets, they found the 
 old woman, the companion of all his movements., 
 and the partner of all his journeys, stretched out 
 lifeless on a rug upon the floor ! To all appear* 
 ance she had been dead about two days. 
 
 Thus died the servant, and thus would have 
 died, but for the providential discovery of him 
 by colonel Timms, old Mr. Elwes, her master ! 
 
 On a dissolution of parliament in 1774, a con- 
 test for Berkshire presented itself, when to pre- 
 serve the peace of that county, Mr. Elwes was. 
 nominated by lord Craven.
 
 AVARICE. 185 
 
 Mr Elvves, though he had retired ffdm public 
 business for some years, had still left about him' 
 some of the seeds of more active life, and he 
 agreed to the proposal. It came farther enhanced 
 to him by the? agreement that he was to be brought 
 in by the freeholders for nothing : I believe all 
 he did was dining at the ordinary, at Reading ; 
 and he got into parliament for eighteen pence ! 
 
 On being elected member for Berkshire, he left 
 Suffolk, and went again to his seat at Marcham. 
 His fox-hounds he carried along with him ; but 
 finding his time would, in all probability be much 
 employed, he resolved to relinquish his hounds : 
 and they were shortly after given away to some 
 farmers in that neighbourhood. 
 
 Though a new man, Mr. Elwes could not 
 be called a young member, for he was at this 
 time nearly sixty years old, when he thus entered 
 on public life. But he was in possession of all 
 his activity, and preparatory to his appearance 
 on the boards of St. Stephen's chapel, he used to 
 attend constantly, during the races and other 
 public meetings, all the great towns where his 
 voters resided. At the different assemblies he 
 would dance amongst the youngest, to the last; 
 after riding over on horseback, and frequently in 
 the rain, to the place of meeting. 
 
 A gentleman who was one night standing by, 
 observed on the extraordinary agility of so old a 
 k4
 
 136 AVARICE. 
 
 man. " O ! that is nothing," replied another, 
 " for Mr. Elwes, to do this, rode twenty miles 
 in the rain, with his shoes stuck into his boots, 
 and his bag-wig in his pocket." 
 
 At a period when men, in general, retire from 
 public and fatiguing scenes, Mr. Elwes resumed 
 them : and became an unexperienced mermber of 
 parliament, aged sixty. However opposite the 
 whole of his life hitherto might have been to any 
 thing that had the appearance of vanity, yet I 
 have the testimony of many members of the house 
 of commons, to assure me, he was not a little 
 vain of this situation. And the facility with 
 which various parliamentary gentlemen per- 
 suaded him, for a time, to confer certain obli- 
 gations on them, is some evidence that he once 
 thought very highly of the honour of representa- 
 tion. 
 
 In three successive parliaments Mr. Elwes was 
 chosen for Berkshire ; and he sat as member of 
 the house of commons about twelve years. It is 
 to his honour, a honour in these times, indeed, 
 most rare! that in every part of his conduct, and 
 in every vole he gave, he proved himself to be 
 what he truly was, an independent country gen- 
 tleman. The character which Mr. Elwes sup- 
 ported in parliament, has been imitated but by 
 few, and excelled by none. For, wishing for no 
 post, desirous of no rank, wanting not emolu-
 
 AVARICE. 137 
 
 ment, and being most perfectly conscientious, 
 he stood aloof from all those temptations which 
 have led many good men astray from the paths 
 of honour. All that a minister could have offered 
 to Mr. Elwes, would have been of no avail : for 
 posts of dignity would only have embarrassed 
 him, by taking him away from the privacy he 
 loved. As an instance of this, he was unhappy 
 for some days, on hearing that lord North in- 
 tended to apply to the king to make him a peer. 
 1 really believe, had such a honour fallen unex- 
 pectedly upon his head, it would have been the 
 death of him. He never would have survived 
 the being obliged to keep a carriage, and three 
 or four servants, all, perhaps, better dressed than 
 himself! 
 
 For through every period of his life, it was a 
 prevalent feature in his character to be thought 
 poor : that he could not afford to live as other 
 people did ; and that the reports of his being 
 rich were entirely erroneous. 
 
 To these ideas he thought he gave strength, by 
 having no servants, nor any of the external signs 
 of wealth : and he had persuaded himself, that 
 the public would really think he had no money, 
 because he made no use of any. 
 
 The honour of parliament made no alteration 
 in the dress of Mr. Elwes : on the contrary, it 
 seemed at this time to have attained additional
 
 13$ AVARICE. 
 
 meanness* and nearly- to have reached that happy 
 climax of poverty, which had, more than once, 
 drawn on him the compassion of those who passed 
 by. him in the street. 
 
 For the speaker's dinners, however, be bad one 
 suit, with which the speaker, in the course of 
 the session, became very familiar. The minister, 
 likewise, was very well acquainted with it ; and 
 at any dinner of opposition, still was his apparel 
 the same. The wits of the minority used to say, 
 " that they had full as much reason as the mi- 
 nister to be satisfied with Mr. Elwes, as he had 
 the same habit with every body." 
 
 At this period of his life Mr. Elwes wore a wig. 
 Much about the time when his parliamentary life 
 ceased, that wig was worn out ; so then, being 
 older and wiser as to expense, he wore his own 
 hair, which, like his expenses, was very small. 
 
 The debates at this period were very long and 
 interesting, and generally continued till a late 
 hour in the morning. Mr. Elwes, who never 
 left any company, public or private* the first, 
 always stayed out the whole debate. After the 
 division, Mr. Elwes, without a great-coat, would 
 immediately go out of the house of commons into 
 the cold air, and, merely to save the expense of 
 a hackney-coach, walk to the Mount coffee- 
 house* Sir Joseph Mawbey, and Mr. Wood, 
 of Littleton, who went the same way as Mr.
 
 AVARICE. 139 
 
 Elwes did, often proposed a hackney-coach to 
 hiiu, but the reply always was, " he liked no- 
 thing so well as walking." However^ when their* 
 hackney-coach used to overtake him, he had no 
 objection to coming in to them, knowing that 
 they must pay the fare. This circumstance hap- 
 pened so often, that they used to smile at this act 
 of little cunning, and indulge him in it. 
 
 But as the satisfaction of being conveyed home 
 for nothing did not always happen, on those 
 nights when it did not, Mr. Elwes invariably 
 continued his plan of walking. A circumstance 
 happened to him on one of these evenings, which 
 gave him a whimsical opportunity of displaying 
 that disregard of his own person which I have 
 before noticed. The night was very dark, and 
 hurrying along, he went with such violence 
 agaiost the pole of a sedan-chair, which he did 
 not see, that he cut both his legs very deeply. 
 As, usual, he thought not of any assistance; but 
 colonel Timms, at whose house he then was, in- 
 Orchard-street, insisted upon some one being sent 
 for. Old Elwes at length submitted, and an 
 apothecary was called in, who immediately began 
 to expatiate on " the bad consequences of break- 
 ing the skin, the good fortune of his being sent 
 for* and the peculiar bad appearance of Mf . 
 Elwes's wound." " Very probable," said old
 
 140 AVARICE. 
 
 Elwes, " but, Mr. * , 1 have one thing to say 
 to you : in my opinion my legs are not much 
 hurt ; now you think they are, so I will make 
 this agreement : I will take one leg, and you 
 shall take the other ; you shall do what you 
 please with your's, and I will do nothing to 
 mine ; and I will wager your bill my leg gets 
 well the first." 
 
 I have frequently heard him mention with 
 great triumph, that he beat the apothecary by a 
 fortnight ! 
 
 All this time the income of Mr. Elwes was in- 
 creasing hourly, and his present expenditure was 
 next to nothing ; for the little pleasures he had 
 once engaged in, he had now given up. He 
 kept no house, and only one old servant and a 
 couple of horses : he resided with his nephew ; 
 his two sons he had stationed in Suffolk and Berk- 
 shire, to look after his respective estates ; and his 
 dress certainly was no expense to him ; for, had 
 not other people been more careful than himself, 
 he would not have had it even mended. 
 
 When he left London, he went on horseback 
 to his country seats, with his couple of hard eggs, 
 and without once stopping upon the road at any 
 house. He always took the most unfrequented 
 road, but Marcham was the, seat he now chiefly 
 visited : which had some reason to be flattered
 
 AVARICE. 141 
 
 with the preference, as his journey into Suffolk 
 cost him only twopence halfpenny, while that 
 into Berkshire amounted to fourpence! 
 
 In his speculations upon lending money, Mr. 
 Elwes was, at one time, most unbounded ; but 
 the temptation of one per cent, more than the 
 funds, or landed property would give, was irre- 
 sistible. But amongst the sums he thus vested 
 in other people's hands, some stray, forlorn in- 
 stances of feeling may be remembered ; of which, 
 the following is an instance. When his son was 
 in the guards, he was frequently in the habit of 
 dining at the officers' table there. The polite- 
 ness of his manners rendered him agreeable to 
 every one, and in time he became acquainted 
 with every officer in the corps ; amongst the rest, 
 with a gentleman of the name of Tempest, whose 
 good humour was almost proverbial. A vacancy 
 happening in a majority, it fell to this gentleman 
 to purchase ; but as money is not always to be 
 got upon landed property immediately, it was 
 imagined some officer would have been obliged 
 to purchase over his head. Old Mr. Elwes 
 heard of the circumstance, and sent him the 
 money next morning. He asked no security; 
 he had seen captain Tempest, and liked his 
 manners ; and he never afterwards talked to him 
 about the payment of it. On the death of ma- 
 jor Tempest, which happened shortly after,
 
 AVARICE. 
 
 the money was replaced. That Mr. (Elwes was 
 no loser by the event, does not take away from 
 the merit of the deed. And it stands amongst 
 those singular records of his character, that rea- 
 son has to reconcile, or philosophy to account 
 for, that the same man, at one and the same mo- 
 ment, could be prodigal of thousands, and yet 
 almost to deny himself the necessaries of life ! 
 
 The following anecdote, exemplifying the 
 truth of this, comes on the respected authority of 
 Mr. Spurling, of Dynes-hall, a very active and 
 intelligent magistrate for the county of Essex. It 
 seems Mr. Elwes had requested Mr. Spurling to 
 accompany him to Newmarket. It was a day 
 in one of the spring meetings, which was re- 
 markably filled with races ; and they were oat 
 from six in the morning till eight o'clock in the 
 evening, before they again set out for home. 
 Mr. Elwes, in the usual way, would eat no- 
 thing; but Mr. Spurling was somewhat wiser, 
 and went down to Newmarket. When they be- 
 gan their jonrney home, the evening was grown 
 very dark and cold, and Mr. Spurling rode on 
 somewhat quicker; and on going through the 
 turnpike, by the Devil's ditch, he heard Mn 
 Elwes calling to him with great eagerness. On 
 returning before he had paid, Mr. Elwes said, 
 " Here ! here ! follow me ! this is the best road !" 
 In an instant he *aw Mr. Elwes, as well as the
 
 AVARICE. 143 
 
 night would permit, climbing his horse up the 
 precipice of the ditch. " Sir," said Mr. Spur- 
 ling, " 1 can never get up there." " No danger 
 at all!" replied old Elwes, " but if your horse 
 be not safe, lead him !" At length, with great 
 difficulty, and with one of the horses falling, they 
 mounted the ditch, and then, with not less toil, 
 got down on the other side. When they were 
 safe landed on the plain, Mr. Spurling thanked 
 Heaven for their escape. " Aye," said old Elwes, 
 " you mean from the turnpike ! very right ; 
 never pay a turnpike if you can avoid it!" In 
 proceeding on their journey, they came to a very 
 narrow road ; at which Mr. Elwes, notwithstand- 
 ing the cold, went as slowly as possible. On 
 Mr. Spurling wishing to quicken their pace, old 
 Elwes observed that he was letting his horse feed 
 on some hay that was hanging on the sides of the 
 hedge " besides," added he, " it is nice hay, 
 and you have it for nothing." 
 
 These pleasant acts of endangering his neck to 
 save the payment of a turnpike, and starving 
 himself for a halfpenny worth of hay, happened, 
 from the date of them, at the time he was risking 
 twenty -five thousand pounds on some iron-works, 
 across the Atlantic ocean, and of which he knew 
 nothing, either as to produce, prospect, or situ- 
 ation ! 
 
 At the close of the spring of 1785, he wished
 
 144 AVARICE. 
 
 again to visit, which he had not done for some 
 years, his seat at Stoke. But then the journey 
 was a most serious object to him. His old ser- 
 vant was dead ; ail the horses that remained 
 with him, were a couple of worn-out brood 
 mares, and he himself was not in that vigour of 
 body, in Avhich he cOuld ride sixty or seventy 
 miles on the sustenance of two boiled eggs. The 
 mention of a post-chaise would have been a crime. 
 ' He afford a post-chaise, indeed ! Where was 
 he to get the money ?" would have been the ex- 
 clamation. 
 
 At length he was carried into the country, as 
 he was carried into parliament, free of expense, 
 by a gentleman who was certainly not quite so 
 rich as Mr. Elwes. When he reached his seat at 
 Stoke the seat of more active scenes, of some- 
 what resembling hospitality, and where his fox- 
 hounds had spread somewhat like vivacity around 
 he remarked, " he had expended a great deal 
 of money once, very foolishly : but that a man 
 grew wiser by time." 
 
 The rooms, at his seat at Stoke, that were now 
 much out of repair, and would have all fallen 
 in, but for his son, John Elwes, Esq. who had 
 resided there, he thought too expensively fur- 
 nished, as worse things might have done. If a 
 window was broken, there was to be no repair but 
 that of a little brown paper, or that of piecing a
 
 AVARICE. 145 
 
 bit of broken glass, which had at length been 
 done so frequently, and in so many shapes, that 
 it would have puzzled a mathematician to say 
 '' what figure they described." To save fire, he 
 would walk about the remains of an old green- 
 house, or sit with a servant in the kitchen. 
 During the harvest he would amuse himself with 
 going into the fields to glean the corn on the 
 grounds of his own tenants ; and they used to 
 leave a little more than common, to please the 
 old gentleman, who was as eager after it as any 
 pauper in the parish. 
 
 In the advance of the season, his morning em- 
 ployment was to pick up any stray chips, bones, 
 or other things, to carry to the fire, in his pocket 
 and he was one day surprised by a neighbouring 
 gentleman, in the act of pulling down, with 
 some difficulty, a crow's nest, for this purpose. 
 On the gentleman wondering why he gave him- 
 self this trouble " O sir," replied old Elwes. 
 " it is really a shame that these creatures should 
 do so. Do but see what waste they make ! They 
 don't care how extravagant they are!" 
 
 As no gleam of favourite passion, or any ray 
 of amusement broke through this gloom of pe- 
 nury, his insatiable desire of saving was now 
 become uniform and systematic. He used still 
 to ride about the country on one of these mares, 
 but then he rode her very economically ; on the 
 
 vol r. L
 
 146 AVARICE. 
 
 soft turf adjoining the road, without putting him- 
 self to the expense of shoes, as he observed, " the 
 turf was so pleasant to a horse's foot !" And 
 when any gentleman called to pay him a visit, 
 and the boy who attended in the stables was pro- 
 fuse enough to put a little hay before his horse, 
 old Elwes would slily steal back into the stable 
 and take the hay very carefully away. 
 
 That very strong appetite which Mr. Elwes 
 had in some measure restrained during the long 
 sitting of parliament, lie now indulged most vo- 
 raciously, and on every thing he could find. 
 To save, as he thought, the expense of going to a 
 butcher, he would have a whole sheep killed, and 
 so eat mutton to the end of the chapter. When 
 he occasionally had his river drawn, though some- 
 times horse-loads of small fish were taken, not one 
 would he suffer to be thrown in again, for he 
 observed, li he should never see them again !" 
 Game in the last state of putrefaction, and meat 
 that walked about his plate, Avould he continue 
 to eat, rather than have new things killed be- 
 fore the old provision was finished. 
 
 With this diet the charnel-house of suste- 
 nance his dress kept pace, equally in the last 
 stage of absolute dissolution. Sometimes he 
 would walk about in a tattered brown-coloured 
 hat ; and sometimes in a red and white woollen 
 cap, like a prisoner confined for debt.
 
 BEARDS. 147 
 
 When any friends who might be with him 
 were absent, he would carefully put out his own 
 fire, and walk to the house of a neighbour, and 
 thus make one fire serve both. In short, what- 
 ever Cervantes or Moliere have pictured in their 
 most sportive moods, of avarice in the extreme, 
 here might they have seen realized or surpassed. 
 
 His shoes he never would suffer to be cleaned, 
 lest they should be worn out the sooner. 
 
 This extraordinary man retained his avaricious 
 disposition to his death, which happened No- 
 vember 26, 1789. 
 
 BEARDS. 
 
 The beard was esteemed formerly in France 
 as the badge of liberty, and the people were not 
 a little proud of wearing it long, and of curling 
 it to render it ornamental. The monks and friars, 
 who affected to despise the little vanities of this 
 world, took it into their heads to shave their 
 beards ; and the bishop of Roan taking it ex- 
 tremely ill that the laity did not follow so pious 
 an example, began to declaim against beards in 
 the pulpit, and by degrees worked himself up to 
 so high a pitch of opposition, that he excommu- 
 nicated all those of his diocese who would not 
 consent to be shaved. 
 
 Hereupon the bigots soon permitted them- 
 l2
 
 148 BEARDS. 
 
 selves to be trimmed ; but the more worldly- 
 minded, accustomed to join the idea of privi- 
 lege to that of their beards, conceived their li- 
 berties and properties to be at stake, and there- 
 fore, like true patriots, they went to loggerheads, 
 and had their brains beat out in defence of the 
 hair on their chins. The .commotion grew so 
 general, and its consequences so dangerous, that 
 Louis VII. found himself under the necessity of 
 taking part with the clergy, aad have his own 
 beard taken off, to bring smooth chins into fa- 
 shion at court, and by that means to overcome 
 the prejudices of the populace. 
 
 In time, however, long beards came again 
 into fashion, and particularly among the clergy, 
 so that capitulary statutes were framed in some 
 of the cathedrals of France against those vain 
 ornaments. A remarkable anecdote is related of 
 William Uuprat, who, after distinguishing him- 
 self at the council of Trent, was made bishop of 
 Clermont. This eloquent prelate bad a very 
 full and flowing beard, on which he set a great 
 value. When he went in high state to take 
 possession of his cathedral, to his no small asto- 
 nishment he found the gates of the chancel 
 shut against him, and through the lattice-work 
 lie perceived three members of the chapter wait- 
 ing to receive him in a manner not the most 
 pleasing to his vanity. One held in his hand a
 
 BEARDS. 149 
 
 razor, another a pair of scissors, and a third the 
 book of statutes of the church of Clermont, 
 opened at these words, " barbis rasis." In vain 
 did the bishop remonstrate, and observe, that 
 though he should be willing to conform to the 
 statutes, yet the sanctity of the Sabbath ought 
 to dispense with, the operation for the present. 
 But all he could urge availed nothing ; the an- 
 swer was, " be shaved, or stay out." The pre- 
 late was equally obstinate with the canons, and 
 chose rather to retire than to lose his beard. The 
 mortification which he endured was indeed so 
 great, that he died soon after, without enjoying 
 the benefit of his preferment. 
 
 The longest beard recorded in history, was that 
 of John Mayo, painter to the emperor Charles V. 
 Though he was a tall man, it is said that his 
 beard was of such a length, that he could tread 
 upon it. He was very vain of his beard, and 
 usually fastened it with a ribband to his button- 
 hole ; and sometimes he would untie it by com- 
 mand of the emperor, who took a great pleasure 
 in seeing the wind blow this long beard in the 
 faces of his courtiers. 
 
 The Rev. Mr. More, of Norwich, one of the 
 worthiest divines in the reign of Elizabeth, gave 
 the best reason that could be offered for wear- 
 l3
 
 150 BENEVOLENCE. 
 
 ing the longest and largest beard of any man in, 
 his time : namely } " That no act of his life, 
 might be unworthy of the gravity of his appear- 
 ance." 
 
 But though the clergy in those times seem to 
 have had the privilege of wearing their beards as 
 long and full as they pleased, the lawyers were 
 restricted within particular bounds, for we read 
 in Dugdale's " Origines Juridiciales," that " no 
 fellow of Lincoln's Inn should wear his beard of 
 above a fortnight's growth." 
 
 BENEVOLENCE. 
 
 About fifty-five years since, a very worthy 
 man went to St. James's palace, to visit one of 
 the pages, whose apartment was two pair of stairs 
 high. He drank tea there, took his leave, and 
 stepping bacK unadvisedly (on his friend's shut- 
 ting ;he door after him). li half slipped, and 
 hal. iumbled down, a whole flight of steps; and, 
 probably, ivith Ms Lead bursi open a eloset-door : 
 we say probably, because the unlucky visitor 
 was too com pletely stunned with the fell, to know 
 what h "1 happened. Certain it is, that he found 
 himself on his recovery, sitting on the floor of a 
 small room, and most kindly attended by a neat
 
 ' BENEVOLENCE. 151 
 
 little old gentleman, who was carefully washing 
 his head with a towel, and fitting, with infinite 
 exactness, pieces of sticking-plaister to the va- 
 riegated cuts which the accident had conferred on 
 the abrupt visitor's unwigged pate. For some 
 time his surprise kept him silent, but finding that 
 the kind physician had completed his task, and 
 had even picked up his wig, and replaced it on 
 his battered head, he rose from the floor, and 
 limping towards his benefactor, was going to 
 utter a profusion of thanks for the succour he had 
 received, and inquiries into the manner of his 
 mishap. These, however, were instantly check- 
 ed by an intelligent frown, and by a significant 
 wave of the hand towards the door of the closet. 
 The patient understood the hint and retired, taking 
 more care of his steps downwards for the remain- 
 der of the stair-case, and wondering how so much 
 humanity, and so much unsociableness, could 
 dwell in the same breast. His wonder (which 
 like all other wonder was connected with folly) 
 ceased, when he found, on describing to a friend 
 the situation of the closet, that he had owed the 
 kind assistance he had received to the first per- 
 sonage in the kingdom ; who, after having exer- 
 cised the humanity of the fellow-creature, found 
 too much of the dignity of the monarch about 
 him, to support a conversation with the person 
 he had relieved. 
 
 l4
 
 \5*2 BENEVOLENCE. 
 
 Many instances might be given of tbe be- 
 nevolent disposition of the revered successor of 
 that excellent monarch ; but we shall content 
 ourselves with the two following: Goupee, an 
 ingenious artist, was in great favour with Frederick 
 prince of Wales, father of his present majesty, 
 and daily attended his royal highness to design 
 pictures. One morning upon Goupee's arrival 
 at Leicester-house, " Come, Goupee," said the 
 prince, li sit down and paint me a picture on 
 such a subject." Goupee perceiving prince 
 George a prisoner behind a chair, took tbe li- 
 berty liumbly to represent to his royal patron how 
 impossible it was for him to execute his com- 
 mands with spirit, while the prince was standing, 
 and under his royal highness's displeasure. 
 u Come out then, George," said the good natured 
 prince, " Goupee has released you." 
 
 When Goupee was eighty-four, and very poor, 
 he had a mad woman to nurse and maintain, who 
 had been his favourite object when young : he 
 therefore put himself in the king's sight at Ken- 
 sington, soon after his accession to the throne. 
 When his majesty saw him he stopped his coach, 
 and culling to him, said, " How do you do, 
 Goupee ?" " Very indifferently, and very poor," 
 replied Goupee; " and as I once took your ma- 
 jesty out of prison, 1 hope you will have the good-
 
 BENEVOLENCE. 153 
 
 ness to keep me from ending my days in one." 
 The king immediately settled a pension upon 
 Goupee, which was paid bim weekly, though he 
 did not live long to enjoy the royal bounty. 
 
 The winter of 1785 is memorable in the annals 
 of meteorological observation, as having been a 
 season of the most intense and continued severity 
 ever known in England. One day during this 
 gloomy period, as his majesty, regardless of the 
 weather, and never more happy than when in ac- 
 tion, it might be added also, never more so than 
 when doing good was taking a solitary walk, 
 and unbending his mind from the cares of state, 
 he met two little boys (the eldest seemingly not 
 more than eight years of age) who, (hough igno- 
 rant it was the king they saw, fell upon their 
 knees before him, deep as the snow lay, and 
 wringing their little hands, prayed for relief, 
 " the smallest relief," they cried, " for they were 
 hungry, v cry hungry, and had nothing to eat." 
 
 His majesty was affected at the sight, ordered 
 the \\ti\i suppliants to arise; and having with 
 that amiable affability which so peculiarly distin- 
 guishes his character, encouraged uiem to proceed 
 with their story, they added, that their mother 
 had been dead three days, and lay still unburied; 
 that their father himself, whom they were also 
 afraid of losing, was stretched by her side upon
 
 154 BENEVOLENCE. 
 
 a bed of straw, in a sick and helpless condition ; 
 and in fine, that they had neither money, food, 
 nor firing at home. 
 
 In this detail of woe, ingenuously as it had 
 been given, there was somewhat more than suffi- 
 cient to excite pity in any bosom ; and the ques- 
 tion now was, whether, simply as the tale had 
 been told, there could possibly be any truth in 
 it? 
 
 His majesty adopted the resolution of ascer- 
 taining the truth in person ; accordingly he or- 
 dered the two boys to proceed homewards, and 
 following them till they reached a miserable 
 hovel, he there found the mother dead, and that 
 evidently from the want of necessaries, and the 
 father literally as described, ready to perish also, 
 but still encircling with his feeble arm the de- 
 ceased partner of his woes, as if unwilling to re- 
 main behind her. 
 
 The king felt the tears rising fast into his eyes, 
 nor doubtless, did he think his dignity lessened 
 by giving a loose to his sensibility ; but feeling 
 that no time was to be lost, he left behind him 
 what cash he had about him, which rarely 
 amounts to much, and hastened back to Wind- 
 sor ; related to the queen what he had seen, but 
 declared himself totally incapable of expressing 
 what he felt ; and instantly dispatched a messen- 
 ger with a supply of provisions, clothing, coals.
 
 BENEVOLENCE. 155 
 
 and every other accommodation which might af- 
 ford immediate sustenance and comfort to a help- 
 less family, groaning, as he said, under afflictions 
 more piercing by far than he couid have supposed 
 to exist in any part of his dominions. 
 
 Revived by the bounty of his sovereign, the 
 father soon recovered ; and the king finished the 
 good work he had begun, by giving orders that 
 till the years of maturity, the children should be 
 clothed, educated and supported at his expense, 
 with the promise of having such situations pro- 
 vided for them as their conduct might qualify 
 them for. 
 
 In the year 1(362, when Paris was afflicted with 
 a long and severe famine, as M . de Sallo, coun- 
 sellor of the parliament of Paris, and the insti- 
 tutor of the celebrated Journal des Savons, was 
 returning from his usual evening walk, accom- 
 panied by his page, he was accosted by a man 
 who presented x pistol, and in a manner far from 
 hardened resolution, demanded his money. M. 
 de Sallo, told bim that he had attacked the 
 wrong person, . -?e had but little about him, 
 adding, " I huvi but a few livres, Avhich are not 
 worth a scuffle, . r c much good may they do you ; 
 but as a frienc! let me tell you, that you are going 
 on mi a very ban way 4" The man took the 
 money, looked dejected, and walked off. When
 
 156 BENEVOLENCE. 
 
 the robber was gone, M. de Sallo ordered his 
 page to follow and observe where he went. The 
 youth obeyed, pursued him through several 
 streets, and at length saw him enter a baker's 
 shop, where he bought a brown loaf. With this 
 purchase the robber went a few doors further, 
 and entering an alley, ascended several pair of 
 stairs. The boy crept up after him to the highest 
 story, where he saw him go into a room which 
 was only enlightened by the moon ; and peeping 
 through a crevice, he perceived the wretched 
 man cast the loaf on the floor, and bursting into 
 tears, exclaim, " There, eat, fill your bellies ; but 
 this loaf I have purchased at the expense of my 
 honour, and probably of my life ; as the robbery 
 which 1 have committed will most likely be made 
 known, and bring me to a miserable end." These 
 expostulations were answered by the wife, who 
 cut the loaf, and gave four pieces to as many 
 starving children. The page having performed 
 his commission, returned home, and gave his 
 master an account of all that he had seen and 
 heard. M. de Sallo was greatly moved, and di- 
 rected the boy to call him early in the morning. 
 He rose accordingly, and took the page with 
 him to shew him the way ; and when he came to 
 the street he enquired of the neighbours the cha- 
 racter of a man who lived in such a garret, with 
 .a wife and four children. Every one informed
 
 BENEVOLENCE. 157 
 
 him that the man was a very industrious shoe- 
 maker, with a good character, but that he had a 
 great difficulty to maintain his family in such 
 dear times. 
 
 Satisfied with this account, M.deSallo ascend- 
 ed to the shoemaker's lodging, and knocking at 
 the door, it was opened by the unhappy man 
 himself, who knowing him at first sight, fell at 
 his feet in the utmost agony. M. de Sallo de- 
 sired him to make no noise, assuring him that he 
 had not the least intention to hurt him. " You 
 have a good character," said he, " among your 
 neighbours, but your life will certainly terminate 
 miserably if you continue in these courses. To 
 prevent this, here are three hundred iivres to buy 
 leather ; husband them well, and set your chil- 
 dren a good example. To put you out of fur- 
 ther temptations, I will encourage your industry. 
 I hear you are a neat workman ; you shall take 
 measure of me and my lad for two pair of shoes 
 each, and he shall call upon you for them." 
 
 The whole family were overwhelmed with joy, 
 amazement and gratitude deprived them of speech ; 
 and M. de Sallo retired greatly moved, but filled 
 with satisfaction at having rescued a fellow-crea- 
 ture from an ignominious end, and a whole family 
 from utter ruin.
 
 158 BENEVOLENCE. 
 
 Dr. Garth, the poet and physician, being de- 
 tained in his chariot, one day, in a little street 
 near Covent-garden, by an embarras arising 
 from a battle between two female bruisers, an old 
 woman hobbled up out of a cellar, and begged 
 him in the most earnest manner to take a look at 
 her poor husband, who was in a mortal bad way ; 
 adding, " I know you are a sweet tempered gen- 
 tleman, as well as a good doctor, and therefore 
 make bold to ax your advice ; for which I shall 
 be obligated to you as long as I live/' 
 
 The doctor, whose good-nature was equal to his 
 medical knowledge, instead of being offended at 
 the old woman's redundant address, quitted his 
 chariot immediately, and followed her to her hus- 
 band ; but finding by his appearance that the 
 man wanted food more than physic, and having 
 reason to believe, from the answers they both re- 
 turned to his questions, that they deserved his 
 charity as much as they had excited his compas- 
 sion, he sat down, and wrote a draft on his banker 
 for ten pounds. 
 
 John, duke of Bedford, grandfather to the pre- 
 sent duke, was remarkably plain in his general 
 appearance, and frugal in the management of his 
 estate. He was, however, of a very benevolent 
 disposition, and his charities were both munifi- 
 cent and extensive. As he was walking one day
 
 BENEVOLENCE. 159 
 
 over bis estate in Bedfordshire, he saw a woman 
 standing in the comer of a field wringing her 
 hands and weeping in great agony. The duke 
 was moved at the sight, and approaching the 
 poor woman, enquired the cause of her affliction ; 
 at the same time promising to do her all the service 
 which lay in his power. The woman told him, 
 that she and her family were utterly ruined : that 
 her husband lay sick in his bed, and that she had 
 several small children to provide for, but that 
 being behind-hand in her rent, the duke's steward, 
 had seized all they possessed, and that she was 
 come into the field to take a last look at her poor 
 cows which had been taken away from her. His 
 grace having heard this melancholy relation, de- 
 sired her to be comforted, told her that he knew 
 the duke was a good-natured man, therefore bade 
 her drive the cows home again, at the same time 
 offering to go and set open the gate. The poor 
 woman refused to comply with this order, and 
 refused to meddle with the cows, alleging pru- 
 dently, that as they no longer belonged to her 
 husband, if she drove them home il might be of 
 more dangerous consequence. The duke could 
 not but acknowledge that she was right, and giv- 
 ing her all the money he had in his pocket, de- 
 sired her to take courage, and to call the next 
 morning at Woburn abbey, and ask for John 
 Russell, telling her that he would take an oppor-
 
 160 BENEVOLENCE. 
 
 tunity of introducing her to the duke, and inter- 
 ceding with him in her behalf. The good woman 
 was full of gratitude, and having promised to 
 obey his injunction, they parted. The next day 
 she went to the abbey, and having asked for John 
 Russell, was immediately shewn into a room, and 
 told that he would be with her presently. At 
 last some gentlemen came into the room, all of 
 whom were richly dressed, when recollecting the 
 features of the person she had conversed with the 
 day before, and imagining now that he was the 
 duke himself, she was ready to faint with surprise 
 and fear. But his grace coming up to her, told 
 her not to be alarmed ; and instantly calling his 
 steward, bid him write a receipt in full, and see 
 that every thing which had been taken from her 
 husband, was returned to him again. The receipt 
 was presently brought and put into her hands ; 
 when his grace, saying that he had enquired into 
 her husband's character, and had heard that he 
 was a honest industrious man, added to his libe- 
 rality the sum of thirty guineas, which he told 
 her to take home and rejoice with her family. 
 
 When that virtuous patriot, sir George Savile, 
 returned from his travels, a petition was pre- 
 sented to him at one of the county meetings from 
 a tenant of his, stating that he had lost the greatest 
 part of his property by fire. Sir George, who
 
 BENEVOLENCE^ 161 
 
 then took up that just and Wise principle of judg- 
 ing for himself, said very coolly, that he would 
 consider of it, and passed thq paper by. The rest 
 of the company, consisting of some of the first 
 gentlemen in the county, seemed id think that 
 this conduct of the baronet augured not a little of 
 parsimony, and immediately put about the hat 
 for a subscription, which every one but sir George 
 contributed readily to. The next day sir George 
 made the necessary enquiries relative to the mis- 
 fortunes of his tenant, and found them not only 
 to have been truly stated, but that the goodness 
 of his character rendered him still more an object 
 of compassion. Satisfied with this account, he 
 waited upon the man, and after explaining the 
 reason of his not immediately relieving him when 
 the petition was presented, he gave him a five 
 hundred pound bank note, as an alleviation of 
 his misfortunes: laying him only under one in- 
 junction, which was, never to speak of the trans- 
 action to any person. Though the poor man was 
 overwhelmed with gratitude by this noble act of 
 benevolence, it was with extreme reluctance that 
 he promised to conform to the command of secre- 
 cy. He, however, complied for several months ; 
 till sitting one evening with some friends who 
 were abusing sir George for his supposed unkind- 
 ness to him, the latter burst into tears, and said, 
 " he could hold out no longer." He then related 
 
 VOL. I. JLM
 
 162 BENEVOLENCE. 
 
 the circumstance of sir George's generosity, which 
 afforded the high test satisfaction to the com- 
 pany, and gave a happy assurance of sir George's 
 future good discernment and liberality. 
 
 The late lord Falmouth, though a man of plea- 
 sure, had a great delight in doing a good action, 
 and dedicated part of a large fortune to chari- 
 table purposes. In one of his morning perambu- 
 lations in St. James's park, of which he was a 
 constant frequenter, and upon these occasions 
 dressed uncommonly plain, he happened to take 
 his scat upon the same bench with a person 
 equally mean and needy in appearance. It being 
 about the latter end of August, and the town very 
 thin of company, a conversation began, when 
 the gentleman observed rather gloomiugly, " how 
 unequally this world was divided, some rolling 
 in their carriages, and squandering away their 
 money at watering places, whilst others had the 
 greatest difficulty to maintain themselves and 
 families." This remark gave his lordship a hint 
 of his companion's situation, and he fell into his 
 complaint in all the spirit of congenial mortifica- 
 tion. After some other conversation, the clock at 
 the Horse Guards struck live, and his lordship 
 still continuing his seat, the gentleman said, 
 " Sir, I believe the same reason that makes you 
 stay so long in the park is pretty nearly the same
 
 BENEVOLENCE. 163 
 
 reason as mine the want of a good dinner." 
 " Upon my word," said his lordship, Ci I am 
 very sorry that this is your case ; but at present, 
 thank God, it is not mine ; and as you state your 
 case so frankly, such as my dinner is, which I 
 believe (pulling out his watch), must be ready 
 about this time, you are perfectly welcome to 
 partake of it." The gentleman, as may be sup- 
 posed, very readily consented, and as his lord- 
 ship lived in St. James's-square, they soon arrived 
 at his door. The stranger was at first surprised, 
 but supposing his lordship to be the butler, and 
 that the family was out of town, he kept walking 
 on, till one of the footmen opening the door, and 
 addressing his master, as his lordship, discovered 
 his rank. The gentleman on this drew back, made 
 many apologies for his mistake, and was about to 
 take his leave: but his lordship insisted on his 
 dining with him, and entertained him with ail 
 the freedom and hospitality of an old acquaint- 
 ance. In the course of conversation, his lord- 
 ship drew from him his story: which vas, that 
 he was a lieutenant upon half-pay, with a wife, 
 a mother, and two children to support ; that a 
 part of his small stipend was mortgaged, and 
 that misfortunes were growing upon him with 
 little or no prospect of a remedy. 
 
 His lordship heard all very attentively, and 
 after begging his acceptance of a ten pound bank 
 m2
 
 164: BIGOTRY. 
 
 note, told him he meant that as only a present re- 
 lief ; took his address, and desired he would call 
 upon him at the end of a week. The poor man, 
 overwhelmed with gratitude, took his leave. In 
 the meantime his lordship made the proper en- 
 quiries into the real state and character of the 
 man, which fully answering the description he had 
 given, he procured for him a captain's commis- 
 sion in a marching regiment to Ireland, for which 
 country he and his family soon after embarked. 
 
 BIGOTRY. 
 
 The unhappy catastrophe of Torrigiano, 
 the Florentine, in 1522, is a proof that religious 
 bigotry has no more regard for taste and genius, 
 than for common sense and common justice. After 
 having enriched several cities in Spain with va- 
 rious pieces of sculpture, he was condemned to 
 death by the Inquisition, and expired in the pri- 
 son of Seville, under the horrors of an approach- 
 ing execution. The story is as follows : 
 
 Torrigiano had undertaken to carve a Madona 
 and Child of the natural size, at the order of a 
 Spanish grandee : it was to be made after the 
 model of one which Torrigiano had already 
 executed, and promise was given him of are- 
 ward proportioned to the merit of his work His
 
 BIGOTRY. 165 
 
 employer was one of the first grandees of Spain, 
 and Torrigiano, who conceived highly of his 
 generosity, and well knew what his own talents 
 could perform, was determined to outdo his for- 
 mer work : he had passed great part of his life in 
 travelling from kingdom to. kingdom in search 
 of employment, and flattering himself with the 
 hope that he had now at last found a resting 
 place after all his labours, the ingenious artist 
 with much pains and application, completed the 
 work, and exhibited to his employer a matchless 
 jiiece of sculpture, the utmost effort of his art. 
 The grandee surveyed the striking performance 
 with great delight and reverence, applauded 
 Torrigiano to the skies ; and impatient to possess 
 himself of the enchanting idol, forthwith sent to 
 demand it ; at the same time, to set forth his ge- 
 nerosity with a better display, he loaded two 
 lacqueys with the money that was to defray the 
 purchase : the bulk at least was promising, but 
 when Torrigiano tnrned out the bags, and found 
 the specie nothing better than a parcel of brass 
 maravedi, amounting only to the paltry sum of 
 thirty ducats, vexation at this sudden disap- 
 pointment of his hopes, and just resentment for 
 what he considered as an insult to his merit, so 
 transported him, that, snatching up his mallet iu 
 a rage, and not regarding the perfection, or 
 (what to him was of more fatal consequence), 
 m3
 
 166 BIGOTRY. 
 
 the sacred character of the image he had made, 
 he broke it instantly in pieces, and dismissed 
 the lacqueys with their load of farthings to tell 
 the tale. They executed their errand too well. 
 The grandee in his turn, fired with shame, vexa- 
 tion, and revenge, and assuming, or perhaps 
 conceiving, horror for the sacrilegious nature of 
 the act, presented himself before the court of In- 
 quisition, and impeached the unhappy artist at 
 that terrible tribunal. It was in vain that poor 
 Torrigiano urged the right of an author over his 
 own creation : reason pleaded on his side ; but 
 superstition sate in judgment. The decree was 
 death with torture. The holy office, however, lost 
 its victim ; for Torrigiano expired under the hor- 
 rors, not under the hands of the executioner. 
 
 The following curious instance of superstitious 
 bigotry in our own country, about the same pe- 
 riod, proves how much need there was for a refor- 
 mation. 
 
 Thomas Freburn's wife, of Paternoster-row, 
 London, longed for pig. Fisher, a butter-wo- 
 man, brought him a pig ready for the spit, but 
 carried a foot of it to Dr. Cocks, dean of Can- 
 terbury, whilst at dinner. One of the dean's 
 guests was garter king at arms, Freburn's landlord, 
 who sent to know if any of his family were ill, 
 that he ate flesh in Lent. " All well," quoth
 
 BIGOTRY. 167 
 
 Freburn, i{ only my wife longs for pig." His 
 landlord sends for the bishop of London's appa- 
 ritor, and orders him to take Freburn and his 
 pig before Stokesly the bishop. Stokesly sends 
 him and Ins pig to judge Cholmly, who not 
 being at home, the man and pig were brought 
 back to the bishop, who committed them both 
 to the Compter. Next day being Saturday, 
 Freburn was carried before the lord-mayor, who 
 said on Monday next he should stand in the pil- 
 lory, with one half of the pig on one shoulder, 
 the other half on the other. The wife desired 
 that she might suffer, as the pig was had on 
 her account. A string was however put through 
 the pig, and it was hung about Fruburn's neck, 
 which he thus carried to the Compter again. 
 Th rough the intercession of Thomas Cromwell, 
 earl of Essex, the poor man at last gained his 
 liberty, by giving a bond of twenty pounds for 
 his appearance. But the mischief-making pig 
 was, by order of the bishop of London, buried in 
 Finsbury-field, by the hands of his lordship's ap- 
 pariior ; and Freburn was by his landlord turned 
 out of his house, and could not get another for 
 four years. 
 
 m 4
 
 168 
 
 BLIND PERSONS. 
 
 Mr. John Stanley, (he organist and com- 
 poser, though blind from his infancy, had great 
 skill in playing at billiards, shuffle-board, and 
 skittles. Dr. Alcock, who had been his pupil, 
 relates several very extraordinary circumstances 
 concerning him. 
 
 " To avoid prolixity," says the doctor, " I 
 shall mention his shewing me the way through the 
 private streets of Westminster, the intricate pas- 
 sages of the city, and the adjacent villages, 
 both on horseback and foot ; places that I had 
 never been in before. He had so correct an car 
 and memory, that he never forgot the voice of 
 any person he had once heard : I myself have 
 divers times been a witness of it ; and in April 
 1779, as he and I were going to Pall-mall to 
 the late Dr. Boyce's auction, a gentleman met us 
 who had been in Jamaica twenty years, and .in 
 a feigned voice, said, " How do you do, Mr. 
 Stanley?" when he, after pausing a little while, 
 replied, " God bless me, Mr. Smith, how long 
 have you been in England " 
 
 If twenty people were seated at a table near him, 
 he would address them in regular order, with- 
 out their situations being previously announced 
 to him. Riding on horseback was one of his fa-
 
 BLIND PERSONS. 169 
 
 vourite exercises ; and towards the conclusion of 
 Iiis life, when he resided on Epping Forest, and 
 wished to give his friends an airing, he would 
 often take them the most pleasant road, and point 
 out the most agreeable prospects. He played 
 at whist with great readiness and judgment: 
 each card was marked at the corner with the point 
 of a needle: but those marks were so delicately 
 made, as scarcely to be seen by any person, not 
 previously apprized of it. His hand was gene- 
 rally the first that was arranged, and it was not 
 uncommon for him to complain to the party, that 
 they were tedious in sorting their cards. 
 
 Dr. Cutts Barton, the rector of 'St. Andrew's, 
 Holborn, of which church Mr. Stanley was or- 
 ganist, was also blind. There was a great in- 
 timacy between these two and sir John fielding, 
 the celebrated magistrate. One summer's day 
 these three went in the doctor's chariot to visit a 
 friend a little way out of town ; but the gentle- 
 man not being apprized of their intention, was 
 from home : and when ihe servant inquired their 
 names, 13;". Barton jocularly answered, " tell 
 your master that the three dark lanthorus have 
 been to visit him." 
 
 Another very extraordinary genii's among those
 
 170 BLIND PERSONS. 
 
 who have been deprived of sight, was Joseph 
 Strong, of Carlisle, who was blind from his 
 birth. Notwithstanding this privation of one of 
 the first of blessings, he displayed, even in his 
 infancy, an astonishing skill in mechanics. He 
 attached himself early to music, and was a good 
 performer on the organ. The following circum- 
 stance affords a striking instance of his ingenuity 
 and perseverance. 
 
 At the age of fifteen, he one afternoon con- 
 cealed himself in the cathedral of Carlisle during 
 the time of divine service. When the congrega- 
 tion retired and the doors were shut, he found 
 his way into the organ-loft, and examined every 
 part of the instrument. He continued thus oc- 
 cupied till near midnight, when having satisfied 
 himself respecting the general construction of the 
 organ, he began to try the tone of the diffe- 
 rent stops, and their proportion to each other. 
 This experiment, however, could not be con- 
 ducted in so silent a manner as the business 
 which had previously attracted his attention. 
 The neighbourhood was alarmed ; various were the 
 conjectures as to the cause of the nocturnal music; 
 at length some persons mustered courage enough 
 to go and see what was the matter, when Joseph 
 was found playing upon the organ. The next 
 day he was sent for by the dean, who, after re-
 
 BLIND PERSONS. 171 
 
 primanding him for the method he had taken to 
 gratify his curiosity, gave him permission to play- 
 whenever he pleased. 
 
 He now set about making himself a chamber 
 organ, which he completed without any assist- 
 ance whatever. This instrument he sold to a 
 gentleman, and then he made another, on which 
 he used to play both for amusement and devo- 
 tion. At the age of twenty he could make every 
 article of his own wearing apparel; as well as 
 the principal part of his household furniture. He 
 also constructed various pieces of machinery, 
 particularly the model of a loom, with a figure 
 representing a man working at it. The first pair 
 of shoes which he made was for the purpose of 
 visiting Mr. Stanley, the celebrated blind organist 
 of London, with whose company he was much 
 delightecj. Mr. Strong died at Carlisle in 179S, 
 aged sixty-six. 
 
 The " Memoirs of Bavon de Pollnitz" con- 
 tain the story of a poor blind man, which af- 
 fords an admirable lesson of patience and resig- 
 nation to the will of Providence : " From Augs- 
 burg 1 came to Ulm, another imperial city. 
 Though all the country is even, yet 'tis very tire- 
 some to travellers, because of the pavement of 
 the causeways ; but thanks to the snow which h;is 
 levelled the wavs, I have not been much inconi-
 
 172 BLIND PERSONS. 
 
 moded ; though on the other hand 1 had like to 
 have been lost in the snow, such a quantity of it 
 having fallen for two days, that one could not 
 distinguish the roads. I found myself at a post 
 stage, where my guide, though he was a man that 
 had grown grey in the business of a postillion upon 
 the same road, did not know the way. I was in 
 danger every moment of tumbling into some 
 ditch, when just as we entered a certain valley 
 my postillion sounded a horn, to give notice to any 
 travellers that might happen to meet us to make 
 way, when a voice from the hollow called out to 
 the postillion, " Who's that, Stephen?" " Oh!" 
 cried the postillion, " is it you, Christopher ? 
 Cod be thanked that 1 met with you/' Then 
 turning towards me, he said, with an air of satis- 
 faction, " now you are out of all danger, for here 
 is a blind man that will conduct us to the place 
 whither mo are going." 
 
 I thought the fellow joked with me, but we had 
 not gone many yards farther before I really saw\i 
 poor w retch, who could not see. yet offered to be 
 my guide, and promised he would conduct me 
 safely. 1 abandoned myself to his care, and he 
 walked so last before my chaise, that the horses 
 followed him i:i a gentle trot till we came safe to 
 the sta~e. There he told me that it was fifteen 
 years ago, he lost his sight by the breaking of an 
 imposth ume in his eyes, after he had suffered such
 
 BLIND PERSONS. 173 
 
 horrible pains for two months, that he Vessed 
 himself for the loss of his sight : so that when I 
 asked him if he was not very much concerned at 
 it, he said, that at first it made him melancholy 
 for some time, but that he always comforted him- 
 self by the remembrance of the torture he had 
 undergone in the, loss of his sight ; and that he 
 thought it was much better to be blind and to 
 have his health, than to see and suffer the pains 
 which he had endured : but that he was now so 
 used to his condition, it gave him no concern. 
 
 When I expressed my surprise that he should 
 find out the way better than those who could see, 
 he told me that since he had been blind he came 
 regularly on Sundays and saints' days to the place 
 where we were, to hear mass, and that therefore 
 the road was become very familiar to him. He 
 added, that some times he went alone to beg three 
 or four leagues from his village, which was a 
 quarter of a league from the hollow .way where I 
 met with him. I sent the man away, after giv- 
 ing him some relief; and could not but admire 
 the goodness of Providence, which though it had 
 afflicted the poor wretch with what, to me, seems 
 more terrible than death, gave him strength to 
 bear his misfortune with patience. 
 
 The following agreeable and interesting narra- 
 tive, which has every feature of authenticity,
 
 174 BLIND PERSONS. 
 
 appeared in the Morning Chronicle, for January 
 21, 1791: 
 
 MR. EDITOR, 
 
 In my rambles last summer on (lie borders of 
 Wales, I found myself one fine morning on the 
 banks of tl>c beautiful river Wye ; alone, with- 
 out a servant or guide, I had to ford the river at 
 a place where, according to the instructions given 
 me at the nearest hamlet, if 1 diverged ever so 
 little from the marks which the rippling of the 
 current made as it passed over a ledge of rock, I 
 should sink twice the depth of myself and horse. 
 While 1 stood hesitating on the margin, viewing 
 attentively the course of the ford, a person passed 
 me on the canter, and the next instant I saw him 
 plunge into the river. Presuming on his ac- 
 quaintance with the passage, I immediately and 
 closely followed his steps. As soon as we had 
 gained the opposite bank, I accosted him with 
 thanks for the benefit of his guidance; but what 
 was my astonishment when, bursting into a hearty 
 laugh, he observed that '* my confidence would 
 have been less, had I known that I had been fol- 
 lowing a blind guide." The manner of the man 
 as well as the fact, attracted my curiosity. To 
 my expressions of surprise at his venturing to 
 moss the river alone, he answered, that he and the 
 horse he rode had done the same every Sunday
 
 BLIND PERSONS. 175 
 
 morning for the last five years ; but that, in 
 realify, this was not the most perilous part of his 
 hebdomidal peregrination, as I should soon be 
 convinced, if my way led over the mountain be- 
 fore us : my way was an ad libitum ; I therefore 
 resolved to attach myself to my extraordinary 
 companion, and soon learned, in our chat, as we 
 wound up the steep mountain's side, that he was 
 a clergyman, and of that class which is the dis- 
 grace of our ecclesiastical establishment ; I mean 
 the country curates, who exist upon the liberal 
 stipend of thirty, twenty, and sometimes fifteen 
 pounds a year ! This gentleman, of the age of 
 sixty, had about thirty years before been engaged 
 in the curacy to which he was now travelling, 
 and though at the distance of eight long Welsh 
 miles from the place of his residence, such was 
 the attendance of his Sunday flock towards him, 
 that at the commencement of his calamity, rather 
 than part with him, they sent regularly every 
 Sunday morning, a deputation to guide their old 
 pastor along a road, which, besides the river Ave 
 had just passed, led over a craggy mountain, on 
 whose top innumerable and uncertain bogs were 
 constantly forming, and which, nevertheless, by the 
 instinct of his Welsh poney, this blind man has 
 actually crossed alone for the last five years, hav- 
 ing so long dismissed the assistance of guides. 
 While our talk beguiled our road, we insensibly
 
 176 BLIND PERSONS. 
 
 arrived within sight of his village church. It 
 was seated in a deep and narrow vale. As I 
 looked down upon it, the bright verdure of the 
 meadows, which were here and there checquered 
 'with patches of yellow corn, the moving herds 
 of cattle, the rich foliage of the groves of oak, 
 hanging irregularly over ils sides, the white 
 houses of the inhabitants, which sprinkled every 
 corner of this peaceful retreat ; and above 'all, the 
 inhabitants themselves, assembled in their best 
 attire around their place of weekly worship ; all 
 this gay scenery rushing at once on the view, 
 struck my senses and imagination more forcibly 
 than I can express. As we entered the church- 
 yard, the respectful " How do you ?" of the 
 young, the hearty shakes by the hand of the 
 old, and the familiar gambols of the children, 
 shewed how their old pastor reigned in (he hearts 
 of all. After some refreshment at the nearest 
 house, Ave went to church, in which my veteran 
 priest read the prayers, the psalms, and chapters 
 of the day, and after all preached a sermon in a 
 manner that would have made no one advert to 
 his defect of sight. At dinner, which it seems 
 four of the most substantial farmers of the vale 
 gave in turn, he gave me an account of the pro- 
 gress of his memory. For the first year he at- 
 tempted no more than the prayers and sermon ; 
 the best readers of the parish making it a pride to
 
 BI.rND PERSONS. 177 
 
 officiate for him in the psalms and chapters. He 
 next endured the labour of getting- these by heart; 
 and at present, by continual repetition, there is not 
 a psalm or chapter of the more than two hundred 
 appointed for the Sunday service, that he is not 
 perfect in. He told me also, that having in his 
 Tittle school two sons of his own, intended for the 
 university, he has, by hearing them continually, 
 committed the greatest part of Homer and Virgil 
 to his memory." 
 
 But the account of John Metcalfe, commonly 
 called " Blind Jack of Knaresborough," far sur- 
 passes all that has been recorded of professor 
 Saunderson, Dr^ Moyes, Mr. Stanley, and other 
 remarkable persons of this unfortunate class. 
 
 In the first volume of the u Memoirs of the 
 Literary and Philosophical Society of Manches- 
 ter,'' published in 1785, is the following sketch 
 of Metcalfe, communicated by Mr. Bew. 
 
 " This man passed the younger part of his life 
 as a waggoner, and occasionally as a guide in in- 
 tricate roads during the night, or when the tracks 
 were covered with snow. Strange as this may 
 appear to those who can see, the employment he 
 has since undertaken is still more extraordinary, 
 and one of the last to which we could suppose a 
 blind man would ever turn his attention. His 
 present occupation is that of a projector and sur- 
 
 yoj.. i. x
 
 175 BLIND PERSONS. 
 
 veyor of highways in difficult and mountainous 
 parts. With the assistance only of a long staff, 
 I have several times met this man traversing the 
 roads, ascending precipices, exploring valleys, 
 and investigating their several extents, forms, and 
 situations, so as to answer his designs in the best 
 manner. The plans Avhich he designs, and the 
 estimates he makes, are done in a method peculiar 
 to himself ; and which he cannot well convey the 
 meaning of to others. His abilities, in this re- 
 spect, are nevertheless, so great, that he finds 
 constant employment. Most of the roads over the 
 peak in Derbyshire, have been altered by his di- 
 rections ; particularly those in the vicinity of 
 Buxton: and at the time when this paper was 
 drawn up, he was constructing a new one, be- 
 twixt Wilmslow and Congleton, with a view to 
 open a communication to the great London road, 
 without being obliged to pass over the moun- 
 tains." 
 
 When he was about sixteen, he learned to 
 swim, and so skilful was he in diving, as to be 
 employed in recovering the bodies of two per- 
 sons who were drowned in the river Nidd, and 
 he actually succeeded in bringing up one of 
 them . 
 
 A friend of his, named Barker, having carried 
 two packs of yarn to wash in the same river, they 
 were swept away by a sudden swell of the cur-
 
 BLIND PERSONS. 179 
 
 rent, and carried down the stream till they came 
 to a piece of still water about twenty-one feet 
 deep, where they sunk. Metcalfe promised his 
 friend to recover the yarn, but the latter only 
 smiled at the absurdity of the attempt. Metcalfe, 
 however, procured a long rope, and having fixed 
 a hook at one end, lie left the other to be held by 
 some persons on the bridge, while lie dived, ami 
 fastening the hook to the packs, both were 
 brought up, to the surprise of the owner and be- 
 holders. 
 
 Metcalfe had learned to walk, and even ride 
 very readily through most of the streets of York ; 
 and being once in that city, as he was passing the 
 George Inn, the landlord called to him, and in- 
 formed him that a gentleman in the house wanted 
 a guide to Harrowgate, adding, " I know you 
 can do as well as any one." To this proposal 
 Metcalfe agreed, upon condition that his situation 
 should be kept a secret from the gentleman, who 
 might otherwise be afraid to trust him. The 
 stranger was soon ready, and they set off on 
 horseback, Metcalfe taking the lead. When 
 they came to Allerton-Mauleverer, the gentleman 
 inquired whose large house that was on the right, 
 to which Metcalfe replied without any hesitation. 
 A little farther the road is crossed by. that from 
 Wetherby to Boroughbridge, and runs along by 
 the lofty brick wall of Allerton-park. A road 
 n 2
 
 ISO BLIND PERSON'S. 
 
 led out of the park opposite to the gate upon the 
 Knares borough road, which Metcalfe was afraid 
 of missing ; but perceiving the current of wind 
 that came through the park-gate, he readily turn- 
 ed his horse towards the opposite one. Here he 
 found some difficulty in opening the gate, in con- 
 sequencej as lie imagined, of some alteration that 
 had been made in the hanging of it, as he had 
 not been that way for several months. There- 
 fore, backing his horse, he exclaimed, " Con- 
 found thee, thou always goes to the heel of the 
 gate instead of the head." The gentleman ob- 
 served that his horse was rather awkward, but 
 that his own mare was good at coming up to a 
 gate, on which Metcalfe cheerfully permitted 
 him to perform that office. Passing through 
 Knarcsborough, they entered the forest, which 
 was then unenclosed, nor was there any turnpike 
 road upon it. Having proceeded a little way 
 upon the forest, the gentleman observed a light/ 
 and asked what it was. Metcalfe took it for 
 granted that his companion had seen what is call- 
 ed a Will o'the Wisp, which frequently appears 
 in a low and swampy spot near the road ; but 
 fearful of betraying himself, he did not ask in 
 what direction the light was. To divert his at- 
 tention, therefore, from this object, he asked 
 him if he did not see two lights, one to the right, 
 and the other to the left ? The stranger replied
 
 BLIND PERSONS. 181 
 
 that he saw only one, which was on the right : 
 " Well then, sir," says Metcalfe, " that is 
 Harrowgate." Having arrived at their journey's 
 end, they stopped at the house since called the 
 Granby, where, Metcalfe being well acquainted 
 with the place, led both horses into the stable, 
 and then went into the house, where he found his 
 fellow traveller comfortably seated over a tankard 
 of negus, in which he pledged his guide. Met- 
 calfe took it of him very readily at first, but the 
 second time he was rather wide of his mark. He 
 therefore withdrew, leaving the landlord to ex- 
 plain what his companion was yet ignorant of. 
 The latter then hinted to the landlord his suspi- 
 cion that his guide must have taken a great quan- 
 tity of spirits since their arrival, upon which 
 the host inquired his reason for entertaining such 
 an opinion. " I judge so," replied the traveller, 
 " from the appearance of his eyes." " Eyes! 
 bless you, sir ! why do not you know that he is 
 blind?" " What do you mean by that?" said 
 the gentleman. " I mean, sir, that he cannot 
 see." "Blind! gracious God," exclaimed the 
 other, " it cannot be." " Yes, sir, he is," an- 
 swered the other, " blind as a stone." 
 
 The stranger desired Metcalfe to be called, and 
 
 upon his confirming the landlord's account 
 
 " Had I known that," said he, " I would not 
 
 have ventured with you for a hundred pounds." 
 
 s3
 
 182 BLIND PERSONS. 
 
 -" And I, sir," said Metcalfe, " would not have 
 lost my way for a thousand." The service of 
 the evening was rewarded with two guineas, and 
 a plentiful entertainment the next day, by the 
 gentleman, who considered this circumstance as 
 the most extraordinary he ever met with. 
 
 Among the numerous roads which Metcalfe 
 contracted to make, was part of that of Man- 
 chester, from Black-moor to Standish-foot. As 
 it was not marked out, the surveyor, contrary 
 to expectation, took it over deep marshes, out of 
 which, it was the opinion of the trustees, that 
 it would be necessary to dig the earth till they 
 came to a solid bottom. This plan appeared to 
 Metcalfe extremely tedious and expensive, and 
 liable to other disadvantages. He therefore ar- 
 gued the point privately with the surveyor, and 
 several other gentlemen, but they were all im- 
 moveable in their former opinion. At their next 
 meeting Metcalfe attended, and addressed them 
 as follows : u Gentlemen, I propose to make the 
 road over the marshes, after my own plan ; and 
 if it does not answer, I will be at the expense of 
 making it over again after your's." To this pro- 
 posal they assented. Having engaged to com- 
 plete nine miles in ten months, he began in six 
 different parts, having nearly four hundred men 
 employed. One of the places was Pule and 
 Standish-common, which was a deep bog, and
 
 BLUNDERS. 183 
 
 over which it was thought impracticable to make 
 any road. Here he cast it fourteen yards wide, 
 and raised it in a circular form. The water, 
 which in many places ran across the road, he 
 carried off by drains ; but found the greatest dif- 
 ficulty in conveying stones to the spot, on account 
 of the softness of the ground. Those who passed 
 that way to Huddersfield-market, were not spar- 
 ing in their censures of the undertaking, and 
 even doubted whether it ever would be com- 
 pleted. Having however levelled the piece to 
 the end, he ordered his men to collect heather or 
 ling, and bind it in round bundles which they 
 could span witli their hands. These bundles 
 were placed close together, and another row laid 
 over them, upon which they were well pressed 
 down, and covered with stone and gravel. This 
 piece being about half a mile in length, when 
 completed, was so remarkably fine, that any per- 
 son might have gone over it in winter, unshod, 
 without being wet ; and though other parts of 
 the road soon wanted repair, this needed none 
 for twelve years. 
 
 BLUNDERS. 
 
 Dr. Thomas Ruthal, bishop of Durham, and 
 lord privy seal, in the reign of Henry VIII. 
 being commanded to draw up a state of the king- 
 n 4
 
 181 BLUNDERS. 
 
 dora for that monarch's private information, took 
 great pains in the performance ; and having fairly 
 transcribed it, caused the book to be bound in 
 vellum, gilt, and variously ornamented ; and at 
 the same time, having taken an account of his 
 own private estate, with an inventory of his jewels, 
 plate, and money, he caused that likewise to 
 be bound and ornamented exactly like the other, 
 laying them both carefully in his closet together. 
 It so happened, however, that the king, upon 
 some occasion, sent cardinal Wolsey in haste for 
 the national statement, which he had long ex- 
 pected from Ruthal; but the prelate, by mistake, 
 gave Wolsey the book which contained the sche- 
 dule of his private property. This the crafty 
 cardinal soon perceived ; and being willing to 
 do Ruthal, to whom he had no good will, a 
 shrewd turn, he delivered the book just as he 
 received it, telling the king that now, if he 
 wanted money, that book would inform him 
 where he might find a million. When the bishop 
 discovered what a blunder he had committed, 
 it affected him so much as to occasion his death 
 shortly after. 
 
 Cardinal Bessarion lost the. papal dignity in 
 consequence of a blunder committed by his se- 
 cretary. This person was no other than Nicolas 
 Pirot, the learned commentator upon Martial.
 
 BLUNDERS. 185 
 
 On the death of pope Paul II. three cardinals 
 of the greatest authority, having determined to 
 choose Bessarion to fill the vacant chair, went to 
 him when he was shut up in his cell, the door of 
 which was kept by Pirot, who, like a fool, told 
 them that they should not interrupt his master's 
 studies. The cardinals were so highly offended, 
 that they turned away with indignation, saying, 
 il what, shall we urge one to accept the supreme 
 dignity, who neither courts nor desires it, and who 
 besides subjects us to the insolence of his por- 
 ter!" Upon which they immediately went away, 
 and gave their votes for cardinal Xystus. When 
 Bessarion heard what had happened, he said to 
 his secretary : " O Nicolas ! your unseasonable 
 ofliciousness has deprived me of the tiara, and 
 you of a cardinal's hat." 
 
 In the reign of Charles the First the company 
 of stationers, to whom the -printing of the Bible 
 was granted by a patent, made a very remark- 
 able blunder in their first edition ; for instead of, 
 " Thou shalt not commit adultery," they printed 
 off a great number of copies with this reading: 
 " Thou shalt commit adultery." Archbishop 
 Laud, as soon as the error was discovered, caused 
 the company to be prosecuted in the Star Cham- 
 ber, where a very considerable fine was levied 
 upon them for their gross negligence.
 
 186 BLUNDERS. 
 
 One day (says the duchess of Orleans, in her 
 letters) the mareschal de Villars came to see me. 
 As he was esteemed a connoisseur in medals, and 
 wished to examine my collection, 1 sent for Bau- 
 delot, a worthy man who takes care of them for 
 me, and bade him shew them to the mareschal. 
 Baudelot is no courtier, but a plain simple man, 
 who pays no regard to the tales of the day. He 
 began with acquainting the marshal that he had 
 written a dissertation to prove a certain antique 
 horned bust was not meant for Jupiter Ammon, 
 but for Pan. " Ah, sir," said he next, " this 
 is one of our most curious coins ; it is the tri- 
 umph of Cornificius ; he has all sorts of horns ; 
 he has the horns of Jove and of Faunus ; observe 
 him, sir; he, like you, Avas a great general." 
 I would fain," says the duchess, " have turned 
 the conversation, but Baudelot persisted, till all 
 the company were forced to leave the room, that 
 they might indulge their propensity to laugh ; 
 nor was it without difficulty that, after Villars 
 was gone, I could convince my medallist of his 
 impropriety, in talking of horns before so cele- 
 brated a cuckold." 
 
 The lord-lieutenant of Ireland having pre- 
 sented Dr. Sheridan, who was a keen sportsman, 
 and loved shooting better than praying, to a liv- 
 ing in the country ; the first Sunday he preached
 
 BOOKS. 187 
 
 to liis new parishioners, happened to be the anni- 
 versary of the accession of George the First to 
 the throne, when he undesignedly took these words 
 for his text: Sufficient unto the day is the evil 
 thereof. Though the sermon itself had nothing 
 of politics in it, yet some people took occasion 
 to represent him to his excellency as a disaffected 
 person ; and indeed the viceroy was so much of- 
 fended at the impropriety of the choice he had 
 made -of his subject, that he gave him to under- 
 stand he had nothing farther to expect. This 
 was soon whispered about, and when it was told 
 to Swift, who loved the doctor, but could not 
 spare his jest: " Poor $hcridan," said he, "is 
 so true a marksman, that he has shot his prefer- 
 ment dead with a single text. 1 ' 
 
 BOOKS. 
 
 Anthony Panormita, a learned Sicilian, 
 in the fifteenth century sold an estate, that he 
 might be enabled to purchase a copy of Livy. 
 Of this circumstance we have a curious account 
 in a letter written by Panormita himself to Al- 
 phonsus king of Naples, to whom he was se- 
 cretary. It is as follows : " Sir, you have in- 
 formed me from Florence, that the books of 
 Livy, written in a fair hand, are tobe sold, and
 
 188 BOOKS, 
 
 that they ask for them one hundred and twenty 
 crowns. I beseech your majesty to cause to be 
 sent to me this king of books, and I will not fail 
 to send the money for it. And I intreat your 
 prudence to let me know, whether Poggius or I 
 does better he who, to purchase a farm near 
 Florence, sells Livy ; or f who, to purchase the 
 book written with his own hand, sell my land I 
 Your goodness and modesty induce me to put 
 this familiar question to you. Farewell, and 
 triumph !" It is to be hoped that the king sent 
 him Livy, without subjecting him to the neces- 
 sity of parting with his land for the book. 
 
 The learned John Wesselus, in the same age, 
 manifested a love of books, and a contempt of 
 riches and honours equally remarkable. When 
 his friend and patron, pope Sixtus IV. obtained 
 the tiara, Wesselus visited him, and being asked 
 what favour he was desirous of, he only re- 
 quested a copy of the bible in Hebrew and Greek 
 from the Vatican library, which was granted him. 
 " But," said the pope, " you are a very silly 
 man : why do not you ask for a bishopric ?" 
 " Because," replied Wesselus, " I do not want 
 one." 
 
 The history of Huldric Fugger, a native of 
 Augsburg, is also extraordinary.
 
 BOOKS. 189 
 
 He had been chamberlain to pope Paul IIT. 
 but afterwards he embraced the protestant reli- 
 gion, lie spent a great deal of money in col- 
 lecting- books and ancient manuscripts ; for which 
 purpose he allowed a salary to the learned printer, 
 Henry Stephens. His relations, however, were 
 so incensed against him for spending his estate 
 in such a manner, that they brought an action 
 against him for it^ and caused him to be de- 
 clared incapable of managing his affairs. Thua- 
 nus says, that this judgment cast him into a me- 
 lancholy which brought him to his grave ; but 
 according to the epitaph of Fugger at Heidel- 
 berg, Avhere he died in 1584, he was restored to 
 the enjoyment of his estate. His library, which 
 was very considerable, he bequeathed to the Elec- 
 tor Palatine ; and he also settled a fund for the 
 subsistence of six poor scholars. 
 
 The following account of the discovery of a 
 book is very remarkable. It is contained in a 
 letter from the learned Dr. Samuel Ward, master 
 of Sidney college, Cambridge, to archbishop 
 Usher, dated June 27, 1626 : 
 
 " There was the last week a cod-fish brought 
 from Colchester to our market to be sold : in the 
 cutting up of which there was found in the maw 
 of the fish, a thing which was hard ; which 
 proved to be a book bound in parchment; the
 
 190 BOOKS. 
 
 leaves were glewed together with a jelly, and 
 being taken out, it did smell much at the first; 
 but after washing of it, Mr. Mede did look into 
 it. It was printed ; and he found a table of the 
 contents. The book was intituled, iC A Prepa- 
 ration to the Cross :" (it may be a special admo- 
 nition to us at Cambridge). Mr. Mede, upon 
 Saturday, did read to me the heads of the chap- 
 ters, which I very well liked of. Now it is found 
 to have been made by Richard Tracy, of whom 
 Bale maketh mention, and says that he flourished 
 in 1550. But I think that the book was made 
 in king Henry the Eighth's time, and when the 
 six articles were a-foot. The book will be print- 
 ed here shortly." It was accordingly published 
 earl} r in the following year, with this quaint title 
 tc Vox Piscis, or the Book-Fish, containing 
 three Treatises which were found in the belly of 
 a Cod-fish, in Cambridge market, on midsum- 
 mer-eve last, 1626, 12mo." However, in this re- 
 publication, the editors erroneously ascribed the 
 book to John Frith, whereas it was originally 
 printed in 1540, with a dedication by the author, 
 Richard Tracy, a zealous protestant, to Thomas 
 lord Oomwell. The title of the first edition is, 
 u Of the Preparation to the Cross and to Death, 
 and of the Comfort under the Cross and Death." 
 
 The industrious Philemon Holland, who was a
 
 BOOKS. 191 
 
 schoolmaster and a physician, produced several 
 voluminous publications, particularly translations 
 of Pliny's Natural History, and of Camden's 
 Britannia, both in folio. On completing the for- 
 mer work he composed the following lines : 
 
 With one sole pen I writ this book, 
 
 Made of a grey goose quiJI ; 
 A pen it was when it I took, 
 
 And a pen I leave it still. 
 
 A similar anecdote to this was related in the St. 
 James's Chronicle, concerning Dr. Ferdinando 
 Warner ; who equalled Holland in the number 
 and bulk of his performances. Some years before 
 his death, Dr. Warner happened to be in the shop 
 of an eminent stationer in the Strand, when a 
 member of the house of commons came in and 
 purchased an hundred quills for six shillings. 
 When he was gone, the doctor exclaimed, " Oil ! 
 the luxury of the age! six shillings for a hun- 
 dred quills ! why it never cost me sixpence for 
 quills in my life." " That is very surprising, 
 doctor," observed the master of the shop, '* for 
 your writings are very voluminous." " I de- 
 clare," replies the doctor, " I wrote my Eccle- 
 siastical History, two volumes, in folio, and my 
 Dissertation on the Book of Common Prayer, a 
 large folio, both the first and corrected copies, 
 with one single pen ; it was an old one before I 
 began, and it is not worn out now that I have
 
 192 BOOKS. 
 
 finished." This relation was spread about, and 
 the merits of this pen were esteemed so highly, 
 that a celebrated countess begged the doctor to 
 make her a present of it ; he did so, and her 
 ladyship had a gold case made, with a short his- 
 tory of the pen wrought upon it, and placed it in 
 her cabinet of curiosities. 
 
 When we consider the poor encouragement 
 learned men met with formerly, it is surprising 
 that so many of them should have persevered as 
 they did, in the formation of works which are 
 now sold at the most enormous prices. The fol- 
 lowing anecdote, concerning the Glossarium 
 Archaeologicum of sir Henry Spelman, is a strik- 
 ing contrast to the price of literature in our days. 
 Dr. Brady, the historian, gives this account of 
 that valuable work : " The first part of the Glos- 
 sary to the letter N, was published in the year 
 1626, the whole being then finished, and offered 
 by sir Henry Spelman to Mr. Bill, the king's 
 printer, for the value of five pounds in books 
 only ; but he refusing to give him that small rate 
 for the copy, he ventured to print the first part of 
 it at his own charge, and most of the books lay 
 upon his hands until the latter end of the year 
 J 637, when Mr. Stephens and Mr. Meredith, 
 (booksellers, in St. Paul's Church-yard), took 
 them off. The next year sir William Dugdale
 
 BOOKS. 193 
 
 being with sir Henry Spelman, and felling him 
 that, many learned men were very desirous to see 
 the remaining- part of that work, sir Henry then 
 told him what is here related, and produced both 
 parts of the Glossary, the first whereof was print- 
 ed and interleaved with blank haves, as also was 
 the second, Avhich was in manuscript, wherein 
 he had added and altered much. After his ma- 
 jesty's (Charles the Second's) restoration, the earl 
 of Clarendon, then lord chancellor, and Dr. 
 Sheldon, then bishop of London, inquired of 
 sir William Dugdale what was become of the 
 remaining part of the Glossary, or whether ever 
 it was finished ? He told them it wis finished, 
 and in the hands of Mr. Charles Spelman, grand- 
 child to sir Henry, and j-oungest son to sir John. 
 Whereupon they desired sir William to move 
 him to print it, which he did; but finding that 
 the booksellers would give nothing for the copy, 
 and that he was notable to print it at his own 
 charge, and returning this answer to the lord 
 chancellor and bishop of London, they contri- 
 buted liberally themselves: and procuring many 
 subscriptions io that purpose, desired sir William 
 Dn;dale, to receive the money, and deal with a 
 . printer to perform the work; which he did, and 
 caused it to be printed, as he received it, all under 
 the proper hand-writing of sir Henry Spelman, 
 without alteration or addition : and had it not 
 
 VOL I. O
 
 194 BOOKS. 
 
 been for the dreadful fire in London, wherein 
 both (he copy, and the greatesl pari of the im- 
 pression, were consumed, it might at this day 
 have been produced, to have confirmed what is 
 here repoited." 
 
 Dr. Edward Castel laboured seventeen years in 
 compiling and publishing his Lexicon Heptaglot- 
 fon, which usually accompanies Walton's Poly- 
 glot Bible. During the time he was so engaged, 
 he maintained at his own cost, and in Ids own 
 house, as writers, seven Englishmen and as many 
 foreigners, all of whom died before the work was 
 completed. Besides expending 1^.0007. of his 
 own property on this great work, he was obliged 
 to borrow near 2000/. more, and that not being 
 sufficient, he was constrained to petition Charles 
 the Second, that a prison might not at last be the 
 reward of so much labour and expense. This 
 produced a circular letter from the king, di- 
 rected to the bishops and temporal nobility, 
 recommending the work to them for their en- 
 couragement, and earnestly soliciting pecuniary 
 assistance to the embarrassed author. Not- 
 withstanding this, the doctor ended his days in 
 poverty, and a great part of the impression was 
 thrown into garrets, where many of the copies 
 were destroyed by damp, or the rats. The book 
 now fitches a high price; and had the author
 
 BOOKS. 195 
 
 lived in our time, he would have acquired both 
 profit and honour. 
 
 But a still more extraordinary instance of the 
 low value set upon literary property, appears in 
 a letter of the learned Lydyat to archbishop 
 Usher, by which we are informed, that a book- 
 seller, and one of the principal in his profession, 
 refused to publish a work of James the First, even 
 in the monarch's lifetime, without being paid for 
 it. These are Lydyat's words : ii I have sent 
 you the king's book in Latin, against Vorstius, 
 yet scant dry from the press ; which Mr. Norton, 
 who hath the matter wholly in his own hands, 
 swore to me he would not print, unless he might 
 have money to print it ; a sufficient argument to 
 make me content with my manuscript lying still 
 imprinted, unless he equivocated. But see how the 
 world is changed; time was when the best book- 
 printers and sellers would have been glad to be 
 beholding to the meanest book-makers. Now 
 Mr. Norton, not long since the meanest of many 
 book-printers and sellers, so talks and deals as 
 if he would make the noble king James, I may 
 well say, the best book-maker of this his own, or 
 any kingdom under the sun, be glad to be be- 
 holding to him : any marvel, therefore, if he 
 think to make such a one as 1 am, his vassal ?" 
 
 How different would be the language and con- 
 o2
 
 196 BOOKS. 
 
 duct of booksellers now, were a royal manuscript 
 offered to them for publication ? 
 
 Mr. Andrews, in his entertaining volume of 
 anecdotes, rdates the following ; from which, as 
 he says, we may judge that a small number of 
 books may have as many readers as the largest 
 collection can boast. The anecdote was commu- 
 nicated to Mr. Andrews by a clergyman who re- 
 sided near the spot. 
 
 The whole library of one of the Scilly isles 
 consisted, about fifty years past, of the Bible and 
 the History of Dr. Faustus. The island was po- 
 pulous, and the western peasants being seldom 
 deficient in literature, the conjuror's story had 
 been handed from house to house, until, from 
 perpetual thumbing, little of his enchantments, 
 or of his catastrophe, was left legible. On this 
 alarming conjuncture, a meeting was called of 
 the principal inhabitants, and a proposal was 
 made and unanimously approved, that as soon as 
 the season permitted any iateveourse with Corn- 
 Wall, a sup ly ot books should be sent for. A 
 debate now bciran, in order to ascertain what 
 those books should be, ami the result was, that 
 an order should be transmitted to an eminent 
 bookseller it Y nzince, for him to send them 
 another Dr. Faustus.
 
 BOOKS. 197 
 
 A professor in tbe academy of Saumur used 
 to spend five hours in the morning in his study, 
 but he was very punctual at the dinner hour. 
 But not appearing one day at the usual time, 
 his wife entered the study, and found him still 
 reading. " I wish, my love," said the lady, 
 " that I was a book." " Why so?" said the 
 professor. " Because you would then be con- 
 stant to me." " I should have no objection," 
 replied the professor, " provided you were an al- 
 manack." ""Why an almanack, my dear?" 
 " Because," said he, " I should then have a new 
 one every year." 
 
 A story somewhat like this is related of Dryden 
 and his lady, by Mr. Malone, on the authority 
 of Horace Walpole, late earl of Orford ; but it 
 is evident that his lordship was indebted for the 
 anecdote to (lie Chevraeana. 
 
 The earl of Buchan, in his entertaining Life of 
 Thomson the poet, relates the following whimsi- 
 cal anecdote : 
 
 Sir Gilbert Elliot, of Minto, afterwards lord 
 justice clerk, a man of elegant taste, was an 
 early friend of Thomson, and when the first edi- 
 tion of the Seasons came out, the author sent a 
 copy, handsomely bound, to sir Gilbert, who 
 shewed it to a relation of Thomson's, a gardener 
 nt Minto : the man took the book into his hands^ 
 o 3
 
 108 BOOKS. 
 
 and turning it over and over, gazed on it with 
 admiration, on which sir Gilbert said to him 
 " Well, David, what do you think of James 
 Thomson now ? There's a book will make him 
 famous all the world over, and immortalize his 
 name." David, looking now at sir Gilbert, and 
 then at the book, said, " In troth, sir, it is a 
 grand book !, I did na' think the lad was so clever 
 as to ha' done sic neat a piece of handicraft." 
 
 Cardinal Barb j rini, going one day to inspect 
 the curious library of a collector named Moutier ? 
 was attended by Pamphilio, afterwards a car- 
 dinal and pope by the name of Innocent X. as 
 well as by several other persons of distinction. 
 When they wore in the library, Pamphilio could 
 not resist t lie inclination of stealing a valuable 
 though small volume, which he adroitly slipped 
 into his pocket. But as the cardinal, on enter- 
 ing the library, had answered for all his attend- 
 ants, he kept his word stricter than Pamphilio 
 i ,r 'ined he would; for bring about to depart, 
 the cardinal shut the door himself, and said to 
 JMoutier, " While we are all here, see if your 
 books are right, that afterwards there may be no 
 complaint." Moutier running his eyes over the 
 shelves, discovered that a book was missing. 
 61 Scnrch then," said the cardinal " search 
 every one of us." All very willingly offered
 
 BOOKS. J 99 
 
 themselves except Pamphilio, who would not 
 suffer Moutier to come near him. This was 
 sufficient to rivet suspicion ; and as Moutier was 
 a resolute man, lie and Pamphilio soon came to 
 blows; in consequence of which the book fell 
 out in the scuffle, and Pamphilio got some dis- 
 graceful marks in the face. From that moment 
 he formed the design of ruining the Barberini 
 family ; and the hatred which he always testified 
 against the court of France during the ten years 
 of his pontificate, is attributed to this circum- 
 stance. Soon after his elevation, he expelled the 
 family of the cardinal from Rome. 
 
 It is not a little remarkable, that (he gravest 
 nation in Europe; should have produced the most 
 lively and pleasant of all books. Don Quixote 
 abounds in original humour and whimsical inci- 
 dents; and what is very extraordinary, though 
 the object of the satire has long since ceased, the 
 work is s<ill admired, and ever will be so as long 
 as wit shall have admirers. Perhaps there is no 
 book in existence, that possesses so much power 
 of exciting laughter. A striking proof of its 
 fascinating influence is related in the following 
 anecdote : 
 
 Philip HI. being one day at a balcony r,f his 
 palace, observed a young student on th" borders 
 of the river Manzanares with a book in his hand, 
 o4
 
 200 BOOKS. 
 
 and as he read, every now and then he burst into 
 the most extravagant fits of laughter. Struck 
 with the sight, the king turned to one of his cour- 
 tiers, and said : " Either that young man is mad, 
 or he is reading Don Quixote." The courtier 
 descended for the purpose of satisfying his curio- 
 sity, and discovered that it was actually as the 
 king conjectured, for the young man was reading 
 the immortal work of Cervantes. 
 
 The Gil Bias of Le Sage is a very superior 
 book to The Devil on Two Sticks, as the English 
 translator improperly renders, " Le Diable Boi- 
 teux," or, " The Lame Devil." This last book, 
 however, had a very remarkable honour paid to 
 it, which no other book perhaps can boast. The 
 first and second editions had a most rapid sale, 
 so tliat very soon few of the books remained in 
 the shop of the publisher. 
 
 Two noblemen at the same moment happened 
 to enter the shop to purchase a copy, and found 
 only one unsold. Both of them laid claim to 
 if : and they disputed the point with so much 
 warmth, that at last they drew their swords; 
 and blood would have been shed, if the book- 
 seller had not borrowed a copy, by which means 
 they were boih satisfied.
 
 BOOKS. 201 
 
 From books, the transition is natural to book- 
 sellers. Jacob Tonson, in bis day the most emi- 
 nent of his profession, having refused to advance 
 Dry den a sum of money for a work in which lie 
 was engaged, the incensed bard sent a second 
 message to him, with the following 1 lines, adding, 
 " tell the dog that lie who wrote these can write 
 more :" 
 
 With leering looks, Lull faced and freckled fair, 
 With two left leg's, and Judas-coloured hair, 
 And frowzy pores that taint the ambient air. 
 
 The bookseller felt the whole force of the de- 
 scription, and, to avoid a completion of the por- 
 trait, immediately sent the money. 
 
 "When Dryden had nearly completed his trans- 
 lation of Virgil, it was the wish of Tonson, and 
 several of Dryden's friends, that the work should 
 be dedicated to king- William : this, however, 
 the poet strenuously refused. The bookseller, 
 however, who had as much veneration for Wil- 
 liam as Dryden had for James, finding he could 
 not have the dedication he wished, contrived, 
 on retouching the plates, to have /Eneas deli- 
 neated with a hooked nose, that he might resem- 
 ble his favourite prince. This occasioned the 
 following epigram to be published in tae next 
 edition of Drvden's Yinril:
 
 202 BOOKS. 
 
 Ok? J~cob, by deep judgment sway'd 1 , 
 
 To pleisoti.e. wise beholders, 
 K.->.s pi .ced old Nassau s hook-nosed head 
 
 Oa poor iEneis' shoulders. 
 
 To make the panilW hold tack, 
 
 Methiaks there's little lacking, 
 One took his fuller pick-a-b .ek, 
 
 And t'other sent \ih packing. 
 
 One of tlje most distinguished publishers after 
 Tonson, was Andrew Millar, lie was a princi- 
 pal proprietor of Johnson's Dictionary, and the 
 guardian or treasurer of the fund out of which 
 the payments were from time to time issued to 
 the author. When the work was completed, 
 Andrew was so overjoyed, that he sent (he fol- 
 lowing acknowledgment of the receipt of the 
 last sheet of the manuscript : 
 
 " Andrew Millar sends his compliments to 
 Mr. Samuel Johnson, with the money for the 
 last sheet of copy of the Dictionary, and thanks 
 God he has done with him." 
 
 Which drew from Johnson this pleasant reply : 
 
 " Samuel Johnson returns his compliments to 
 Mr. Andrew Millar, and is very glad to find, as 
 he does by his note, that Andrew Millar has the 
 grace to thank God for any thinr." 
 
 Millar was, notwithstanding, a man of consi- 
 derable liberality, and Johnson himself once ac- 
 knowledged that he was the Mecienas of the aire,
 
 BOOKJ. 203 
 
 He was a good friend to lhat eccentric genius 
 Henry Fielding, who used, however, to make 
 some sport with the bookseller, who was a plain 
 man without any pretensions to ingenuity, as the 
 following anecdote will serve to prove : 
 
 Fielding, who studied and knew human na- 
 ture, and the world, as well as any body, al- 
 ways asserted that the Scotch were so far from 
 having humour, that they had not the least taste 
 or idea of it. This was disputed by a person in 
 company with him, and the trial was agreed to 
 be made upon Millar, who was at that instant 
 coming up stairs. Fielding, on Millar's enter- 
 ing the room, pretended to be going on with the 
 conversation, and said, u 1 will be judged by 
 my friend here, whether my scheme be not a good 
 one." " What is it?" says Andrew. " I was 
 thinking," answered the wit, " how I might 
 keep a coach with little or no expense." " How 
 is that ?" replied the bookseller ; " I would keep 
 one myself upon those terms." " You shall go 
 halves with me, if you will, Millar. You know 
 that 1 send a great many prisoners to gaol in 
 hackney-coaches, and if I was to let my own 
 coach do that business, I might pay for the job 
 in shillings and eighteen-pences to Newgate, 
 Bridewell, and Clerkcnwell. What think you ?" 
 Millar looked very grave, shook his head, and 
 said with great solemnity, that he thought it very
 
 20t BOOKS. 
 
 unbecoming a magistrate to make his coacli a 
 carriage for whores, highwaymen, and pickpock- 
 ets. " 'Egad," says Fielding, " I thought so.** 
 The company laughed, and the gentleman, gave 
 
 up (he dispute. 
 
 Several anecdotes have been related of Vol* 
 taire's duplicity in his de flings with the book- 
 sellers. On one occasion, however, he was com- 
 pletely over-matched. 
 
 Voltaire having accidentally seen at Brussels, 
 in a Dutch newspaper, the name of Van Duren, 
 a bookseller at the Hague, formed the resolution 
 of sending to him, as a present, the manuscript 
 of a political work which lie could not publish in 
 France. Shortly afterwards he went to the Hague, 
 and very earnestly begged that the manuscript 
 might be returned to him. This however was 
 refused, though Voltaire offered two thousand 
 florins tor it. Notwithstanding this liberal offer, 
 and the solicitations of several persons of emi- 
 nence, the Dutchman was inflexible. Voltaire 
 then expressed a wish to make some essential cor- 
 rections in the work. But even these Y^an Durcu 
 would only allow to be done in his shop. The 
 author was obliged to consent; but having the 
 manuscript in his hand, while the bookseller 
 thought that lie was correcting it, he erased 
 whatever he thought proper, and tilled up the
 
 CHALLENGES. 205 
 
 chasms with any nonsense that occurred. At 
 length Van Duren discovered the trick; on 
 which lie instantly snatched the manuscript from 
 the author, and threatened to print it in this mu- 
 tilated slate. But finding that this would serve 
 no purpose, he delivered it to one of his com- 
 pilers and repairers of bad works, who contrived 
 to heal the wounds as well as he could. Tw$ 
 works with the same title appeared at the same 
 time, one by Voltaire, and the other by Van 
 Duren. But the publication of the former was 
 not so successful as that of the Dutchman, be- 
 cause this last was brought out in greal haste, 
 and purchased with avidity. 
 
 CHALLENGES. 
 
 At the coronation of king William and 
 queen Mary, the champion of England, dressed 
 in complete armour of glittering steel, and his 
 horse richly caparisoned, entered Westminster- 
 hall while the king and quern were at dinner: 
 ami at giving the usual challenge to any one that 
 disputed their majesties' right to the crown of Eng- 
 land, after he had Hung down his gauntlet on the 
 pavement, an old woman who entered the hall on 
 crutches (which she left behind her), took it up and 
 made ff with great celerity, leaving her own glove
 
 05 CHALLENGES. 
 
 with a challenge in it to meet her the next day 
 in Hyde park. This occasioned some mirth at 
 the lower end of the hall, and it was remarkable 
 that every one was too much engaged to pursue 
 her. A person appeared in the same dress the 
 next day at the place appointed, and was gene- 
 rally supposed to be a good swordsman in dis- 
 guise. However, the champion of England 
 civilly declined any contest of that nature with 
 the fair sex, and never made his appearance. 
 
 The following anecdote shews, that there may 
 be as much true bravery and honour in refusing 
 as i:: accepting a challenge. 
 
 When the American army were at Valley Forge, 
 in the winter of 1777, a captain of the Virginian 
 line, refused a challenge sent him by a brother 
 ofiieer, alleging that his life was devoted to the 
 service of his count. y, and that he did not think 
 it a point of duty to risk it to gratify the caprice 
 of a:. j man. His antagonist gave him the cha- 
 racter ol a coward among all his fellow officers, 
 cious of not having merited the aspersion, 
 and apprised ot the injury he should receive from 
 those unacquainted v, ith him, he repaired one 
 evening a general meeting of the officers of that 
 line. On ['.is entrance, the officer who had chal- 
 ice gee! him, desired kirn to leave the room, which 
 was uiiso repealed by ail the company. He re-
 
 CHALLENGES. 207 
 
 fused, and assorted that he came there to vindi- 
 cate his fame ; and after mentioning his reasons 
 for not accepting the challenge, he applied a 
 large hand grenade to the candle, and when (he 
 fuze had caught fire, threw it on the floor, say- 
 ing, " There, gentlemen, this will determine 
 which man of us all dare most to brave danger.'* 
 The company, except the captain, hastily left 
 the room, and returned imme; lately after the ex- 
 plosion expecting to find him dead, but were 
 agreeably surprised on finding the contrary (he 
 having secured himself by lying down on the 
 floor), and, convinced of his bravery, ever after 
 held him in the highest esteem. 
 
 Sir John Hawkins, n his li Life of Dr. John- 
 son,' g ves a curious account or the evasion of 
 a challenge sent by Akenside, the poet and phy- 
 sician, to one Ballow, a lawyer, and a man of 
 wit. One evening at the coffee-house, a dispute 
 between these two persons rose so high, that for 
 some expression uttered by Hallow, Akenside 
 thought himself obliged to demand an apology, 
 which, not being able to obtain, he sent his 
 adversary a challenge in writing. Ballon, a 
 little deformed man, well known as a saunterer in 
 the park, about Westminster, and in the streets 
 between Charing-cross and the houses of parlia- 
 ment, though remarkable for a sword of an un-
 
 20S CHILDREN - . 
 
 usual length, which he constantly wore when 
 lie went abroad, had no inclination tor fighting, 
 and declined an answer. The demand of satis- 
 faction was followed by several attempts on the 
 part of Akenside to sec Ballow at. his lodgings, but 
 he kept close, till by the interposition of friends 
 the difference coulti be adjusted. Akenside ac- 
 quired but little reputation for courage, for the 
 accommodation was not brought about by any 
 concessions of his adversary, but by a resolution 
 from which neither of them would depart, for 
 one would not fight in the morning, nor the 
 other in the afternoon. 
 
 CHILDREN. 
 
 The emperor Commodus, one of tlic basest 
 characters which disgrace the page of history, 
 owed his death to a child. Commodus delighted 
 it! exhibiting himself as a performer in the public 
 theatres; and one day lie was so senseless as to 
 appear naked among the gladiators. Marcia, 
 his mistress, willing tocxercise that power which 
 she imagined her charms entitled her to, repre- 
 sented to him, that this conduct was unwovjliy 
 cf an emperor, who ought always to conceal 
 his weakness from the publicvicw; and to ap- 
 pear, if possible, more than human, which pru-
 
 CHILDREN. 209 
 
 dent remonstrance was strongly seconded by se- 
 veral of his ministers. This was prudent advice; 
 but Coramodus was of too base a mind to fol- 
 low it. On the contrary, he considered it as an 
 opposition to his will, as an attempt against his 
 power ; and, in short, as a crime deserving of 
 death. He rejoiced in having found an oppor- 
 tunity of getting rid of troublesome counsellors, 
 and accordingly wrote a sentence of condemna- 
 tion against all those who had dared to give him 
 an opinion so repugnant to his inclination. A 
 little boy whom he had reared in his palace, fol- 
 lowed him into his apartment, and staying there 
 after his departure, took up the paper on which 
 the sentence was written, and went away with it. 
 Marcia happening to meet the child, took the 
 paper out of his hand, and on reading it, found 
 that Commodus had destined her death as well as 
 others. With this information she hastened to 
 the persons whose names were included in the 
 sentence, and advised them to avoid the destruc- 
 tion which impended over them, by destroying 
 the emperor. Her counsel was approved, and 
 it was resolved to put it instantly into execu- 
 tion ; the only difficulty was, how to accomplish 
 the design. Marcia proposed to dispatch him by 
 poison, and she undertook to administer it to 
 him herself. She accordingly mixed it in a 
 draught of liquor, and gave it to him when he 
 vol. i. v
 
 210 CHILDREN. 
 
 was very hot from bis exercise with the gladia- 
 tors. The potion threw him into a slumber ; and 
 when he awoke he began to vOmit. The conspi- 
 rators fearing lest he should recover, employed a 
 person to strangle him ; and having thus made 
 sure of his death, they raised Pertina>; to the 
 throne, whose life had been threatened by Corn- 
 modus. 
 
 In former times it was considered as an essen- 
 tial duty in mothers to suckle their own children : 
 and this notion was carried so far, that persons 
 of the highest rank were shocked at the idea of 
 delivering their offspring over to the breasts of 
 strangers. Of this there is a remarkable instance 
 in the History of France. 
 
 One day when Blanche, wife of Louis VIIJ. 
 was in a violent fever, a lady of quality, who, to 
 please her majesty, or to imitate her, suckled her 
 own child, seeing the little prince crying for 
 thirst while his mother was asleep, took upon 
 her to give him her own breast. The queen on 
 waking, asked for her infant, and offered him 
 the breast, which little Louis would not take. 
 It was not difficult to guess at the cause ; and the 
 queen suspected it presently. She pretended to 
 be in pain, to thank the person to whom she was 
 so much indebted for the good office that had 
 been rendered to her son ; and the lady thinking
 
 CHILDREN. 211 
 
 to make her court, confessed that the tears of the 
 child had so sensibly moved her, that she could 
 not forbear assisting him. But the queen, instead 
 of answering, gave her a scornful look, and put- 
 ting her finger into the infant's mouth, compelled 
 him in that manner to bring up all that he had 
 taken. This violence made all those wonder who 
 saw it ; and the queen, to make their astonishment 
 cease, said, that she could not endure that ano- 
 ther woman should dispute the quality of mother 
 with her. 
 
 When pope Eugenio IV. visited Florence, a 
 boy of ten years of age was introduced to him, 
 and the youth addressed his holiness in a speech, 
 which for elegance far exceeded his years. A 
 cardinal who was present observed, that " it was 
 common for young persons endowed with prema- 
 ture talents, to fall into an early decay of parts." 
 " Then, my lord," replied the youth, "you must 
 have been possessed of very extraordinary talents 
 when you were young." 
 
 M. de Chateauneuf evinced an early prompti- 
 tude of parts and quickness of wit. When he 
 was only nine years of age, a bishop, thinking to 
 puzzle him, said, " tell me, my child, where 
 God is, and I will give you an orange." To 
 p 2
 
 212 CHILDREN. 
 
 this the child readily answered : u Tell me, my 
 lord, where he is not, and I will give you two." 
 
 But the most wonderful instance of the early 
 expansion of the human intellect, and one almost 
 surpassing belief, is the account related of Chris- 
 tian Henry Hcinecken, who was born at Lubeck 
 in 1721, and died in 1725. At ten months he 
 could speak ; when a year old, he understood 
 the principal events recorded in the five books of 
 Moses ; at thirteen months, the history of the Old 
 Testament; and at fourteen, that of the New: 
 at two years and a half he could answer the prin- 
 cipal questions in geography, and of ancient and 
 modern history. He also spoke Latin and French 
 with fluency. Before the commencement of his 
 fourth year, he was acquainted with the genea- 
 logies of <he principal houses in Europe. Being 
 taken to Denmark, he was presented to the king 
 and the whole courf, who greatly admired theex- 
 traordinary eloquence and judgment of the in- 
 fant. On his return home from this journey, in 
 which he had received numerous praises and pre- 
 sents, he fell into a dangerous complaint, which 
 carried him off when he had just completed his 
 fourth year. Heinecken was of a delicate and weak 
 habit of body, and lived wholly upon the milk of 
 his nurse. The learned Martini published at Lu-
 
 CHILDREN. 213 
 
 beck, in 1730, a dissertation upon the subject of 
 the life and singular genius of this child, which 
 is well worth reading. 
 
 Frederick the Great, king of Prussia, was so 
 remarkably fond of children, that he suffered the 
 sons of the prince royal to enter his apartment 
 whenever they thought proper. One day, while 
 he was writing in his closet, the eldest of these 
 princes was playing at shuttle-cock near him. 
 The shuttle-cock happened to fall upon the table 
 at which the king sat, who threw it at the young 
 prince, and continued to write. The shuttle- 
 cock falling on the table the second time, the king 
 threw it back, looking sternly at the child, who 
 promised that no accident of the kind should 
 happen again ; the shuttle-cock however fell a 
 third time, and even upon the paper on which 
 the king was writing. Frederick then took the 
 shuttle-cock and put it into his pocket: the little 
 prince humbly asked pardon, and begged the 
 king to return him his shuttle-cock. His ma- 
 jesty refused ; the prince redoubled his entrea- 
 ties, but no attention was paid to them; the 
 young prince at length being tired of begging, 
 advanced boldly towards the king, put his two 
 hands on his sides, and said in a threatening tone, 
 "will your majesty give me my shuttle-cock? 
 .say yes, or no." The king immediately burst
 
 214 COMPLIMENT. 
 
 into a fit of laughter, and taking the shuttle- 
 cock out of his pocket, returned it to the prince, 
 saying, " you are a brave boy ; you will never 
 suffer Silesia to be taken from you." 
 
 COMPLIMENT. 
 
 The great prince de Conde passing through 
 the city of Sens, which belonged to Burgundy, 
 of which he was governor, took great pleasure in 
 disconcerting the different companies who came 
 to compliment him. The abbe Boileau, dean of 
 the cathedral, brother of the poet, was commis- 
 sioned to make a speech to the prince at the head 
 of the chapter. Conde wishing to discompose 
 the orator, advanced his head and long nose to- 
 wards the dean, as if with the intention of hear- 
 ing the better, but in reality to make him blun- 
 der, if he possibly could. The abbe, who per- 
 ceived his design, pretending to be greatly em- 
 barrassed, began his speech thus : " My lord, 
 your highness ought not to be surprised to see 
 me tremble, when I appear before you at the 
 head of a company of ecclesiastics ; were I at 
 the head of an army of thirty thousand men, 
 I should tremble much more." The prince was 
 so much charmed with this compliment, that he 
 embraced the orator without suffering him to pro-
 
 COMPLIMENT. 21 J 
 
 ceed. He asked his name, and when he found 
 that he was the brother to M. Despreaux, he in- 
 vited him to dinner. 
 
 Soon after the appearance of Garrick at the 
 theatre of Drury-lane, to which he, by his as- 
 tonishing powers, brought all the world, while 
 Mr. Rich was playing his pantomimes at Coverit- 
 garden to empty benches, he and Mr. Garrick 
 happened to meet one morning at the Bedford 
 coffee-house. Having fallen into conversation, 
 Garrick asked the Covent-garden manager, how 
 much his house would hold when crowded 
 with company. " ^V'hy, master," said Rich, 
 " I cannot well tell ; but if you will come and 
 play Richard for one night, I shall be able to 
 give an account." 
 
 One of the first and most favourite generals 
 In the service of Frederick the Great, king of Prus- 
 sia, was Winterfeld. He was one day engaged 
 upon an expedition of great importance, and the 
 king promised him an army of not less than forty 
 thousand men for the undertaking. But upon 
 mustering his troops, Winterfeld found that there 
 were hardly twelve thousand effective men. He 
 therefore complained to the king, who replied : 
 " The force is, in my opinion, strong enough, 
 considering that you are at the head of it." Fre- 
 r-4
 
 216 COMPLIMENT. 
 
 derick marched forward with his army, and left 
 Winterfeld behind him. He had already taken 
 leave of the general, had mounted his horse, and 
 rode to a considerable distance ; but suddenly he 
 turned back, alighted, and embracing him, said, 
 " I had almost forgot to give you the only in- 
 structions you stand in need of ; they are, that 
 you preserve your life for my sake." But a 
 few days after, the general died in the bed of 
 honour, and the king felt and lamented his loss 
 severely. 
 
 One of the most flattering and ingenious com- 
 pliments Frederick ever paid, was that which 
 he addressed to the celebrated general Laudohn, 
 at the time of his interview with the emperor at 
 the camp of Neiss. After they had discoursed 
 for about an hour, the two monarchs sat down to 
 dinner, with the princes and general officers in 
 their train. Marshal Laudohn, who had been in- 
 vited among the rest, was about to seat himself 
 at the bottom of the table, but the king made 
 him come and sit by him, saying, " Come here, 
 general Laudohn ; I have always wished to see 
 you on my side, instead of facing me." 
 
 But there never was a finer compliment paid to 
 any man, than what Dr. Johnson received from 
 his present majesty, in the year 1767. The whole
 
 COMPLIMENT. 217 
 
 conversation, as related by Boswell, is too plea- 
 sing and characteristic to be abridged ; we shall 
 therefore give the entire account. It seems that 
 Johnson had frequented the royal library, at the 
 queen's house, through the friendship of Mr. 
 Barnard, the librarian, "who took care that he 
 should have every ease and convenience while in- 
 dulging his literary taste in that place; and his 
 majesty having been informed of his occasional 
 visits, was pleased to signify his desire that he 
 should be told when Dr. Johnson came next to 
 the library. Accordingly the next time that 
 Johnson did come, as soon as he was fairly en- 
 gaged with a book, on which, while he sat by the 
 fire, lie seemed quite intent, Mr. Barnard stole 
 round to the apartment where the king was, and 
 in obedience to his majesty's commands, men- 
 tioned that Dr. Johnson was in the library. The 
 king said he was at leisure and would go to him ; 
 upon which Mr. Barnard took one of the can- 
 dles that stood on the king's table, and lighted 
 his majesty through a suite of rooms, till they 
 came to a private door into the library, of which 
 his majesty had the key. Being entered, Mr. 
 Barnard stepped forward hastily to Dr. Johnson, 
 who was still in a profound study, and whisper- 
 ed him, " Sir, here is the king." Johnson start- 
 ed up, and stood still. His majesty approached 
 him, and at once was courteously easy. His ma-
 
 218 COMPLIMENT. 
 
 jesty began by observing, that he understood he 
 came sometimes to the library ; and then men- 
 tioning his having heard that the doctor had been 
 lately at Oxford, asked him if he was not fond of 
 going thither? to which Johnson answered, "that 
 he was indeed fond of going to Oxford sometimes, 
 but was likewise glad to come back again." The 
 king then asked him what thev were doing at 
 Oxford. Johnson answered, he could not much 
 commend their diligence, but that in some re- 
 spects they were mending, for they had put their 
 press under better regulations, and were at that 
 time printing Polybius. He was then asked 
 whether there were better libraries at Oxford or 
 Cambridge. He answered he believed the Bod- 
 leian was larger than any they had at Cambridge, 
 at the same time adding, " 1 hope, whether we 
 have more books or not than they have at Cam- 
 bridge, we shall make as good use of them as they 
 do." Being asked, whether All Souls or Christ 
 Church Library was the largest, he answered, "All 
 Souls Library is the largest we have, except the 
 Bodleian." " Aye," said the king, " that is the 
 public library." 
 
 His majesty enquired if he was then writing 
 an}' thing, lie answered ho was not, for he had 
 pretty well told the world what he knew, and 
 must now read to acquire more knowledge. The 
 .king, as it should seem, with a view to urge him
 
 COMPLIMENT. 219 
 
 to rely on his own stores as an original writer, 
 and to continue his labours, then said " I do not 
 think you borrow much from any body." John- 
 son said, he thought he had already done his part 
 as a writer. " 1 should have thought so too," 
 said the king, " if you had not written so well." 
 Johnson afterwards observed upon this, that no 
 man could have paid a handsomer compliment, 
 and it was fit for a king to pay. It was decisive. 
 When asked by another friend, at sir Joshua 
 Reynolds's, whether he made any reply to this 
 high compliment, he answered, " No, sir, when 
 the king had said it was to be so, it was not for 
 me to bandy civilities with my sovereign." Per- 
 haps no man who had spent his whole life in 
 courts, could have shewn a more nice and digni- 
 fied sense of true politeness than Johnson did in 
 this instance. His majesty having observed to 
 him, that he supposed he must have read a great 
 deal ; Johnson answered that he thought more 
 than he read ; that he had read a great deal in 
 the early part of his life, but having fallen into 
 ill health, he had not been able to read much, 
 compared with others: for instance, he said, he 
 had not read much compared with Dr. Warbur- 
 ton. Upon which the king said, that he heard 
 Dr. Warburton was a man of such general 
 knowledge, that you could scarce talk with him 
 on any subject on which he was not qualified to
 
 220 COMPLIMENT. 
 
 speak; and that his learning resembled Garrick's 
 acting, in its universality. His majesty then 
 talked of the controversy between Warburton 
 and Lowtb, which he seemed to have read, and 
 asked Johnson what he thought of it. Johnson 
 answered, " Warburton has most general, most 
 scholastic learning. Lowth is the more correct 
 scholar. I do not know which of them calls 
 names best." The king was pleased to say he was 
 of the same opinion, adding, " You do not 
 think then, Dr. Johnson, that there was much 
 argument in the case." Johnson said he did not 
 think there was. <c Why truly," said the king, 
 " when once it comes to calling names, argument 
 is pretty well at an end." 
 
 His majesty then asked him what he thought of 
 lord Lyttelton's history, which was then just pub- 
 lished. Johnson said he thought his style pretty 
 good, but that he had blamed Henry the Second 
 rather too much. " Why," said the king, 
 " they seldom do these things by halves." " No, 
 sir," answered Johnson, " not to kings." But 
 fearing to be misunderstood, he proceeded to ex- 
 plain himself; and immediately subjoined, " that 
 for those who spoke worse of kings than they de- 
 served, he could find no excuse, but that he could 
 more easily conceive how some might speak bet- 
 ter of them than they deserved, without any ill 
 intention ; for as kings had much in their power
 
 COMPLIME.Vf. 221 
 
 to give, those who were favoured by them, would 
 frequently, from gratitude, exaggerate their 
 praises ; and as this proceeded from a good mo- 
 tive, it was certainly excuseable, as far as error 
 could be excuseable." 
 
 The king then asked him what he thought of 
 Dr. Hill. Johnson answered, that he was an in- 
 genious man, but had no veracity : and imme- 
 diately mentioned as an instance of it, an asser- 
 tion of that writer, that he had seen objects mag- 
 nified to a much greater degree by using three or 
 four microscopes at a time, than by using one. 
 " Now," added Johnson, " every one acquaint- 
 ed with microscopes, knows that the more of them 
 he looks through, the less the object will appear." 
 " Why," replied the king, " this is not only 
 telling an untruth, but telling it clumsily; for, 
 if that be the case, every one who can look 
 through a microscope will be able to detect him." 
 
 " I now," said Johnson to his friends, when re- 
 lating what had passed, " began to consider that 
 I was depreciating this man in the estimation of 
 his sovereign, and thought it was time for me to 
 say something that might be more favourable." 
 
 He added, therefore, that Dr. Hill was, not- 
 withstanding, a very curious observer ; and if he 
 would have been contented to tell the world no 
 more than he knew, he might have been a very
 
 222 COMPLIMENT. 
 
 considerable man, and needed not to have recourse 
 to such mean expedients to raise his reputation. 
 
 The king then talked of literary journals, men- 
 tioned particularly the Journal des Sc,avans, and 
 asked Johnson if it was well done. Johnson said 
 it was formerly well done, and gave some account 
 of the persons who began and carried it on for 
 some years; enlarging, at the same time, on the 
 nature and use of such works. The king asked 
 him if it was well done now. Johnson answered 
 he had no reason to think it was. The king then 
 asked him if there were any other literary jour- 
 nals published in this kingdom, except the 
 Monthly and Critical Reviews ; and on being an- 
 swered there were no other, his majesty asked 
 which of them was the best ; Johnson answered 
 that the Monthly Review was done with most 
 care, the Critical upon the best principles ; add- 
 ing, that the authors of the Monthly Review were 
 enemies to the church. This the king said he was 
 sorry to hear. 
 
 The conversation next turned on the Philoso- 
 phical Transactions, when Johnson observed, that 
 they had now a better method of arranging their 
 materials than formerly. " Aye," said the king, 
 " they are obliged to Dr. Johnson for that :" for 
 his majesty had heard and remembered the cir- 
 cumstance, which Johnson himself had forgot.
 
 COMPtlMENT. 223 
 
 His majesty expressed a desire to have the lite- 
 rary biography of this country ably executed, 
 and proposed to Dr. Johnson to undertake it. 
 Johnson signified his readiness to comply with 
 his majesty's wishes. 
 
 During the whole of this interview, Johnson 
 talked to his majesty with profound respect, but 
 still in his firm, manly manner, with a sonorous 
 voice, and never in that subdued tone which is 
 commonly used at the levee and in the drawing- 
 room. After the king withdrew, Johnson shew- 
 ed himself highly pleased with his majesty's con- 
 versation and gracious behaviour. He said to 
 Mr. Barnard, " Sir, they may talk of the king 
 as they will ; but he is the finest gentleman I have 
 ever seen." And he afterwards observed to Mr. 
 Langton, "Sir, his manners are those of as fine a 
 gentleman as we may suppose Louis the Four- 
 teenth or Charles the Second." 
 
 Here also it is proper to add the interesting re- 
 lation of an interview which Dr. Beattie had with 
 their majesties, as it has been published in the 
 doctor's words, by his excellent biographer, sir 
 William Forbes. 
 
 Tuesday 24th August (1773) set out for Dr. 
 Majendie's at Kew-green. The doctor told me, 
 that he had not seen the king yesterday, but had 
 left a note in writing, to intimate that I was to be
 
 224 COMPLIMENT. 
 
 at his house to day ; and that one of the king's 
 pages had come to him this morning, to say, 
 u that his majesty would see me a little after 
 twelve." At twelve the doctor and I went to the 
 king's house at Kew. We had been only a few 
 minutes in the hall, when the king and queen 
 came in from an airing, and as they passed 
 through the hall, the king called me by name, 
 and asked how long it was since I came from 
 town. I answered him, about an hour. " I shall 
 see you," says he, " in a little while." The 
 doctor and I waited a considerable time (for the 
 king was busy), and then we were called into a 
 large room, furnished as a library, where the 
 king was walking about, and the queen sitting in 
 a chair. We were received in the most gracious 
 manner possible, by both their majesties. I had 
 the honour of a conversation with them (nobody 
 else being present, but Dr. Majendie) for up- 
 wards of an hour, on a great variety of topics, 
 in which both the king and queen joined, with 
 a degree of cheerfulness, affability, and ease, that 
 was to me surprising, and soon dissipated the 
 cmbarrasment which I felt at the beginning of 
 the conference. They both complimented me in 
 the highest terms on my " Essay," which they 
 said was a book tliey always kept by them : and 
 the king said lie had one copy of it at Kew, and 
 another in town, and immediately went and took
 
 COMPLIMENT. 225 
 
 it down from a shelf. I found it was the second 
 edition. " I never stole a book but one," said 
 his majest\', " and that was yours (speaking to 
 me) ; I stole it from the queen, to give it to lord 
 Hertford, to read." He had heard that the sale 
 of Hume's Essays bad failed since my book was 
 published : and I told him what Mr. Slrahan 
 had told me in regard to that matter. He had 
 even heard of my being at Edinburgh, last sum- 
 mer, and how Mr. Hume was offended on the 
 score of my book. He asked many questions 
 about the second part of the " Essay," and when 
 it would be ready for the press. 1 gave him, in 
 a short speed), an account of the plan of it ; 
 and said, my health was so precarious, I could 
 noi tell when it might be ready, as I had 
 many books to consult before 1 could finish it; 
 but that if my health was good, I thought I 
 might bring it to a conclusion in two or three 
 years. He asked how long 1 had been in com- 
 posing my "Essay?" praised the caution with 
 which it was written ; and said that lie did not 
 wonder that it had employed me five or six years, 
 lie asked about my poems. 1 s:iid there was 
 only one poem of my own, on which I set any 
 value (meaning the Minstrel), and that it was 
 first published about the same time with the 
 Essay. My other poems, I said, were incorrectj 
 being but juvenile pieces, and of little conse- 
 voi. . I. Q
 
 226 COMPLIMENT. 
 
 quence, even in my own opinion. We had much 
 conversation on moral subjects ; from which both 
 their majesties let it appear, that they were warm 
 friends to Christianity ; and so little inclined to 
 infidelity, that they could hardly believe that 
 any thinking man could really be an atheist, un- 
 less he could bring himself to believe, that he 
 had made himself; a thought which pleased the 
 king exceedingly ; and he repeated it several 
 times to the queen. He asked whether any thing 
 had been written against me. I spoke of the 
 late pamphlet, of which I gave an account, tell- 
 ing him that 1 never had met with any man that 
 had read it, except one Quaker. This brought 
 on some discourse about the Quakers, whose mo- 
 deration and mild behaviour, the king and queen 
 commended. I was asked many questions about 
 the Scots universities, the revenues of the Scots 
 clergy, their mode of praying and preaching, 
 the medical college of Edinburgh, Dr. Gregory 
 (of whom I gave a particular character), and Dr. 
 Cullen ; the length of our vacation at Aberdeen, 
 and the closeness of our attendance during the 
 winter; the number of students that attend my 
 lectures, my mode of lecturing, whether from 
 notes, or completely.written lectures ; about Mr. 
 Hume, and Dr. Robertson, and lord Kinnoul, 
 and the archbishop of York, &c. His majesty 
 asked what I thought of my new acquaintance,
 
 COMPLIMENT. 227 
 
 lord Dartmouth? I said, there was something in 
 his air and manner, which I thought not only 
 agreeable, but enchanting, and that he seemed 
 to me to be one of the best of men ; a sentiment 
 in which both their majesties heartily joined. 
 " They say that lord Dartmouth is an enthu- 
 siast," said the king, " but surely he says no- 
 thing on the subject of religion, Irut what every 
 Christian may and ought to say." 
 
 lie asked, whether I did not think the English 
 language on the decline at present ? 1 answered 
 in the affirmative; and the king agreed, and 
 named the Spectator as one of the best standards 
 of the language. When I told him that the 
 Scots clergy sometimes prayed a quarter, or even 
 half an hour at a time, he asked, whether that 
 did not lead them into repetitions? 1 said it often 
 did. " That," said he, " I don't like in pray- 
 ers ; and excellent as our liturgy is, I think it 
 is somewhat faulty in that respect." " Your 
 majesty knows," said I, " that three services 
 are joined in one, in the ordinary church service, 
 which is one cause of those repetitions." " True," 
 he replies!, " and that circumstance also makes 
 the service too long." From this, he took occa- 
 sion to speak of the composition of the church- 
 liturgy; on which lie very justly bestowed the 
 highest commendation. " Observe," his ma- 
 jesty said, ir - how flat those occasional prayers 
 2
 
 228 COMPLIMENT. 
 
 are, that are now composed, in comparison with 
 the old ones." When 1 mentioned the smallness 
 of the church livings in Scotland, he said, " he 
 wondered how men of liberal education would 
 choose to become clergymen there;" and asked, 
 " Whether in the remote parts of the country, 
 the clergy, in general, were not very ignorant ?" 
 I answered, " No, for that education was cheap 
 in Scotland, and that the clergy, in general, were 
 men of good sense, and competent learning." 
 He asked, whether we had any good preachers in 
 Aberdeen ? I said Yes, and named Campbell 
 and Gerard, with whose names, however, 1 did 
 not find that he was acquainted. Dr. Majendie 
 mentioned Dr. Oswald's Appeal, with commen- 
 dation ; 1 praised it too ; and the queen took 
 down the name with a view to send for it. I was 
 asked whether I knew Dr. Oswald? I answered, 
 I did not ; and said that my book was published 
 before I read his; that Dr. Oswald was well 
 known to lord Kinnoul, who had often proposed 
 to make us acquainted. We discussed a great 
 many other topics ; for the conversation, as be- 
 fore observed, lasted for upwards of an hour, 
 without any intermission. The queen bore a large 
 share in it. Both the king and her majesty shewed 
 a great deal of good sense, acuteness, and know- 
 led arc, as well as of good nature and affability. 
 At last the king took out his watch (for it was
 
 COMPLIMENT. 229 
 
 now almost three o'clock, his hour of dinner), 
 which Dr. Majendie and I took as a signal to 
 withdraw. We accordingly bowed to their ma- 
 jesties, and I addressed the king in these words: 
 " I hope, sir, your majesty will pardon me, if 
 I take this opportunity to return you my hum- 
 ble and most grateful acknowledgments for the 
 honour you have been pleased to confer upon 
 me." He immediately answered, " I think I 
 could do no less for a man who has done so mucli 
 service for the cause of Christianity : I shall al- 
 ways be glad of an opportunity to shew the good 
 opinion I have of you." 
 
 The queen sat all the while, and the king 
 stood, sometimes walking about a little. Her 
 majesty speaks the English language with sur- 
 prising elegance, and little or nothing of a fo- 
 reign manner, so that if she were only of the 
 rank of a private gentlewoman, one could not 
 help taking notice of her, as one of the most 
 agreeable women in the world. Her face is much 
 more pleasing than any of her pictures ; and in the 
 expression of her eyes, and in her smile, there is 
 something peculiarly engaging. When the doc- 
 tor and 1 came out, " Pray," said I, " how did 
 I behave ? Tell me honestly, for 1 am not ac- 
 customed to conversations of this kind." " Why 
 perfectly well," answered he, " and just as you 
 ought to do." " Are you sure of that :" said J. 
 a 3
 
 230 COMPLIMENT. 
 
 " As sure," he replied, " as of ray own exist- 
 ence ; and you may be assured of it too, when 
 I tell you, that if there had been any thing in 
 your manner and conversation, which was not 
 perfectly agreeable, your conference would have 
 been at an end in eight or ten minutes at most." 
 The doctor afterwards told me, that it was a most 
 uncommon tiling for a private man, and a com- 
 moner, to be honoured with so long an audience. 
 I dined with Dr. and Mrs. Majendie, and their 
 family, and returned to town in the evening, very 
 much pleased with the occurrences of the day." 
 
 The emperor Charles V. was the great patron 
 of Titian the painter. Among the other honours 
 which he lavished upon him, he invested him 
 with the order of Santiago at Brussels, and, in 
 1553, constituted him a count palatine of the 
 empire at Barcelona. These favours alarmed the 
 jealousy of the nobles both of Germany and 
 Spain ; but their envy drevf no other answer from 
 Charles, than, that he had many nobles in his 
 empire, and but one Titian. The artist, who was 
 at some distance, employed upon a picture, over- 
 heard the retort with conscious satisfaction; and, 
 as he made his reverence to the emperor, dropt 
 his pencil on the floor. The courteous monarch 
 took it up, and delivering it to him, added, "that 
 to wait on Titian, was a service fit for an emperor."
 
 231 
 
 CONTINENCE. 
 
 Amauri de Montfort, son of Simon, not 
 being able to support his claim to the possession 
 of the county of Thoulouse, which was disputed 
 by Raymond the Sixth, determined to make an 
 exchange with the king of France, giving him 
 this principality in return for the office of high 
 constable. Louis the Eighth, being urged by 
 the pope to go and take possession of Thoulouse, 
 marched at the head of a numerous army, re- 
 duced the town of Avignon, and the greatest part 
 of Languedoc ; but in the midst of his conquests 
 was seized with a disorder, for which his physi- 
 cians could prescribe no other remedy than that 
 he should contract an intimacy with a woman. 
 His queen remained of necessity a: Paris to go- 
 vern the state in his absence. While he was 
 asleep, his officers introduced into his chamber 
 a young lady of exquisite beauty, who, on his 
 awaking, frankly confessed to him what brought 
 her thither. " No, my child," said the king, 
 " I had rather die than prolong my life by com- 
 mitting a deadly sin." On tins he called his 
 chamberlain, and ordered him to bestow the 
 young lady in honourable wedlock, and soon after 
 perceiving his death approaching, lie appointed 
 his queen Blanche of Castillo regent of the king- 
 q 4
 
 232 ' CONTINENCE. 
 
 dom during the minority of his children, and 
 expired. 
 
 A similar anecdote is related of an archbishop 
 of York, in the reign of Henry the First. This 
 prelate falling ill of a dangerous distemper, and 
 advising with his physicians upon it, they told 
 him that he could recover his health by no other 
 means than the company of a woman. To 
 which he answered, " The remedy is worse than 
 the disease," and so suffered himself to languish 
 till he died. 
 
 This story shews the miserable state of the me- 
 died art at that time, anu also that continence 
 in the clergy was no very common virtue, not- 
 withstanding their vow of celibacy. 
 
 After the reduction of the fortress of the Sole, 
 in ilainault, by the great marechal de Turenne, 
 a lady of the most enchanting form and exqui- 
 site beauty fell into the hands of the soldiers, 
 who thinking her the most valuable part of the 
 plunder, carried her to their general. The mare- 
 chal was then only twenty-six years of age, and 
 far from being insensible to the charms of his 
 beautiful prisoner; he, however, pretended not 
 to understand their motive for bringing her to 
 him, commended their moderation and discre- 
 tion ; and giving them reason to believe that he
 
 CONTROVERSY. 233 
 
 imagined they only meant to place her out of the 
 reach of their fellow-sohliers' brutality, by put- 
 ting her under his protection, he dismissed them. 
 He afterwards caused the lady's husband to be 
 sought for, and delivering her into his hands, 
 said <o him: "Sir, I feel the greatest pleasure 
 in being able to restore your wife to you invio- 
 late; and that you may learn what sort of an 
 enemy you war with, know that it is to the dis- 
 cretion of my soldiers, that you are indebted for 
 the preservation of your lady's honour," deny- 
 ing himself even the harmless pleasure that results 
 from being known to be the author of a virtuous 
 action. 
 
 CONTROVERSY. 
 
 Sir Francis Bacon, writing in 1609 to 
 Mr. Toby Mathew, who had revolted to the Jesuits, 
 uses this simile: (( Myself am like the miller of 
 Grancester, that was wont to pray for peace 
 among the willows, for while the wind blew, the 
 wind-mills wrought and the water-mill was less 
 customed. So I see that controversies in religion 
 must hinder the advacement of the sciences!" 
 The letter is in the Middle Temple Library.
 
 234: CONTROVERSY. 
 
 Henry Ainsworth, who wrote an excellent com- 
 mentary upon the Pentateuch and Psalms, was, 
 notwithstanding his extensive learning, a bigotted 
 sectary, and consequently a fierce controvertist. 
 He was a zealous Brownist or Independent, and 
 in the reign of queen Elizabeth removed to Am- 
 sterdam, where he became teacher of a congrega- 
 tion, in conjunction with one Johnson ; but at 
 last they fell out, and the two pastors, with their 
 divided flock, excommunicated eacli other. Af- 
 terwards there arose a great dispute between 
 Ainsworth and Broughton, another learned He- 
 braian, upon this odd question, Whether the 
 colour of Aaron's linen ephod was blue or green? 
 which, says Dr. Heylin, did not only trouble all 
 the dyers in Amsterdam, but drew their followers 
 into parties and factions, and made good sport to 
 all the world except themselves. 
 
 In the Life of Bishop Bull, by the pious Mr. 
 Nelson, a comical story is told of a forward 
 Quaker, who would frequently attack that learned 
 prelate v. lieu lie was only the minister of a country 
 parish. Once more particularly, the Quaker 
 said to him, " George, as for human learning, 
 I set no value upon it: but if thou wilt talk 
 scripture, have at thee." Upon which Mr. Bull, 
 willing to correct his confidence, and to shew 
 him how unable he was to support his pretensions,
 
 CONTROVERSY. 235 
 
 answered him : " Come on then, friend :" so 
 opening the Bible, which lay before (hem, lie fell 
 upon the book of Proverbs: " Seest thou, friend," 
 said he, " Solomon saith in one place, Answer 
 a fool according to his jolly, and in another 
 place, Answer not a jool according to his jolly : 
 how dost thou reconcile these two texts of scrip- 
 ture ?" " Why," said the Quaker, " Solomon 
 don't say so;" to which Mr. Bull replied, "Ay, 
 but he doth ;" and turning to the place, he soon 
 convinced Mm; upon which the Quaker being 
 much chagrined, exclaimed, " Why then Solo- 
 mon was a fool ;" and thus ended the controversy. 
 
 Angry disputants have generally the worst side 
 of the argument. Lord Shaftesbury tells us, 
 that a clown once took a fancy to hear the Latin 
 disputes of doctors at a university. He was 
 asked, what pleasure he could take in viewing 
 such combatants, when he could never know so 
 much as which of the parties had the better. 
 11 For that matter," replied the clown, U I a'nt 
 such a fool neither, but that I can see who's the 
 first that puts t'other in a pulsion." Nature her- 
 self dictated this lesson to the man, that he who 
 had the better of (he argument, would be easy 
 and good-huruounxl ; but that he who was unable 
 to support his cause by reason, would in conse- 
 quence lose his temper, and grow violent.
 
 2se 
 
 COURAGE. 
 
 In an action off Dunkirk, between the Eng- 
 lish and Dutch fleets, in the reign of Charles II. 
 sir John Harman, who commanded the Henry, 
 being surrounded and furiously assailed by the 
 Zealand squadron, admiral Evertzen, who com- 
 manded it, hailed and offered him quarter; to 
 which he replied : " No, sir, 'tis not come to 
 that yet." The next broadside killed the Dutch 
 admiral, which threw their squadron into con- 
 fusion, and obliged them to quit the Henry. 
 Three fire-ships were now sent to burn her; one 
 of them grappled her starboard quarter, but the 
 smoke was too thick to discern where the grap- 
 pling-irons had hooked, until the blaze burst out, 
 when the boatswain resolutely jumped on board, 
 disentangled the irons, and instantly recovered 
 his own ship. Scarcely was this effected, before 
 another fire-ship boarded heron the larboard side; 
 the sails and rigging taking fire, destruction ap- 
 peared inevitable, and several of the crew threw 
 themselves into the sea; upon which sir John 
 Harman drew his sword, and threatened to kill 
 the first man who should attempt to quit the 
 ship; and at length, by great exertions, the 
 flames were extinguished. Sir John, though his
 
 COURAGE. 237 
 
 leg was broken, continued on deck giving direc- 
 tions, and sunk another fire-ship that was bear- 
 ing down upon him; when, after having fought 
 his ship as long as it was possible to keep her 
 above water, he bore away in a most crippled 
 state for Harwich, where the damages were re- 
 paired, and in a short time he was enabled to 
 proceed to sea again. 
 
 The learned Dr. Isaac Barrow, the tutor of 
 Newton, was a man of small stature, and of 
 great modesty : but he possessed at the same time 
 an undaunted courage. In his voyage up the 
 Mediterranean, the ship was attacked by an Al- 
 gerine corsair. Mr. Barrow, during the en- 
 gagement, kept upon deck, cheerfully and vi- 
 gorously fighting, till t!ie pirate perceiving the 
 stout defence the ship made, sheered off and left 
 her. Being afterwards asked why he did not go 
 down into the hold, and leave the defence of the 
 ship to those to whom it belonged, he replied, 
 c; it concerned no man more than myself; I 
 would rather have lost my life than have fallen 
 into the hands of those merciless infidels." 
 
 Dr. Pope, one of his biographers, gives an-? 
 other instance of his strength and courage. 
 
 " He was at a gentleman's country seat, where 
 the necessary house was at the end of a long gar- 
 den, and consequently at a great distance from
 
 238 COURAGE. 
 
 the room where he lodged : and as he was sows: 
 to it very early, even before day, for lie was spar- 
 in* of sleep, and a very early riser, a fierce mas- 
 tiff who used to he chained up all day, and let 
 loose at night, for the security of the house, per- 
 ceiving a strange person in the garden at that un- 
 seasonable time, set upon him with great fury. 
 The doctor caught him by the throat, threw him 3 
 and lay upon him, and whilst he kept him down, 
 considered what he should do in that exigency ; 
 once he had a mind to kill him, but he altered 
 this resolution, judging it would be an unjust 
 action, for the dog did his duty, and he was 
 himself in fault for rambling out before it was 
 light. At length he called so loud, that he was 
 heard by some persons in the house, who came 
 presently out and freed the doctor and the dog 
 from their disagreeable situation." 
 
 To this account of the courage of Dr. Barrow, 
 we shall add a very remarkable instance of mi- 
 litary cowardice and clerical bravery. 
 
 J n 1745, the Lion man of war, of sixty-four 
 guns, captain Butt, fell in with two French ships 
 of superior force, which, after a desperaie en- 
 gagement, she compelled to sheer off. Afier the 
 conflict, captain Unit confined his captain of ma- 
 rines for cowardice. lie had called upon him 
 several tiras during the action, but he could not
 
 COURAGE. 930 
 
 be found. At last some of the midshipmen pulled 
 him out from a bundle of hay, "with one of his 
 corporals by him. The Rev. Mr. Leach, chap- 
 Iain of the ship, when the captain of marines de- 
 serted his post, bravely put himself at the head 
 of the company, rallied them thrice on the poop 
 of the ship, and encouraged them to behave like 
 Englishmen, till at length he was shot dead on 
 the spot. 
 
 Jlonchurch village, iu the Isle of Wight, has 
 the honour of being the birth-place of admiral 
 Hopson, who distinguished himself in the reign 
 of queen Anne. The history of this gallant offi- 
 cer is very extraordinary. He was left an orphan 
 at an early age, and apprenticed by the parish 
 to a tailor ; an employment ill suited to his en- 
 terprising spirit. As he was one day sitting alone, 
 on the shop-board, with hiseyos directed towards 
 the sea, he was struck with the appearance of a 
 squadron of men of war coining round Dtinnose ; 
 following the fust impulse of fancy, he quitted 
 his work, and ran down to the o aeh, where he 
 jumped into the first boat he saw, and plied his 
 oars so well, that he quickly reached the admi- 
 ral's ship, where he entered as a volunteer. Soon 
 afterwards the admiral fell in with a French squa- 
 dron, and an action ensued ; which was fought 
 on both sides with the greatest bravery. During
 
 40 COURAGE. 
 
 the battle Hopson obeyed his orders with great 
 cheerfulness ; but after fighting two hours, he 
 enquired of the sailors for what they were con- 
 tending? On being told that the action must last 
 till the white rag at the enemy's mast head was 
 struck, lie exclaimed, " Oh! if that's all, I will 
 see what I can do." At this moment the ships 
 were engaged yard-arm and yard-arm, and ob- 
 scured in smoke. Our young hero, taking ad- 
 vantage of tliis circumstance, determined either 
 to haul down the enemy's flag, or to die in the 
 attempt, lie accordingly mounted the shrouds 
 unperccived, walked across the mainyard, gained 
 that of the French admiral, and ascending with 
 agility to the maintop gallant-mast head, struck 
 the flag, with which he retreated, and at the 
 moment he regained his own ship, the British 
 tars shouted victory! without any other cause 
 than that the enemy's flag had disappeared. 
 The crew of the French ship being thrown into 
 confusion, fled from their guns, and while the 
 officers, equally surprised at the event, were en- 
 deavouring to rally them, the English sailors 
 seized the opportunity of boarding the vessel, and 
 took her. Hopson at this juncture descended 
 the shrouds with the French admiral's flag, which 
 he displayed in triumph to his comrades, who be- 
 held it with astonishment ! This heroic action 
 soon reached the quarter-deck, where Iiopson was
 
 COURAGE. 241 
 
 ordered to attend; and the officers, instead of 
 giving him credit for his gallantry, began to 
 brow-beat and threaten him for his audacity ; 
 but the admiral, on hearing of it, said to him, 
 " My lad, I know you to be a brave young 
 man : from this day I order you to walk the 
 quarter-deck, and according to your future con- 
 duct, you shall have my protection." Hopson 
 soon convinced his patron that his favour was 
 not misplaced. He went rapidly through the se- 
 veral ranks of the service, till he became an ad- 
 miral, and obtained the command of a squadron, 
 with a commission to cruise at his own discretion. 
 
 This history of the origin of our brave coun- 
 tryman bears some resemblance to that of the 
 rise of general Dorffling, who was a field-mar- 
 shal in the service of the first king of Prussia. 
 Baron Pollnitz, in his Memoirs, relates his story 
 as follows : 
 
 Dorffling originally served his apprenticeship 
 as a tailor, at Tangermunde, and having a mind 
 to go to Berlin, he came to a part of the country 
 where he could not proceed without crossing the 
 Elbe, but not having wherewithal to pay his 
 passage, the ferryman refused to carry him 
 over. This so vexed him, that he threw his 
 knapsack into the river in a pet, cursed the trade 
 of a tailor, and went back to Tangermunde, 
 where he listed for a soldier There being a 
 
 vol T u
 
 242 COURAGE. 
 
 war at that time all over Germany, it was no 
 difficult matter for the young warrior to find an 
 opportunity of shewing his courage ; and he 
 signalized it in , such a manner, that his officers 
 recommended him to the notice of the elector 
 Frederick William. He was in the battle, in 
 every part where honour was to be won. After a 
 victory, in which Dorffling particularly signa- 
 lized himself, the elector ordered him to his tent, 
 and finding him a man of great sense, gave him 
 a commission, and, from repeated bravery, he 
 was advanced to the highest command. The 
 courtiers and officers envied his fortune, and his 
 origin was becoming a cant phrase among them ; 
 but Dorffling, who was now a marshal, by acci- 
 dent hearing of their malignity, took an oppor- 
 tunity, when they were all assembled, to accuse 
 them with what was imparted to him, adding, 
 " Jt is true, gentlemen, I was once a tailor, and 
 have cut out cloth ; but now," continued he (lay- 
 ing his hand on his sword), " I use a different 
 weapon, with which I will cut off any man's 
 cars, who dares to descend so far beneath himself 
 at, my expense, as I find some of you have done." 
 These words, from a man of intrepidity, could 
 not fail i;i their desired effect ; for no man was 
 afterwards more revered than marshal Dorffling. 
 
 William the Second, king of England, though 
 a prodigal prince, possessed great magnanimity
 
 COURAGE. 243 
 
 and personal courage. When intelligence was 
 brought to him, as he sat at dinner, that the city 
 of Mans, in Normandy, was besieged, and in great 
 danger of being taken, if not immediately re- 
 lieved, he rose and hastened towards the sea-side. 
 His lords about him advising him to stay till his 
 people were ready, " No," said he, " such as 
 love me, I know will follow me." Having en- 
 tered on board of a vessel, and the weather be- 
 coming tempestuous, the pilot advised him to 
 stop for a calmer season : " No," replied Wil- 
 liam, " fear nothing ; for I never yet heard of a 
 king that was drowned." Accordingly the vessel 
 reached the French coast, and the king arrived 
 so suddenly before Mans, that the besiegers were 
 thrown into disorder, and the leader of them 
 taken prisoner. 
 
 When sir Cloudesley Shovel was a boy in the 
 navy, under the patronage of sir John Narbo- 
 rough, and hearing the admiral express an ear- 
 nest wish that some papers might be conveyed to 
 the captain of a ship then engaged in action at a 
 considerable distance, he with great resolution 
 undertook to swim through the line of the ene- 
 my's fire with the dispatches in his mouth ; and 
 this service he actually performed, to the entire 
 satisfaction of the admiral, and the astonishment 
 of all who were witnesses of his courage. 
 r 2
 
 244 COURAGE. 
 
 Before the reduction of Montreal in 1760, co- 
 lonel sir James Stacpoole Malone, an Irish offi- 
 cer, having volunteered upon a dangerous ser- 
 vice, went to the head of his regiment, and asked 
 for a hundred men of courage to turn out and 
 join him in the enterprise. Three times did he 
 proclaim this request, but no answer was given. 
 Afraid of their cowardice, he called out a fourth 
 time : " Gentlemen, I am afraid you don't un- 
 derstand me." " Perfectly well," said one in 
 the rank, " but what do you mean by a hundred 
 men of courage? We all lay claim to that title; 
 fix upon your men therefore, without this distinc- 
 tion, and they will follow you." Colonel Malone, 
 charmed with this delicate bravery, apologized 
 for his error, chose his men, and immediately set 
 off to put his plan into execution ; but unfortu- 
 nately they were all cut off, including the co- 
 lonel, except eleven men. 
 
 The following instance of cool courage op- 
 posed to vain gasconade, is related in the enter- 
 taining " Memoirs of Count Grammont." 
 
 " The prince of Conde besieged Lerida ; the 
 place in itself was nothing ; but don Gregorio de 
 Brice, who defended it, was something. He 
 was one of those Spaniards of the old stamp, 
 as valiant as the Cid, as proud as all the Guz- 
 mans put together, and more gallant than all the
 
 COURAGE. 245 
 
 Abencerrages of Grenada. He suffered us to 
 make our first approaches to the place without 
 the least molestation. The marshal de Grammont, 
 whose maxim it was, that a governor who at 
 first makes a blustering, and burns his suburbs, 
 in order to make a noble defence, generally 
 makes a bad one, looked upon Gregorio de 
 Brice's politeness as no good omen for us ; but 
 the prince, covered with glory, and elated with 
 the campaigns of Rocroy, Norlinguen, and Fri- 
 bourg, to insult both the place and the governor, 
 ordered the trenches to be mounted at noon by 
 his own regiment, at the head of which marched 
 four and twenty fiddlers, as if it had been to a 
 wedding. 
 
 " Night approaching, we were all in high spi- 
 rits : our violins were playing soft airs, and we 
 were comfortably regaling ourselves : God knows 
 how we were joking about the poor governor and 
 his fortifications, both of which we promised 
 ourselves to take in less than twenty-four hours. 
 This was going on in the trenches, when we 
 heard an ominous cry from the ramparts, re- 
 peated two or three times, of " Alerte on the 
 walls!" This cry was followed by the discharge 
 of cannon and musquetry, and this discharge by 
 a vigorous sally, which having filled up our 
 trenches, pursued us as far as our grand guard. 
 b3
 
 246 COURAGE. 
 
 " The next day Gregorio Brice sent, by a trum- 
 pet, a present of ice and fruit to the prince of 
 Conde, humbly beseeching his highness to ex- 
 cuse his not returning the serenade which he was 
 pleased to favour him with, as, unfortunately, 
 he had no violins ; but that, if the music of last 
 night was not disagreeable to him, he would en- 
 deavour to continue it as long as he did him the 
 honour to remain before the place. The Spa- 
 niard was as good as his word ; and as soon as 
 we heard, * Alerte on the walls !' we were sure 
 of a sally that cleared our trenches, destroyed 
 our works, and killed the best of our officers and 
 soldiers. The prince was so piqued at it, that, 
 contrary to the opinion of the general officers, he 
 obstinately persisted in carrying on a siege, which 
 was like to ruin his army, and which he was at 
 last forced to quit in a hurry. As our troops 
 were retiring, don Gregorio, far from giving 
 himself those airs which governors generally do 
 on such occasions, made no other sally than 
 sending out a respectful compliment to the 
 prince. Signor Brice set out not long after for 
 Madrid, to give an account of his conduct, and 
 to receive the recompense he had merited. Your 
 majesty perhaps will be desirous to know what 
 reception don Brice met with, after having per- 
 formed the most brilliant action the Spaniards
 
 COURTIERS. 247 
 
 could boast of in the war. He was confined by 
 the Inquisition." Jt is proper to observe here, 
 that the cause of this ungrateful treatment was a 
 delinquency of an amorous nature with a nun. 
 
 COURTIERS. 
 
 Dr. Fuller, in his Church History, re- 
 lates this anecdote of the rapacity and cunning 
 of courtiers at the time of the Reformation : 
 
 " Master John Champernoun, son and heir ap- 
 parent of sir Philip Champernoun, of Modbury, 
 in Devon, followed the court, and by his pleasant 
 conceits gained the favour of the king, Henry 
 VIII. It happened that two or three gentlemen, 
 the king's servants, and Mr. Champernoun's ac- 
 quaintance, waited at a door where the king was 
 to pass forth, with a purpose to beg of his high- 
 ness a large parcel of abbey lands, specified in 
 their petition. Champernoun was very inquisitive 
 to know their suit, but they would not impart 
 the nature thereof. This while comes out the 
 king: they kneel down, so doth Mr. Champer- 
 noun; being assured by an implicit faith, that 
 courtiers would beg nothing hurtful to them- 
 selves. They prefer their petition ; the king 
 grants it : they render him humble thanks, and 
 so doth Mr. Champernoun. Afterwards he re- 
 r 4
 
 COURTIERS. 
 
 quires his share ; they deny it ; he appeals to the 
 king, who avows his equal meaning in the largess. 
 Whereupon his companions were fain to allot this 
 gentleman tbe priory of St. German in Cornwall 
 (valued at two hundred and forty-three pounds 
 and eight shillings of yearly rent, since by him. 
 or his heirs sold to Mr. Eliot) for his share. 
 Here a dumb beggar met with a blind giver ; 
 the one as little knowing what he asked, as the 
 other what he granted." 
 
 A curious instance of court servility, and witty 
 reproof, is told in the life of Waller the poet : 
 
 This gentleman, on a day of dissolving the 
 parliament he bad served in, went, says the histo- 
 rian, out of curiosity or respect to see king James 
 the First at dinner, at which Dr. Andrews, 
 bishop of Winchester, and Dr. Neil, bishop of 
 Durham, were standing behind his majesty's 
 chair. The monarch, who possibly had been ha- 
 rassed by some obstinate patriots during the ses- 
 sion, asked the bishops, " My lords, cannot I 
 take my subjects' money when I want it, without 
 all this formality in parliament ?" The bishop 
 of Durham, a true courtier, readily answered, 
 iC God forbid, sir, but you should ; you are the 
 breath of our nostrils." Whereupon the king 
 turned to the bishop of Winchester " Well, my 
 lord, what say you ?" " Sir," replied the bi-
 
 COURTIERS. 249 
 
 shop, " I have no skill in parliamentary cases.'* 
 The king replied, " No put-ofFs, my lord ; an- 
 swer me presently." " Then, sir," said honest 
 Andrews, " I think it is lawful for you to take 
 my brother Neil's money, for he offers it." Mr. 
 Waller reported, the company were pleased with 
 the answer, and the wit of it seemed to affect the 
 king. 
 
 Louis XIV". gave plain signs of a despotic 
 and cruel disposition in his early age : several of 
 his abject courtiers were entertaining this young 
 monarch in public with the policy of the Turkish 
 government, assuring him, (l that the sultan had 
 nothing to do but say the word, and whatever it 
 was, whether to take off a great man's head, or to 
 strip him of his estate or employment, there was 
 a train of servants, called mutes, who executed 
 the command without a reply." " Why, ay," 
 says the young tyrant, " this is to be a king in- 
 deed !" The old count de Grammont, who heard 
 with indignation the vile corrupters of youth, 
 immediately interposed : Ci But, sir, of these same 
 sultans, I have known three strangled by their 
 own mutes within my memory." The duke de 
 Montausier was so pleased with this noble free- 
 dom, that he forced himself through the crowd of 
 courtiers, and openly thanked Grammont for his 
 honest admonition.
 
 250 COURTIERS. 
 
 It was generally supposed on the accession of 
 George the Second, that sir Robert Walpole 
 would have been turned out of his employments 
 with disgrace, as it was well known that both the 
 prince and princess had retained strong resent- 
 ments against him, on account of some part of 
 his behaviour towards them. Accordingly, on 
 the death of the old king, some immediate proofs 
 were given that such was the intention. Sir 
 Robert was himself the bearer of the tidings, and 
 arriving in the night when the prince was in bed, 
 he desired an audience upon business of the ut- 
 most consequence, which would admit of no de- 
 lay. The prince refused to see him, and ordered 
 him to send in his business ; upon which he gave 
 an account of the. deatli of the late king, and 
 said he waited there to receive his majesty's com- 
 mands. The king still persisted in refusing to 
 see him, and bade him send sir Spencer Compton 
 to him immediately. Sir Robert now plainly 
 saw his downfall had been predetermined, and 
 hastened to sir Spencer with humblest tenders of 
 service, begging his protection, and earnestly en- 
 treating thai he would screen him from farther per- 
 secution. When this story got abroad, the ha- 
 bitation of the ex-minister became desolate, and 
 the whole tribe of courtiers, as usual, crowded to 
 the levee of the new favourite. Vet, in no long 
 space of time, to the astonishment of the whole
 
 COURTIERS. 25l 
 
 world, sir Robert was reinstated in his post, and 
 appeared in as high favour as ever. Various 
 were the conjectures of the people upon the 
 means employed by him to supplant his compe- 
 titor, and to reinstate himself in full possession of 
 his power, while the true secret remained a secret; 
 nor did it become known till many years after the 
 death of this celebrated minister. 
 
 Soon after the accession of George the First, 
 it is well known the whigs divided among them- 
 selves, and split into two parties, in violent op- 
 position to each other. Sunderland, Stanhope, 
 and Cadogan, were the leaders of the one ; 
 Townshend, Walpole, Devonshire, and the chan- 
 cellor, of the other. It happened at that time 
 that the former were victorious ; and the dis- 
 carded party, in resentment, paid their court at 
 Leicester-house. Walpole had thought of a par- 
 ticular measure to distress his opponents, which 
 he communicated to the heads of his party, who 
 approved of it, and some of them thought that 
 the prince should be made acquainted with it ; 
 but Walpole would not consent to this, and in 
 his usual coarse way, said, that the prince would 
 communicate it to his wife, and that the fat a 
 b would divulge the secret. By some means or 
 other the princess was infoimed of what he had 
 said ; and as was natural, she highly resented the 
 affront. But after the necessary business conse-
 
 252 COURTIERS. 
 
 quent of the new accession to the throne was 
 finished, the affair of the queen's settlement, in 
 case she should survive the king, came under con- 
 sideration. Her majesty expected that it should 
 be one hundred thousand pounds a year ; which 
 sir Spencer Compton objected to, saying, that 
 he thought sixty thousand quite sufficient, and as 
 much as could be proposed with any prospect of 
 success. While this dispute subsisted, sir Robert 
 Walpole found means to acquaint the queen pri- 
 vately, that if he were minister, he would under- 
 take to secure for her the settlement which she 
 demanded ; upon this the queen sent back this 
 remarkable answer: " Go tell sir Robert, that the 
 fat a b has forgiven him." He was accord- 
 ingly soon after, by the well known ascendancy 
 which the queen had over her husband, declared 
 prime minister, and sir Spencer Compton re- 
 moved to the upper house, by the title of earl of 
 Wilmington. 
 
 In the year 1745, in the midst of an open 
 rebellion, of a bloody and most expensive war with 
 both France and Spain, after the loss of the bat- 
 tle of Falkirk, and before the supplies were pro- 
 vided, the duke of Newcastle and lord Harrring- 
 ton, secretaries of state, who with Mr. Pelham 
 were at the head of administration, together with 
 almost all the great officers of state, entered into
 
 COURTIERS. 253 
 
 a combination to, and actually did, resign their 
 employments, being determined to distress his 
 majesty and the nation, because they found 
 themselves not in such a plenitude of power as 
 they coveted. 
 
 At this pinch, his majesty gave both the seals 
 to the late earl Granville, until affairs could be 
 settled. It is well known, however, that his ma- 
 jesty thought fit, for the quiet of his subjects, al- 
 most immediately to restore the resigners to their 
 respective departments in government. 
 
 The following anecdote, relative to that ever 
 memorable crisis, is worthy observation ; 
 
 Earl Granville, having the honour at that time 
 to be frequently with the king, one evening his ma- 
 jesty observed, in the course of conversation, which 
 naturally turned upon the resignations, that the 
 duke of Grafton (the then great favourite) was to 
 resign the next morning. The earl told the king 
 that he well knew how his majesty had it in his 
 power to hinder it. " Do you, my lord?" replied 
 the king " pray how ?" " Why, by your ma- 
 jesty's turning him out to-night."
 
 254 
 
 CREDULITY. 
 
 Michael Stifelius, a Lutheran divine, 
 predicted in an arithmetical sermon, that the 
 world would be at an end on a particular day in 
 1533. He so much insisted upon it, that many 
 simpletons gave credit to him ; and as the cus- 
 tom of fools is, they resolved, before every thing- 
 perished, to live merrily, and so they spent their 
 all in good eating and drinking. When the day 
 and hour fixed upon by him drew near, those 
 who had believed in his predictions, assembled to- 
 gether in the church, very devoutly expecting 
 the end of the world ; and that they might be 
 better prepared for it, he preached a new sermon 
 to them, suited to the same fancy. Before he 
 had done, a violent storm arose, with thunder 
 and lightning, which circumstance made part of 
 his prophecy. This therefore made the poor 
 creatures imagine that the hour for their leaving 
 tliis world was certainly come. But soon after 
 the storm ceased, and the sky appeared as serene 
 as before; upon which the parishioners perceiv- 
 ing that the parson had imposed upon them, flew 
 into a rage, dragged him from the pulpit, and 
 gave him so severe a drubbing as had nearly ter- 
 minated fatally.
 
 CREDULITY. 255 
 
 Tasso, the prince of Italian poets, fancied that 
 he was constantly attended by a good genius, 
 with whom he had familiar converse. His friend 
 Manso having endeavoured to reason him out of 
 (his humour, Tasso said to him : " Since you will 
 not believe me on my word, 1 must convince you 
 by your own eyes, that what I have said is not 
 the effect of imagination. " Accordingly the next 
 day, while they were conversing together in the 
 same room, Manso perceived that on a sudden. 
 Tasso fixed his eyes towards the'window, and that 
 he stood as if he were immoveable. He called 
 to him, and shook him several times, but instead 
 of giving a direct answer to his questions, Tasso 
 said : " See, there is the spirit that has been 
 pleased to come and visit me ; look on him, and 
 you will acknowledge the truth of what 1 say.'* 
 Manso, somewhat surprised, cast his eyes to- 
 wards the place lie shewed him, and saw nothing 
 but the rays of the sun passing through the glass ; 
 nor did he see any thing at all in the chamber, 
 though he looked all around him with the most 
 eager curiosity. But all the time Tasso conti- 
 nued speaking with great vehemency, putting 
 questions, and giving* answers, as if he was ac- 
 tually carrying on a conversation with some per- 
 son in the room. Manso, in his letter to a noble- 
 man at Naples, speaks in the most rapturous 
 terms of this mysterious discourse, though he
 
 256 CREDULITY. 
 
 confesses that he never heard any other voice than 
 that of Tasso: "I am brought to that pass," says 
 Manso, " that I know not what to think or say ; 
 only that if it be a weakness in my friend to be- 
 lieve these visions, I fear it will prove contagious 
 to myself, and that I shall at last become as cre- 
 dulous as Tasso." 
 
 To what an extravagant length the credulity 
 of mankind will go, even among the elevated 
 and best educated part of society, appears from 
 a remarkable incident which happened in our 
 own country. 
 
 The duke of Montague being in company 
 with some other noblemen, proposed a wager, 
 that let a man advertise to do the most impossible 
 thing in the world, he would find fools enough in 
 London to fill a playhouse, who would think him 
 in earnest. "Surely," said the earl of Chesterfield, 
 " if a man should say, that be would jump into 
 a quart-bottle, nobody would believe that." The 
 "duke was staggered a little; t>ut for the sake of 
 the jest, determined to try the experiment ; ac- 
 cordingly it was advertised that, " the next day 
 (January J 7, 1749) a person at the theatre in the 
 Hay-market would play on a common walking- 
 cane, the music of every instrument now in use, 
 to surprising perfection; that he would, on the 
 stage, get into a tavern quart- bottle, without
 
 CREDULITY. 257 
 
 equivocation, and while there, sing several songs, 
 and suffer any spectator to handle the bottle ; 
 that if any spectator should come masked, he 
 would, if requested, declare who they were ; that, 
 in a private room, he would produce the repre- 
 sentation of any person dead, with whom the 
 party requesting it might converse some minutes 
 as if alive." 
 
 In consequence of this advertisement, the thea- 
 tre was at an early hour crowded with company, 
 who waited till seven o'clock ; then growing im- 
 patient and noisy, a person came before the cur- 
 tain, and declared, that if the performer did not 
 appear, the money should be returned ; on which 
 one in the pit cried out, " For double prices the 
 conjurer will go into a pint-bottle." A tumult 
 now began, and a person in one of the boxes 
 threw a lighted candle on the stage : the greatest 
 part of the spectators hurried out, and the mob 
 breaking in, they tore down the inside of the 
 house, and burnt it in the street. During the 
 confusion, the money, which had been secured in 
 a box, according to a contract with the proprie- 
 tor of the house, was carried off. Several persons 
 of high rank being present, the pick-pockets made 
 a good booty ; and among the rest, the duke of 
 Cumberland lost his sword, for which a reward 
 of thirty guineas was advertised, to the no small 
 diversion of those who were in the secret. 
 
 vol. t.
 
 258 
 
 CRITICISM. 
 
 Da. Johnson, in li is Life of Pope, relates a 
 remarkable anecdote of lord Halifax, as follows : 
 
 Of Pope's translation of the Iliad the expecta- 
 tion was undoubtedly liig-li, and every man who 
 had connected his name with criticism, or poe- 
 try, was desirous of such intelligence as might 
 enable him to talk upon the popular topic. Ha- 
 lifax, who by having been first a poet, and then 
 a patron of poetry, had acquired the right of 
 being a judge, was willing to hear some books 
 while they were yet unpublished. Of this re- 
 hearsal Pope afterwards gave the following ac- 
 count. 
 
 " The famous lord Halifax was rather a pre- 
 tender to taste than really possessed of it. When 
 1 had fin is lied the two or three first books 
 of my translation of the Iliad, that lord desired 
 to have the pleasure of hearing them read at his 
 house. Addison, Congreve, and Garth, were 
 there at the reading. In four or five places lord 
 Halifax stopped me very civilly, and with a 
 speech, each time mncb of the same kind, ' I 
 beg your pardon, Mr. Pope; but there is some- 
 thing in that passage that docs not quite please 
 me. lie so good as to mark the place, and con- 
 sider it a little at your leisure. I'm sure you can
 
 CRITICISM. 259 
 
 giv it a little turn.' I returned from lord Hali- 
 fax's with Dr. Garth, in his chariot ; and? as 
 we were going along, was saying to the doctor, 
 that ray lord had laid me under a good deal of 
 difficulty by such loose and general observations ; 
 that 1 had been thinking over the passages al- 
 most ever since, and could not guess at what it 
 was that offended his lordship in either of therm 
 Garth laughed heartily at ray embarrassment; 
 said I had not been long enough acquainted with 
 lord Halifax to know his way yet ; that I need not 
 puzzle myself about looking those places over and 
 over, when 1 got home. ' All you need do,' says 
 he, c is to leave them just as they are ; call on 
 lord Halifax two or three months hence, thank him 
 for his kind observations on those passages, and 
 then read them to him as altered. I have known 
 him much longer tljan you have, and will be an- 
 ewerable for the event.' I followed his advice; 
 waited on lord Halifax some time after; said, I 
 hoped he would find his objections to those pas- 
 sages removed ; read them to him exactly as they 
 were at first ; and his lordship was extremely 
 pleased with them, and cried out, c Aye, now 
 they are perfectly right : nothing can be better.' ' 
 
 Soon after tbe appearance of the first part of 
 the Essay on Man, which came out without a 
 name, one Morris, who had attempted some 
 
 s 2
 
 260 CRITICISM. 
 
 things in the poetical way, particularly a piece 
 for music, which was performed in private be- 
 fore some of the royal family, accidentally paid 
 a visit to Mr. Pope, who inquired of him what 
 news in the learned world, and what new pieces 
 were brought forth ? Morris replied, that there 
 was little or nothing, but that there was a thing 
 just come out, called, " An Essay on Man, the 
 first Epistle," threatening more ; that he had read 
 it, and it was a most abominable piece of stuff, 
 shocking poetry, insufferable philosophy, no co- 
 herence, nor the least connection. " If I had 
 thought," said he, " that you had not seen it, 
 I would have brought it with me." Upon this, 
 Mr. Pope frankly told him, " that he had seen 
 it before it went to press, for it was his own writ- 
 ing, a work of years, and the poetry such as he 
 thought proper for the expression of the subject; 
 on which side he did not imagine he would ever 
 have been attacked, especially by any one pretend- 
 ing to knowledge in the harmony of numbers." 
 
 This was like a clap of thunder to the critic: 
 he. reached his hat, and with ablush and a bow, 
 took his leave of Mr. Pope, and never ventured 
 to shew his face before him again. 
 
 A certain author was introduced, by a friend, 
 to Mr. Addison, who was desired to peruse and 
 correct a copy of English verses, which was then
 
 CRITICISM. 61 
 
 presented to him. Addison took the poem, which 
 he afterwards found very stupid ; and observing 
 that about twelve lines from Homer were prefixed 
 to it by way of motto, he erased the Greek lines, 
 without making any amendments in the work, 
 and returned it. The author seeing this, desired 
 his friend who had introduced him, to inquire of 
 Mr. Addison the reason of his doing so; expecting, 
 however, to hear that his poem was so beautiful, 
 that it had no occasion for any foreign embellish- 
 ment. But when his friend put the question to 
 Mr. Addison, he said, " that whilst the statues 
 of Caligula remained all of a piece, they were 
 little regarded by the people ; but that when he 
 fixed the heads of the gods upon unworthy shoul- 
 ders, he profaned them and made himself ridicu- 
 lous. I therefore," says he, " made no more con- 
 science to separate Homer's verses from this 
 poem, than the thief did who stole the silver 
 head from the brazen body in Westminster- 
 abbey." 
 
 i 
 At the time a reward was offered for the best 
 epitaph on general Wolfe, two gentlemen agreed 
 ?ach to write one, %y way of a frolick, and for a 
 wager, to leave the determination of which was 
 best to Dr. Johnson. After reading them both, 
 the doctor wrote his opinion to this effect : " The 
 %3
 
 262 CRITICISM. 
 
 epitaphs ate both extremely bad, and therefore 
 I prefer the shorter of the two." 
 
 Ambrose Philips, the poet, was very solemn 
 and pompous in conversation. At a coffee-house 
 he was discoursing upon pictures, and pitying 
 the painters who in their historical pieces always 
 draw ihe same sort of sky. " They should tra- 
 vel," said he, " and then they would see that 
 there is a different sky in every country, in Eng- 
 land, France, Holland, Italy, and so forth." 
 " Your remark is just," said a grave gentleman 
 who sat just by : "I have been a traveller my- 
 self, and can testify that what you observe is 
 true ; but the greatest variety of skies that ever I 
 found was in Poland." " In Poland, sir?" said 
 Philips. " Yes, in Poland ; for there is So- 
 biesky, and Sarbiensky, and Jablonsky, and 
 Podebrasky, and many more skies, sir." 
 
 Soon after lord Kenyon was appointed Master 
 of the Rolls, he was listening- very attentively to 
 a young clerk, who was reading to him before a 
 number of gentlemen of the long robe, the con- 
 veyances of an estate; and on coming to the 
 word enough, pronounced it cnozo. His honour 
 immediately interrupted him, " hold! hold! you 
 must stand corrected ; c n o u g h is, according hi
 
 CRUELTY. 263 
 
 'the vernacular custom, pronounced enuff, and so 
 must all other English words v/liich terminate in 
 ough; as for example, tough, rough, cough, 
 &c. The clerk bowed, blushed, and went on 
 for some time, when coming to the word plough, 
 lie with a loud voice, and a penetrating look at 
 his honour, called it plujf- The great lawyer 
 stroked his chin, and with a smile candidly said, 
 " young man, / sit corrected.'''' 
 
 CRUELTY. 
 
 The ferocious character of the 12th cen- 
 tury, is strongly marked by an anecdote in the 
 French annals. 
 
 Thomas baron D'Oraart, married Adela, the 
 beautiful daughter of the count dc Ponthieu. In 
 conducting her to his castle, the baron and his 
 lady were surrounded by eight of the high-born 
 and titled plunderers with which France was then 
 infested. D'Omart made a gallant resistance; 
 but being overpowered by numbers, he was seized, 
 stripped, and bound to a tree ; while the shrieks 
 of Adela proved in vain to save her from disho- 
 nour. At last some of the baron's domestics 
 came up, and escorted the unhappy pair back to 
 the castle of the count de Ponthieu, near Abbe- 
 ville. That savage parent heard the fatal story 
 s4
 
 264r CRUELTY. 
 
 without apparent emotion, but harbouring in his 
 mind the most atrocious cruelty. A few days 
 after, he found an opportunity to surprize his 
 unfortunate, but guiltless daughter, at a distance 
 from her husband, and caused her to be put into 
 a large barrel, which had been previously pre- 
 pared, and thrown into the sea. Providentially 
 thebarrel was taken up by a fisherman, and opened 
 in time to save the life of Adela, who was soon re- 
 stored to her afflicted husband. 
 
 In Dr. Nugent 's history of Vandalia, is the 
 following affecting narrative: About this time, 
 viz. 13^2, happened an event, which strongly 
 proves the barbarity of that ignorant .age. The 
 count of Mansfeld's lady had occasion to pay a 
 visit to her relatives. In her way through the 
 country of Luneburg, as she was upon the ex- 
 tremity of a wood, she heard the cries of a per- 
 son who seemed to be imploring mercy. Startled 
 at the sound, she ordered one of her domestics 
 to inquire into the cause of those lamentations. 
 But her humanity rendering her too impatient 
 to wait his return, she ordered her coachman 
 to drive Id the place from whence the voice 
 issued ; when, to her great astonishment, she be- 
 held a decrepid old man, with his hands tied, 
 earnestly intreating a person who was digging a 
 grave, to spare his life. Struck with this mov-
 
 CRUELTY. 265 
 
 ing spectacle, the countess asked the grave-dig- 
 ger, what he meant by using such violence to the 
 helpless old man ? The digger, not at all alarm- 
 ed at the sight of the lady and her retinue, said 
 that the old man was his own father, but now 
 past labour, and unable to earn his bread; he 
 therefore was going to commit him to the earth 
 from whence he came, as a burden and a nui- 
 sance. The lady, shocked at so unnatural a 
 speech, reproved the man for his impiety, and 
 represented to him how contrary such an action 
 was to the divine law, by which we are forbid to 
 kill any man, much less our parent, whom we 
 are bound to respect and honour. The man 
 looking at her earnestly, said, "What must I 
 do, good lady? 1 have a house full of children, 
 and I work hard to maintain them all, and scarce 
 is my labour sufficient; now I cannot take the 
 bread out of the mouths of my babes, and suf- 
 fer them to starve, to give it to this old man, 
 whose life is no longer of any use, either to him- 
 self, or to my family." The countess, fetching 
 a deep sigh, turned about to her attendants, 
 " Behold," said she, " the miserable condition of 
 these poor peasants ; how lamentable their case, 
 how hard their distress, to be obliged to kill 
 those who gave them life, to prevent their off- 
 spring from starving ! Yet the opulent and the 
 great are insensible of the misery of these poor
 
 CRUEI/TY, 
 
 objects, and instead of relieving their necessities, 
 everyday aggravate their distress by new tyranny 
 and oppression." Saying this, the generous lady 
 drew out her purse, and giving the man a con- 
 siderable sum, desired him to spare his aged fa- 
 ther^ life. The man returned her thanks, and 
 promised to provide for him as long as the money 
 lasted. The lady declared he should have a far- 
 ther supply when necessary, and ordered her ser- 
 vants to proceed on their journey. 
 
 The most horrible act of cruelty recorded in 
 history, is the massacre of the Huguenots at 
 Paris, AugustSl, 1572. It began at midnight, 
 and the first person who fell was the famous ad- 
 miral de Coligni, who was at the head of the 
 protestant party. The admiral, waked out of 
 his sleep by the noise, threw himself out of bed, 
 and slipping .on his night-gown, bade Mer- 
 lin, his minister, who lny in his room, read 
 prayers; but the poor man, less intrepid than the 
 admiral, who thought not of preserving his mor- 
 tal existence, but of preparing himself for eternal 
 life, was little able to comply ; which the admi- 
 ral perceiving, said to him, and others of his at- 
 tendamts who were in the chamber, " save your- 
 selves, ray friends ; all is over with me ; I have 
 long been prepared for death." All but one 
 sought their safety by flight. A soldier who
 
 CRCELTY. 267 
 
 fcncw not the admiral's person, entered, and ask- 
 ing htm who he was, the admiral, who was at 
 prayers, replied with perfect composure, " I am 
 he whom you seek. If you are a soldier, as you 
 appear to be, you ought to respect my grey 
 hairs; but do what you will, you can shorten my 
 life only by a few days." The man instantly 
 stabbed him. All the soldiers that followed him 
 did the same, and threw the body, covered with 
 wounds, out at the window, where it was inhu- 
 manly mangled by the bigotted populace, and 
 his head sent to Rome. 
 
 The massacre soon became general in every 
 part of the town. A gentleman of above four- 
 score years old, who had the care of the young 
 prince of Conti, was not spared, though his grey 
 hairs seemed to call for mercy, and still more the 
 infantine fondness of the prince of Conti, who 
 hanging about his neck, endeavoured with his 
 little hands to ward oft' the blows of the mur- 
 derer. La Force, in bed with his two sons, was 
 slain with the eldest of them, while the youngest, 
 only twelve years old, lying between them, and 
 covered with their blood and his own, he being 
 also wounded, appeared to be dead, and was 
 thought so by all who saw vhern. in this situa- 
 tion he heard many commend the barbarity of 
 their murderers, saying it was necessary to kill
 
 58 CRUELTY. 
 
 the young wolves with the old one : but he still 
 acted bis part so well, that no one supposed him 
 living ; till' in the evening he heard a person who 
 had entered the chamber, execrate the inhuman 
 perpetrators of such an action, and call on God 
 to revenge it; he then started from under the dead 
 bodies, and cried out to be conducted to the arse- 
 nal, which was immediately done; nor would 
 Biron, who had the command of it, deliver him 
 up, though he was severely menaced for affording 
 him refuge. This La Force afterwards became a 
 distinguished commander among the Huguenots, 
 and married Biron's daughter. 
 
 The massacre was in no place more furiously 
 carried on than in the Louvre. Vicomte Tesan, 
 with his wounds bleeding, fled from his assailants 
 into the queen of Navarre's chamber, and throw- 
 ing himself on her bed, covered her with blood, 
 and filled her wilh terror, as she was ignorant of 
 what was passing. The captain of the guard 
 promised her to save his life, and having made 
 her put on a gown, conducted her to the duchess 
 of Lorraine's apartment. In her way thither a 
 gentleman mortally wounded by a soldier fell 
 dead at her feet. At so shocking a spectacle she 
 fainted away. She no sooner entered the duchess 
 of Lorraine's chamber, than two of the king of 
 Navarre's attendants rushed in, and falling at her
 
 cruelti". 269 
 
 feet, besought her protection. She hastened to 
 the king", her brother, who at her intreaty ordered 
 that their lives should be spared. 
 
 Some of the Huguenots who were in the 
 suburbs, taking alarm at the noise, escaped ; but 
 as they passed the Seine, the king (Charles IX.) 
 himself shot at them, crying out " kill, kill f ' 
 After the admiral's body had been drawn about 
 the streets, and mangled by the populace, they 
 hung it by the neck on a gibbet at Monlfau- 
 con, where the king went to take a view of it ; 
 and some of those who accompanied him hold- 
 ing their noses, being offended by the stench of 
 the body, Charles laughed, and said, " The 
 smell of a dead enemy is always agreeable." 
 
 In the journal of Henry TIL an instance of 
 savage inhumanity is recorded, which appears 
 almost incredible. 
 
 Coconnas, an Italian nobleman, having been 
 executed in that reign, on suspicion of treason, 
 the king rendered him the following character : 
 u Coconnas was brave enough, but he was one of 
 the wickedest fellows in my realm. I have often 
 heard him boast of having, at the massacre of 
 St. Bartholomew, purchased upwards of thirty 
 Huguenots out of the hands of their enemies, 
 merely for the sake of killing them in a more
 
 270 CBUELTY. 
 
 cruel method. He began with making then* 
 renounce their religion, and then he tortured 
 them to death by slow degrees." To this euto- 
 gium the tender-hearted monarch subjoins this 
 declaration : " I never thoroughly liked Cocon- 
 nas, after I knew this story, and I am not sorry 
 for the end to which he lias brought himself.' 
 
 c >* 
 
 In 1549, there was a dangerous jcbellion in 
 the west of England, on account of the Refor- 
 mation. The Cornish rebels besieged Exeter, 
 where the famine was so great, that ihe inhabitants 
 were obliged to cat horse-flesh. At last the lords 
 Gray and Russel relieved the place, and the 
 rebels were defeated. Many were taken and exe- 
 cuted by martial law, and the person employed 
 in this service, was the provost sir William 
 Jiingston, of whose wanton cruelty, sir Richard 
 Baker relates two curious instances. One Boycr, 
 mayor of Bodmin, had been amongst the rebels, 
 but not willingly : to him the provost sent word he 
 would come and dine with him. Accordingly the 
 mayor made a plentiful provision to entertain 
 his guest; but a little before dinner Kingston 
 took the mayor aside, and said, " that there 
 must be an execution in the afternoon, and there- 
 fore required him to have a gallows erected." 
 The mayor saw the order executed; and pre-
 
 CRUELTT. 271 
 
 sently after d'mncr, the provost taking him by 
 the hand, desired that he might be conducted to 
 the place where the gallows stood. When they 
 came to the place, he asked the mayor if he 
 thought it was strong enough. " Yes," said the 
 mayor, u there can be no doubt of it." " Welt 
 then," said the provost, "get up and try, for 
 it is provided for you." " J hope," answered 
 the mayor, " you mean not as you speak." 
 " In faith," said the provost, " there is no re- 
 medy, for you have been a busy rebel." And 
 so, without respite or trial, he was put to death. 
 
 Near the same place dwelt a milter, who had 
 been a busy actor iu the rebellion. This man 
 fearing the approacli of Kingston, tokl a stardy 
 fellow his servant, that he was going from 'home, 
 and -that if any one came to inquire for him, to 
 say that he was the miller, and had been so for 
 three years. When the provost came and called 
 for (he miller, out came the servant, and rea- 
 dily said that he was the man. " Then," said, 
 the provost to his attendants, " take and hang 
 him up on the next tree." Upon t his the fellow 
 roared out, "that he was not the miller, but the 
 miller's man." " Nay, friend," said the pro- 
 vost, " 1 will take thee at thy first word; for if 
 thou art the milter, thou hast been a busy rebel; 
 and if not, thou art a lying knave; Jet it be as it
 
 272 CURIOSITY. 
 
 may, thou canst not do thy master a better ser- 
 vice than hanging for him." And so, without 
 any more ceremony, the poor fellow was exe- 
 cuted. 
 
 CURIOSITY. 
 
 Aulls Gellius relates a curious story of 
 female curiosity, and of the ingenious artifice 
 of a youtli in evading it. 
 
 It was usual for the senators of Rome to enter 
 the senate-house, accompanied by their sons who 
 had taken thepractexa. When something of su- 
 perior importance was discussed in the senate, 
 and the farther consideration adjourned to the 
 day following, it was resolved, that no one should 
 divulge the subject of their debates till it should 
 be formally decreed. The mother of the young 
 Papirius, who had accompanied his father to the 
 senate-house, inquired of her son what the sena- 
 tors had been doing. The youth replied, that 
 he had been enjoined silence, and was not at li- 
 berty to say. The woman became more anxious 
 to know : the secrecy of the thing, and the silence 
 of the youth, did but inflame her curiosity; she 
 therefore urged him with the more vehement 
 earnestness. The young man, on the importunity 
 of his mother, determined on a humorous and
 
 CURIOSITY. 273 
 
 pleasant fallacy : he said it was discussed in the 
 senate, which would be most beneficial to the state, 
 for one man to hare two wives, or one woman to 
 have two husbands. As soon as she heard this, 
 she was much agitated ; and, leaving her house 
 in great trepidation, hastened to tell the other 
 matrons what she had learned. The next day, 
 a troop of matrons went to the senate-house ; and, 
 with tears and entreaties, implored that one wo- 
 man might be suffered to have two husbands, ra- 
 ther than one man to have two wives. The se- 
 nators, on entering the house, were astonished, 
 and wondered what this intemperate proceeding 
 of the women and their petition could mean. The 
 young Papirius, advancing to the midst of the 
 senate, explained the importunity of his mother, 
 his answer, and the matter as it was. The senate, 
 delighted with the honour and ingenuity of the 
 boy, decreed that, from that time, no youth 
 should be suffered to enter the senate with his 
 father, the son of Papirius alone excepted . He 
 was afterwards honourably distinguished by the 
 cognomen of Praetextatus, on account of his dis- 
 cretion at such an age. 
 
 There is a remarkable incident in the French 
 annals, of the fatal effects of curiosity. 
 
 At a ball given by queen Blanche for (he en- 
 tertainment of Charles VI. the master of the 
 
 VOL. I, T
 
 274 ct/mosiTY. 
 
 horse invented a masquerade, Represent ing sa-* 
 vages, and the habits, made of- fine tow, were 
 so contrived as -to resemble: hair. : ' This uncouth 
 rjress so pleased the king, that he would have 
 one made for himself; and it Was appointed that 
 he should enter the ball-room leading the other 
 five savages in 'chains. When they were entered, 
 tiie king loosened them, that they might dance, 
 while he went and seated himself on the knee of 
 the duchess of Berry. At this instant tile duke 
 of Orleans arrived, and being astonished at seeing 
 a stranger taking such a liberty with the duchess, 
 he ordered one of his pages to bring him a torch, 
 that he might discover who the person was ; but 
 the page unfortunately, in his haste to obey the 
 command of his master, approached so near 
 tlie savages who were dancing, as to set their 
 dresses on fire, and from the combustible nature 
 of the materials, the whole were instantly in 
 flames. The music ceased, and nothing was heard 
 but (he most lamentable cries. One of the suffer- 
 ers so far forgot his own distress, as to cry out, 
 4i save the king!" The duchess of Uerry sus- 
 pecting that he was the person who sat on her 
 knee, covered him with her robe, and thus saved 
 his habit from catching fire. All the noblemen 
 who were in the savage dress were burnt to death, 
 except one, who, recollecting that he had seen a 
 little way off a large tub of water, ran thither, and
 
 CURIOSITY. 75 
 
 threw himself into it. This dreadful accident, 
 which happened in 1393, increased the king's 
 disorder, and from that time to his death, he 
 continued in a languishing and melancholy con- 
 dition. It is observable, that playing cards were 
 invented for the purpose of amusing this monarch. 
 
 The A mericans are distinguished by a strong spi- 
 rit of curiosity, which renders them to strangers 
 extremely troublesome and disagreeable. In the 
 Memoirs of Dr. Benjamin Franklin, is the fol- 
 lowing whimsical account : 
 
 The doctor, in the early part of Ills life, fol- 
 lowed the business of a printer, and had occa- 
 sion to travel from Philadelphia to Boston : in 
 his journey,' he stopped at one of their inns, the 
 landlord of which possessed the true disposition 
 of his countrymen, which is, to be inquisitive 
 even to impertinence, into the business of every 
 stranger. 
 
 The doctor, after the fatigue of the day's tra- 
 vel, had set himself down to supper, when his 
 landlord began to torment him with questions : 
 the doctor well knew the disposition of these 
 people, and apprehending that, after having an- 
 swered his questions, others would come in and 
 go over the same ground, he determined to stop 
 the man. " Have you a wife, landlord ?" " Yes, 
 ur." " Pray let me see her." Madam was in- 
 t 2
 
 276 DECEPTION. 
 
 troduced with much form. u How many chil- 
 dren have you ?" " Four, sir." " I should be 
 happy to see them." The children were sought 
 and introduced. iC How many servants have 
 you?" " Two, sir; a man and a woman." 
 (i Pray fetch them." When they came, tha 
 doctor asked if there was any one else in the 
 house ? and being answered in the negative, he 
 addresssed himself to them with much solemnity : 
 " My good friends, I sent for you here to give 
 you an account of myself : ray name is Benjamin 
 Franklin; I am a printer, of thirty years of 
 age ; reside at Philadelphia, and am now going 
 on business from thence to Boston. I sent for 
 you all, that, if you wish for any further particu- 
 lars, you may ask, and I will inform you ; which 
 done, I flatter myself you will permit me to eat 
 my supper in peace." 
 
 DECEPTION. 
 
 During the interview between pope Clement 
 VII. and Francis I. at Marseilles, where all the 
 royal family of France with their retinue was 
 assembled, a pleasant trick was played upon 
 three ladies of the queen, who were all virtuous, 
 chaste, and devout women. Those three ladies, 
 who were widows, having a weak and sickly con-
 
 DECEPTION. 277 
 
 stitution, desired to have a license from the pope 
 to eat flesh upon prohibited days; and in order 
 to it, they applied to the duke of Albania, his 
 near relation, who gave them his promise, and 
 afterwards sent for them to come to the pope. 
 The duke, who was very intimate with the ladies, 
 having a mind to give some sport to the pope 
 and the king, told the former : " Holy father, 
 there are three ladies who are widows, and of an? 
 age to have children, whom I take to have some 
 temptations, because they have desired me to 
 beg of you that they may be allowed to make use 
 of a man without marrying, when they are in 
 great want of one." " How, cousin," said the 
 pope " it is against God's commandment, from 
 which I can dispense no body." The duke re- 
 plied: " I beseech you, holy father, to hear 
 them, and to make this remonstrance to them.'* 
 Whereupon the ladies were introduced; and 
 after they had kneeled and kissed the feet of the 
 pope, one of them said : " Holy father, we have 
 desired the duke of Albania to beg a favour of 
 you, and to represent to you our age, frailty, and 
 weak constitution." "Daughters," said the pope, 
 " your request is unreasonable, for it is contrary 
 to the commandment of God." The ladies, not 
 knowing what the duke of Albania had told 
 him^ answered: "Holy father, be pleased to 
 give us such a dispensation, three times a week 
 t3
 
 278 DECEPTION. 
 
 at least in Lent, and without scandal." " HaW)** 
 replied the pope, "must I give you leave to 
 commit fornication ? I should be d d myself 
 if I did." Upon this the ladies were sensible 
 that there was some jest in the matter ; and one of 
 them said : " We beg a dispensation to eat flesh 
 upon prohibited days." The pope now saw 
 through the trick, and smiling, said to the duke 5 
 u Cousin, when the queen comes to hear of this, 
 she will be displeased with it." But in fact, the 
 king, queen, and all the court, were highly en- 
 tertained with the humour. 
 
 Horace Walpole, in his edition of Vertue's 
 Anecdotes of Painting, relates a remarkable story 
 of John Mabuse, the celebrated Flemish painter : 
 
 The marquis do Veren took Mabuse into his 
 own house, where he drew the Virgin and Child, 
 borrowing the ideas of their heads from the mar- 
 quis's lady and son. This was reckoned his ca- 
 pital piece. 
 
 While he was in this service, the emperor 
 Charles Y. was to lodge at the house of that lord, 
 who made magnificent preparations for his recep- 
 tion, and among other expenses, ordered all his 
 houshold to be dressed in white dama'sk. Ma- 
 buse, always wanting money to 'waste in de- 
 bauchery, when : fhe tailor canre to take ' bis 
 measure, desired to have the damask, under pro-
 
 .DECEPTION. 279 
 
 tencc of inventing a singular habit. He sold the 
 stuff, drank out the money, and then painted 
 a suit of paper, so like damask, that it was not 
 distinguished, as he marched in the procession, 
 between a philosopher and a poet, other pension- 
 ers of the marquis, who being informed of the 
 trick, asked the emperor which of the three suits 
 he liked best. The prince pointed to Mabuse's, 
 as excelling in the whiteness and beauty of the 
 flowers ; nor did he, till convinced by the touch, 
 doubt of the genuineness of the silk. The em- 
 peror laughed much ; but, though a lover of the 
 art, beseems to have taken no other notice of Ma- 
 buse, whose excesses some time after occasioned 
 his being flung into prison at Middleburg, where 
 however he continued to work* 
 
 Dr. Grey, in his excellent edition of Hudibras, 
 relates the following anecdote : Jacob Bobart, 
 the younger, keeper of the Physic Gulden at 
 Oxford, at the close of the seventeenth century, 
 practised a curious kind of deception upon na- 
 turalists. Having found a dead rat in the gar- 
 den, he contrived to make it resemble the com- 
 mon picture of dragons, by altering its head and 
 tail, and thrusting in taper sharp sticks, which 
 distended the skin on each side till it mimicked 
 wings. He let it dry as hard as possible. The 
 learned immediately pronounced it a dragon; and 
 t 4
 
 280 DECEPTION. 
 
 one of them sent an accurate description of it io 
 Dr. Magliabechi, librarian to the grand duke of 
 Tuscany; several fine copies of verses were also 
 written on so rare a subject; but at last, Mr. 
 Bobart owned the cheat ; however, it was looked 
 upon as a master-piece of art ; and as such de- 
 posited in the Museum, or Anatomy School at 
 Oxford. 
 
 In the memoirs of the celebrated duchess of 
 Kingston, a singular instance of ingratitude and 
 deception is related, which reflects indelible dis- 
 grace upon that lady. It seems, that Dr. Isaac 
 Schomberg, the physician, had distinguished 
 iiimself with great zeal in her behalf, during her 
 quarrel v> ith Foote.; and also in her trial for bi- 
 gamy. The duchess was not wanting on her 
 part, in professions of esteem and obligation to 
 the doctor. "Dr. Schomberg," she said, "was an 
 honourable character! the counterpart of her dear 
 lord in nobleness of soul! she wished she could 
 piakehim happy!" These declarations of grati- 
 tude were accompanied with a present of a deep 
 blue stone ring, brilliantly encircled, and bearing 
 as a motto, " Pour Vamitie." Schomberg, in 
 every company, displayed the ring with which 
 he had been honoured by the duchess, and pro- 
 claimed the munificence of the donor; but one of 
 the stones unfortunately falling out, it was neccs-
 
 DECEPTION. 281 
 
 sary to have it replaced by a jeweller. The ar- 
 tist viewed the ring, smiled, and said, <l it is 
 really not worth your while, sir, to have any 
 thing done to this ring ; the stones are composi- 
 tions, and it did not cost more in Paris than 
 thirty -six shillings." " Then I'll dispose of it," 
 answered the doctor:, so crushing it under his 
 feet, he afterwards threw its shattered remains out 
 of the window. 
 
 But some deceptions are consistent with pru- 
 dence and justice^ of which nature are the follow- 
 ing instances : 
 
 The famous Spanish general, Ambrose Spi- 
 nola, passing through Paris, in 1604, had the 
 honour of supping with Henry the Fourth. To- 
 wards the end of the entertainment, the king hav- 
 ing asked what particular operations he meant to 
 pursue in the next campaign, Spinola gave him a 
 faithful relation of his intentions ; telling him how 
 and when he would begin, where he would con- 
 struct a bridge on the Scheldt to lead over his 
 army ; and where he proposed to erect a small 
 fort. In a word, he did not omit the minutest 
 circumstance. Henry, who was interested for 
 the Dutch, immediately wrote to the prince of 
 Orange, an account of all that he had heard, tell- 
 ing him that he must take every thing in a quite 
 contrary sense, as it was not probable that Spinola,
 
 282 DECEPTION, 
 
 who was suspicious of him, would have disclosed 
 his real designs. This able general, however, 
 did every thing that he had said. He had been, 
 free with Henry, only because he was persuaded 
 that the monarch would not believe him. On 
 this account, that prince afterwards said, "Others 
 deceive me by speaking falshood, batSpinola has 
 deceived me by telling the truth I'-' 
 
 When the duke of Marlborough commanded 
 lite allied army in Germany, he called a council 
 of war on a particular occasion, to determine 
 whether he should attack the enemy on the foU 
 lowing day. His general officers were unanimous 
 in recommending the measure ; but the duke ex- 
 pressed his objections to it in the strongest terms : 
 and the council submitted to his superior judg- 
 ment When he retired into his tent, prince 
 Eugene followed him, and lamented the disgrace 
 in which such a decision would involve them. 
 " My resolution," said the duke, " is fixed to 
 give battle to-morrow ; and 1 shall instantly issue 
 the necessary orders; but I opposed this plan in 
 council, because 1 had received information that 
 our enemies had concerted the means of becom- 
 ing acquainted with the result of our delibera^ 
 tions. And you will agree with me in the neces* 
 sity of our deceiving them."
 
 DECEPTION. 283 
 
 In the reign of queen Anne a gentleman was 
 driving post to London over Hounslow-heath, 
 when his chaise was stopped by two highway- 
 men, who with dreadful imprecations called out 
 to him to deliver his money. The gentleman 
 happened to have in the chaise, at the time, cash, 
 &c. to a very great amount, the loss of which 
 would have been his utter ruin. He had not a 
 minute to reflect, and yet^ with astonishing com- 
 posure and presence of mind, he instantly hit 
 upon an expedient, which extricated him from 
 his danger : lie told the robbers that his life was 
 doubly in their hands, as they might take it 
 themselves, or deliver him into the hands of jus- 
 tice, out of which he could not be released but 
 by death, as he was the unfortunate general Ma- 
 cartney, for the apprehending of whom, on ac- 
 count of the death of the duke of Hamilton, the 
 queen had, by proclamation, offered so great a 
 reward: he implored, therefore, their compas- 
 sion, and entreated them not to take his money, 
 as, by being deprived of the means of escape, he 
 must unavoidably be apprehended. The rob- 
 bers consulted a few minutes, and then informed 
 Iiim, that they had agreed to grant part of his 
 request: namely, not to take his money from him; 
 but on the other hand, as money was absolutely 
 necessary to them, and as they could get more 
 by apprehending than by robbing him, they ^aid
 
 28-t DECEPTION. 
 
 lie must submit to be carried before some magis- 
 trate, as they were determined to claim the re- 
 ward offered for his apprehension. The gentle- 
 man inwardly rejoiced at this, and on being 
 carried before a justice of the peace, who hap- 
 pened to know the person of general Macartney, 
 lie was discharged, and the two highwaymen, on 
 Lis information, were committed. 
 
 A gentleman on his return from the assizes at 
 York, was attacked on the road by a highway- 
 man- to whom he delivered a small sum of money. 
 The robber told him that lie should not be satis- 
 fied with a trifle ; and sternly demanded the sum 
 which he knew he had received, and then carried 
 about him. The gentleman, with great appa- 
 rent terror, drew forth a leather bag, and giving 
 it to the highwayman said, " Take what you 
 want, but spare my life." The fellow eagerly 
 seized the bag, and rode off with it through bye 
 lanes ti'i he arrived at a place of security. There 
 lie slopped to examine his booty, which to his 
 astonishment he found to consist only of a quan- 
 tity of halfpence, and a copy of the dying speech 
 of a malefactor, who had been executed the day 
 before for highway robbery. 
 
 .Some abuse having crept into the navy, more 
 particularly with respect to the impress service.
 
 DECEPTION. 285 
 
 duke William of Cumberland was determined to 
 search into the truth ; accordingly, one morning, 
 being accompanied by a naval officer of rank, 
 both dressed as sailors, they went to Wapping ; 
 and entering a public house, desired the landlady 
 to furnish them with a private room, which they 
 would liberally pay for, having heard since they 
 came on shore, that the press was very hot. The 
 treacherous hostess took the money with a low 
 curtsey, and after lamenting the many hard- 
 ships and oppressions which the poor mariners 
 were obliged to undergo, she retired, and imme- 
 diately gave information to a gang, observing, 
 that one of the men in her house was so fat, 
 he was scarcely worth the shipping. Upon this 
 the press-gang burst into the room : when after a 
 well-feigned resistance, the duke and his friend 
 suffered themselves to be dragged on board the 
 tender. They were very roughly interrogated, 
 and severely reprimanded for daring to resist his 
 majesty's officers. The duke answered for him- 
 self and his companion, and inveighed against 
 them in very sharp terms, for using men so cru- 
 elly; upon which they were both ordered down 
 below. This the duke refused to comply with, 
 which so exasperated the captain of the tender, 
 that he told them they should soon know who he 
 was, and directly ordered them to be stripped and 
 flogged. The duke exclaimed; "Strip if you
 
 286 DECEPTION. 
 
 dare !" This was not to be endured : the captain 1 
 struck his royal highness with a cane, which was 
 a sign to his men to strip their victim by force ; 
 but they had no sooner plucked off his blue 
 jacket, than they perceived the star ! The tables 
 were now turned: the duke declared who lie 
 was, and in a minute the whole party were on 
 their knees imploring his forgiveness. He im- 
 mediately ordered the captain to be secured, 
 whilst he went below; where a scene of the most 
 savage barbarity presented itself; some poor crea- 
 tures were bleeding from the repeated lashes 
 which they had received ; and others were gasp- 
 ing for life from the want of fresh air. The duke, 
 on his return, waited on the Lords of the Admi- 
 ralty : the brutal captain was dismissed; and a 
 reformation instituted throughout the service. 
 
 Dean Swift being in the country, on a visit 
 to his friend Dr. Sheridan, they were informed 
 that a beggar's wedding was about to be celebrated. 
 Sheridan played well upon the violin ; Swift 
 therefore proposed that lie should go to the place 
 where the ceremony was to be performed, dis- 
 guised as a blind tiddler, while he attended him 
 as his man. Thus accoutered they set out, and 
 were received by the jovial crew with great accla- 
 mation. They had plenty of good cheer, and 
 never was a more joyous wedding seen. All was
 
 DELUSION. 287 
 
 mirth and frolic ; the beggars fold stories, played 
 tricks, cracked jokes, sung and danced, in a 
 manner which afforded high amusement to the 
 fiddler and his man, who were well rewarded, 
 when they departed, which was not till late in 
 the evening. The next day the dean and Sheri- 
 dan walked out in their usual dress, and found 
 many of their late companions, hopping about 
 upon crutches, or pretending to he- blind, pour- 
 ing forth melancholy complaints and supplica- 
 tions for charity. Sheridan distributed among 
 them Ihe'monej' he had received; but the dean, 
 who hated all mendicants, fell into a violent pas- 
 sion, telling them of his adventure of the preced- 
 ing day, and threatening to send every one of 
 them to prison. This had such an effect, that 
 the blind opened their eyes, and the lame threw 
 away their crutches, running away as fast as their 
 legs could carry them. 
 
 DELUSION. 
 
 As the learned Peter Gassendi was one morning 
 taking a walk near Digne, in Provence, his ears 
 were assailed by the repeated exclamations of, 
 "A sorcerer! a sorcerer!'" On looking behind 
 him, he beheld a man with his hands tied, and a 
 mob hurrying him to prison. Observing the 
 man to be very plain and simple in his appear-
 
 288 DELUSION. 
 
 ance ? Gassendi desired the peasants to leave him 
 alone with him, which they immediately did, as 
 the virtues of Gassendi had gained him a great 
 ascendancy over them. " My friend," said Gas- 
 sendi to the sorcerer, when they were alone, " you 
 must own to me candidly whether you have 
 made a compact with the devil or no. If you 
 confess it, I will give you your liberty ; but if 
 you refuse to tell me, I will give you up di- 
 rectly into the hands of the magistrate." " Sir," 
 replied the poor man, " I will own to you that 
 I go every day to an assembly of wizards ; one of 
 my friends has given me a drug, which I take to 
 effect this, and I have been received as a sorcerer 
 amongst them these three years." He then in- 
 formed Gassendi in what manner he was received 
 by them, and spoke of the different demons that 
 met there, as if he had been all his life ac- 
 quainted with them. " Shew me then," said the 
 philosopher, " the drug which you take when 
 you attend this infernal assembly, for I intend 
 to go there with you this very night." " As 
 you please, sir," replied the peasant, " I will take 
 you there as soon as the clock has struck twelve 
 to-night." The peasant met Gassendi at the 
 hour appointed, gave him an opiate of the size 
 of a walnut, and desired him to swallow it after 
 he had seen him do the same. This Gassendi 
 pretended to do, and they lay clown together upon
 
 DELUSION. 289 
 
 a goat-skin. The peasant soon fell asleep, and 
 appeared much agitated in his slumbers^ writhing 
 and twisting his body about as if he was dis- 
 turbed by bad dreams. He slept five or six 
 hours, and on waking said to Gassendi, " You 
 must be extremely well pleased with the manner 
 in which the great goat received you. it was 
 a very considerable honour he conferred upon 
 you, to permit you to kiss his tail the very first, 
 time he saw you." Gassendi, moved with com- 
 passion at the situation of this poor man, endea- 
 voured to convince him of his error. He took 
 the opiate, and gave it to a dog, who very soon 
 fell asleep with great convulsions. The peasant 
 was set at liberty, and it is believed contributed 
 to undeceive those of his brethren who had fallen 
 into the same delusion. 
 
 In that very entertaining book, The Life of 
 Benvenuto Cellini, written by himself, is the 
 following relation of an adventure, which is 
 strongly characteristic of the superstition of the 
 sixteenth century : 
 
 It seems that Cellini, having lost his mis- 
 tress, who eloped from him at Rome, became in 
 consequence very much dejected and unhappy. 
 At this time he contracted an intimacy with a 
 Sicilian priest, who pretended to considerable 
 skill in necromancy. This inflamed the curiosity 
 
 vot,. i. u
 
 290 DELUSION. 
 
 of Cellini, who expressed his wish to be made 
 acquainted with the mysteries of the art. The 
 priest replied, that the man who entered upon 
 this study, must be of a resolute and steady tem- 
 per. The other answered, that he had fortitude 
 and resolution enough ; on which the priest 
 agreed to give him the satisfaction he desired. 
 Accordingly, says Cellini, one evening the priest 
 told me to look out for a companion or two ; I 
 invited one Vincenzio Romoli, who was my in- 
 timate acquaintance, and he brought with him a 
 native of Pistoia, who cultivated necromancy him- 
 self. We repaired to the Colosceo, where the 
 priest began to draw circles upon the ground 
 with the most awful ceremonies imaginable ; he 
 likewise brought thither all sorts of precious per- 
 fumes and fire. As soon as he was in readiness, he 
 made an opening into the circle, and having taken 
 us by the hand, ordered the other necromancer 
 to throw the perfumes into the fire at proper times, 
 while he began his incantations. This ceremony 
 lasted above an hour and a half, when there ap- 
 peared several legions of devils, insomuch that 
 the amphitheatre was filled with them. I was 
 busy about the perfumes, when the priest, who 
 knew there was a sufficient number of infernal 
 spirits, turned to me and said, " Benvenuto, ask 
 them some favour." I answered, " let them 
 bring me to the company of my mistress Auge-
 
 DELUSION. 291 
 
 lica." That night we obtained no answer, but 
 the conjuror told me that it was necessary we 
 should go a second time, and that I should bring 
 with me a youth who had never known woman. 
 I took with me my apprentice, who was about 
 twelve years of age, with the same Vincenzio 
 Romoli, and Agnolino Gaddi, an intimate ac- 
 quaintance. When we came to the place, the 
 priest having made his preparations, with some 
 additional ceremonies, placed us within the cir- 
 cle, which he drew with more wonderful art 
 than at our former meeting. Then, having com- 
 mitted the perfumes and fire to Vincenzio, who 
 was assisted by Agnolino, he put into my hand 
 a pentagonum, and bid me turn it toward the 
 places that he should direct ; and under this pen- 
 tagonum I held my apprentice. The necro- 
 mancer having begun his invocations, called by 
 their names a multitude of demons, insomuch 
 that the amphitheatre was almost instantaneously 
 filled with them, a hundred times more numerous 
 than at the former conjuration. Vincenzio was 
 busy in making a fire, with the assistance of Ag- 
 nolino, and burning a great quantity of perfumes. 
 J, by the direction of the necromancer, again 
 desired to be in the company of my Angelica; 
 upon which, turning to me, he said : a You are 
 to know they have declared, that in the space of 
 a month you shall be in her company." He 
 u2
 
 292 DELUSION. 
 
 then requested me to stand resolutely by him, 
 because the legions were now . above a thousand 
 more than he had designed ; and, besides, these 
 were the most dangerous, so that it behoved him 
 to be civil to them, and dismiss them quietly. 
 At this time the boy under the pentagonum was 
 in a terrible fright, saying, that there were in 
 that place a million of stout men, who threatened 
 to destroy us ; that moreover four giants ap- 
 peared of an enormous stature, who were armed 
 cap-a-pee, and endeavoured to break into our 
 circle. During this time, whilst the necroman- 
 cer endeavoured by mild and gentle methods to 
 dismiss them the best way he could, Vincenzio 
 Romoli, who took care of the perfumes, quivered 
 like an aspen-leaf. Though I was as much 
 afraid as the rest, I did my utmost to conceal the 
 terror I felt ; but the truth is, I gave myself over 
 for a dead man, when I saw what a horrid fright 
 the necromancer himself was in. The boy had 
 placed his head between his knees, and said, 
 " we shall all perish." I told him that all these 
 demons were under us, and what he saw was 
 smoke and shadow ; so bid him hold up his 
 head, and take courage. No sooner did he look 
 up, but he cried out: " The whole amphitheatre 
 is burning, and the fire is just falling. upon us;" 
 ;o covering his eyes with his hands, he again 
 exclaimed, that destruction was inevitable, and
 
 DELUSION. 293 
 
 he desired to see no more. The necromancer en- 
 treated me to have a good heart, and take care to 
 burn proper perfumes ; upon which I turned to 
 Romoli, and bid him burn all that he had. At 
 the same time I cast my eye upon Agnolino 
 Gaddi, who was terrified to such a degree, that 
 he could scarcely distinguish objects, and seemed 
 to be half dead : seeing him in this condition, I 
 said, te Agnolino, upon these occasions a man 
 should not yield to fear, but stir about, and give 
 his assistance; so come directly, and put on 
 more perfumes." Agnolino, upon attempting to 
 move, let a rousing f , and made a copious exo- 
 neration of his bowels,' the smell of which had a 
 much greater effect than all the perfumes put 
 together : the boy, hearing the explosion, and 
 smelling the stink, ventured to raise his head, 
 when, seeing me laugh, he began to take cou- 
 rage, and said, that the devils were flying away 
 in all directions. In this condition we staid 
 till the bell rang for matins. The boy again told 
 us that there remained but few devils, and that 
 these were at a great distance. When the con- 
 juror had performed the rest of his ceremonies, 
 he stripped off his gown, and took up a wallet 
 of books, which he had brought with him. We 
 all went out of the circle together, sticking as 
 close to one another as we possibly could ; espe- 
 cially the boy, who had placed himself in the 
 u3
 
 294 dogs. 
 
 middle, holding the necromancer by the coat, 
 and me by the cloak. As we were going home, 
 the boy told us that two of the demons went on 
 before us, leaping and skipping, sometimes run- 
 ning upon the roofs of the houses, and some- 
 times upon the ground. The priest declared, that 
 often as he had entered magical circles, nothing 
 so extraordinary had ever happened to him be- 
 fore, 
 
 POGS. 
 
 In the reign of Charles V. of France, there 
 lived a dog, whose memory deserved being handed 
 down to posterity, by a monument that is said to 
 be still extant in the great hall of the castle dc 
 Montargis. 
 
 Aubri de Montdidier, travelling alone in the 
 forest of Bondi, was murdered, and buried at 
 the foot of a tree. His dog remained upon the 
 grave several days, and would not leave the 
 place, till he was compelled to do so by hunger. 
 Tie came at last to Paris, to the house of an inti- 
 mate friend of the unhappy Aubri, and, by his 
 doleful bowlings, seemed to acquaint him of the 
 loss they had sustained. After receiving some 
 victuals, he renewed his noise, went to the door, 
 and turned about to see if he was followed by any
 
 dogs. 295 
 
 one, came back to his master's friend, and pulled 
 him by the coat, as it were to persuade him 
 to go along with him. This extraordinary be- 
 haviour of the dog, his returning without his 
 master, whom he never quitted, and who all at 
 once disappeared, and perhaps too that distribu- 
 tion of justice and of events, which seldom per- 
 mits any long concealment of atrocious crimes ; 
 all these put together, occasioned the dog's be- 
 ing followed. As soon as he came to the foot of 
 the tree, he began to howl more violently than 
 ever, and to scratch up the ground, as if mark- 
 ing out the spot where they should dig : they 
 dug, and found the body of the unfortunate 
 Aubri ! 
 
 Some time after, he accidentally spied the mur- 
 derer, whom all historians agree in calling the 
 chevalier Macaire. The dog flew at his throat 
 immediately ; and it was with much difficulty he 
 was forced to quit his hold. Every time the dog 
 met him, he pursued and attacked him with the 
 same fury. The dog's inveteracy against this 
 man alone began to be taken notice of; and 
 people not only called to mind the affection 
 which he had always shewn for his master, but 
 several instances of Macaire's hatred against Aubri 
 came also to be recollected. Some other cir- 
 cumstances increased the suspicion. The king 
 being informed of what had passed, had the dog 
 u 4
 
 296 dogs. 
 
 sent for, who remained perfectly quiet, till such 
 time as Macaire appeared, when immediately in 
 the midst of a score of other courtiers, he turned 
 about, barked, and attempted to rush upon him. 
 In those times, when there were no convincing 
 proofs of guilt, it was usual to appoint a com- 
 bat between the accuser and the accused. These 
 kinds of combats were called God's judgment, 
 because people were persuaded, that Heaven 
 would sooner work a miracle than let innocence 
 be overcome. The king being struck with so 
 many corroborating circumstances against Ma- 
 caire, judged it to be a g(tge of battle-case ; that 
 is, he appointed a duel between the chevalier and 
 the dog. The circus was marked out in the isle 
 of Notre Dame, which was then a large plain, 
 uncultivated and uninhabited. Macaire was 
 armed with a large club ; the dog had a cask, 
 whither he might retreat upon occasion, and from 
 whence he might renew his attacks. On being 
 loosened, he instantly runs up to his adversary, 
 turns round him, evades his blows, threatens 
 him first on one side, then on the other, tires 
 him out, and at length darts at him; seizes him 
 by the throat, brings him to the ground, and 
 forces him to acknowledge his crime, in the 
 presence of the king and the whole court. Ma- 
 caire was soon after executed.
 
 dogs. 297 
 
 A remarkable instance of memory in a mastiff, 
 is related by M. d'Obsonville, in his Philosophic 
 Essays. This dog, which he had brought up 
 from two months old, accompanied himself and 
 a friend from Pondicherry to Bangalore, a dis- 
 tance of more than three hundred leagues. 
 " Our journey,"' says he, " occupied near three 
 weeks, and we had to traverse plains and moun- 
 tains, and to ford rivers, and to go along several 
 bye- paths. The animal, which certainly had 
 never been in that country before, lost us at Ban- 
 galore, and immediately returned to Pondicherry. 
 He went directly to the house of M. BegUer, 
 commandant of artillery, with whom I had ge- 
 nerally resided. Now, the difficulty is not so 
 much to know how the dog subsisted on the 
 road, for he was very strong and able to procure 
 himself food; but how he should so well have 
 found his way, after an interval of more than a 
 month. This was an effort greatly superior to 
 that which the human race is capable of." 
 
 But the following anecdote is still more extra- 
 ordinary, as it shews that the dog is not only 
 capable of resentment, but also has the faculty 
 of communicating ideas to one of its own species, 
 and thereby of revenging injuries sustained. A 
 gentleman of YY^hitmore, in Staffordshire, used 
 to come twice a year to London ; and being fond
 
 29S DOGS. 
 
 of exercise, generally performed the journey on 
 horseback, accompanied most part of the way by 
 a small terrier dog, which, for fear of losing in 
 town, he always left to the care of Mrs. Lang- 
 ford, the landlady at St. Alban's; and on his 
 return, he was certain of finding his little com- 
 panion well taken care of. The gentleman call- 
 ing one time as usual for his dog, Mrs. Lang- 
 ford said to him, "Alas, sir! your terrier is lost : 
 our great house-dog and he had a quarrel, and the 
 poor terrier was so worried and bit before we 
 could part them, that I thought he could never 
 get the better of it. However, he crawled out 
 of the yard, and no one saw him for almost a 
 week : he then returned, and brought with him 
 another dog bigger by far than ours ; and they 
 both together fell on our dog, and bit him so un- 
 mercifully, that he has scarcely been able to go 
 about the yard, or to eat his meat. Your dog 
 and his companion then disappeared, and have 
 never since been seen at St. Alban's." The gen- 
 tleman heard the story with patience, and en- 
 deavoured to reconcile himself to the loss. But 
 on his arrival at Whitmore he found his ter- 
 rier ; and was informed that he had returned 
 home, and coaxed away the great dog, who, it 
 seems, had in consequence accompanied him to 
 St. Alban's, and completely avenged his injury.
 
 dogs. 299 
 
 John Stow, in bis Annals, has an account of a 
 battle between three mastiffs and a lion, in the 
 presence of James the Fust and his son prince 
 Henry. " One of the dogs being put into the 
 den, was soon disabled by the lion, which took 
 him by the head and neck, and dragged him 
 about. Another dog was then let loose, and 
 served in the same manner ; but the third being 
 put in immediately, seized the lion by the lip, 
 and held him for a considerable time ; till being 
 severely torn by his claws, the dog was obliged 
 to quit his hold ; and the lion, greatly exhausted 
 by the conflict, refused to renew the engagement; 
 but, taking a sudden leap over the dogs, fled 
 into the interior part of his den. Two of the 
 dogs soon died of their wounds : the third sur- 
 vived, and was taken great care of by the prince, 
 who said, " he that had fought with the king of 
 beasts, should never after fight with an inferior 
 creature!" 
 
 Dr. Beattie, in his Dissertations Moral and 
 Critical, relates an instance of canine sagacity 
 worth transcribing. 
 
 " As a gentleman was walking across the Dee, 
 when it was frozen, the ice gave way in the mid- 
 dle of the river, and down he sunk; but kept 
 himself from being carried away in the current 
 by grasping his gun, which had fallen athwart
 
 300 DOGS. 
 
 the opening. A dog who attended him, after 
 many fruitless attempts to rescue his master, ran 
 to a neighbouring village, and took hold of the 
 coat of the first person he met. The man was 
 alarmed, and would have disengaged himself; 
 but the dog regarded him wilh a look so kind 
 and significant, and endeavoured to pull him 
 along with so genile a violence, that he began to 
 think there was something extraordinary in the 
 case, and therefore suffered himself to be con- 
 ducted by the animal, who brought him to his 
 master in time to save his life." 
 
 The following story is told by an Italian au- 
 thor of credit, by whom it is affirmed to be 
 strictly true. A French officer, more remarkable 
 for his birth and spirit, than his riches, had 
 served the Venetian republic with great valour 
 and fidelity several years, without meeting with 
 an adequate promotion, or a reward suited to his 
 merits. One day he waited on an " illustrissimo," 
 whom he had often solicited in vain, but on 
 whose friendship he had still some reliance. The 
 reception he met with was cool and mortifying: 
 the noble turned his back on the necessitous ve- 
 teran, and left him to find his way to the street, 
 through a suit of apartments magnificently fur- 
 nished. He passed them lost in thought, till 
 he cast his eyes on a sideboard, where stood upon
 
 DREAMS. 301 
 
 a damask cloth, as a preparation for a sumptu- 
 ous entertainment, a valuable collection of Ve- 
 nice glass, polished and formed in the highest 
 perfection : the officer took hold of a corner of 
 the linen, and turning to a faithful English 
 mastiff, who always accompanied him, said in 
 a kind of mental absence, " There, my poor old 
 friend, you see how these scoundrels enjoy them- 
 selves, and yet how we are treated !" The poor 
 dog looked up in his master's face, and wagged 
 his tail as if he understood him. The master 
 walked on ; but the mastiff slackened his pace, 
 and laying hold of the cloth with his teeth, at 
 one hearty pull, brought all the sideboard in 
 shivers to the ground ; thereby justly depriving 
 the insolent grandee of his favourite exhibition of 
 luxury and splendour. 
 
 DREAMS. 
 
 Lord Bacon, who was too good a philoso- 
 pher to be credulous and superstitious, says in 
 his Natural History, " I would have it tho- 
 roughly enquired, whether there be any secret 
 passages of sympathy between persons of near 
 blood ; as parents, children, brothers, sisters, 
 nurse-children, husbands, wives. There be many 
 reports in history, that upon the death of persons
 
 302 DREAMS. 
 
 of such nearness, men have had an inward feel- 
 ing of it. I myself remember, that being in Pa- 
 ris, and my father dying in London, I had a dream 
 (which I told to divers English gentlemen) that 
 my father's house in the country was plaistered all 
 over with black mortar. Next to those that are 
 near in blood, there may be the like passage and 
 instincts of nature between great friends and ene- 
 mies : and sometimes the revealing is unto ano- 
 ther person, and not to the party himself. I re- 
 member that Philip Commines, a grave writer, 
 reporteth, that the archbishop of Vienna, a re- 
 verend prelate, said one day, after mass, to Louis 
 the Eleventh of France, " Sir, your mortal ene- 
 my is dead ;" at which time duke Charles of 
 Burgundy was slain at the battle of Nance 
 against the Swiss." 
 
 Izaack Walton, in his Life of the ingenious 
 Sir Henry Wotton, relates the following circum- 
 stance concerning the father of Sir Henry, and 
 his uncle Dr. Nicholas Wotton. 
 
 "In the year 1553, Nicholas Wotton, dean of 
 Canterbury, being then ambassador in France, 
 dreamt that his nephew, this Thomas Wotton, 
 was inclined to be a party in such a project, as, if 
 he were not suddenly prevented, would turn both 
 to the loss of his life, and ruin of his family. 
 
 Doubtless the good dean did well know, that
 
 DREAMS. 303 
 
 common dreams are but a senseless paraphrase on 
 our waking thoughts; or of the business of the 
 day past ; or are the result of our over engaged 
 affections, when we betake ourselves to rest ; and 
 knew that the observation of them may turn to 
 silly superstitions, as they often do. But though 
 he might know all this, and might also believe 
 that propiiecies are ceased ; yet, doubtless, he 
 could not' but consider, that all dreams are not 
 to be neglected or cast away without all conside- 
 ration : and did, therefore, rather lay this dream 
 aside, than intend totally to lose it ; and dream- 
 ing the same again the night following, when it 
 became a double dream, like that of Pharaoh, con- 
 sidering that it had no dependence on his waking 
 thoughts, much less on the desires of his heart ; then 
 he did more seriously consider it; and remem- 
 bered that Almighty God was pleased in a dream, 
 to reveal and to assure Monica, the mother of St. 
 Austin, " that her son, for whom she wept so 
 bitterly, and prayed so much, should at last be- 
 come a christian." This, I believe, the good 
 dean considered ; and considering also, that Al- 
 mighty God (though the causes of dreams be 
 often unknown) hath, even in these later times, 
 also, by a certain illumination of the soul in 
 sleep, discovered many things that human wis- 
 dom could not foresee; upon these considerations 
 he wrote to queen Mary, requesting that she
 
 304 DREAMS. 
 
 would cause his nephew, Thomas Wotton, to be 
 sent for out oT Kent,- and committed favourably 
 to prison, declaring that he would acquaint her 
 majesty with the reason of his request when he 
 should arrive in England. This was accord- 
 ingly done ; and hereby the nephew was pre- 
 vented from being engaged in the rebellion of 
 his friend sir Thomas Wyatt ; for he confessed 
 to his uncle, when Dr. Wotton returned to Eng- 
 land, that he had more than an intimation of 
 Wyatt's intentions, and thought that he should 
 not have continued actually innocent, if his un- 
 cle had not so happily dreamed him into a prison. 
 
 Fox, the martyrologist, records the following- 
 remarkable instance of the saving of some pro- 
 testants in London, in the sanguinary reign of 
 Mary : 
 
 " When the persecution was at its highest 
 pitch, there was but one congregation in the me- 
 tropolis, to whichone Mr. Rough belonged, as 
 a deacon or officer, whose office was to adminis- 
 ter to the poor ; for which purpose he had in his 
 custody a roll, wherein were all the names of the 
 members of the church. It happened one night, 
 that Cuthbert Simpson, one of the congregation, 
 dreamt that Mr. Rough was taken, and the roll 
 found in his pocket, on which he awoke ; but 
 falling asleep again, he had a repetition of his
 
 DREAMS. 305 
 
 dream. This very much affected him, and he 
 got up, with the intention of going to Mr. Rough, 
 but before he was dressed, Mr. Rough came 
 into his chamber, to whom Simpson related his 
 dream, and desired that he would so dispose of 
 the roll, that it might not be found upon him. 
 Rough reproved him for his superstition, telling 
 him that dreams were but idle fancies, and that 
 christians ouglit not to regard them ; but Simp- 
 son, upon whom it had made a great impression, 
 adjured him in the most solemn manner to regard 
 what lie said, for the sake of so many poor and 
 innocent people as might be sufferers by his rash- 
 ness ; on which Rough was persuaded to give up 
 the roll. Jn a few days after he was apprehended, 
 and had the paper been discovered, the whole 
 congregation would have been ruined." 
 
 Sir Richard Baker, in his Chronicle, gives 
 this account of the discovery of a murder by a 
 dream : 
 
 In the second year of the reign of James the 
 First, one Anne Waters, enticed by a lover of 
 her's, consented to have her husband strangled, 
 and then buried him secretly under the dunghill 
 of a cow-house ; whereupon the man being missed 
 by his neighbours, and the wife making show of 
 wondering what was become of him, it pleased 
 God that one of the inhabitants of the town dreamt 
 
 vol. i. x
 
 306 DREAMS. 
 
 one night that his neighbour Waters was stran- 
 gled, and buried under the dunghill of a cow- 
 house, and upon declaring his dream, search 
 being made by the constable, the dead body was 
 found. On this the wife was apprehended, 
 and upon examination, confessing the fact, she 
 was burnt. 
 
 Gassendus, in his Life of Peireskius, has the 
 following account of a dream, which Peireskius 
 himself said, if another man had related it, he 
 should not have believed him : 
 
 In his return from Montpellier to Nismes, in 
 May 1610, Peireskius had in his company one 
 James Rainier, a citizen of Aix, who was wont 
 to lodge in the same room with him, and at this 
 time did so at an inn on the road. While Peires- 
 kius was asleep, Rainier observed that he mut- 
 tered something to himself after an unusual man- 
 ner, on which he awoke him, and asked what 
 was the matter. " Oh," said he, " from what 
 a pleasant dream have you roused me ? M Rainier 
 asking him what it was " I was dreaming," 
 said he, " that I was at Nismes, where a gold- 
 smith offered me a gold medal of Julius Cassar 
 for four crowns, and 1 was paying him for it 
 just as you awoke me." 
 
 They afterwards went on to Nismes, where, 
 before dinner, Peireskius took a turn round the
 
 DREAMS. 307 
 
 city, and by a wonderful chance he happened on 
 a goldsmith's shop, and asked the man if he had 
 any rarity to show him. The goldsmith told him 
 he had a gold medal of Julius Caesar, and being 
 asked the price, replied, four crowns, which 
 Peireskius very readily paid him. The observa- 
 tions of Gassendus upon this admirable hit of 
 fortune, as he calls it, are curious. " It may be 
 said to be admirable, for Peireskius might easily 
 have thought of Nismes, where he was to be the 
 next morning; he might have thought of that 
 coin of Julius Caesar, which he had often wished 
 for ; he might have thought it found in that city, 
 which abounds with Roman antiquities ; he 
 might have thought of a goldsmith's shop, where 
 such things are usually sold; and he might 
 have thought of a small price, at which persons 
 of that description value those articles ; in short," 
 says Gassendus, " a goldsmith, and that at 
 Nismes, might have a medal of that price ; still 
 it is wonderful that all these things should have 
 concurred, and the event answer the dream." 
 
 This story of Peireskius may be matched by 
 another of the celebrated Tartini, the musical 
 composer of Padua. It is copied from Dr. Bur- 
 ney's entertaining " Tour in France and Italy ;* 
 and the doctor professes to be indebted for it t 
 x2
 
 308 DREAMS. 
 
 M. de la Lande, who had it from Tartini's own 
 mouth : 
 
 " He dreamed one night, in 1713, that he had 
 made a compact with the devil, who promised 
 to be at his service on all occasions ; and during 
 this vision every thing succeeded, according to his 
 mind ; his wishes were prevented, and his desires 
 always surpassed, by the assistance of his new ser- 
 vant. In short, he imagined he gave the devil 
 his violin, in order to discover what kind of a 
 musician he was; when, to his great astonishment, 
 he heard him play a solo so singularly beautiful, 
 and executed with such superior taste and pre- 
 cision, that it surpassed all he had ever heard or 
 conceived in his life. So great was his surprise, 
 and so exquisite his delight upon this occasion, 
 that it deprived him of the power of breathing. 
 He awoke with the violence of this sensation, 
 aud instantly seized his fiddle, in hopes of ex- 
 pressing what he had just heard, but in vain ; he, 
 however, then composed a piece, which is per- 
 haps the best of all his works (he called it the 
 Devil's Sonata), but it was so inferior to what 
 his sleep had produced, that he declared he 
 should have broken his instrument, and aban- 
 doned music for ever, if he could have subsisted 
 by any other means."
 
 DREAMS. 309 
 
 The following relation, which is well authen- 
 ticated, gives a far greater importance to dreams 
 than many learned persons are willing to allow : 
 
 The famous physician, Dr. Archibald Pit- 
 cairne, had a particular friend, Robert Lindsey. 
 One day, in conversation respecting the immor- 
 tality of the soul, the case of the two platonic 
 philosophers who agreed that whichever died 
 first should appear to his companion, happened 
 to be mentioned ; on this Pitcairne and Lindsey 
 made a mutual promise of the same kind. Not 
 long after Pitcairne being at his father's house 
 in Fife, dreamt one morning that his friend Lind- 
 sey, who vras then at Paris, came and told him 
 that he was not dead, as was commonly reported, 
 but still living in a very agreeable place, to which 
 he could not as yet carry him. On the arrival 
 of (he next post, news came of Lindsey's death, 
 which happened suddenly on the very morning 
 of the dream. This was in 1689, and Pitcairne 
 has recorded the circumstance in an elegant La- 
 tin poem. The two platonic philosophers here 
 mentioned, were Michael Mercatus and Marsilius 
 Ficinus. They had frequent discourses on the 
 subject of the soul's immortality, and at last it 
 was agreed, " that he who departed this life first, 
 should appear to the survivor." 
 
 A short time after, while Mercatus was at his 
 studies, he heard the noise of a horse on the gal- 
 x3
 
 310 DRESS. 
 
 lop, which seemed to stop before his window, and 
 presently he heard a voice say, " O Michael, 
 Michael, those things which you advanced are 
 true!" Mercatus, amazed at the unexpected, 
 though well known voice of his friend, rose up, 
 and looking out, saw the back of a man in white, 
 galloping away on a white horse. He called after 
 him, " Marsilius ! Marsilius !" and followed him 
 with his eye till he was quite out of sight. Asto- 
 nished at this extraordinary circumstance, he 
 sent to Florence, where Marsilius resided, to 
 enquire after his friend, and was informed that 
 he died the very minute when he was thus seen 
 and heard by him. 
 
 Such is the story, as related by cardinal Ba- 
 ronius, and which rests solely upon the credit of 
 that learned, but certainly not incredulous man. 
 
 DRESS. 
 
 A carmei.ite monk, named Conecte, in 
 the fifteenth century was followed in Flanders 
 as the greatest preacher of his time. He chiefly 
 levelled his sermons against luxury, and parti- 
 cularly the dress of the women. At that time, 
 says a contemporary historian, every one was ex- 
 travagant in clothes, and the women wore remark- 
 ably strange ornaments on their heads. These
 
 DRESS. 311 
 
 were about an ell long, and as sharp as steeples, 
 with long crapes set off with rich fringes, hang- 
 ing down behind like standards. This preacher 
 was so angry with these head-dresses, that he 
 used to inveigh most bitterly against them, abus- 
 ing the ladies at a strange rate, for wearing these 
 hennins or horns, as they were called. And to 
 make them more odious to the people, he gave 
 small presents to the children, to cry out and 
 hoot against those who wore hennins. The boys 
 were so well instructed, that whenever any wo- 
 men came to hear the sermons of brother Tho- 
 mas, they cried out against their hennins as loud 
 as ever they could ; till the women pulled them 
 off or went away ; and even then the children 
 would run after them, shouting, and pelting them 
 with stones. This persecution lasted so long, 
 that no more hennins were to be seen while bro- 
 ther Thomas remained : but after his departure 
 the ladies lifted up their horns again, and did 
 like snails, which, when they hear any noise, 
 pull in their horns, but when the noise is over, 
 suddenly raise them higher than before. 
 
 At the close of the sixteenth century, it was 
 the fashion in France for the ladies to wear 
 looking-glasses about them. Against this strange 
 custom, and other extravagancies of female dress, 
 one John des Caurres, a canon of Amiens, thus 
 x4
 
 312 DRESS. 
 
 uiveighs : " Ladies," says he, " give me leave to 
 ask you, -whether it is possible, that you cau 
 please God and be saved while you do what he 
 forbids? No, certainly. And whether you will 
 or no, you must no longer wear your hair like 
 the wings of a bat; or in fashion of a net, by 
 which diabolically to catch and ensnare men; or 
 you will be lost and d d for ever. For, un- 
 doubtedly, this is forbidden you in the Old and 
 New Testament. And if the king had so com- 
 manded, you would have done it; but the com- 
 mandment of God you will not obey ; but rather 
 you will die in your disobedience and pride, 
 through this worldly-raindedness which deceives 
 you, nay, which renders you so ugly and abomi- 
 nable to look at, that if you knew how ill it be- 
 comes you, you would rather set fire to it than 
 shew it for the ill grace which it gives you. 
 And I wish to God, we were permitted to call 
 all those who wear these things wh s, in order 
 to cure them of so doing. Good God, what an 
 unhappy time are we fallen into, to see such de- 
 pravity on earth, as that women should carry, 
 even into church, looking-glasses hanging over 
 their bellies!" 
 
 Dr. Fuller, in his Worthies, relates a pleasant 
 story of the cure of a tradesman's vanity, in the 
 reign of Henry the Seventh.
 
 DUELLING. 313 
 
 " Sir Philip Calthorpe, of Norfolk, had sent- 
 as much cloth of fine French tauitey, as would 
 make him a gown, to a tailor in Norwich. It 
 happened one John Drakes, a shoemaker, com- 
 ing into the shop, liked it so well, that he went 
 and bought of the same, as much for himself, 
 enjoining the tailor to make it of the same fa- 
 shion. The knight being informed thereof, com- 
 manded the tailor to cut his gown as full of 
 holes as his shears could make, which purged 
 Drakes of his proud humour, that he never would 
 be of the gentleman's fashion again." 
 
 DUELLING. 
 
 The ancient Germans and Franks used to de- 
 cide criminal accusations, where no direct evi- 
 dence could be found, by the trial of combat; 
 which, however, was restrained to these condi- 
 tions : " That the crime must be capital ; and 
 that the accused by common report was sup- 
 posed guilty." There are many instances of 
 this mode of combat in the history of France; of 
 which the two following are very remarkable. 
 
 In the reign of Louis le Begue, the wife of In- 
 gelger, count of Gatinois, was accused of hav- 
 ing murdered her husband; his corpse having 
 been found with her in bed. Gontran, a relation
 
 314: DUELLING. 
 
 of the deceased, and the most expert swordsman 
 of his time, was her accuser. 
 
 The king appointed a day for the trial by 
 combat at the castle of Landon. Ingelger, count 
 of Anjou, and godson of the accused countess, 
 at that time nol sixteen years of age, threw him- 
 self at the king's feet, and solicited his permission 
 to accept Gontran's challenge. 
 
 The king, equally affected by his courageous 
 request and extreme youth, made use of many 
 arguments to dissuade him from such a danger- 
 ous attempt as that of encountering the redoubted 
 Gontran, whose very name struck terror into the 
 bravest men, and addressed him to the following 
 effect : 
 
 " Consider, child, that youth, and a want of suf- 
 ficient reflection, often precipitates people rashly 
 to undertake enterprises of such arduous moment, 
 that they are forced to shrink under them. 
 Think, therefore, in time ; be persuaded of the 
 great inequality of a trial by combat between one 
 of your years, and a person so renowned for chi- 
 valry as the chevalier Gontran. Reflect, that 
 such a combat can promise no other event, than 
 the devoting yourself to death by your first essay 
 in arms : wherefore, my child, I entreat that you 
 seriously meJitate on this affair, and the fatal 
 consequence which in all probability must en- 
 sue."
 
 DUELLING. 315 
 
 The young count, with a becoming mixture 
 of modesty and valour, thanked the king for his 
 paternal concern ; but inflexibly persisted in his 
 resolution. All the courtiers pitied him, and no- 
 thing was heard from every tongue, but this ge- 
 neral lamentation : " What a pity, that so ami- 
 able a youth should insist on being sent to the 
 slaughter-house !*' 
 
 The next clay being appointed for the trial, the 
 count took leave of his godmother, heard mass, 
 distributed alms to the poor, made the sign of 
 the cross, mounted his horse, and entered the 
 lists, the wonder and admiration of all the spec- 
 tators. 
 
 The countess of Gatinois and Gontran having 
 both affirmed upon oath the truth of all the arti- 
 cles they had severally alleged, the combatants, 
 young Ingelger and the veteran Gontran, rushed 
 furiously upon each other. The latter made a 
 violent thrust at the count's shield, which the 
 youth having parried, he drove his lance through 
 Gontran's body, felled him from his horse, and 
 then alighted to cut off his head : which bleed- 
 ing trophy he presented to the king. 
 
 The vindicated countess, in return for the 
 young champion's successful prowess, made him 
 a present of the manor, lordship, and castle of 
 Landon.
 
 316 DUELLING. 
 
 While John Carrouges, a Norman gentle- 
 man, was serving in the army employed against 
 the infidels in Charles the Sixth's reign, James le 
 Gris, his friend, becoming passionately ena- 
 moured of his wife, determined to profit by the 
 husband's absence, and to satisfy his unlawful 
 desires at all events. 
 
 Le Gris was cup-bearer to the duke of Aban- 
 don ; to defeat, therefore, as he imagined, any 
 tracing of him in the criminal attempt he had pro- 
 jected, he on the night fixed for his perfidious 
 action, officiously waited on his master at supper ; 
 and as he was pouring out wine for him to drink, 
 he designedly, but apparently through inadver- 
 tency, let some of it drop on the duke's sleeve, 
 which was observed by him. 
 
 Soon after Le Gris mounted a very swift horse, 
 and hurried away to Carrouges' house, seven 
 leagues from Alencon, where be arrived about 
 midnight. As he was well acquainted with the 
 house, he soon found his way into the chamber 
 and bed of Carrouges' wife, whom he enjoyed by 
 force. 
 
 Finding her dislike and abhorrence of him, he 
 soon withdrew, remounted his horse, and made 
 such dispatch back, as to be present at his master's 
 levee in the morning ; where, as he served him 
 water to wash his hands, he again designedly let 
 some fall upon the duke's ruffle, who only laugh-
 
 DUELLING. SIT 
 
 rd at his repealed carelessness. But this was no 
 other than a contrived scheme, to serve as* a blind 
 for his villany, and to invalidate any charge of 
 violated hospitality which might be brought 
 against him. 
 
 Carrouges' wife languished a prey to secret me- 
 lancholy from the affront she had received, until 
 her husband's return, to whom she related the dis- 
 honour they had sustained, and excited him to re- 
 venge. Carrouges summoned Le Gris before the 
 parliament. He denied the crime, alleging, that 
 on the night on which they asserted his having 
 committed this atrocious deed, he waited in his 
 office on the duke of Alen^on. 
 
 However, Carrouges' wife still persisting in her 
 accusation, the parliament decreed a trial by 
 combat, between Le (iris and the injured hus- 
 band ; ordering that ihe scene of action should be 
 in the cloister of St. Catherine, and that the lady 
 should be present on a scaffold erected for that 
 purpose. 
 
 At first Carrouges had the worst of it ; for Le 
 Gris, seizing him by the body, threw him on the 
 ground ; but the Norman quickly sprang up, 
 and getting his adversary, Le Gris, under him, 
 by holding a dagger to his throat, forced him to 
 confess his crime. Le Gris was handed.
 
 318 DUELLING. 
 
 That excellent historian, Thuanus, has a rela- 
 tion of an extraordinary duel which happened 
 in his time. 
 
 Charles de Breaute, a gentleman of Nor- 
 mandy, made himself famous by a duel, wherein 
 he died. He was extremely brave, and after the 
 peace of Vervins, finding no occasion in France 
 to shew his valour, he went into Holland, where 
 he obtained a troop of horse. His lieutenant had 
 the misfortune to be beaten by a party of the gar- 
 rison of Bois-le-duc, which was inferior to his in 
 numbers. He was also taken prisoner, and con- 
 ducted to Bois-le-duc, from whence he wrote to 
 his captain, desiring him to procure his liberty ; 
 but Breaute sent him for answer, that he would 
 not acknowledge such persons for his troopers, 
 as suffered themselves to be defeated by a lesser 
 number of Flemings, instead of beating them, 
 even though they had been twenty to forty, as 
 he offered to do in any rencounter. This letter 
 being read by the governor of the garrison, he 
 wrote immediately to Breaute, offering to fight 
 him with an equal number. His proposal was 
 agreed to, and it was settled that there should 
 be twenty-two combatants on each side, all of 
 whom should be on horseback. Breaute would 
 have had the governor of Bois-le-duc to put him- 
 self at the head of his Flemings ; but the arch- 
 duke Albert would not suffer it. Their chief
 
 DUELLING. 319 
 
 was Gerard, (he lieutenant-governor, and the 
 same person who had defeated the former party. 
 This man sent word by a trumpeter, that he and 
 his men had sworn to give no quarter, as they 
 undertook the combat to defend the cause of their 
 prince, and that of the catholic religion. Gerard 
 and his brother, with four more, began the fight 
 with Breaute and five others; the rest engaged 
 each his man. Breaute killed Gerard, his bro- 
 ther, and two others, and the fifth was so wounded, 
 that he died some days after. But the rest of the 
 party of Breaute did not behave so well ; eight of 
 them fled, and this gallant chief, with one of his 
 relations, fell in the contest. The body of Breaute, 
 wounded in thirty-six places, was taken to Dort, 
 where a picture of it was taken, which was sent 
 to his own country. This fight took place in 
 1600. 
 
 In the late lord Orford's Anecdotes of Paint- 
 ing, is the following curious anecdote : 
 
 When the famous dwarf Jetfery Hudson was 
 in France, he was grossly insulted by Mr. Crofts, 
 a young gentleman of family and fortune. The 
 little fellow possessed an uncommon spirit, and 
 notwithstanding his diminutive appearance, had 
 the courage to challenge the person who had af- 
 fronted him. Mr. Crofts came to the place ap- 
 pointed, armed with only a squirt, which so en-
 
 320 DUELLING. 
 
 raged Jeffery, that he insisted upon fighting, and 
 a real duel ensued, both parties being on horse- 
 back with pistols, to put them on a level. At 
 the first fire Jeffery shot his antagonist dead. 
 
 Having mentioned this circumstance, we may 
 be permitted to relate a few more particulars of 
 this extraordinary person. 
 
 He was born at Oakham, in Rutlandshire, in 
 1619, and about the age of seven or eight, being 
 then but eight inches high, was retained in the 
 service of the duke of Buckingham, who resided 
 at Burleigh on the Hill. Soon after the marriage 
 of Charles I . the king and queen being enter- 
 tained at Burleigh, little Jeffery was served up 
 to table in a cold pye, and presented by the 
 duchess of Buckingham to the queen, who kept 
 him as her dwarf. From seven years of age till 
 thirty lie never grew taller; but after thirty he 
 shot up to three feet nine inches, and there fixed. 
 Jeffery became a considerable part of the enter- 
 tainment at court. Sir William Davenant wrote 
 a poem, called Jeffreidos, on a battle between 
 him and a turkey cock; and in 1638 was pub- 
 lished a very small book, called The New Year's 
 Gift, presented at court from the lady Parvula to 
 the lord Minimus (commonly called Little Jeffery) 
 her majesty's servant, &c. written by Microphi- 
 lus, with a little print of Jeffery prefixed. Be- 
 fore this period Jeffery was employed on a nego-
 
 DUELLING. 321 
 
 action of great importance. He was sent to 
 France to fetch a midwife for the queen, and on 
 his return with this gentlewoman, and her ma- 
 jesty's dancing- master, and many rich presents 
 to the queen from her mother, Mary de Medici, 
 he was taken by the Dunkirkers. He was again 
 taken prisoner by a Turkish rover, and sold into 
 Barbary ; but he probably did not long remain 
 in slayery, for at the beginning of the civil war 
 he was made a captain in the royal army ; and in 
 1644 attended the queen to France, where he re- 
 mained till the restoration. At last, upon suspi- 
 cion of his being privy to the popish plot, 
 he was taken up in 1GS2, and confined in the 
 Gatehouse, Westminster, where he ended his life, 
 in the sixty-third year of his age. A bas-relief 
 of Jeffery and the gigantic porter, is to be seen in 
 the front of a house near the end of Bagnio-court, 
 on the east-side of Newgate-street. 
 
 Mr. Sheridan, in his life of dean Swift, has re- 
 corded an account of a very singular character, 
 who lived in the county of Tipperary. The 
 name of this gentleman was Matthew, and after a 
 long residence abroad, he returned to Dublin at 
 the latter end of queen Anne's reign. At that 
 time party ran very high, but raged no where 
 with such violence as in that city, insomuch that 
 duels were every day fought there on that score. 
 
 VOL. i. y
 
 322 DUELLING. 
 
 There happened to be at that time two gentlemen 
 in London, who valued themselves highly on 
 their skill in fencing ; the name of one of them, 
 was Pack, the other Creed ; the former a major, 
 and the latter a captain in the army. Hearing of 
 these daily exploits in Dublin, they resolved, 
 like two knight errants, to go over in quest of 
 adventures. Upon enquiry, they learned that 
 Mr. Matthew had the character of being one of 
 the first swordsmen in Europe. Pack, rejoiced 
 to find an antagonist worthy of him, resolved the 
 first opportunity to pick a quarrel with him ; and 
 meeting him as he was carried along the street in 
 his chair, jostled the fore-chairman. Of this 
 Matthew took no notice, as supposing it to be 
 accidental. But Pack afterwards boasted of it 
 in the public coffee-house, saying, that he had 
 purposely offered this insult to that gentleman, 
 who had not the spirit to resent it. 'There hap- 
 pened to be present a particular friend of Mr. 
 Matthew's, of the name of Macnamara, a man of 
 tried courage, and reputed the best fencer in 
 Ireland. He immediately took up the quarrel, 
 and said he was sure Mr. Matthew did not sup- 
 pose the affront intended, otherwise he would 
 have chastised him on the spot ; but if the major 
 would let him know where he was to be found, 
 he should be waited on immediately on his friend's 
 return, who was to dine that day a little way
 
 DUELLING, 323 
 
 out of town. * The major said, that be should 
 be at the tavern over, the way, where he and his 
 companion would wait their commands. Imme- 
 diately on his arrival, Matthew being made ac- 
 quainted with what had passed, went from the 
 coffee-house to the tavern, accompanied by Mac- 
 namara. Being shewn into the room where the 
 two gentlemen were, after having secured the 
 door, without any expostulation Matthew and 
 Pack drew their swords; but Macnamara stopped 
 them, saying he had something to propose before 
 they proceeded to action. He said, in cases of 
 this nature, he never could bear to be a cool 
 spectator : " So, sir," addressing himself to 
 Creed, u if you please, I shall have the honour 
 of entertaining you in the same manner." Creed, 
 who desired no better sport, .made no other reply 
 than that of instantly drawing his sword ; and to 
 work the four champions fell, with the same 
 composure as if it were only a, fencing match 
 with foils. The conflict was of some duration, 
 and maintained with great obstinacy by the two 
 officers, notwithstanding the great effusion of 
 blood from the many wounds which they had 
 received. At length, quite exhausted, they both 
 fell, and yielded the victory to the superior skill 
 of their antagonists. Upon this occasion, Mat- 
 thew gave a remarkable proof of the perfect com- 
 posure of his mind during the action. Creed
 
 324 DUELLING. 
 
 had fallen the first ; upon which Pack ex- 
 claimed : " Ah poor Creed, are you gone ?" 
 " Yes," said Matthew, very composedly ; " and 
 you shall instantly pack after him ;" at the same 
 time making a home thrust quite through his body, 
 which threw him to the ground. This was the 
 more remarkable, as he was never in his life, 
 either before or after, known to have aimed at a 
 pun. The number of wounds received by the 
 vanquished parties was very great; and what 
 seems almost miraculous, their opponents were 
 untouched. The surgeons seeing the desperate 
 state of their patients, would not suffer them to 
 be removed out of the room where they fought, 
 but had beds immediately conveyed into it, on 
 which they lay many hours in a state of insensi- 
 bility. When they came to themselves, and 
 saw where they were, Pack, in a feeble voice, said 
 to his companion : t( Creed, I think we are the 
 conquerors, for we have kept the field of battle." 
 For a long time their lives were despaired of; 
 but to the astonishment of every one, they both 
 recovered. When they were able to see company, 
 Matthew and his friend attended them daily, and 
 a close intimacy afterwards ensued, as they found 
 them men of probity, and of the best dispositions, 
 except in this Quixotish idea of duelling, whereof 
 they were now perfectly cured.
 
 325 
 
 ENVY. 
 
 There is a remarkable story of the effect of 
 envy, and of the power of women, in the history 
 of the Roman republic. 
 
 Marcus Fabius Ambustus had two daughters, 
 the eldest of whom was married to Servius Sulpi- 
 cius, one of the patricians, and who then en- 
 joyed the consulate ; the youngest was the wife 
 of C. Licinius Stoton, a plebeian. The latter 
 one day paying a visit to her sister, was sur- 
 prised at hearing a violent knocking at the door, 
 which was made by the lictors with their fasces, 
 to give notice of the arrival of the consul. The 
 lady of the house said contemptuously : l( This 
 noise does not surprise the wives of senators ; for 
 they are used to it." The plebeian's wife felt all 
 the malignity of this sneer. Her vanity being 
 thus humbled, threw her into a melancholy state, 
 which could not be concealed from her father and 
 her husband. After many enquiries she told them 
 the cause, at the same time declaring with many 
 tears, that her uneasiness would hasten her disso- 
 lution, unless her husband could attain the same 
 distinction as her brother-in-law. Both her fa- 
 ther and husband, who loved her tenderly, pro- 
 tested that they would leave no means untried to 
 introduce the same dignities and pomp into her
 
 526 ENVY. 
 
 house which she had observed at her sister's. 
 Accordingly Fabricius, sacrificing the interest of 
 the patricians, of whom he was one, to paternal 
 affection, joined with his son-in-law in the de- 
 sign of procuring the consular dignity for the 
 plebeians. They brought into their project Lu- 
 cius Sextus, who was greatly esteemed both by 
 the senate and people, for his virtue and eloquence. 
 The wife of Licinius, emboldened by the oath 
 which her father and husband had taken, daily 
 excited them to prosecute their enterprise with 
 new ardour, and enquired frequently what pro- 
 gress they had made. In fine, after some trou- 
 ble, and divisions which were near kindling a civil 
 war in Rome, the plebeians were admitted to the 
 consulate. Licmius attained to that dignity, and 
 thereby gave his wife the satisfaction of hearing 
 the noise of the fasces at her door. 
 
 It is well known how basely Columbus, after 
 his great discoveries, was treated, by the envy of 
 the courtiers, and the ingratitude of Ferdinand, 
 king of Spain. After the death of queen Isa- 
 bella, it being observed that the king received 
 Columbus with coldness, many of the nobility 
 affected to lessen his merit, by insinuating that 
 his discoveries were rather the result of accident 
 than of well concerted measures Columbus one 
 day at a public dinner at court, after bearing
 
 ENVY. 327 
 
 much raillery on this subject, ordered an egg to 
 be brought to him, and shewing it to the compa- 
 ny, asked if there was any one who would un- 
 dertake to set it upright on the lesser end. All 
 agreed that it was impossible, when Columbus 
 very gravely cracked the shell, by striking it 
 gently on the table, and enlarged the base till it 
 stood upright, on which the company fell a-laugh- 
 ing, and exclaimed that any one could have done 
 the same. " That I do not doubt," answered Co- 
 lumbus, "and yet none of you thought of it. Thus 
 it Avas that I discovered the Indies : I first con- 
 ceived the design of steering that course, and now 
 every pilot can find his way thither as well as 
 myself. There are many things which seem easy 
 when once performed, which before were thought 
 impracticable. You ought to reflect on the 
 scoffs I sustained before I put my design into ex- 
 ecution ; it was then a dream and a chimera, and 
 now it is what any body might have thought of 
 and put in practice." 
 
 When this story was told to Ferdinand, he was 
 extremely pleased, commended Columbus much, 
 and made no difficulty of declaring, that he ad- 
 mired the greatness of that spirit, which he at the 
 same time endeavoured to depress. 
 
 r 4
 
 328 
 
 ESCAPES. 
 
 After the learned Grotius bad been confin- 
 ed about a year in the castle of Louvenstein, to 
 which imprisonment he was sentenced for life, 
 his wife contrived and executed the means of his 
 deliverance. Perceiving that the guards were not 
 so strict as they had been in examining the chest 
 which was made use of to carry books and linen to 
 and from the prison, she persuaded her husband to 
 get into it, and remain there as long as it would 
 require logo from Louvenstein to Gorcum : finding 
 that he could endure the confinement, when holes 
 were made in the chest to breathe through, madame 
 Grotius determined to seize the first opportunity 
 of effecting her design. Accordingly when the 
 governor went to Heusden to raise recruits, she 
 waited upon his lady, and told her that she was 
 anxious to send away her husband's books ; too 
 great an application to which, she said, greatly 
 injured his health. Having thus prepared the 
 commandant's wife, and at the same time spread 
 abroad a general leport that her husband was ill, 
 on March 21, 1621, she with the help of her ser- 
 vant-maid, shut him up in the chest. Two sol- 
 diers carried it, and one of them finding it heavi- 
 er than usual, observed, " There must be an Ar- 
 niinian in it." To which madame Grotius coolly 
 replied, " Indeed, there are some Arminian books
 
 ESCAPES, 329 
 
 in it." The chest was then brought down on a 
 ladder with great difficulty, and the extraordina- 
 ry care which was taken in conveying it, made 
 one of the soldiers suspicious, he demanded the 
 key, and upon its being refused, he went to the 
 commandant's lady, who reprimanded him, say- 
 ing, there were only books in the chest, and that 
 they might carry it to the boat. While they 
 were carrying it along, a soldier's wife said there 
 was more than one instance of prisoners making 
 their escape in boxes. However the chest was 
 placed in the boat, and th maid accompanied it 
 to Gorcum, where it was taken to the house of 
 M. Dazelaer, a friend of Grotius ; and when 
 every body was gone the servant unlocked the 
 chest, and let her master out, who had suffered 
 but little inconvenience, though the length was 
 not above three feet and a half. Being thus free, 
 he dressed himself like a mason, with a trowel 
 and rule in his hand, and going out at Dazelaer's 
 back door, went to Valvic in Brabant, and from 
 thence to Antwerp. In the mean while it was be- 
 lieved at Louvenstein that he was ill; and to give 
 him time to get clear off, his wife reported that 
 his disorder was dangerous ; but as soon as she 
 learnt from her maid that he was safe, she ac- 
 knowledged the fact. The commandant in a 
 great rage put her under a rigid confinement, but 
 on presenting a petition to the States General,
 
 330 ESCAPES. 
 
 they were ashamed of acting severely to a woman 
 who had conducted herself with so much magnani- 
 mity, and ordered her to be set at liberty. 
 
 The almost miraculous escape of Charles the 
 Second, after his defeat at Worcester, has been 
 related by lord Clarendon in his History of the 
 Rebellion. The following particulars, however, 
 are not in that work : 
 
 In a very scarce pamphlet, entitled, " A Pro- 
 per Memorial for the 29th of May," &c. 8vo. 
 Lond. 1715, printed for A. Bettes worth, Charles 
 is described as having effected his escape in 
 the following garb : " he had on a white stee- 
 ple crowned hat, without any other lining besides 
 grease, both sides of the brim so doubled up 
 with handling, that they looked like two spouts ; a 
 leather doublet full of holes, and almost black 
 with grease about the sleeves, collar, and waist, 
 an old, green WoodrifPs coat, thread-bare, and 
 patched in most places ; with a pair of breeches 
 of the same cloth, and in the same condition, the 
 slops hanging down loose to the middle of the 
 leg ; hose and shoes of different parishes ; the 
 hose were grey stirrups, much darned and clouted, 
 especially about the knees, under which he had a 
 pair of flannel riding stockings of his own, the 
 tops of them cut off. His shoes had been cob- 
 bled, being pieced both on the soles and seams,
 
 E8CAFR8. S31 
 
 and the tipper leathers so cut <: lashed to fit 
 them to his ket, that they were quTv unfit to de- 
 fend him from either water or dirt. This exotic 
 and deformed dress, added to his short hair, cut 
 off by the ears, his face coloured brown with wal- 
 nut tree leaves ; and a rough crooked thorn stick 
 in his hand, had so metamorphosed him, that it 
 was hard, even for those who had been before 
 well acquainted with his person, and conversant 
 with him, to have discovered who he was." 
 
 This description agrees with the account taken 
 from the king's own mouth, by Mr. Pepys, se- 
 cretary of the admiralty, which relation is given 
 in the fourth volume of Carte's History of Eng- 
 land. It having been resolved that the king 
 should go with the sister of colonet Lane to the 
 house of Mr. Norton, at Abbot's Leigh, in So- 
 mersetshire, hir. clothes were changed to a better 
 habit, like a servant's, being a kind of grey cloth 
 suit. The next day Mrs. Lane and he began 
 their journey towards Bristol, resolving to lie at 
 a place called Long Marston, in the vale of Eve- 
 sham. They had not set out above two hours 
 when the mare the king rode casting a shoe, they 
 were forced to ride to a bye village to get another 
 put on ; and as he was holding up his horse's 
 foot, he asked the smith " What news ?" the fel- 
 low saying, " there was none that he knew of, 
 since the good news of beating the rogues, the
 
 332 ESCAPES. 
 
 Scots." The king then asked him, " whether 
 there were any of the English that joined the 
 Scots taken ?" He answered, that " he did not 
 hear whether the rogue, Charles Stuart, was 
 taken, but some of the others were," and upon 
 the king's telling him, that " if that rogue was 
 taken he deserved to be hanged more than all the 
 rest, for bringing in the Scots ;" the smith said, 
 " he spoke like an honest man ;" and so they 
 parted. 
 
 While the king and his supposed mistress re- 
 mained at Mr. Norton's, he went into the kitchen, 
 the better to conceal himself, and as he was 
 standing by the fire-side near the jack, the cook- 
 maid desired him to wind it up : but he fumbling 
 till the spit stood still, the cook struck him, and 
 calling him black blockhead, asked where 
 the devil he had lived, that he had not learnt to 
 wind up a jack. The king modestly answered, 
 that he was a poor tradesman's son, and had not 
 been long in his lady's service. 
 
 Being on the sea-coast in Dorsetshire, waiting 
 for an opportunity of procuring a vessel, the 
 king's horse lost another shoe, on which the smith 
 was sent for, who upon looking at the rest of the 
 shoes, said that some of them were made near 
 Worcester. This man, when he had finished, went 
 to consult with one Wesley, the prcsbyterian mi- 
 nister of Charmoutb, who was then in a long-
 
 ESCAPES. 333 
 
 winded prayer, so that before lie had finished, the 
 king and his company were gone to Bridport. 
 Just as they came into the town, they saw the 
 streets full of Cromwell's soldiers, who were 
 about to embark for Jersey. However, there was 
 no help, and the king thinking it the best way to 
 blunder in amongst them, led the horses as soon 
 as they alighted, into the stable, which made the 
 soldiers complain of his rudeness. Having taken 
 the bridles off, and called the Ostler to give the 
 horses some oats, the man said, " surely I know 
 your face, and I have certainly seen you some- 
 where." This was no pleasant discourse to the 
 king, who, however, thought it best to ask him 
 where he had lived. By his answers he found that 
 he was a native of Exeter, where he had been an 
 ostler at an inn adjoining to one Mr. Potter's, a mer- 
 chant, at whose house the king had lodged in the 
 early part of the rebellion. Upon this the king 
 said, " Friend, you have certainly seen me at Mr. 
 Potter's, where I lived above a year in his service." 
 The man replied, " Then I remember you a boy 
 there ;" and then he pressed him to take a pot of 
 beer withhim, which the other declined, saying, 
 he must go and wait upon his master, and get his 
 dinner ready ; but that upon his return he would 
 drink with him. The king and his company 
 however, withdrew from thence immediately after 
 dinner, and leaving the London road, proceeded
 
 334l escapes, 
 
 through bye-ways to an obscure village called 
 Broadwater ; and it was well they did, for the 
 smith's intelligence being carried to Lyme, 
 twelve troopers were dispatched in pursuit of 
 them, and arriving at Bridport in less than half 
 an hour after the objects of their search had left 
 the town, enquired at the inn what road they had 
 taken, and being told the London, continued their 
 course without stopping till they came to Dor- 
 chester. After various adventures, Charles got 
 on board a small vessel near Shoreham, and 
 though the master discovered who he Was, yet 
 with great fidelity, he conveyed him safely over 
 to Fecamp, a small harbour in France. 
 
 . In the year 1646, several noble persons were 
 tried at St. Andrews, in Scotland, for bearing 
 arms in the royal army. Among others was lord 
 Ogilvie, eldest son of the earl of Airly. After 
 sentence of death was pronounced, lord Ogilvie 
 pretending to be sick, got so much favour, as to 
 have his wife, his mother, and sisters allowed to 
 visit him for the last time in prison. These la- 
 dies having entered his chamber, the guards shew- 
 ed them some respect, and went out of the room : 
 and theyoung lord taking advantage of the oppor- 
 tunity, without loss of time put on the gown of 
 one of his sisters, who was very like him, while 
 in the mean time she threw herself into his bed.
 
 ESCAPES. 335 
 
 and put his nightcap upon her head. They act- 
 ed their parts exceedingly well, for after having 
 several times embraced one another in appear- 
 ance, they bid farewell for ever to one another with 
 abundance of tears. The guards having come 
 in again with lights, to reconduct them, Ogilvie 
 went out with the rest without being discovered. 
 He was no sooner got out than he mounted a 
 good horse, and with two friends reached a place 
 of safety before break of day. As soon as the 
 news of his escape was carried to the convention 
 of estates, rage so transported them, that some of 
 them had a mind to be revenged upon the ladies ; 
 but the earls of Lanark and Lindsay maintained, 
 that it was an action of natural affection worthy 
 to be transmitted to posterity. 
 
 And yet ingenious as this was, it does not equal 
 the contrivance and fortitude displayed by the 
 countess of Nithisdale, in effecting the escape of 
 her husband from the Tower, the night before he 
 was to be executed, for the part he took in the 
 rebellion of 1715. 
 
 On the 23d of February, 1716, an order of 
 council was issued for the execution of this no- 
 bleman, with the earl of Derwentwater and 
 viscount Kenmare, the next day. The countess 
 of Nithisdale, who was daughter of the marquis 
 of Powis, had tried every means, and all her in-
 
 336 ESCAPES. 
 
 fluence, to obtain a pardon from George the First ; 
 but instead of granting the petition, that monarch 
 behaved to her with great brutality. She then 
 had recourse to her invention, and by the most 
 admirable address and management she succeed- 
 ed. Of this affair she wrote an interesting ac- 
 count to her sister, the countess of Traquair, and 
 from her letter the following particulars are 
 taken : 
 
 " In the evening, when all was ready, I sent 
 for Mrs. Mills, with whom I lodged, and ac- 
 quainted her with my design of attempting my 
 Jord's escape, as there was no prospect of his 
 being pardoned, and this was the last night be- 
 fore the execution. I told her that I had every 
 thing in readiness, and I trusted she would not 
 refuse to accompany me, that my lord might 
 pass for her. At the same time I sent for Mrs. 
 Morgan, to whom I communicated my resolu- 
 tion. She was of a tall and slender make ; sol 
 begged her to put under her own riding-hood, one 
 that I had prepared for Mrs. Mills, as she was to 
 lend her's to my lord, that in coming out he 
 might be taken for her. Mrs. Mills was with 
 child, so that she was not only of the same height, 
 but nearly of the same size as my lord. On our 
 arrival at the Tower, the first I introduced was 
 Mrs. Morgan, for I was only allowed to take in 
 one at a time. She brought in the clothes that
 
 ESCAPES. 
 
 M 
 
 were to serve Mrs. Mills, when she left her owa 
 behind her. When Mrs. Morgan had taken off 
 what she had brought for my purpose, I con- 
 ducted her back to the staircase, and in going, 
 1 begged her to send in my maid to dress me ; 
 that I was afraid of being too late to present my 
 petition that nightj if she did not come imme- 
 diately. 1 dispatched her safe, and went to 
 meet Mrs. "Mills, who had the precaution to hold 
 her handkerchief to her face, as was natural for 
 woman to do when going to bid farewell 
 to a friend On the eve of his execution. I had 
 indeed desired her to do it, that my lord might 
 go out in the same manner. Her eyebrows were 
 rather inclined to be sandy, and my lord's were 
 dark and thick; however, I had prepared some 
 paint of the colour of her's, to disguise his with ; 
 I also bought an artificial head-dress of the same 
 coloured hair as her's> and I painted his face 
 with white, and his cheeks with rouge, to hide his 
 long beard, which he had not had time to shave. 
 The guards, whom my liberality had endeared 
 me to, let me go quietly in with my company, 
 and were not so strictly on the watch as they 
 usually had been ; and the more so, as they were 
 persuaded from what I had told tbem the day 
 before, that the prisoners would obtain their par- 
 don. 1 made Mrs. Mills take off her own hood, 
 and put on that which I had brought for her ; 
 
 VOL. I. 7
 
 338 ESCAPES. 
 
 I then took her by the hand, and led her out of 
 my lord's chamber ; and in passing through the 
 next room, in which there were several people, 
 I said, " dear Mrs. Catherine, go in all haste, 
 and send me my waiting-maid ; she forgets that 
 I am to present a petition to-night, and if I let 
 slip this opportunity I am undone, for to-morrow 
 will be too late. Hasten her as much as possible ; 
 for I shall be on thorns till she comes." Every 
 body in the room, who were chiefly the guards' 
 wives and daughters, seemed to compassionate 
 me exceedingly ; and the sentinel officiously 
 opened the door. When I had seen her out, I 
 returned back to my lord, and finished dressing 
 him. I had taken care that Mrs. Mills did not 
 go out crying, as she came in, that my lord, 
 might the better pass for the lady who came in 
 crying and afflicted. "When I had almost finish- 
 ed dressing my lord, I perceived that it was 
 growing dark, and was afraid that the light of 
 the candles might betray us, so I resolved to set 
 off. 1 went out leading him by the hand, and 
 he held his handkerchief to his eyes, 1 spoke to 
 him in the most piteous and afflicting tone of 
 voice, bewailing bitterly the negligence of Evans, 
 who had ruined me by her delay. " Then," 
 said J, " my dear Mrs. Betty, for the love of 
 God, run quickly, and bring her with you. 
 You know my lodging, and if ever you mad*
 
 ESCAPES. 339 
 
 dispatch in your life, do it at present 5 I am al- 
 most distracted with this disappointment." The 
 guards opened the doors, and I went down stairs 
 with him, still conjuring him to make all possible 
 dispatch. As soon as he had cleared the door, 
 I made him walk before me, for fear the sentinel 
 should take notice of his walk ; but 1 still con- 
 tinued to press him to make all the haste he 
 could. At the bottom of the stairs 1 met Evans, 
 into whose hands I confided him. I had before 
 engaged Mr. Mills to be in readiness before the 
 Tower, to conduct him to some place of safety, 
 in case we succeeded. He looked upon the affair 
 so very improbable, that his astonishment, when 
 he saw us, threw him into such consternation, 
 that he was almost out of himself; which Evans 
 perceiving, with the greatest presence of mind, 
 without telling him any thing, lest he should 
 mistrust them, conducted him to some of her own 
 friends, on whom she could rely, and so secured 
 him, without which we should have been un- 
 done. When she had conducted him, she re- 
 turned to find Mr. Mills, who by this time had 
 recovered from his astonishment. They went home 
 together, and having found a place of security, 
 they conducted him to it. 
 
 In the mean while, as I had pretended to have 
 sent the young lady on a message, I was obliged 
 to return up stairs, and to go into my lord's room 
 z2
 
 340 ESCAPES. 
 
 in the same feigned anxiety of being too late. 
 When I was in the room, I talked to him, as if 
 he had been really present, and answered my own 
 questions in my lord's voice, as nearly as I 
 could imitate it. I walked up and down as if 
 we were conversing together, till I thought they 
 had time to clear themselves of the guards. I 
 then thought proper to make off also. I opened 
 the door, and stood half in it, that those in the 
 outward chamber might hear what I said ; but 
 held it so close, that they could not look in. 
 
 I bid my lord a formal farewell for that night ; 
 and added, that something more than usual must 
 have happened to make Evans negligent on this 
 occasion; that I saw no other remedy than to go 
 in person ; that if the Tower were still open 
 when ! finished my business, I would return that 
 night, but that he might be assured I would be 
 with him early in the morning; and I flattered 
 myself I should bring favourable news. Then, 
 before t shut the door, I pulled through the string 
 of the latch, so that it could only be opened on 
 the inside. I then shut it with some degree of 
 force, that I might be sure of its being well shut. 
 ] said to the servant as I passed, that he need not 
 carry in candles till my lord sent for him, as he 
 desired to finish some prayers first. I went down 
 stairs and called a coach, as there were seve- 
 ral on the stand ; I drove home to my lodgings,
 
 ESCAPES. 341 
 
 where poor Mr. Mackenzie was waiting to carry 
 the petition. I told him there was no need of 
 any petition, as my lord was safe out of the 
 Tower, and out of the hands of his enemies, as 
 I hoped, but that I did not know where he was. 
 
 Two days after, his lordship went in disguise 
 as a lively- servant belonging to the Venetian am- 
 bassador to Dover, where a small vessel was pro- 
 vided for htm, in which he set sail for Calais. 
 " The passage was so remarkably short," says 
 her ladyship, " that the captain threw out this 
 reflection, that the wind could not have served 
 better, if his passengers had been flying for their 
 lives, little thinking it to be really the case." 
 
 In the year 1736, three smugglers were con- 
 demned at Edinburgh for robbing the custom- 
 house at Fife. One of them was reprieved; and 
 the other two, Andrew Wilson, and George Ro- 
 bertson, were ordered for execution. The Sun- 
 day before the day appointed, the criminals were 
 led to church with a guard, and put into a seat ; 
 Robertson, as the elder, was placed at the head 
 of if, and the soldiers sat below them. Robert- 
 son observing that all was clear before him, in- 
 stantly rose up, jumped from the pew, and so 
 from one to another, till he came to the door, 
 where, through haste, he threw down tli plate 
 that was standing to receive the offering. A 
 bustle ensued, which greatly contributed to hU 
 z3
 
 342 ESCAPES. 
 
 getting clear. The soldiers observed him at his 
 first setting out, and rose up to stop him, but 
 Wilson quickly interposed, and leaning over the 
 man next to him, he held the other, and gene- 
 rously cried out, "Run, run, Robertson! run 
 for your life I" The officers of the town were 
 sent in quest of him, but he got clear off, and 
 was never taken. The other was executed the 
 next day ; and as a mob was expected to arise, 
 precautions were taken for preventing a rescue. 
 A detachment of soldiers was drawn up round 
 the gallows ; but when the hangman was mount- 
 ing the ladder to cut down the corpse, some per- 
 son in the crowd threw a clod, which hit him 
 upon the nose, so that it bled. Upon this cap- 
 tain Porteus, who commanded the party, or- 
 dered his men to fire among the populace, by 
 which wanton act about twelve persons were 
 killed, and several wounded. For this heinous 
 violation of law, Porteus was tried, and being 
 convicted, received sentence of death. Appli- 
 cation however was made in his favour to queen 
 Caroline, and he was reprieved. This occasioned 
 a great surprise and indignation at Edinburgh, 
 and in the night a mob arose, seized the city- 
 guard, burnt the door of the prison, and hung 
 Porteus on a dyer's pole, where the body re- 
 mained till next morning, when the magistrates 
 ordered it to be cut down.
 
 343 
 
 EXTRAVAGANCE. 
 
 Sir John Harrington, the celebrated epi- 
 grammatist in the reign of queen Elizabeth, was 
 a man o great Wit, but thoughtless in his con- 
 duct, and extremely careless in the management 
 of his affairs ; so that in consequence of his extra- 
 vagance, he was obliged to part with several of his 
 estates. Among the rest he sold a very fine one, 
 called Nyland, in Somersetshire, concerning 
 which Dr. Fuller, in his account of Harrington, 
 relates a whimsical anecdote. 
 
 Sir John being riding over this manor, accom- 
 panied by an old and trusty servant, suddenly 
 turned round, and with his usual pleasantry said : 
 
 John, John, this Nyland, 
 Alas ! once was my land. 
 
 To whom John, as merrily and truly replied : 
 
 If you had had more wit, sir, 
 It might have been your's yet, sir. 
 
 Dean Swift was a great enemy to extravagance 
 of all kinds, but particularly in apparel. His 
 mode of reproving this folly was excellent and 
 effectual; of which the following instances are 
 given in his life by Sheridan : 
 
 During his residence at Quilca, a country house 
 z 1
 
 344 EXTRAVAGANCE. 
 
 of Dr. Sheridan's, the dean went one Sunday t 
 church at the distance of more than two hours' 
 ride : the clergyman invited him to dinner, but 
 Swift excused himself by saying, that it was too 
 far to ride home afterwards ; saying, " No, J 
 shall dine with my neighbour Reilly, atVirginy, 
 which is halfway home." Reilly, who was a 
 country farmer, was proud of the honour, and 
 immediately dispatched a messenger to his wife 
 to prepare for the reception of so extraordir 
 nary a guest. She accordingly dressed her-? 
 self out in her best apparel ; the son put on his 
 new suit, and his silver-laced hat adorned his 
 head. When the lady was introduced to the 
 dean, he saluted her with as much respect as if 
 she had been a duchess, making several low 
 bows to the ground, and then handed her with 
 much formality to her seat. After some high- 
 flown compliments, he thus addressed his host : 
 ^ Mr. Reilly, I suppose you have a considerable 
 estate here ; let us go and look over your de- 
 mesne." " Estate!" said Reilly, " the devil a 
 foot of ground belongs to me or any of my ge- 
 neration ; I have a pretty good lease here from 
 my lord Fingal, but he threatens that he will 
 not renew it, and I have but a few years of it 
 to come." " Well, but when am I to see Mrs. 
 Reilly?" " Why, don't you see her there be- 
 fore you?" "That Mrs. Reilly ! impossible!
 
 EXTRAVAGANCE, 343 
 
 I have heard she is a prudent woman, and would 
 never dress herself out iu silks, and other or- 
 naments, fit only for ladies of fashion. No, no, 
 Mrs. Reilly, the farmer's wife, would never wear 
 any thing better than plain stuff, with other 
 things suitable to it." Mrs. Reilly happening to 
 be a woman of good sense, immediately with- 
 drew, changed her dress as speedily as possible, 
 and in a short time returned to the parlour in her 
 common apparel. The dean saluted her in a 
 friendly manner, and said, "I am heartily glad 
 to see you, Mrs. Reilly: this husband of your's 
 would fain have palmed a fine lady upon me, all 
 dressed out in silks, and in the pink of the 
 mode, for his wife, but 1 was not to be taken in so." 
 He then laid hold of young master's hat, and 
 with his pen-knife ripped off the lace, which he 
 folded up in several papers, and thrust it into the 
 fire. When it was sufficiently burned, he wrap- 
 ped it up in fresh paper, and put it in his pocket. 
 It may be supposed that the family was thrown 
 into no small confusion by this behaviour, but 
 the presence of Swift inspired them with too 
 much awe for them to express any umbrage ; 
 however, as he soon resumed his good humour, 
 and entertained them with many pleasant stories, 
 they recovered their spirits, and the day was 
 spent with conviviality. When he took leave, 
 he said, " I <Jo not iutend to rob you, Mrs.
 
 218 EXTRAVAGANCE. 
 
 Reilly; I shall take nothing belonging to you 
 away with me ; there's your son's hat-lace, I 
 have only changed the form of it to a much bel- 
 ter one; so God bless you, and thanks for your 
 entertainment." 
 
 When he was gone, Mrs. Reilly opened the. 
 paper, and found four guineas in it with the 
 burnt lace. As long as Swift staid in the coun- 
 try he kept an eye upon them, and found that his 
 lessons had not been thrown away, as they were 
 cured of their extravagance, and lived in a man- 
 ner more agreeable to their situation in life. One 
 of the first things he did on his return to Dublin, 
 was to visit lord Fingal, and engage him to re- 
 new Reilly 's lease, without which the poor man 
 would, in a few years, have been unable to sup- 
 port his family. 
 
 When George Faulkner, the printer, returned 
 from London, he went to pay his respects to the 
 dean, dressed in a laced waistcoat and a bag- 
 wig. Swift received him with great ceremony, as 
 a stranger. " And pray, sir," said he, " what 
 are your commands with me ?" " I thought it, 
 sir, my duty,"' replied George, " to wait on you 
 on my arrival from London." " Pr a y> s * r } who 
 are you?" "George Faulkner, the printer, 
 sir." "You, George Faulkner, the printer ! 
 why you impudent barefaced scoundrel ! George
 
 FANATICISM. 347 
 
 Faulkner is a plain, sober citizen, and would 
 never trick bimsclf out in lace and other fop- 
 peries. Get you gone, you rascal, or I will send 
 you immediately to the house of correction." 
 
 Away went George as fast as he could, and 
 having changed his dress, returned to the deanry, 
 where he was received with the greatest cordi- 
 ality. " My friend, George," says the dean, 
 il I am glad to see you returned safe from Lon- 
 don. Why here has been an impudent fellow 
 with me just now, dressed in a laced waistcoat, 
 and he would fain pass himself off for you, but I 
 soon sent him away with a flea in his ear." 
 
 FANATICISM. 
 
 The following story of a murder, committal 
 under the influence of a fanatical spirit, is re- 
 lated by the learned M. Huet, bishop of Avran- 
 ches : 
 
 A few days before we left Sweden, a strange ac- 
 cident happened at Stockholm. A young man 
 in good circumstances, whose conduct had been 
 always regular, laid hold of a child in the day 
 time, who was playing before his father's shop, 
 and, without any provocation, cut its throat. 
 He was immediately seized and carried before the 
 judges. Being asked, what could induce him to
 
 348 FANATICISM. 
 
 commit so barbarous an action? He replied, 
 ** Gentlemen, 1 confess my crime, and acknow- 
 ledge I deserve death. So far am I from seeking 
 to justify myself, or suing for pardon, that, on 
 the contrary, I think yon would act unjustly if you 
 should forgive me. I have considered life, and 
 I have studied death ; one appears to me the source 
 of bin and misery; the other the state of inno~ 
 cencc and peace. 1 therefore judge death prefe- 
 rable to life, and have sought out the means to 
 leave this world. After many reflections, I found 
 I coukl not obtain the end I desired without a 
 crime; whereupon I chose that which I have 
 committed, as the least wicked, and the most ex- 
 cusable. I have killed a child, in the age of in- 
 nocence, and thereby secured his salvation. I 
 have relieved his father, who was burihened with 
 a large family, which he found it difficult to 
 maintain. I know, however, that J am guilty; 
 but 1 hope the punishment I expect from you, 
 and the manner in which 1 shall bear it, will ob- 
 tain from God pardon of my offence." 
 
 Mr. Carte, in his life of the great duke of Or- 
 monde, relates a whimsical circumstance which 
 happened to that nobleman in France. 
 
 When the marquis of Ormonde was at Orleans, 
 he called at a shop to have his peruke mended. 
 The master was a cripple, both in his hands an*3
 
 FANATICISM. 349 
 
 feet, but said he would direct his sister to mend 
 it as it ought to be. The marquis taking another 
 peruke from him , -went to gaze about the streets, 
 and stepping accidentally into the next church, he 
 saw a chapel in it which was hung round with 
 the presents of several votaries who had received 
 cures from our lady. Among the rest he observ- 
 ed an inscription as well as an offering, made by 
 the very man he had left. When he came 
 back to the peruke-maker, he asked him about 
 it, wondering he should have done so, as he was 
 still decrepid. The man answered, that he thought 
 he was rather better than he had been, and hop- 
 ed that by doing honour to our lady beforehand, 
 he might the sooner enjoy the rest of her benefit. 
 
 In the year 1727 died the celebrated enthusiast, 
 abbe Paris, commonly called the Blessed Dea- 
 con. Having acquired a vast reputation for sanc- 
 tity among the .lanseuists, he was buried in the 
 church-yard of St. Medard at Paris. Near the 
 church, a tomb-stone being put up that cover- 
 ed the extent of his grave, which from the timo 
 of his death was frequented by his admirers, 
 by degrees it was rumoured about that the sick 
 had, by their prayers at this tomb, been restored 
 to health; and cures of an astonishing natters 
 were said to have been wrought by the interces- 
 sion of the Blessed Deacon. At. length these re-
 
 350 FANATICISM. 
 
 ports caused a great ferment, and St. Medard's 
 church-yard being crowded from morning to 
 night, the magistrates, unable to stem the fanati- 
 cal torrent any of her way, had the sepulchre 
 completely -walled round, to debar all the pious 
 votaries from approaching it. 
 
 Of all the supplicants to our saint, the abbe 
 de Besclieran was the most generally taken notice 
 of, as he was the most constant in his devotions 
 at the tomb. This gentleman's left leg was about 
 five or six inches shorter than his right one ; and 
 full of confidence that the Blessed Deacon's pow- 
 er could lengthen it to its proper measure, he 
 continued his prayers at the tomb about six 
 months. During this time he had his leg mea- 
 sured every day, and constant reports were spread 
 of its lengthening. But when the tomb was shut 
 up he was still lame, and continued all his life to 
 be known at Paris by the nickname of the limp- 
 ing abbe, VAhbe JBoiteux. There was a whim- 
 sical calculation made of the time which the ab- 
 be's complete cure would have taken up. Bec- 
 koning the short leg to have lengthened the 2-1 111 
 part of an inch in six months, if it had conti- 
 nued to lengthen in the same proportion he must 
 have persevered in leaping on the tomb, seventy- 
 two years, before he could have obtained the 
 whole deficiency of six inches.
 
 FANATICISM. 351 
 
 In the reign of queen Anne a set of enthusi- 
 asts came into England, who were calfed the 
 French prophets. They pretended not only to 
 divine inspirations, but to the gift of miracles, 
 and what is extraordinary, they found many fol- 
 lowers, and even men of piety and education. 
 Their extravagancies rose, at last, to so great a 
 height, that the government began to be alarmed, 
 and some of the ringleaders were taken up and 
 committed to prison. One of their principal fol- 
 lowers was Mr. John Lacy, a dissenter of consi- 
 derable property, and no mean abilities : this 
 man, when he found that his friends were appre- 
 hended, was silly enough to wait upon lord 
 chief justice Holt, and to demand a conference 
 with him. The porter said his lordship was in- 
 disposed, and could see no company. Lacy, 
 however, would not be denied : " Go, and tell 
 him," said he, " that I must see him, for I have 
 a message to him from the Lord God." 
 
 This declaration struck the porter, who imme- 
 diately went and caused it to be communicated to 
 his lordship : and the judge gave orders that La- 
 cy should be admitted. When he entered the 
 room, and was asked his business, " I am come," 
 said he to the judge, " with a message from the 
 Lord, requiring thee, on pain of everlasting dam- 
 nation, to grant a Noli prosequi for John Atkins, 
 and others, God's faithful servants, whom thou
 
 352 FANATICISM. 
 
 nast wrongfully cast into prison." C{ Thou art ?i 
 lying prophet, 1 ' replied his lordship, " for if the 
 Lord had sent thee, he would have directed thee 
 to the attorney-general, as he knows that it is not 
 in my power to grant a Null prosequi ;" so say- 
 ing, he ordered Lucy's mittimus to be made outj 
 and dispatched him to Newgate to keep his bre> 
 thren company. 
 
 Of tlie same great lawyer, and his pleasant 
 way of correcting a fanatical prejudice, the fol* 
 lowing story is told : 
 
 The Society for the Reformation of Manners t 
 which was set tip in the latter end of king Wit* 
 Ham's time, and continued to the present reign, 
 though instituted upon good principles, yet in 
 many instances acted on refinements as unservice- 
 able to the cause of morality as to that of com- 
 mon sense. This was exemplified in the case of 
 Lcveridgc, the famous singer of that time, who 
 was prosecuted by that society for singing an ode 
 of Dryden's, the subject of which was, The. 
 Praise of Love and JVine. 
 
 When the trial came on before the chief jus- 
 tice, he at once saw the fanatical spirit of the 
 prosecution ; and finding the fact of the singing, 
 &c. fully proved, he thought of the following 
 stratagem to get poor Leveridge out of the 
 scrape : he culled for the printed song ; and.
 
 FANATICISM. 533 
 
 after reading it over attentively, observed that as 
 he saw nothing in the words very culpable, he 
 imagined the offence must lie in the manner of 
 singing it ; lie therefore desired Leveridge might 
 sing it before the court. The performer readily 
 took the hint, and sung it with so much power of 
 voice and taste, that the jury, without going out 
 of their box, acquitted him, and he was carried 
 home on the shoulders of the mob, in triumph. 
 
 The celebrated mathematician, William Whis- 
 ton, though adverse to the orthodox creed, even 
 to violence, was, notwithstanding, the most cre- 
 dulous of mortals. He was continually studying 
 the prophecies, and applying them to the events 
 of his own time. At length, having, as he 
 thought, discovered the exact period when the 
 millennium was to commence, and of course, all 
 tilings should be in common among christians, 
 he published his prediction. About this timc 3 
 Winston having a small estate to sell, offered 
 it to a gentleman who well knew the obstinacy, 
 with which he maintained his visionary notions; 
 when, therefore, the old man asked him the 
 value of thirty years purchase, the other ap- 
 peared astonished, and on being asked the reason 
 of his surprise, as he had asked no more than what 
 other people usually gave " 1 don't wonder at 
 other people," said the gentleman, "because 
 
 vor,. i. a a
 
 354 FEAR. 
 
 they know no better ; but I am surprised, Mr. 
 Whiston, that you should ask thirty years pur- 
 chase, when you know that, in less than half the 
 time, all men's property will be common, and no 
 man's estate worth a groat." 
 
 FEAR. 
 
 Salmon Macrin, or Macrinus, an ingenious 
 poet of the sixteenth century, was valet-de-eham- 
 bre to Francis I. king of France. It having been 
 reported to that monarch, that Macrinus was be- 
 come a calvinist, he flew into a violent passion, 
 and threatened to hang him if it should prove 
 true. It is not clear that Macrinus was actually 
 a protestant ; but, says Yarillas, the king's 
 furious menace had such an effect upon him, that 
 on leaving the royal presence he went distracted, 
 and seeing a crane with which some wine-coopers 
 were lowering casks into a cellar, lie took it for a 
 gibbet purposely prepared for him. The im- 
 prcs >ion made by this object immediately after the 
 king's threat, was so strong, that he threw him- 
 self into a pond, and was drowned. 
 
 Xicolo, marquis of Ferrara, was taken ill of 
 an ague, which continued so violent that his 
 physicians gave him up, and sent him to a coun-
 
 TEAR. OJJ 
 
 try house he had on the river Po, for change of 
 air. His servant, who loved him with the ut- 
 most tenderness, having heard that sudden fear 
 was - a sovereign remedy for that complaint, re- 
 solved to try it on his master ; wherefore, hav- 
 ing observed that the marquis walked every day 
 on the banks of the Po, and knowing it was not 
 deep, he resolved to push him in. He acquaint- 
 ed a miller who lived over against the place, with 
 his design, and having ordered him to be ready 
 with his boat to take his master up, if there 
 should be occasion, the next morning he threw 
 him in, after which he immediately fled to Pa- 
 dua: in the mean time, the miller took up the 
 marquis, who was indeed thoroughly frightened, 
 and vowed to be revenged. 
 
 So extraordinary a case was the subject of ge- 
 neral conversation : the marquis caused his ser- 
 vant to be summoned before the courts of justice, 
 and not appearing, he was declared an outlaw, 
 and condemned, if he should ever return, to be 
 beheaded. 
 
 Tli is news soon reached Padua, notwithstand- 
 ing which the servant in a few days came back to 
 Ferrara ; and desired admittance to the marquis, 
 which was denied, and instead thereof he was ap- 
 prehended, and ordered to prepare for execution, 
 The marquis, hosvever, finding himself cured of 
 his fever, his resentment began to abate, and lie 
 a a 2
 
 356 FEAR. 
 
 was determined to save him, but to seem resolv- 
 ed to let the law take its course. A dav was 
 fixed for the execution, and all Ferrara thronged 
 to see it. The servant appeared on the scaffold, 
 and after protesting that he had no other motive 
 than the cure of his master, he laid his head on 
 the block, and gave the fatal signal. The exe- 
 cutioner, according to his orders, at that instant 
 poured some cold water on his neck, and this was 
 no sooner done than the colour left his cheeks, his 
 eyes sunk in his head, and he died in a few mo- 
 ments without speaking a single word. 
 
 Remarkable in the history of France is the ac- 
 count of John de Poictiers, count de St. V r alier, 
 convicted of being an associate in the conspiracy 
 of the constable of Bourbon against Francis I. 
 and condemned to lose his head at Lyons. The 
 fear and other violent passions with which his mind 
 was distracted, had such an effect, that the offi- 
 cers of the prison took him the next morning for 
 another person. But this was not all, for he was 
 seized with so violent a fever, that notwithstand- 
 ing his daughter Diana, famous by the name of 
 the duchess de Valentinois, had by her charms 
 procured his pardon from the king, no remedies, 
 though all that physic could dictate were used, 
 were able to prevent his dearth.
 
 FEAR. 357 
 
 Howell, in his Familiar Epistles, relates a cir- 
 cumstance in some respects similar to the preced- 
 ing, though more amusing and agreeable in its con- 
 sequences. When the duke of Alva command- 
 ed in the Netherlands, he had a provost-marshal 
 who was a great favourite with him. This man 
 had put some persons to death secretly by a com- 
 mission from the duke ; and being inclined one 
 evening to play a trick upon one captain Bolea, 
 a particular friend of his, the provost went to his 
 tent, accompanied by a confessor and execution- 
 er, according to his custom. On entering the tent, 
 he told the captain that he was come to execute 
 his excellency's commission upon him : the other 
 started up, his hair standing on end, and asked 
 what he had done to offend the duke ? the provost 
 answered, " Sir, I come not to expostulate with 
 you, but to execute my commission, therefore 
 prcpareyourself, for there is your ghostly father, 
 and this is your executioner." Upon this Bolea 
 fell on his knees, and having made his confession, 
 the hangman was going to put the halter about 
 his neck, when the provost threw it away, and 
 bursting into a fit of laughter, said he had only 
 clone it to try his courage how he could bear 
 the terror of death. The captain looking ghast- 
 ly upon him, said, " Sir, get out of my tent, 
 for you have done me a very ill office." The next 
 morning, captain Bolea, though a young man, 
 a a 3
 
 35S FEAR. 
 
 had his hair all turned grey, to the admiration 
 of the whole army, and particularly the duke, 
 who questioned him about it, but he would not 
 give any account of the cause. Some time after, 
 the duke was recalled, and stopping in his jour- 
 ney at Saragossa, captain Bolea told him that 
 there was an object of great curiosity in that place, 
 well worthy his inspection. This was the Casa 
 de Locos, or mad-house, the like of which was 
 not in Europe. " Well," said the duke, " go 
 and tell the warden that I will be there to-morrow, 
 in the afternoon." The captain hastened to the 
 warden, and told him that the duke of Alva 
 would visit the place the next day, and that the 
 principal occasion of his coming was because he 
 iiad an unruly provost, who was subject some- 
 times to fits of frenzy, which was the case at pre- 
 sent, and therefore he wished to have him con- 
 fined a few days, to see whether it would do him 
 any good. Accordingly the duke and his retinue 
 came at the hour mentioned, and captain Bolea, 
 having pointed out the provost to the warden, 
 the latter drew him aside into a dark lobby, 
 where he had stationed some of his men, who 
 muffled him up in his cloak, seized his sword, 
 and hurried him into a dungeon. The provost 
 had lain there two nights and a day, when a gen- 
 tleman coming out of curiosity to see the house, 
 peeped in at a small grate where he was; upon
 
 FEAR. 359 
 
 seeing of whom, Ihe provost conjured him as a 
 christian, to go and tell the duke of Alva where 
 he was. The gentleman did so, and the duke be- 
 ing greatly surprised, sent for the warden with his 
 prisoner, who appeared before his excellency mad- 
 man-like, covered with straws and feathers. The 
 duke could not refrain from laughter, and asked 
 the warden why he had made the provost his pri- 
 soner ? " Sir," said he, " it was by virtue of 
 your excellency's order, brought to me by cap- 
 tain Bolea." Upon this, the captain stepped for- 
 ward, and said to the duke, " Sir, you have 
 often asked me how these hairs of mine grew so 
 suddenly grey. I have not yet revealed the cause 
 to any soul living ; but now I will tell your ex- 
 cellency," and so he minutely related all the cir- 
 cumstances of what had been done to him in 
 Flanders. " And now sir," he continued, "I have 
 been ever since scheming how to get an equal re- 
 venge of him, and I thought none to be more 
 equal or corresponding, since he made me old be- 
 fore my time, than to make him mad if I could ; 
 and had he remained some days longer in Bed- 
 lam, it might probably have made some impres- 
 sion on his pericranium." The duke was so well 
 pleased with the story, and the wittiness of the re- 
 venge, that he made them both friends. Howell 
 adds, that this captain Bolea lived to be above 
 ninety years of age. 
 
 a a 4
 
 360 FEAR. 
 
 "When Charles Gustavus, king of Sweden, 
 was besieging 1 Prague, a boor of most extraor- 
 dinary visage desired admittance to his tent, and 
 being allowed to enter, he offered, by way of 
 amusement, to devour a large hog in his pre- 
 sence. The old general Konigsmark, who stood 
 by the king's side, and notwithstanding his bra- 
 very had not got rid of the prejudices of his 
 childhood, hinted to his royal master, that the 
 peasant ought to be burnt as a sorcerer. " Sir," 
 said the fellow, irritated at the remark, " if 
 your majesty will but make that old gentleman 
 take off his sword and spurs, I will eat him be- 
 fore your face before I begin the pig." General 
 Konigsmark, who had, at the head of a body of 
 Swedes, performed v/onders against the Austrians, 
 could not stand this proposal, especially as it 
 was accompanied by a most hideons expansion of 
 the frightful peasant's jaws. Without uttering a 
 word, the veteran suddenly turned round, ran 
 out of the tent, and did not think himself safe 
 till lie arrived at his quarters, where he remained 
 above twenty-four hours, locked up securely, 
 before he got rid of the panic which had so 
 strongly seized him. 
 
 in an amusing little work, entitled, " The 
 Voyages and Cruises of Commodore Walker,"
 
 FEAR. 361 
 
 is a remarkable relation of the effects of supersti- 
 tious dread upon the human mind : 
 
 In June, 1734, Mr. "Walker lying at an an- 
 chor at Cadiz, in the Elizabeth, a gentleman of 
 Ireland, whose name was Burnet, was on board, 
 going to take his passage to Ireland. This gen- 
 tleman was a particular acquaintance of Mr. 
 Walker's, and he was extremely fond of him, 
 being a man of great good sense, and very lively 
 in conversation. The night before the affair 
 now mentioned, happened, the subject turned on 
 apparitions of deceased friends, in which this gen- 
 tleman seemed much to believe, and told many 
 strange stories as authorities for them, besides 
 giving some metaphysical arguments, chiefly 
 that the natural fear we had of them proved the 
 soul's confession of them. But Mr. Walker, 
 who was of another way of thinking, treating all 
 his arguments with ridicule, Mr. Burnet was 
 curious to try how far fancy might be wrought on 
 in an unbeliever, and resolved to prove the power 
 of this natural fear over the senses: a strange 
 way to convince the mind by attacking the ima- 
 gination : or, if it was curiosity to see the ope- 
 rations of fear work on fancy, it was too nice an 
 experiment to anatomise a friend's mind for infor- 
 mation only. But perhaps the humour of the 
 thought was the greatest motive ; for he was a 
 man of a gay temper, and frolicksome.
 
 362 FEAR. 
 
 About noon, as they were standing with more of 
 the ship's-company upon deck, near the forecas- 
 tle, looking at some of the governor's guard-boats 
 making fast to a buoy of a ship in the bay, to 
 watch the money, that it might not be carried 
 out of the country ; Mr. Burnet proposed, for a 
 wager, he being a remarkable good swimmer, to 
 leap off the gunnel of the ship, and dive all the 
 way^ quite under water, -from the ship to the 
 boats at that distance, and so rise, to startle the 
 people at watch in them. A wager being laid, 
 he undressed, jumped off, and dived entirely out 
 of sight. Every body crowded forward, keep- 
 ing their eyes at the distance where he was ex- 
 pected to come up: but he never rising to their 
 expectation, and the time running past their 
 hopes of ever seeing him more, it was concluded 
 he was drowned, and every body was in the great- 
 est concern ; especially those who, by laying the 
 wager, thought themselves in some measure ac- 
 cessary to his death. But he, by skilful diving, 
 haviii"* turned the other way behind the ship, and 
 being also very active, got up by the quarter 
 ladder in at the cabin window, whilst every- 
 body was busy and in confusion at the forward 
 part of the ship: then concealing himself the 
 remaining part of the day in a closet in the state- 
 room, wrapped up in a linen night-gown of Mr. 
 Walker's. Evening coming on, theshipVcom-
 
 FEAR. S63 
 
 pany being very melancholy attlic accident, Mr. 
 Walker retired with a friend or two to his ca- 
 bin, where, in their conversation, they lamented 
 the sad accident and loss of their friend and com- 
 panion, speaking of every merit he had when 
 living, which is the unenvied praise generally 
 given to our friends when they can receive nothing 
 else from us. The supposed dead man remained 
 quiet, and heard more good tilings said to his 
 memory than perhaps he would else have ever 
 i-i his lifetime heard spoken to his lace. As soon 
 as it was night, Mr. Walker's company left 
 him; and he being low in spirits went to bed, 
 where lying still pensive on the loss of his com- 
 panion and friend, and the moon shining direct 
 through the windows, he perceived the folding- 
 doors of the closet open ; and, looking stedfast 
 towards them, saw something which could not 
 fail of startling him, as he imagined it a repre- 
 sentation of a human figure; but recalling his 
 senses, he Avas fond to persuade himself it was 
 only the workings of his disturbed fancy, and 
 turned away his eyes. However, they soon again 
 returned in search of the object; and seeing it 
 now plainly advance upon him, in a slow con- 
 stant step, he recognized the image of his de- 
 parted friend. He has not been ashamed to own 
 he felt terrors which shook him to the inmost 
 soul. The mate, who lay in the steerage at the
 
 364 FEAR. 
 
 back of the cabin, divided only by a bulk-head, 
 was not yet a-bed ; and hearing Mr. Walker 
 challenge with a loud and alarmed voice, " What 
 are you ?" ran in to him with a candle, and meet- 
 ing Mr. Burnet in the linen gown, down drops 
 the mate without so much as an ejaculation. 
 Mr. Burnet, now beginning himself to be afraid, 
 runs for a bottle of smelling spirits he knew lay 
 in the window, and applied them to the nose and 
 temples of the swooning mate. Mr. Walker, 
 seeing the ghost so alert and good-natured, began 
 to recover from his own apprehension, when Mr. 
 Burnet cried out to him, " Sir, 1 must ask your 
 pardon ; 1 fear I have carried the jest too far ; 
 I swam round and came in at the cabin window : 
 1 meant, sir, to prove to you the natural awe the 
 bravest men must be under at such appearances, 
 and have, I hope, convinced you in yourself." 
 " Sir," says Mr. Walker, glad of being awakened 
 from a terrible dream, and belief of his friend's 
 death, " you have given me a living instance : 
 there needs no better proof ; but pray take care 
 you do not bring death amongst us in earnest." 
 He then lent his aid in the recovery of the poor 
 mate, who, as he retrieved his senses, still re- 
 lapsed at the sight of Mr. Burnet : so that Mr. 
 Walker was obliged to make him entirely disap- 
 pear, and go call others to his assistance ; which 
 took up some time in doing ; every body, as
 
 FLATTERY. 365 
 
 Mr. Burnet advanced to them, being more or less 
 surprised : but they were called to by him, and 
 told the manner of the cheat, and then they were 
 by degrees convinced of his reality; though 
 every one was before thoroughly satisfied of his 
 death. The poor mate however never rightly re- 
 covered the use of his senses from that hour. 
 Nature had received too great a shock, by which 
 reason was flung from her seat, and could never 
 regain it afterwards : a constant stupidity hung 
 around him, and he could never be brought to 
 look direct at Mr. Burnet, though he was as brave 
 a man as ever went, in all his senses, to face death 
 by day-light. 
 
 FLATTERY. 
 
 Wjiex the states of Holland sent a splendid 
 embassy to queen Elizabeth, at their first audience 
 one of the ambassador's suite said to an English 
 gentleman, that he did not know why they 
 should speak with such indifference of the queen's 
 beauty; that they did her a great injury ; that 
 he thought her very charming, and should be 
 happy in having so fine a woman for his wife. 
 The queen, who had her eyes fixed upon the 
 retinue of foreigners, when the audience was over, 
 sent for the English gentleman, and commanded
 
 366 FLATTERY. > 
 
 him, upon pain of her displeasure, to tell her 
 what the Dutchman had said to him : the gentle- 
 man excused himself a long time, pretending that 
 the conversation was nothing but a trifle ; the 
 queen however was determined (o know what 
 the discourse was, upon which he told her majesty 
 the whole of what had been said. The conclu- 
 sion of the matter was, that the ambassadors were 
 presented each with a chain of gold of 800 crowns 
 value, and their principal attendants with one of 
 100 crowns each ; but the gallant Dutchman who 
 found the queen so handsome, had a chain of 1G00 
 crowns value, which he wore about his neck all 
 his life after. 
 
 When the same great princess visited Sir Thos.- 
 Gresham's country-house, she found fault with 
 the court-yard, which she thought was too large, 
 and that it would be an improvement to divide it 
 by a wall. Sir Thomas, without making any 
 reply, sent to London for a great number of 
 workmen, who laboured with so much diligence, 
 that before the queen arose in the morning the 
 wall was completed, and the rubbish entirely 
 cleared away ; with which flattering mark of 
 respect her majesty was greatly pleased. 
 
 Voltaire, in his Age of Louis XI V r . relates 
 two anecdotes somewhat similar, of the duke
 
 FLATTERY. 367 
 
 d'Antin. The king being on a visit at tlie duke's 
 villa, called Petitbourg, complained of a grove of 
 trees which concealed the river from his view. 
 The duke said nothing, but caused them to be all 
 cut down and carried off in the night. His ma- 
 jesty, when he awoke in the morning, surprised 
 to see the prospect he had wished for, and the 
 trees which had obstructed it vanished, asked the 
 duke if his castle was enchanted ? "No," replied 
 the supple courtier, " 'tis because your majesty 
 cursed the trees, that they so suddenly perished." 
 The duke finding this kind of adulation accep- 
 table to the king, carried it to a still higher pitch, 
 for Louis having found fault with a large wood at 
 the end of the canal of Fontaineblcau, he took the 
 opportunity, when his majesty went out to take a 
 walk, having had every thing in readiness, to cause 
 all the trees to be felled in a moment, as if it 
 were done by a magic power. " Thus, sire," 
 said he, il do your enemies adore your greatness, 
 by falling down before it." 
 
 To these instances of French flattery, may 
 be properly added a curious harangue addressed 
 to Louis XV. after the campaign of 1743. 
 
 " The conquests of your majesty are so rapid, 
 that we think it absolutely necessary future histo- 
 rians should be cautious in their relations, lest 
 posterity consider them as fables unworthy of be-
 
 368 FORTUNE. 
 
 lief. Yet they must be told as an undoubted fact, 
 that your majesty, when at the head of your 
 army, wrote yourself an account of your ex- 
 ploits, having no other table than a drum. The 
 most remote ages will learn that the English, those 
 fierce and audacious enemies, jealous of your 
 majesty's fame, were compelled to yield to your 
 prowess the palm of glory. Their allies were 
 only so many witnesses of their shame, and has- 
 tened to join their standards only to become the 
 spectators of your majesty's triumph. We ven- 
 ture to tell your majesty, that whatever may be 
 the love you bear your subjects, there is still one 
 way to add to our felicity, by curbing the high 
 courage which you possess, and which would 
 cost us too many tears, if it exposes to the cer- 
 tain danger of war, your majesty's precious life, 
 or that of the young hero, the object of our 
 proudest hopes." 
 
 FORTUNE. 
 
 Tn i; following remarkable anecdote respecting 
 the royal family of Plantagenet, is a striking in- 
 stance of the mutability of fortune. It is taken from 
 Peck's Desiderata Curiosa. InaletterfromDr.Krett 
 to Dr. Warren, president of Trinity-hall, Cam- 
 bridge, dated September 1, 1733, it is said, that 
 about Michaelmas, 1720, the doctor went to pay
 
 FORTUNE. 369 
 
 a visit to Heneage, earl of Winchilsea, at East well- 
 house, where that nobleman shewed him an 
 entry in the parish register, which the doctor 
 transcribed immediately into 'his almanack ; it 
 stood thus : " 1550, Richard Plantagenet was 
 buryed the 22 daye of Desember." The register 
 did not mention whether he was buried in the 
 church or church-yard, nor could any memorial 
 be retrieved of him, except the tradition preserv- 
 ed in the family, and some remains of his house. 
 The story of this man, as it, was related by the 
 earl of Winchilsea, is thus : When Sir Tho- 
 mas Moyle built Eastwell-house, he observed, 
 that when his chief bricklayer left off work, he 
 retired with a book. Sir Thomas had a great cu- 
 riosity to know what book the man read ; but was 
 some time before he could discover it, he always 
 putting the book up if any one came towards him. 
 At last, however, Sir Thomas surprised him, and 
 snatched the book from him, and looking upon 
 it, found it to be Latin : hereupon he examined 
 him, and finding he pretty well understood that 
 language, enquired how he came by his learn- 
 ing ? On which the man told him, as he had 
 been a good master to him, he would venture to 
 trust him with a secret he had never before reveal- 
 ed. He then informed him, that he was boarded 
 with a Latin schoolmaster, without knowing who 
 his parents were, till he was fifteen or sixteen 
 vol. I. b b
 
 370 FORTUNE. 
 
 years old ; only a gentleman, who took occasion 
 to acquaint him he was no relation to him, came 
 once a quarter and paid for his board, and took 
 care to see that he wanted for nothing ; and one 
 day this gentleman took him, and carried him to 
 a fine great house, where he passed through seve- 
 ral stately rooms, in one of which he left him, 
 bidding him to stay there ; then a man finely 
 dressed, with a star and garter, came to him, 
 asked him some questions, talked kindly to him, 
 and gave him some money ; then the foremen- 
 tioned gentleman returned, and conducted him 
 back to his school. Some time after, the same 
 gentleman came to him again with a horse, and 
 proper accoutrements, and told him he must take 
 a journey with him into the country. They then 
 went into Leicestershire, and came to.Bosworth 
 Field, and he was carried to Richard the Third's 
 tent. The king embraced him, and told him he 
 was his son. " But child," says he, u to-morrow 
 I must fight for my crown, and assure yourself 
 if I lose that. I will lose my life too, but I hope to 
 preserve both. Do you stand in such a place, 
 (directing him to a particular place) where you 
 may see the battle out of danger, and when 1 
 have gained the victory, come to me. 1 will then 
 own you to be mine, and take care of you ; but 
 if I should be so unfortunate as to lose the battle, 
 then shift as well as you can, and take care to let
 
 tfORTUNE. 371 
 
 nobody know I am your father, for no mercy will be 
 shewn to any one so nearly related to me." Then 
 the king gave him a purse of gold, and dismissed 
 him. He followed the king's directions, anil 
 when he saw the battle was lost, and the king 
 killed, he hastened to London, sold his horse 
 and fine clothes, and the better to conceal himself 
 from all suspicion of being the son of a king, 
 and that he might have means to live by his ho- 
 nest labour, he put himself apprentice to a brick- 
 layer, but having a competent skill in the Latin 
 tongue, he was unwilling to lose it, and having 
 an inclination to reading, and no delight in the 
 conversation of those he was obliged to work 
 with, he generally spent all the time he had to spare 
 in reading by himself. Sir Thomas said, u you 
 are now old, and almost past your labour. I 
 will give you the running of my kitchen as long 
 as you live." He answered, " Sir, you have a 
 numerous family ; I have been used to live retir- 
 ed; give me leave to build a house of one room for 
 myself in such a field, and there, with your good 
 leave, I will live and die ; and ifyouhaveany work 
 that I can do for you, I shall be ready to serve 
 you." Sir Thomas granted his request; he built 
 his house, and there continued to his death." 
 
 This Richard Plantagenet must have lived to 
 the age of 81, for the battle of ISos worth was 
 fought the 22d of August, 1483, at which lime 
 k b l i
 
 372 FORTUNE. 
 
 be was between 15 and 16, as mentioned above, 
 and had the mortification to see three kings, mor- 
 tal enemies to his family, fill the throne for the 
 space of 65 years. 
 
 That the son of Richard the Third should be 
 reduced to the condition of a bricklayer, how- 
 ever, is not so extraordinary, as that a Russian 
 prince should become a country parson in Eng- 
 land. 
 
 The fact is particularly recorded by Dr. Walk- 
 er, in his account of the sufferings of the clergy ; 
 and farther particulars have been given of this 
 person and his family in the Biographia Britan- 
 nica, upon unquestionable authority. 
 
 Nikepher, or Nicephorus Alphery was de- 
 scended from a branch of the Imperial line of 
 Russia, and with two of his brothers (who both 
 died of the small pox at Oxford) was taken to 
 England at the close of the sixteenth century, by 
 Mr. .John Bidcll, a Russia merchant. The oc- 
 casion of their removal hither, was the revolution 
 which broke out in their own country on the 
 death of John Basilowitz, in consequence of 
 which their lives were in danger. The subject of 
 this sketch, .s well as his brothers, was educated 
 at Oxforu, but whether he took any degrees 
 there does not appear. It is most probable that 
 he did, as he entered into priest's orders, and in 
 1618, was inducted to the small living of "Woo-
 
 FORTUNE. 375 
 
 ley, in Huntingdonshire, the value of which is 
 under ten pounds in the king's book. 
 
 After Mr. Alphery entered upon this cure, 
 he was twice invited to return to Russia to take 
 the government upon him, which splendid offer 
 he rejected, and preferred a retired life in Eng- 
 land to the magnificence of a powerful throne. 
 About the year 1643, he was dispossessed of his 
 vicarage by the presbyterian faction, in this bar- 
 barous manner : " On a Lord's Day, as he was 
 preaching, a file of musqueteers came and pulled 
 him out of the pulpit, turned him out of the 
 church, and his wife and eight children, with 
 their goods, out of the parsonage house. The 
 poor man, in this condition, found means to 
 erect a hut, or booth, over against the vicarage, 
 under the trees, in the church-yard, and there he 
 lived a week with his family. He had, just after 
 he was ejected, procured some eggs, and ga- 
 thered a bundle of rotten sticks, and was about 
 to make a fire in the church to boil them ; when 
 his mean and merciless enemies came, broke his 
 eggs, and kicked away the fire. Afterwards Mr. 
 Alphery made a small purchase, and built a 
 house, in which he and his family lived some 
 years: and then he removed to Hammersmith, 
 where he resided with his eldest son till the Re- 
 storation, when he recovered his living. But be- 
 ing now very old and infirm, he returned again 
 Bb3
 
 374 FORTUNE. 
 
 to Hammersmith, and died there full of years 
 and honour, highly respected by his pa- 
 rishioners and all his connections. Mrs. Alphe- 
 ry, the last descendant of this family, married 
 one Mr. Johnson, a cutler at Huntingdon. She 
 was living in 1764, and had eight children. By 
 her, the above tacts were confirmed to the late 
 lord Sandwich, who told Dr. Campbell that such 
 was the respect paid this woman, on account of 
 her illustrious descent, that no person would sit 
 down in her presence ; on the contrary, they al- 
 ways rose, and remained so till she had taken her 
 chair. 
 
 It is a trite remark, that our fortune frequently 
 depends on the most trifling incidents. But for 
 such an occurrence, Jean Van Amstel, a cele- 
 brated Dutch commander, would have lived a 
 ploughman, and died unknown. When he was 
 very young, his father, a farmer at Schyndel, 
 returning borne one evening from work, ordered 
 him to lead his horse to the field, with a strict 
 charge to go slowly, as the horse was tired. No 
 sooner was he out of his father's sight, than he 
 mounted and set oft' at full gallop. When he 
 came to the field, he found that the horse Mas 
 lame. Dreading his father's anger, he durst not 
 return home, but went in the night to Bois le-duc, 
 and in the morning took shipping for Amstcr-
 
 FORTUNE. 375 
 
 dam. On his arrival there, to conceal himself, 
 he assumed the name of Van Amstel, by which 
 he was ever afterwards known, and entered as a 
 cabin-boy on board a ship of war. By his me- 
 rit and good conduct he raised himself gradually 
 to the rank of captain, and had the command of 
 a vessel in the fleet of the celebrated Ruyter. 
 
 Arrived thus at a situation far beyond what 
 the most sanguine wishes of his humble parents 
 could have aspired to, when his ship was laid up 
 for the winter, lie obtained leave of absence, and 
 visited the place of his birth. The surprize of 
 the old people, who were both living, at the 
 sight of their son, long given over for lost, may 
 be easily conceived. On the top of their cottage 
 he planted his besom, which the Dutcli at that 
 time wore at their mast-heads, as an emblem of 
 their having cleared the Mediterranean of the 
 pirates, by whom it was infested. In the spring 
 he rejoined Ruyter's squadron, and fell gloriously 
 in a most obstinate engagement, fighting for his 
 country. 
 
 The following story, which forcibly recom- 
 mends early prudence and industry, is taken 
 from a very scarce collection of essays on politi- 
 cal economy and other subjects, published in 
 1717: 
 
 Captain James Stanley, who had been an of- 
 i$b 1
 
 376 FORTUNE. 
 
 fleer in the king's army during the civil wars 
 which began in 1641, and had lost by the se- 
 questration succeeding them, the largest part of 
 his estate, retired to spend the remnant of his 
 days on one of his farms, which he had found 
 means to preserve in the name of a relation of the 
 contrary party, and which was seated in that 
 part of Gloucestershire which borders on the Se- 
 vern. 
 
 He survived but a little the ruin of his cause, 
 and dying in his retiremennt, left his wife, a 
 young widow, with that farm for her jointure, 
 whose rent, when last lett, had been about 500/. 
 per annum : she had a son under nine years of 
 age, whom she took from a school he was sent to 
 in the lifetime of his father, and kept him at 
 home, as a means to divert or alleviate her sor- 
 row. 
 
 Robert Stanley, the son, discovered a genius 
 much bent to a love of the country. He would often 
 delight to be present at the ploughings, thrash- 
 ings, and such other business of the servants, and 
 was every year diligent in picking up the acorns, 
 as they fell from some trees which grew about 
 his mother's house, which acorns he would be 
 whole days employing himself in making holes 
 for, and planting up and down in the banks of 
 the hedge-rotfs or enclosures. 
 
 The mother, however, was advised, when her
 
 FORTUNE. 377 
 
 on reached fifteen, to send him to London, where 
 the law was believed the most hopeful employ- 
 ment he could follow. He was therefore recom- 
 mended to the care of an attorney, with whom 
 he lived several years ; and afterwards setting up 
 for himself, miscarried in the business, and either 
 through fear of his mother's displeasure, or the 
 weight of some debts he had contracted, pro- 
 cured recommendations for some small preferment 
 abroad, and went over to Jamica, which was 
 then newly settled by the English. 
 
 In Jamaica, from a very narrow beginning, he 
 obtained by the success of his industry a consi- 
 derable plantation, and lived in that island al- 
 most twenty years ; at the end of which time he 
 grew desirous to visit England again, and there 
 settle near his mother, who was still alive, and 
 impatient to see him. 
 
 In pursuit of this view, he sold his plantation, 
 and freighting a ship with his effects, put him- 
 self and his family on board her, and set sail for 
 Bristol ; to whicb he was so near as the islands of 
 Scilly, when the ship by a storm in the night un- 
 fortunately split upon a rock, where nothing at 
 all of her cargo was saved ; and with very much 
 difficulty some few of the passengers, among 
 whom was Mr. Stanley, thus restoied to his coun- 
 try in a condition more naked and miserable 
 than he left it.
 
 378 FORTUNE. 
 
 He found means, however, to get soon to his 
 mother, who received him with that mixture of 
 sorrow and joy which was natural to the occa- 
 sion ; and when her first emotions were over, and 
 her passions grew calm enough to hear him give 
 an account of his shipwreck, and the particulars 
 of his loss by it, she answered him with a sigh, 
 that she had feared some misfortune would befal 
 him wherever he was, because a few days before, 
 an unusual high wind had blown down above a 
 hundred of those oaks which she had cherished 
 for his sake, and which he might remember, 
 when a boy, he had planted from the acorn all 
 about the estate ; but she thanked God, there 
 were many yet left standing, which she hoped 
 was a good omen, that he would overcome his 
 misfortunes. 
 
 A good omen indeed, cried Mr. Stanley, if 
 in nigh thirty years' growth they are so large as 
 I wish them; for but a day or two ago, in the 
 city of Bristol, I met with a person who was pur- 
 posely employed, and is making enquiry, after 
 sound, young oak timber, a great parcel of which 
 he is commissioned to purchase. 
 
 The end of the story is, that upon examina- 
 tion they found above seventeen hundred such 
 oaks as they sold for forty shillings a piece, with 
 which stock Mr. Stanley began a new trade, and 
 became as considerable a merchant as any in the
 
 GAMING. 379 
 
 west; and, in memory of this fortunate accident, 
 be {preserved from the axe about twenty of the 
 trees which grew nearest the house, which trees 
 (though the estate is now fallen to another family) 
 are known to this day by the name of " Save-all 
 Rem riant." 
 
 GAMING. 
 
 Casimir, prince of Sandomir, afterwards 
 king of Poland, won at play all the money of 
 one of his nobility, who, incensed at his ill for- 
 tune, struck the prince a blow on the ear, in the 
 heat of passion. The nobleman fled immediately 
 from justice ; but being pursued and overtaken, 
 was condemned to lose his head ; but the gene- 
 rous Casimir determined otherwise. " I am not 
 surprised," said he, " at the gentleman's con- 
 duct ; for not having it in his power to revenge 
 himself on fortune, no wonder he should attack 
 her favourite." After which he revoked the sen- 
 tence, returned the nobleman his money, and 
 declared that he alone was faulty, as he encou- 
 raged by his example a pernicious practice, that 
 might terminate in the ruin of hundreds of the 
 people. 
 
 A political presence of mind fixed the cele-
 
 380 GAMING. 
 
 brated Ruy Gomez in the favour of Philip 
 king of Spain. They were playing at primero, 
 and at a time when a vast stake was on the board, 
 the king cried out in ecstacy, that he had the 
 game in his hand. Ruy Gomez had superior 
 cards in his hand, but flung them up, and ac- 
 quiesced. The next day the other players told 
 Philip how the affair had passed, and the king 
 not only made Gomez liberal amends for what 
 he had given up, but took him into his counsels, 
 and intrusted him with his most secret plans. 
 
 When the duke of Bedford, grandfather to 
 the present duke, was at Bath, a conspiracy was 
 formed against his grace by several first-rate 
 sharpers, among whom was the manager of the 
 theatre, and Nash, the master of the ceremonies. 
 A party at hazard had already deprived the duke 
 of upwards of seventy thousand pounds, when his 
 grace got up in a passion, and put the dice in 
 his pocket. The gamesters were all terrified, 
 as they knew the dice were loaded, and he de- 
 clared his resolution of inspecting them. The 
 duke then retired into another room, threw him- 
 self upon a sofa, and fell asleep. The only 
 step that appeared practicable to the winners, to 
 avoid disgrace, and get their money, was to pick 
 his pocket of the loaded dice, and to supply 
 their place with a pair of fair ones. They accord-
 
 GAMING. 381 
 
 ingly cast lots who should execute this' dangerous 
 commission, and it fell on the manager, who per- 
 formed the operation without being discovered. 
 When his grace awoke, and found that the dice 
 were fair, he rejoined the party, and lost near 
 thirty thousand pounds more. The gamesters had 
 received five thousand pounds of the money, but 
 this they could not divide without quarrelling; 
 and Nash, thinking himself ill used, divulged the 
 whole imposition to his grace, who thereby saved 
 the remainder of his money. The duke made 
 Nash a handsome present, and ever after gave 
 him his protection, thinking that the secret had 
 been revealed by him out of mere friendship. 
 
 In the memoirs of Madame de Pompadour, 
 mistress of Louis XV. is a remarkable anecdote 
 of the duke de Richelieu. 
 
 That nobleman having lost 1500 Louis d'ors 
 at play with the king, was at a great loss how to 
 pay, which however he must do, or never again 
 appear at court. The duke flattered himself that 
 his character was not so much ruined among the 
 people of the lowest rank as it was among the 
 other, In consequence of this seasonable and 
 lucky reflection, he sent at different times and 
 separately for about two hundred of those poor 
 wretches who mnke coffins, and who in France 
 arc so much the poorer, as a coffin does not usu-
 
 382 GAMING. 
 
 ally cost more than half-a -crown. He bespoke of 
 each of them a quantity of coffins which he 
 thought them able to furnish, acquainting them 
 that he intended to supply his parish of Riche- 
 lieu ; and certainly, by means of all the coffins 
 brought him successively, he might have sup- 
 plied a whole province, even in the case of a pes- 
 tilence. Twenty thousand were carried from his 
 court-yard to the store-houses of the churchwar- 
 dens of the parishes of Paris, and the adjacent 
 villages ; and by agreeing to lose somewhat upon 
 the sale, he engaged the several churchwardens to 
 buy them, whose business it was to supply the 
 people with those commodities. By this means 
 he discharged his debt, and left the poor work- 
 men to bewail their misfortunes till they found 
 comfort in his future generalship, which was to 
 be productive of so much greater and more gene- 
 nal lamentations. 
 
 Two gamesters had, deposited a very large 
 stake, to be won by him who threw the lowest 
 with the dice. The one thought himself sure of 
 success, on finding that he had thrown two aces. 
 " Hold !" cried the other" wait for my chance." 
 He threw, and with such dexterity, that by lodg- 
 ing one of the dice on the other, he shewed only 
 one ace on the uppermost of them. He was 
 allowed by the company to have won the stake.
 
 GENIUS. 383 
 
 None fight with true spirit who are overloaded 
 with cash. A man who had been fortunate at 
 cards, was asked to act as a second in a duel, at a 
 time when the seconds engaged as heartily as the 
 principals. " i am not," said he, " the man for 
 your purpose just at present; but go and apply 
 to him from whom I won a thousand guineas last 
 night, and I warrant you that he will fight like 
 any devil." 
 
 **m 
 
 GENIUS. 
 
 Of the force of genius, and its early display, - 
 we have a remarkable instance in the life of the 
 famous French philosopher Gassendi. 
 
 When only seven years old, he felt a great de- 
 light in contemplating the stars, and, without 
 the knowledge of his parents, he frequently sa- 
 crificed his sleep to enjoy this pleasure. One 
 evening a dispute arose between him and some of 
 his young companions, about the motion of the 
 moon and that of the clouds. The other boys in- 
 sisted that the clouds were still, and that it was 
 the moon which moved. Gassendi, on the con- 
 trary, maintained, that the moon had no sensible 
 motion, and that it was the clouds which passed 
 so swiftly. But his reasoning producing no effect 
 on the minds of the children, Peter took them un-
 
 384 GENIUS. 
 
 der a tree, and made them observe that the moon 
 still appeared between the same leaves, while the 
 clouds sailed far away out of sight. When the 
 father perceived the bent of his son's mind, he re- 
 solved to give him every advantage of improve- 
 ment; and so rapid was his progress, that at the 
 age of ten j^ears he delivered a Latin oration in 
 the presence of the bishop of Digne, who was so 
 charmed as to exclaim aloud, " This child will 
 prove the wonder of the age !" a prediction which 
 was completely fulfilled. 
 
 Blaize Pascal, the celebrated mathematician, 
 was another extraordinary instance of early ge- 
 nius. His father was a man of considerable sci- 
 ence; but perceiving the strong inclination of his 
 son to studies which required close reasoning, be 
 was fearful that it would be an hindrance of his 
 classical improvement ; he accordingly locked 
 up all his books which treated of mathematics, 
 and even forbore as much as he could, speaking 
 on the subject in conversation. But as he was 
 frequently visited by mathematicians, it was im- 
 possible to avoid discoursing sometimes on geo- 
 metrical subjects. The son's curiosity was so 
 importunate to know what geometry was, that 
 the father could not refuse to tell him, that " it 
 is a science which teaches the method of making 
 figures with truth and exactness, and finding out
 
 GENIUS. 385 
 
 the proportions which they bear to one another." 
 At the same time M. Pascal commanded him 
 never to speak or think any more on the subject. 
 
 Though this definition was vague and obscure, 
 it made a deep impression on the mind of the 
 youth, who was then no more than twelve years 
 old. From this slight beginning he began to 
 meditate, when alone; and during the hours al- 
 lowed for recreation, he accustomed himself to 
 draw figures with charcoal on the floor and wain- 
 scot of the room. Though he had no instru- 
 ments or copies, he formed squares, circles, and 
 triangles, and endeavoured to find out their pro- 
 portions. 
 
 While he was thus employed, he was unac- 
 quainted with the names of the figures he de- 
 scribed ; but called a circle a round, a line a bar, 
 and so on. He then formed axioms, laid down 
 principles, and connected things in such a manner 
 by reasoning, that lie performed demonstrations. 
 He first discovered the properties of the sections 
 of lines, those of parallel lines ; some belonging 
 to triangles ; and at length arrived, by a chain 
 of truths and consequences, at the thirty-second 
 proposition of the first book of Euclid : so that 
 in one sense, considering that all this was carried 
 on and effected without any assistance, he may 
 be considered as an inventor of geometrical science. 
 It happened one day, while he was engaged ic 
 
 vol. t. c c
 
 GENIUS. 
 
 these pursuits, his father entered the room. Young 
 Pascal was at first rather frightened, considering 
 the prohibition that had been passed against his 
 application to geometry; but the gentle manner 
 with "which his father surveyed his operations, 
 and asked what he had been doing, gave him en- 
 couragement. He replied, that he was searching 
 for such a thing, meaning the proposition just 
 mentioned. 
 
 Though this answer greatly surprised his fa- 
 ther, he did not express any signs of his admi- 
 ration. He still continued to ask questions. The 
 first was, what had made him think of this? 
 The child replied, that he had first discovered 
 such a thing, which led him to another. Thus, 
 by going back, still explaining himself by his 
 names of bars and rounds, he came to the axioms 
 and definitions which he had imagined. M. Pas- 
 cal was so astonished at the force of his son's ge- 
 nius, that he quitted him without uttering ano- 
 ther word. He went immediately to the house of 
 one of his intimate friends, M. le Pailleur, io 
 communicate to him his surprise; but he was so 
 overcome, that, on his arrival, he remained mo- 
 tionless, and the tears flowed from his eyes. M. 
 lc Pailleur, alarmed at his situation, begged him 
 to communicate the cause of his affliction, thinking 
 that he had suffered some severe loss. " I do not 
 weep from grief," replied M. Pascal, " but from
 
 GENIUS. 387 
 
 joy. You know the pains I have taken to con- 
 ceal from my son the knowledge of geometry, 
 for fear of its diverting him from his other stu- 
 dies. Yet hear what he has done !" He then 
 related all that had passed, and the discoveries 
 which the child had made. M. le Pailleur, 
 equally astonished at this prodigy, advised him no 
 longer to conceal any thing from him, but to 
 put into his hand Euclid's Elements. 
 
 Pascal read and understood this book, with- 
 out any explanation, with the greatest facility. 
 His mind, attentive to every thing, suffered no 
 point to' escape without a careful examination. 
 He always directed himself to a discovery of the 
 cause, and occupied himself about nothing else 
 till he was master of the subject. One day at 
 table some person having struck an earthen-ware 
 plate with a knife, he observed that a sound was 
 produced which ceased as soon as the hand was 
 laid on the plate. He repeated this experiment, 
 and made several others, so that he formed a 
 little treatise on sounds, which his father carried 
 to a learned society ; and these gentlemen ad- 
 mired it so much, that they earnestly requested 
 to have his son for a member, and he endea- 
 voured to deserve this favour by his productions, 
 bringing as many new pieces as any, and some- 
 times he discovered errors in the propositions 
 under examination, which men of great discern- 
 ment had overlooked. 
 
 c c 2
 
 388 
 
 GRATITUDE. 
 
 Thomas lord Cromwell was the son of a 
 blacksmith at Putney, and served as a soldier 
 under the duke of Bourbon, at the sacking of 
 Rome, in 1527. While he was abroad in a mi- 
 litary character in a very low station, he fell sick, 
 and was unable to follow the army. In this situa- 
 tion he was observed by an Italian merchant, who 
 enquired the place of his birth, and fortune, and 
 being pleased with his conversation, he supplied 
 him with money and credit to carry him to Eng- 
 land. Cromwell afterwards made the most rapid 
 progress in state preferments ever known. Ho- 
 nours were multiplied upon him, and he came at 
 last to have the dispensing of his sovereign's 
 bounty. It happened that this Italian merchant's 
 circumstances decayed, and he came to England 
 to solicit the payment of some debts due to him 
 by his correspondents, who, rinding him necessi- 
 tous, were disposed to put him off, and to take 
 advantage of his wants to avoid payment. This 
 not a little embarrassed the foreigner, who was 
 now in a situation forlorn enough. But fortu- 
 nately one day, as Cromwell, then earl of Essex, 
 was riding to court, he observed this merchant 
 walking with a dejected countenance, and in- 
 stantly recognized his benefactor. PI is lordship 
 ordered his servants to invite the merchant to his
 
 GRATITUDE. 389 
 
 house, and on his arrival, he asked him whether 
 he knew him ? The merchant answered, No. 
 Cromwell then related the story of his having 
 relieved a certain Englishman in his own country, 
 and asked if he remembered it? The merchant 
 answered, that he had always made it his bu- 
 siness to do good, but that he did not recollect 
 this circumstance. His lordship then enquired 
 the reason of his coming to England ; and upon 
 the merchant's informing him of his case, he so 
 interested himself, as soon to procure the pay- 
 ment of all that was due to him. Cromwell then 
 informed him that he was the very person he had 
 so generously relieved ; and for every ducat which 
 the merchant had given him, his lordship re- 
 turned the value of one hundred, telling him 
 that this was the payment of his debt. He then 
 made him a handsome present, and asked him 
 whether he chose to settle in England, or return 
 to his own country. The foreigner chose the 
 latter, and spent the remainder of his days in 
 quiet and competence, through the gratitude and 
 generosity of lord Essex. 
 
 Sir William Fitz Williams, sometime a ser- 
 vant to cardinal VVolsey, and afterwards an 
 alderman of London, retiring from thence to 
 Milkton, in Northamptonshire, gave a kind en- 
 tertainment to the cardinal there, when he was 
 cc 3
 
 390 GRATITUDE. 
 
 fallen under the king's displeasure, and in dis- 
 grace at court. This being represented to the 
 king by some busy courtier, the alderman was 
 sent for in custody by Henry VIII. who de- 
 manded of him, " How he durst affront his autho- 
 rity, in entertaining the cardinal, who was an 
 enemy to the government ?" Sir William modestly 
 answered, " that what he had done was not in 
 contempt of his majesty's authority, but an act 
 of gratitude to his master, by whose particular 
 favour and bounty he was arrived at a plentiful 
 estate, and hoped that a testimony of his duty 
 and thankfulness to his master in necessity should 
 not be imputed to him as a crime.'' The king 
 was so well pleased with his answer, that he gave 
 him commendations for what he had done, and, 
 as a mark of his favour, conferred upon him the 
 honour of knighthood, and made him a privy 
 counsellor. 
 
 Mr. Cumberland, in his Lives of Spanish Pain- 
 tins, relates a pleasing instance of extraordinary 
 genius and gratitude in a slave named Juan de 
 Paresa, who belonged to the celebrated Velas- 
 quez. 
 
 This man was a mulatto, and employed in 
 mixing his master's colours and feeding his pal- 
 let. From pointing the arrows of Apollo he be- 
 came ambitious of trying his strength at the bow.
 
 GRATITUDE. 391 
 
 The disqualification of his condition nevertheless 
 was such, that to touch the most liberal of arts 
 with the hand of a slave was danger in the ex- 
 treme. The casts in India do not stand off at 
 greater distance from each other, than degrees of 
 men do in Spain, and Velasquez was of all 
 masters the least likely to brook a violation so 
 presumptuous as that which Paresa meditated. 
 Hung round with chains of gold and courtly or- 
 ders, of haughty pretensions in point of family, 
 and high in favour and familiarity with his sove- 
 reign, Velasquez would have treated the insolence 
 of his slave, as Jupiter did that of Salmoneus, by 
 extinguishing his existence. Notwithstanding, 
 the temptation was for ever present, and the im- 
 pulses of genius in the end became irresistible. 
 In the stolen moments of his master's absence, 
 Paresa seized the clandestine opportunities, and, 
 by the force of talents became in time an accom- 
 plished artist. Ambition now inspired him with 
 higher projects, and, as the liberality of Philip 
 held out a general asylum to merit, he determined 
 upon a method of introducing his performances 
 to the eye of the king. He observed it was his 
 practice in Velasquez's chamber to order the pic- 
 tures that stood with their faces to the wall, to be 
 turned, that he might see them. This suggested 
 to him the thought of substituting one of his 
 own productions, and taking his chance for what 
 cc4
 
 392 GRATITUDE. 
 
 should follow. The expedient happily took place, 
 and the king coming in to the academy, ordered 
 the canvass to be turned. Paresa eagerly obeyed, 
 and presented to the royal view a piece composed 
 by the audacious pencil of a slave and a mu- 
 latto, but such an one in point of excellence, as 
 would have done honour to a freer and a fairer 
 artist. It was not easy to appeal to better judg- 
 ment than the king's, or enter upon his trial at a 
 more merciful tribunal : Paresa fell upon his 
 knees, and avowing the guilt of the performance, 
 implored protection against the resentment of his 
 master, for having secretly purloined his art. 
 u Velasquez," says the king, " you must not 
 only overlook this transgression in Paresa, but 
 observe that such talents should emancipate the 
 possessor." The generous decree was obeyed by 
 Velasquez, and Paresa had bis freedom. The 
 grateful freed man continued his voluntary ser- 
 vice till the death of Velasquez, and after his 
 death to his daughter, who married don Juan 
 Baptista del Mazo. 
 
 There is a species of grateful remorse, says 
 Mr. Andrews, in his very amusing volume al- 
 ready quoted, which sometimes has been known 
 to operate forcibly on the most hardened minds. 
 
 Towards the beginning of the last century, an 
 actor celebrated for mimicry, was to have been em-
 
 GRATITUDE. 393 
 
 ployed by a comic author, to take off the person, 
 manner, and singularly awkward delivery of the 
 celebrated Dr. Woodward, who was intended to 
 be introduced on the stage in a laughable charac- 
 ter. The mimic dressed himself as a countryman, 
 and waited on the doctor with a long catalogue of 
 ailments which he said afflicted his wife. The 
 physician heard with amazement diseases and 
 pains of the most opposite nature repeated and 
 redoubled on the wretched patient. For, since the 
 actor's greatest wish was to keep Dr. Woodward 
 in his company as long as possible, that he 
 might make the more observations on his ges- 
 tures, he loaded his poor imaginary spouse with 
 every infirmity which had any probable chance of 
 prolonging the interview. At length having com- 
 pletely accomplished his errand, he drew from 
 his purse a guinea, and with a bow and a scrape 
 made an uncouth offer of it. " Put up - thy 
 money, poor fellow," cried the doctor " put 
 up thy money. Thou hast need of all thy cash, 
 and all thy patience too, with such a bundle of 
 diseases tied to thy back." 
 
 The comedian returned to his employer, and re- 
 lated the whole conversation with such true feel- 
 ing of the physician's character, that the author 
 was convulsed with laughter But his raptures 
 were soon checked, when the mimic told him, 
 with an emphatic sensibility, that he would sooner
 
 594 GRATITUDE. 
 
 die than ungratefully prostitute his talents to the 
 rendering such genuine humanity a public object 
 of ridicule. The actor's name was Griffin, and 
 the part drawn for him was Dr. Fossile, in Three 
 Hours after Marriage. 
 
 The following instance of grateful return for 
 hospitable kindness, is related upon unquestion- 
 able authority : 
 
 When the duke de Nivernois was ambassador 
 in England, he was going down to lord Town- 
 shend's seat in Norfolk, on a private visit, quite 
 deshabille, and with only one servant, when he 
 was obliged, from a very heavy shower of rain, 
 to stop at a farm-house in the way. The master 
 of this house was a clergyman, who, to a poor 
 curacy, added the care of a few scholars in the 
 neighbourhood, which in all might make his 
 living about 80/. a year, and this was all he 
 had to maintain a wife and six children. 
 
 When the duke alighted, the clergyman not 
 knowing his rank, begged him to come in, and 
 dry himself, which the other accepted, by bor- 
 rowing a pair of old worsted stockings and slip- 
 pers, and warming himself by a good fire. After 
 some conversation, the duke observed an old 
 chess-board hanging up, and as he was passion- 
 ately fond of that game, he asked the clergyman 
 whether he could play? The other told him he
 
 GRATITUDE. 395 
 
 conlil, pretty tolerably, but found it very diffi- 
 cult in that part of the country to get an antago- 
 nist " I'm your man," says the duke. " With 
 all my heart," sa^s the parson, u and if you'll 
 stay and take pot-luck, I'll try if I can't beat 
 you." The weather still continuing wet, the 
 duke accepted his offer, and the parson played so 
 much better, that he won every game. This 
 highly pleased the duke, who at parting took a 
 memorandum of his address, and thanked him 
 for his hospitality. 
 
 Some months passed over without the clergy- 
 man thinking a word about the matter, when one 
 evening a footman rode up to the door, and pre- 
 sented him with the following billet : 
 
 " The duke of Nivernois' compliments wait on 
 
 the Rev. Mr. , and as a remembrance for the 
 
 good drubbing he gave him at chess, and the 
 hospitality he shewed him, on such a day, begs 
 
 that he will accept of the living of , worth 
 
 400/. per year, and that he will wait on his grace 
 the duke of Newcastle on Friday next, to thank 
 him for the same." 
 
 The poor parson was some time before he could 
 imagine it any thing else than a jest, and was for 
 not going ; but his wife insisting on his trying, he 
 came up to town, and found the contents of the 
 billet literally true, to his unspeakable satisfac- 
 tion.
 
 396 GRAflTUDE. 
 
 At the time Mons. d'Estrees bombarded Algiers, 
 M. de Choiseul was ordered into the harbour, to 
 set fire to one of the enemy's ships. He under- 
 took this dangerous enterprise with the same in- 
 trepidity which he had manifested on former oc- 
 casions ; but being overtaken by night, he found 
 himself surrounded by several ships, and was 
 finally taken by the ferocious barbarians. His 
 youth, rank, and Courage, far from pleading in 
 his favour, only irritated his savage enemies to a 
 greater degree, and he was sentenced to be lashed 
 to the mouth of a cannon, which, on being fired, 
 would naturally put a speedy end to his existence. 
 An old pirate, who had formerly been the priso- 
 ner of M. de Choiseul, and had been used by him 
 with the utmost tenderness, interceded for him, 
 but in vain. Shocked at the unrelenting spirit of 
 his countrymen, he followed Choiseul to the place 
 of execution ; and when they were preparing to 
 fire the gun, he ran to the unfortunate victim of 
 their barbarity, and clinging round him, called 
 to the gunner to perform his office ; " for," said 
 he, " since I cannot save the life of my benefactor, 
 I shall at least enjoy the melancholy comfort of 
 perishing with him." The dey of Algiers was 
 struck with this noble instance of gratitude, and 
 instantly ordered the prisoner to be released .
 
 GRATITUDE. 397 
 
 A young midshipman was taken prisoner during 
 a Spanish war, and carried to a port in Peru, 
 where he remained a prisoner some years. During 
 this period an accident brought him acquainted 
 with a lady of greatxonsequence, by whose inte- 
 rest he at length procured his liberty, and re- 
 turned to England. In the pursuit of his profes- 
 sion he had the good fortune to fall in with a very 
 valuable Spanish ship, of which he was ordered 
 to take possession as prize-master ; when upou 
 boarding the vessel, to his great astonishment, he 
 found the very lady to whom he was under sucli 
 great obligations. He had now an opportunity 
 of shewing his gratitude; and upon making 
 known the story to his ship-mates, they unani- 
 mously agreed, both officers and men, to restore 
 her property to the illustrious prisoner. Accord- 
 ingly all her vessels of gold, her valuable jewels, 
 and costly furniture, with which she was return- 
 ing to her native country, were restored to her : 
 thus nobly proving, that humane and generous 
 treatment of a British seaman in misfortune, will 
 never fail to be gratefully remembered by his gal- 
 lant companions.
 
 398 
 
 HEROISM. 
 
 At the famous battle of Poictiers, James lord 
 Audley obtained leave of the Black Prince to 
 charge in the front, in consequence of a vow 
 which he had made ; accordingly, being at- 
 tended by four esquires, he performed such extra- 
 ordinary feats of valour, as distinguished him 
 from all the gallant noblemen who were engaged 
 on that day ; at length, however, he was so grie- 
 vously wounded, that the esquires were obliged 
 to bear him out of the field, to lay him under a 
 a hedge, and there to take off his armour, and 
 bind up his wounds. As soon as the French 
 were defeated, the prince enquired for lord Aud- 
 ley, and being informed that he was grievously 
 wounded, and lay in a litter hard by : u By my 
 faith," said he, " of his hurts I am right sorry : 
 go and ask if he may be brought hither, other- 
 wise 1 will go to him where he is." Then 
 two of his knights went to lord Audley, and said : 
 " Sir, the prince desireth greatly to see you." 
 "Ah, sirs!" replied he "I thank the prince 
 that he is pleased to think of so poor a knight as 
 lam." Then he directed his servants to carry 
 him in his litter to the prince, into whose pre- 
 sence, when he came, his highness embraced him 
 with great tenderness, and after many compli-
 
 HEROISM. 399 
 
 ments, said : u Sir James, I, and all here present, 
 acknowledge } r ou to have distinguished yourself 
 from us all, in* the bloody business of this day ; 
 wherefore I retain you for ever to be my knight, 
 with five hundred marks of yearly revenue, which 
 I shall assign you of my heritage in England." 
 " Sir," said lord Audley, " God grant me to de- 
 serve the great goodness you have shewn me;" 
 and so he took his leave, being very feeble. This 
 annuity lord Audley bestowed upon his four 
 faithful esquires, which coming to the knowledge 
 of the prince, he sent for him, and said: u Mi- 
 lord, we thank you for doing what we ought to 
 have done, and we give you besides, a pension of 
 six hundred marks by the year." 
 
 When Charles the Twelfth of Sweden was 
 scarce seven years old, being at dinner with the 
 queen his mother, intending to give a bit of bread 
 to a great dog he was fond of, the hungry animal 
 snapt too greedily at the morsel, and bit his hand 
 in a terrible manner. The wound bled copiously; 
 but our young hero, without offering to cry, or 
 to lake the least notice of his misfortune, endea- 
 voured to conceal what had happened, lest his 
 dog should be brought into trouble, and wrapped 
 his bloody hand in the napkin. The queen per- 
 ceiving that he did not eat, asked him the reason. 
 He contented himself with replying, u that he
 
 400 HEROISM. 
 
 thanked her, he was not hungry." They thought 
 that he was taken ill, and so repeated their soli- 
 citations. But all was in vain, though the poor 
 child was already grown pale with the loss of 
 blood. An officer who attended at table, at last 
 perceived it; for Charles would sooner have died 
 than betrayed his dog, whom he knew intended 
 no injury. 
 
 What is related of the journies of this prince is 
 no less astonishing. He has sometimes been on 
 horseback for four and twenty hours successively, 
 and thus traversed the greatest part of his king- 
 dom. At last none of his officers were found ca- 
 pable of following him : he thus consequently rode 
 the greatest part of these journeys quite alone, 
 without taking a moment's repose, and without 
 any other subsistence but a bit of bread. In one 
 of these rapid courses, he underwent an adventure 
 singular enough. Riding thus post one day, all 
 alone, he had the misfortune to have his horse 
 fall dead under him. This might have embar- 
 rassed an ordinary man, but it gave Charles no 
 sort of uneasiness. Sure of finding another horse, 
 but not equally so of meeting with a good saddle 
 and bridle, he ungirds his horse, claps the whole 
 equipage on his own back, and, thus accoutred, 
 marches on to the next inn, which by good for- 
 tune was not far off. Entering the stable, he here 
 found an horse entirely to his mind ; so, without
 
 HEROISM. 401 
 
 any further ceremony, he clapped on his saddle 
 and housing with great composure, and was just 
 going to mount, when the gentleman who owned 
 the horse was apprized of a stranger's going to 
 steal his property out of the stable. Upon asking 
 the king, whom he had never seen, bluntly, how 
 he presumed to meddle with his horse, Charles 
 coolly replied, squeezing in his lips, according to 
 his usual custom, that he took the horse because 
 he wanted one ; for you see, continued he, if I 
 have none, I shall be obliged to carry the saddlfe 
 myself. This answer not being satisfactory to the 
 gentleman, he instantly drew his sword. In this 
 the king was not much behind hand with him ; 
 and to it they were going, when the guards by 
 this time came up, and testified that surprise, 
 which was natural, to see arms in the hands of a 
 subject against his king. Imagine whether the 
 gentleman was less surprised than they, at his un- 
 premeditated disobedience. His astonishment, 
 however, was soon dissipated by the king, who, 
 taking him by the hand, assured him he was a 
 brave fellow, and that he would take care he 
 should be provided for. This promise was after 
 wards fulfilled ; and the king made him a cap- 
 tain. 
 
 The great lord Hawke went to sea at a very 
 early period, being but twelve years old ; and he 
 was a post-captain before he was twenty-two, Hb 
 
 VOL. I. I) d
 
 402 HEROISM. 
 
 mother was sister to colonel Bladen, one of the 
 commissioners of trade and plantations, a person 
 well known in the political world during a consi- 
 derable part of the reign of George the Second. 
 
 His uncle sent one morning for young Ilawke, 
 and said, " Ned, would you like to be a sailor ?" 
 " Certainly, sir," replied the little hero. " Are 
 you willing to go now, or wait till you grow big- 
 ger?" " This instant, sir," said the youth. 
 
 In a few days his friends were consulted ; but 
 his father seemed totally averse to the sending an 
 infant to encounter the dangers and fatigues ne- 
 cessarily attendant upon such a profession. Young 
 Ned was not, however, to be diverted from his 
 purpose ; he continually teased his mother, and 
 she, who possessed equal spirit and sensibility, 
 was not proof against her son's perpetual entrea- 
 ties, At length Mr. Hawke was prevailed upon, 
 and the first cruize our little midshipman made, 
 was under Sir Charles Wager, who was sent to 
 the relief of Gibraltar, in the year 1727. 
 
 The morning of his departure to go aboard, his 
 mother summoned all her fortitude, and addressed 
 him with great calmness, or rather with a degree 
 of pleasantry. "Adieu, Ned!" says she "I 
 shortly expect to see you a captain." " A cap- 
 tain !" replied he " Madam, I hope you will 
 soon see me an Admiral ;" and instantly stepped 
 into a coach which was waiting for him, to con- 
 vey him to his inn, whence he was to proceed to
 
 HEROISM. 403 
 
 Portsmouth, where the fleet lay, without the least 
 emotion. 
 
 The first or second time Hawke went out as 
 admiral, was in 1747, when he was sent to cruize 
 in the Bay, to intercept a squadron of French 
 men of war, with a valuable convoy. On disco- 
 vering the enemy, instead of forming a regular 
 line, he threw out a signal for a general chace, 
 and to engage as fast as the ships came up ; the 
 consequence of which was, after an obstinate en- 
 gagement, he captured seven ships of the line, 
 and the eighth only escaped through the darkness 
 of the night, iu a most shattered condition. 
 
 This victory gave birth to a well known circum- 
 stance. In his dispatch to the Admiralty Board, 
 he informed the lords commissioners, " that the 
 French ships being large, took a great deal of 
 drubbing." When lord Chesterfield, then secie- 
 tary of state, read the dispatch to his majesty, he 
 wished to know what drubbing meant, as he pre- 
 sumed it was some technical phrase peculiar to 
 the profession. At this instant, the late tiuke of 
 Bedford came into the closet, when Chesterfield 
 wittily replied : " I do not know, sir ; but here 
 is his grace of Bedford, who is, 1 dare say, able 
 to inform your majesty." His grace, but a few 
 weeks before, had been horsewhipped, and other- 
 wise maltreated, by a mob, on the race-course at 
 Litchfield. 
 
 nd2
 
 404 
 
 HONESTY. 
 
 One day a poor widow, encouraged by the 
 great fame of cardinal Farnese's generosity, came 
 into the hall of the cardinal with her only daugh- 
 ter, a beautiful maid of seventeen years of age : 
 when her turn came to be heard among the crowd 
 of petitioners, the cardinal discerning the marks 
 of an extraordinary modesty in her face and car- 
 riage, as also in her daughter, encouraged her to 
 tell her wants freely : she blushed, and not with- 
 out tears, thus addressed herself to him : " My 
 lord, I owe for the rent of my bouse five crowns, 
 and such is my misfortune, that I have no other 
 means to pay it, save what would break my 
 heart, since my landlord threatens to force me to 
 it, that is, to prostitute my daughter, whom I 
 have hitherto v/ith great care educated in virtue, 
 and an abhorrence of vice. What I beg of your 
 eminence is, that you would please lo interpose 
 your sacred authority, and protect us from the 
 violence of this cruel man, till by our honest in- 
 dustry we can procure the money for him." The 
 cardinal, moved with admiration of the woman's 
 virtue and innocent modesty, bid her be of good 
 courage. Then he immediately wrote a billet, 
 and giving it into the widow's hands, " Go," 
 said he, " to my steward vvitli this paper, and
 
 HONESTY. 405 
 
 he will deliver the five crowns to pay thy rent." 
 The poor woman overjoyed, returning the cardi- 
 nal a thousand thanks, went directly to the stew- 
 ard, and gave him the note ; which when he read, 
 he told her out fifty crowns. She, astonished 
 at the amount, and fearing this was only the 
 steward's trick, to try her honesty, refused to take 
 above five, saying, she asked of the cardinal for 
 no more, and she was sure it was some mistake. 
 On the other side, the steward insisted on his 
 master's order, not daring to call it in question . 
 But all the arguments he could use, were insuffi- 
 cient to prevail on her to take any more than five 
 crowns. Wherefore, to end the controversy, he 
 offered to go back with her to the cardinal, and 
 refer it to him. When they came before that mu- 
 nificent prince, and he was fully informed of the 
 business, " "lis true," said he, " I mistook in 
 writing fifty crowns ; give me the paper, and I 
 will rectify it." Thereupon he wrote again, saying 
 thus to the woman : "So much candour and 
 virtue deserves a recompense: herel have ordered 
 you five hundred crowns ; what you can spare of 
 it, lay up as a dowry to give your daughter in 
 marriage." 
 
 The prince of Gonti being highly pleased with 
 
 the intrepid conduct of a grenadier at the siege of 
 
 Philipsburg, in 1734, threw him his purse, ex- 
 
 d d 3 cusing
 
 406 HONESTY. 
 
 cusing the smallness of the sum it contained, as 
 being too poor a reward for his courage. Next 
 morning (he grenadier went to the prince with a 
 couple of diamond rings, and other jewels of con- 
 siderable value. " Sir," said he, " the gold I 
 found in your purse, I suppose your highness 
 intended that I should keep; but these I bring 
 back to you, as I have no claim to them." " But 
 you have, soldier," answered the prince u 3011 
 doubly deserve them ; by your bravery and by 
 your honesty; therefore they are y out's." 
 
 The following remarkable circumstance is taken 
 from a German work, entitled, " A Picture of 
 St. Petersburg!!, written by M. Storch :" 
 
 In a small town, about five miles from Peters- 
 burgh, lived a poor old German woman. A little 
 cottage was her only possession ; and the visits of 
 a few ship-masters on their way to Petersburg!], 
 her only livelihood. 
 
 Several Dutch .ship-masters having one evening 
 supped at her house, she found, when they were 
 gone, a sealed bag of money under the table. 
 Her surprise at this unexpected discovery was na- 
 turally very great. Some one of the company had 
 just gone, and had certainly forgotten it ; but 
 they had sailed over to Cronstudt, and they 
 were perhaps at sea, the wind being fair, and 
 there was no hope of their returning. The good
 
 HONESTY. 407 
 
 woman put up the bag in her cupboard, to keep 
 it till it should be called for. However, nobody 
 called for it. Full seven years did she carefully 
 keep it, often tempted by opportunities, still 
 oftener by want, to make use of it for herself. Her 
 good principles, however, overcame every temp- 
 tation. 
 
 When seven years had passed away, some 
 ship-masters stopped at her house, to take what 
 refreshment they could find. Three of them were 
 Englishmen, and the fourth was a Dutchman. 
 Conversing of various matters, one of the former 
 asked the Dutchman whether he had ever before 
 been in the town. " Yes, indeed I have," re- 
 plied he " I know the place but too well ; my 
 being here once cost me seven hundred rubles." 
 u How so?" " Why, in one of these wretched 
 hovels I once got rather tipsy, and left behind me 
 a bag of rubles." " Was the bag sealed ?" asked 
 the old woman, who was sitting in one corner of 
 the room, and whose attention was roused by 
 what she had heard. " Yes, yes, it was seal- 
 ed, and with this very seal here at my watch- 
 chain." The woman looked at the seal, and 
 knew it directly. " Well then," said she, " by 
 that you may be able to recover what you lost." 
 " Recover it, mother! no ; I am rather too old to 
 expect that. The world is not quite so honest as 
 that conies to. Besides, it is now sevei/ years 
 d d4
 
 408 HONESTY. 
 
 since I lost the money. I wish I had not men- 
 tioned the subject : it always makes me melan- 
 choly. Let us hear no more of it." 
 
 Meanwhile the good woman had slipped out; 
 and was now waddling in with her bag. u See 
 here! perhaps you may be convinced that ho- 
 nesty is not so rare as you imagine," said she, 
 putting the bag u pon the table. 
 
 The guests were astonished ; and bestowed 
 much commendation on her honesty. The owner 
 of the money was, as may well be supposed, 
 highly delighted. He seized the bag, tore open 
 the seal, took one ruble (worth four and sixpence 
 English) out, and laid it on the table with civil 
 thanks for the trouble which his hostess had had. 
 The three Englishmen were amazed and pro- 
 voked, that he offered so small an acknowledg- 
 ment ; and warmly remonstrated with him. The 
 old woman protested that she required nothing 
 at all ; that she thought she had done no more 
 than her duty ; and desired that the Dutchman 
 would even take his ruble. But the Englishmen 
 would not give up their point. One of them 
 said, " An Englishman can never stand by, and 
 not see justice done. The woman has acted 
 nobly ; and she ought to be rewarded." 
 
 At length the Dutchman consented to part with 
 a hundred rubles. They were fairly counted out 
 upon the table, and given to the old woman :
 
 HONESTY. 409 
 
 and thus, she was handsomely rewarded for her 
 honesty. 
 
 By a law of Persia, the monarch is authorized 
 to go whenever he pleases to the haram of any of 
 his subjects, and the peison on whose prerogative 
 he encroaches, so far from being jealous, rec- 
 kons himself highly honoured by the visit. A 
 story, on the subject, is told of Shah Abbas, 
 who, having been intoxicated at the house of 
 one of his favourites, and attempting to go into 
 the apartment of his wives, was stopped by the 
 porter, who told him, " Not a man, sir, besides 
 my master, shall enter here so long as 1 am por- 
 ter." " What," said the king, " dost thou not 
 know me ?" " Yes," answered the man, " I 
 know you are king of the men, but not of the 
 women." Shah Abbas, pleased with the answer, 
 and the fidelity of the servant, retired to his pa- 
 lace. The favourite at whose house this hap- 
 pened, as soon as he heard of it, went and fell 
 at his master's feet, entreating that he would not 
 impute to him the crime committed by his do- 
 mestic, adding, " I have already turned him 
 away from my service for his presumption." 
 ; ' I am glad of it," answered the king, " for then 
 I will take him into mine for his honesty."
 
 410 HONESTY. 
 
 When George the First succeeded to the throne 
 of England, he brought over with him from 
 Hanover his cook, to whom he was extremely 
 partial. After some slay at St. James's, the 
 cook grew melancholy, and wanted leave to 
 return home to Hanover. The king being in- 
 formed of this, desired to see him ; and when the 
 cook came into his presence, he asked him why he 
 wished to leave his service. The cook replied : " I 
 have long served your majesty with diligence and 
 honesty, and never suffered any of your property to 
 be embezzled in your kitchen ; but here the dishes 
 no sooner come from the table, than one steals a 
 fowl, another a pig, a third takes a joint of meat, 
 a fourth a pie, and so on, till the whole is gone ; 
 and I cannot bear to see your majesty so injured. 1 ' 
 The king laughed heartily, and said, " My 
 revenues here are sufficient to enable me to bear 
 these things, and therefore, to reconcile you to 
 your place, do you steal as well as the rest, and 
 mind that you take enough." The cook followed 
 his master's advice, and in a short time became 
 more expert than his fellow-servants.
 
 411 
 
 HONOUR. 
 
 The king of Denmark having borrowed a sum 
 of money from one Peter Portze, a Swede, mort- 
 gaged to him for payment the sum due to him by 
 Magnus, king of Sweden, surnamed Ladislaus, 
 agreeable to the subsidy treaty with that prince. 
 Portze repeatedly demanded payment of Magnus ; 
 and at length his importunity obliged the king to 
 cede to him a certain castle, by way of security. 
 Portze, however, knew that the castle was not an 
 equivalent for the money, and contrived a stra- 
 tagem for obtaining justice. Under some spe- 
 cious pretence which he devised, the king made 
 him a visit, and was entertained sumptuously ; 
 but when he was preparing to go away, Portze 
 reminded his majesty of the money due to him, 
 demonstrating that the castle he received in se- 
 curity was by no means an equivalent, and giving 
 him to understand, in a resolute tone, that he 
 expected full compensation before he suffered 
 him to depart. As the king had but few attend- 
 ants, all resistance he found would be in vain ; 
 he paid the money, swore he would never revenge 
 the affront, and was suffered to depart. It is re- 
 lated, to his honour, that he not only kept his 
 oath, but embraced every opportunity of loading 
 Portze with favours, saying, that he was a brave
 
 412 HONOUR. 
 
 man, who could not but be faithful to his king, 
 as he dared to be just to himself, at the hazard of 
 incurring his sovereign's resentment. 
 
 The following remarkable example of fidelity 
 in a Spaniard, is recorded by Knighton, the his- 
 torian : 
 
 Towards the latter end of the reign of Edward 
 the Third, lived two valiant squires, Robert 
 Haule, and Richard Schakel, who, in the wars 
 under the Black Prince had taken prisoner the 
 count de Dena, a Spanish don of great quality, 
 and brought him to England. Some time after 
 he left his eldest son as a pledge, while he went 
 home to raise his ransom ; but being got to Spain, 
 he neglected to send the money, and in a little 
 time died, whereby his honours and estate de- 
 volved to the young hostage. This being com- 
 municated to king Edward, both he and the 
 prince were very importunate with the two gen- 
 tlemen to release the Spanish cavalier ; but they 
 were so far from parting with him, that they re- 
 fused to discover where he was ; for which they 
 were sent to the Tower, from whence escaping, 
 they took sanctuary in Westminster abbey. The 
 duke of Lancaster being resolved to ferret them 
 out, sent fifty armed men, who entered the 
 church, put a trick upon Schakel, got him away, 
 and carried him back to the Tower. But as for
 
 HONOUR. 413 
 
 Haule, he was among the monks, and at mass ; 
 the soldiers went to him, and at first expostulated 
 with him, why he should so obstinately disobey 
 the king's command, and withal told him he 
 must go with them, which he peremptorily re- 
 fused, drew a short sword, and made at them, 
 but although he performed wonders, he was at last 
 slain. The archbishop of Canterbury thunder- 
 ed out an excommunication against these viola- 
 tors of the sanctuary and all their abettors, the 
 king, his mother, and the duke of Lancaster, ex- 
 cepted : but about a year after, in king Richard 
 the Second's reign, through the mediation of 
 some grave and venerable persons, the matter was 
 accommodated on these terms : That the said 
 Schakel, who was sent to the Tower, should dis- 
 cover and deliver up the count de Dena, and so 
 be set at liberty, and the king to settle on him 
 lands, to the value of one hundred marks per 
 annum, and pay him down five hundred marks 
 ready money, in lieu of the expected ransom, 
 and also that his majesty, for satisfaction to the 
 church, should at his own proper charges erect 
 a chauntery of five priests for ever, to pray for 
 the soul of Robert Haule, whom his officers had 
 alain. But now comes the most surprising part 
 of the story : when Schakel was on the point to 
 produce his captive, lie shewed them his servant 
 who waited on him, for the gallant Spaniard ob-
 
 414 IIONOtTR. 
 
 served such a regard to his word, that lie scorned 
 to discover himself without his leave, baton the 
 contrary, had all along, both in the sanctuary, 
 and in the Tower, faithfully and submissively 
 served him in disguise, neglecting both his qua- 
 lity and interest, when they stood in competition 
 with his honour. 
 
 When the baron Des Adretz, so famous for his 
 cruelties, sent the count De Suze a challenge to 
 fight him, three against three ; De Suze answer- 
 ed : "that he would never expose any man's life 
 but for the king's service ; but if he would come 
 to the place appointed, he would find him there 
 alone." They fought, and after De Suze had 
 laid his antagonist by two wounds at his feet, he 
 asked him: "What would you do with me, were 
 I reduced to your present situation ?" " I would 
 dispatch thee," replied Des Adretz. " That J 
 am sure of," returned De Suze ; " but be assured 
 that 1 never have killed, nor ever shall kill an 
 enemy at my feet." After which he caused him 
 to be carried to the next house, and did not leave 
 him till his wounds, which proved not danger- 
 ous, were dressed. 
 
 St. Foix, in his very entertaining work, enti- 
 tled, "The History of the Order of the Holy
 
 HONOUR. { ' 5 
 
 Ghost," gives the following anecdoti sons 
 
 who had conferred as much honour on ih ...i order 
 as they had received from it. 
 
 The first is of Scipion de Fiesqiie. A chap- 
 lain's place to queen Louise de Vaudemont hav- 
 ing become vacant, a man came to beg Fiesque's 
 interest, and in order to obtain his patronage, de- 
 livered to him a charter, which, he said, a lucky 
 chance had thrown into his hands. .After having 
 attentively examined it, M. dc Fiesqiie saw that 
 it was an incontestible record, absolutely deci- 
 sive against himself, in a considerable law-suit 
 then depending for his estate of Leuroux. il I 
 am going," said he to the man, " to write word 
 to my antagonist that he has gained his suit, and 
 that I am ready to pay all the costs and damages 
 into which I shall be condemned ; with my letter 
 lie shall receive that charter, which belongs to 
 him, and which you ought to have delivered to 
 him. You have thought as ill of me, as I must 
 now think of you. l>e gone !" 
 
 Jean dc Chourses, lord of Malicorne, gover- 
 nor of Poitou, was, in an insurrection at Poitiers 
 against Henry III. for a long time led about the 
 streets by the rebels, who threatened him, and 
 presented at every step their halbcrts to Ik; 
 throat. u I never was guilty of baseness ; such
 
 416 HONOUIt. 
 
 would be the oath you require of me," he con- 
 stantly replied. " You may take away my life ; 
 but you never shall take away my honour." 
 
 Count Montgomery, who was beheaded in 
 1574, surrendered himself to the chevalier Grog- 
 net de Vasse. It was reported that the faith 
 pledged to him had been violated, and that Vasse 
 had promised him he should have nothing to fear 
 for his life. Vasse caused a proscription to be 
 affixed to the gate of the Louvre, that u these 
 dastardly slanderers, who said he had given any 
 promise to the unfortunate Montgomery, would 
 never dare to tell him so to his face. Had I given 
 him my word," added he, ll and had it been broken 
 by the court, this hand, which received his 
 sword, I would have lopped off myself, then I 
 would have carried it, and caused it to be affixed 
 over against the throne." 
 
 Whoever knew him, says the historian, made 
 no doubt of his being capable of so strange an 
 action. 
 
 An anecdote occurs in the history of the bo- 
 rough of Newport, in the Isle of Wight, which 
 deserves to be recorded in letters of gold. On 
 the death of the late lord Holmes, a very power- 
 ful attempt was made by Sir W illiam Oglander 
 and some other neighbouring gentlemen, to de- 
 prive his lordship's nephew and successor, the
 
 HONOUR. 417 
 
 Rev. Troughear Holmes, of his influence in (lie 
 corporatio?i. The number of the voters was 
 then twenty-three, there being one vacancy 
 amongst the aldermen, occasioned by the death of 
 lord Holmes. Eleven of them continued firm to 
 the interest of the nephew, and the same number 
 were equally eager to transfer their, interest to Sir 
 William Oglander, and the Worsley family. 
 One Mr. Taylor of this town, who was a burgess, 
 withheld his declaration, and as his vote would 
 decide the balance of future influence, it was 
 imagined that he only suspended if for the pur- 
 pose of private advantage ; agreeably to that 
 jdea, he was eagerly sought by ihe agents of each 
 party. The first who applied to him is said to 
 have temp? ''J him by the offer of two thousand 
 pounds. Mr. Taylor had actually made up his 
 mind to have voted with this party, but the mo- 
 ment his integrity and independence were attack- 
 ed, he reversed his determination, and resolved 
 to give his suffrage on the opposite side. That 
 party, however, like their opponents, being ig- 
 norant of the f ivour designed them, and of the 
 accident to which they owed it, assayed him with 
 a more advantageous offer. He then informed 
 them that he had but just before formed the reso- 
 lution, in consequence of a similar insult from 
 their adversaries, of giving them his support ; 
 but since he found that they were both aiming at 
 vol. 1. EC
 
 418 HONOUR. 
 
 power by the same means, he was determined to 
 vote for neither of them : and to put himself out 
 of the power of further temptation, he the next 
 day resigned his gown, as burgess of the corpo- 
 ration. 
 
 When Dr. Shippen was principal of Brazen- 
 nose college, Oxford, he had the modesty to 
 stand candidate for the Gresham professorship of 
 music ; and though he was an utter stranger to 
 that science, he carried his election against a gen- 
 tleman who particularly excelled in it : such is the 
 regard to merit, and tothe true intention of thefoun- 
 der upon these occasions. However, in a short time 
 afterwards the professorship of astronomy became 
 vacant, and the worthy electors, conscious of the 
 injustice tbey had done the candidate whom they 
 had so lately rejected, made him a voluntary of- 
 fer of this professorship, which was equal to the 
 other in point of value. But the gentleman, with 
 a true sense of honour, thanked them for the fa- 
 vour they intended him, which he could not ac- 
 cept ; "for," said he, " I know no more of as- 
 tronomy than Dr. Shippen does of music." 
 
 During the dreadful massacres which dis- 
 graced France in the early stages of her revolu- 
 tion, there were two abbes of the name of Guil- 
 lon imprisoned at the same time in the Abbaye at
 
 HONOUR. 419 
 
 Paris. One of them was called into the court- 
 yard while the ruffians were busied in assassinat- 
 ing their victims, and a note containing an order 
 of the municipality, amounting in fact, to a re- 
 prieve, was put into his hand. After examining 
 it tninutely, he paused for a few moments, and 
 knowing from circumstances, that it was not in- 
 tended for himself, he turned round to the mes- 
 senger, and observing that there was another abbe 
 of the same name in the prison, he returned with a 
 firm step, and an unaltered countenance, to meet 
 his fate. 
 
 Remarkable as this instance of honourable 
 feeling certainly is, it is not without a parallel, 
 though the characters of the parties being very 
 different, the following may be considered as still 
 more extraordinary. At the Old Bailey sessions, 
 in January, 1790, two men, one named Roberts, 
 the other Robertson, were tried for stealing linen. 
 Robertson was found guilty, and Roberts acquit- 
 ted ; but by some mistake, the guilty man was 
 discharged and Roberts detained. The friends 
 of Robertson were overjoyed of course, on seeing 
 him at liberty, and advised him to go out of the 
 kingdom ; but the man, greatly to his credit, sur- 
 rendered himself at Newgate before the sessions 
 ended. He was accordingly brought up to 
 receive judgment, but his conduct having been 
 EC 2
 
 420 HUMANITY. 
 
 properly stated, he was only sentenced to six 
 month's imprisonment, whereas he would proba- 
 bly have gone to Botany Bay, had it not been 
 for this proof of his honour and honest}/. 
 
 Mr. Pennant, in his Tour in Scotland, relates 
 the following circumstance, which shews that a 
 sense of honour may prevail in those who have 
 little regard to moral obligation : 
 
 After the battle of Culloden, in the year 1745 r 
 a reward of thirty thousand pounds was offered 
 to any one who should discover or deliver up the 
 young pretender. He had taken refuge with the 
 Kennedies, two common thieves, who projected 
 him with the greatest fidelity ; robbed for his 
 support, and often went in disguise to Inverness, 
 to purchase provisions for him. A considerable 
 time afterwards one of these men 'who had resist- 
 ed the temptation of thirty thousand pounds from 
 a regard to his honour, was hanged for stealing a 
 cow of the value of thirty shillings. 
 
 HUMANITY. 
 
 The following instance of feeling and huma- 
 nity, vhich happened about thirty years ago, 
 proves that the noblest virtues of the human heart 
 are not peculiar to any climate or people.
 
 HUMANITY. 421 
 
 A ship having been lost at the Cape of Good 
 Hope, a guard was sent from Horse Island, con- 
 sisting of thirty men and a lieutenant, to the place 
 where the wreck lay, in order to prevent any 
 part of the cargo from being stolen. A gibbet 
 was erected, and an edict issued, importing, that 
 whoever came near that place, should be hung 
 without trial. On this account the compassion- 
 ate inhabitants, who had gone out to afford the 
 wretched sufferers in the ship some assistance, 
 were obliged to return without being able to 
 render them any service. An old man, of the 
 name of Woltemad, by birth an European, had 
 a son in the citadel, who was a corporal, and 
 among the first ordered out to Horse Island. 
 This worthy veteran borrowed a horse, and rode 
 out in the morning with a bottle of wine and a 
 loaf of bread, for his son's breakfast. This hap- 
 pened so early that the gibbet was not erected, 
 nor the edict posted up. The old man had no 
 sooner delivered his son's provision, than he 
 heard the lamentations of the distressed crew from 
 the wreck, when he resolved to rule his horse, 
 which was a good swimmer, to endeavour to save 
 some of them. He ntaoe this dangerous visit 
 seven times, bringing in all fourteen persons safe 
 to shore. The horse was at last so much fa- 
 tigued, that Woltemad did not think it prudent 
 to venture out again ; but the cries of the poor 
 EC 3
 
 422 HUMANITY. 
 
 wretches on board increasing, he made another 
 attempt, which proved so unfortunate, that he 
 lost his own life, for so many persons rushed 
 upon the horse, some catching by the tail, others 
 by the bridle and girths, that the poor animal 
 turned head over heels, and they were all drowned 
 together. 
 
 The East India directors in Holland, on re- 
 ceiving this intelligence, ordered one of their 
 ships to be called the Woltemad ; and they 
 enjoined the regency at the Cape, to provide for 
 the descendants of this generous old man. But 
 in this respect their good intentions were frus- 
 trated ; for the young corporal having been re- 
 fused his father's place, though it was but a 
 humble one, had left the settlement and gone to 
 Batavia, where he died before the news of the 
 company's liberality could reach him. 
 
 On the 27th of April, 1785, prince Leopold 
 of Brunswick, brother to the princess of Wales, 
 lost his life in endeavouring to relieve the inha- 
 bitants of a village that was overflowed at Frank- 
 fort on the Oder. The Leyden Gazette gave 
 the following account of this unfortunate event : 
 
 Wc have within these few days experienced the 
 greatest calamities by the overflowing of the Oder, 
 which burst its banks in several places, and carried 
 away houses, bridges and every thing that opposed
 
 HUMANITY. 423 
 
 its course. Numbers of people have lost their 
 lives in this rapid inundation ; but of all the acci- 
 dents arising from it, none is so generally la- 
 mented as the death of the good prince Leopold 
 of Brunswick. This amiable prince standing 
 at the side of the river, a woman threw herself at 
 his feet, beseeching him to give orders for some 
 persons to go to the rescue of her children, whom, 
 bewildered by the sudden danger, she had left be- 
 hind her in the house ; some soldiers also who were 
 in the same place were crying for help. The 
 duke endeavoured to procure a flat-bottomed 
 boat, but no one could be found to venture across 
 the river, even though the duke offered large 
 sums of money, and promised to share the dan- 
 ger. At last, moved by the cries of the unfor- 
 tunate inhabitants of the suburb, and being led 
 by the sensibility of his own heart, he took the 
 resolution of going to their assistance himself: 
 those who were about him endeavoured to dis- 
 suade him from this hazardous enterprise, but 
 touched to the soul by the distress of the mise- 
 rable people, he replied in the following words, 
 which so nobly picture his character : " What 
 am 1 more than either you or they ? I am a 
 man like yourselves, and nothing ought to be 
 attended to here but the voice of humanity." 
 Unshaken, therefore, in his resolution, he im- 
 mediately embarked with three watermen in a 
 e e 4
 
 424 HUMOUR 
 
 small boat, and crossed i he river ; the boat did 
 not want above three lengths of the bank, when 
 it struck against a tree, and in an instant they 
 all, together with the boat, disappeared. A few 
 minutes after the duke rose again, and supported 
 himself a short time by taking hold of a tree; 
 but the violence of the current soon bore him 
 down, and he never appeared more. The boat- 
 men, more fortunate, were all saved, and the 
 duke alone became the victim of his humanity. 
 The whole city was in affliction for the loss of this 
 truly amiable prince, whose humility, gentle- 
 ness of manners, and compassionate disposition, 
 endeared him to all ranks. He lived indeed, as 
 he died, in the highest exercise of humanity. 
 Had not the current been so rapid, he would no 
 doubt have been saved, as he was an excellent 
 swimmer. 
 
 HUMOUR. 
 
 Henry the Eighth, though a very haughty 
 prince, would frequently descend to great fami- 
 lial ity with his subjects, and indulge himself 
 in sallies of wit and sport. A story is told of 
 him by Dr. Fuller, which is pleasing enough, 
 though perhaps the king carried his humour a 
 little too far.
 
 HUMOUR. 425 
 
 Hav'n? lost himself one day as he was hunting 
 in Windsor Forest, he at last reached the abbey of 
 Reading, where, b-ing in disguise, he passed as 
 one of the king's guards; an I as such was invited 
 to dine with the abbot. A sirloin of beef was the 
 principal dish, on which the king fed heartily. 
 The abbot observing the strength of his appetite, 
 said, " Well fare thy heart, and here in a cup of 
 sack I remember the health of his grace your 
 master. I would give a hundred pounds on the 
 condition that I could feed as heartily on beef as 
 you ih). Alas ! my weak and squeamish stomach 
 will hardly digest the wing of a small rabbit or 
 chicken." The king having finished his enter- 
 tainment, and drank to the better health of the 
 abbot, departed without being discovered. A few 
 weeks afterwards, the abbot was sent for by a 
 king's messenger, and committed close prisoner 
 to the Tower, where he was kept for some time 
 on bread and water. At last a sirloin of beef 
 was set before him, on which the abbot dined 
 heartily. When he had finished, the king came 
 out from a jTrivate place, where he had observed 
 the abbot's change of appetite, and thus accosted 
 him: "My lord, either presently down with 
 your hundred pounds, or no going from this 
 place all tli days of your life. I have been 
 your physician, to cure you of your squeamish sto- 
 mach, and here, as I deserve, 1 demand the fee
 
 426 HUMOUR. 
 
 for the same;" with which the abbot was obliged 
 to comply, and then he returned to his abbey. 
 
 Peter the Great of Russia had several humorous 
 traits in his character, which sometimes produced 
 very whimsical effects. 
 
 Among the variety of his studies, he applied 
 himself to surgery, and always carried about 
 with him a case of instruments. He had a favou- 
 rite surgeon, named Tirmond, who was almost 
 constantly with him, even when the czar worked 
 in his garden and vineyard. 
 
 This celebrated surgeon was upwards of seven- 
 ty when he died, and left a widow neither old 
 nor ugly, with an inheritance of several thou- 
 sand rubles. During her husband's life, this 
 woman had shewn a disposition to gallantry, and 
 after his death fixed her affections on a young 
 man, a journeyman barber- surgeon of Dantzic. 
 He had an agreeable person, but was infinitely 
 less skilful in his profession than in the art of se- 
 duction. Wedlock soon after joined their hands, 
 and they abandoned themselves to the most exces- 
 sive dissipation. They kept a coach and four, 
 dressed magnificently, and by this change in 
 their manner of living, drew on themselves the 
 eyes of all Moscow. 
 
 Their conduct was at last communicated to 
 the czar, and additions were made, little advan-
 
 HUMOUR. 42T 
 
 tageous to the Dantzic barber. One day when 
 his majesty was at table with a favourite boyar, 
 he ordered the youthful successor of Tirmorid to 
 be brought before him. 
 
 The young roan fancying it could be for no 
 other purpose than to give him the appointment 
 of his predecessor, dressed himself in haste in 
 his richest clothes, stepped into his carriage, 
 and drove to the house where the czar was in the 
 midst of a numerous company. Every body ran 
 to the window, to witness this ridiculous exhibi- 
 tion . 
 
 When the barber-surgeon appeared in the mo- 
 narch's presence, the prince interrogated him re- 
 lative to different particulars of his art, and made 
 him undergo the severest examination before the 
 whole assembly. Being assured that he was no 
 other than an ignorant and unworthy usurper of 
 the place of Tirmond, he ordered a number of 
 the boyar's footmen and peasants to be assembled 
 in an adjoining room. The barber-surgeon in all 
 his finery, was ordered to mow their stubborn 
 beards, and then was permitted to return home 
 with the same pomp as he came. 
 
 It may be easily believed that this adventure 
 neither amused the insolent barber, nor his belov- 
 ed spouse : they soon after retired to Dantzic 
 with the remains of their fortune, and passed 
 some years there in profusion and jollity, till
 
 428 HUMOUR. 
 
 they had dissipated all they possessed. An 
 old friend of Tirmond's met them afterwards at 
 the time of the Swedish war : they were in a 
 most miserable situation : the magnificent barber- 
 surgeon had taken up the trade of a petty 
 broker, while the lady, for the sake of a little 
 money, condescended to wash linen. 
 
 The czar, in the course of his second journey 
 to Holland, in 1716, arrived at Dantzic on a 
 Sunday, at the moment the gates of the city 
 were going to be shut, though in the open day. 
 He entered the city, and went to his inn, scarce- 
 ly meeting a single person. His surprise was 
 great at finding the streets of so populous a town 
 thus deserted, and as soon as he had alighted, 
 he asked his landlord the reason. 
 
 He learned that it was the hour of divine ser- 
 vice ; that all the inhabitants were at church ; 
 and that it was customary to keep the gates of 
 the city shut during the time of service. The 
 czar did not wish to lose an opportunity of see- 
 ing the form of worship at Dantzic, and beg- 
 ged the landlord to conduct him to church. The 
 reigning burgomaster was there, and in all like- 
 lihood, had already received notice of his arri- 
 val ; for as soon as the czar entered the church," 
 he rose up to meet him, and conducted him to 
 the burgomaster's seat, which was a little more
 
 HUMOUR. 429 
 
 elevated than the rest. The czar sat down bare- 
 headed, made the burgomaster sit beside him, and 
 listened to the preacher with the greatest atten-., 
 tien, keeping his eyes constantly turned towards 
 the pulpit, while those of all the congregation 
 were fixed upon himself. 
 
 A few moments after, feeling his head grow 
 cold, he took the ample perriwig that covered 
 that of the burgomaster, without saying a word, 
 and put it on his own. The bare-headed burgo- 
 master, and Peter in his gala wig, continued to 
 attend to the sermon without emotion, and whenit 
 was finished, the czar restoring what he had bor- 
 rowed, thanked the burgomaster by an inclina- 
 tion of his head. This little incident seemed 
 quite a thing of course with the Russian mo- 
 narch, who was accustomed to it; but it is easy 
 to conceive how singular it must have appeared 
 to the Dantzickers. When the service was over 
 the magistracy deputed a quorum of its members 
 to compliment the prince. They were told by a 
 Russian nobleman, that he was very well satisfied 
 with what he had seen. He added, that the remo- 
 val of the burgomaster's wig was a trifle which 
 ought not to astonish them : that the emperor ne- 
 ver paid any attention to such little matters ; and 
 that, as he was scarce of hair, it was his custom, 
 as often as he felt his head cold at church, to 
 take the wig of prince Mentchicoff, or that of
 
 430 HUMOU*. 
 
 any other nobleman who happened to be within 
 his reach. 
 
 Of the prevalence of humour, even to the last 
 period of life, a remarkable instance is told by 
 John Carteret Pilkington, in his memoirs. 
 
 The late earl of Ross was in character and dis- 
 position like the humorous earl of Rochester : 
 he had an infinite fund of wit, great spirits, and 
 a liberal heart; was fond of all the vices which 
 the beau monde call pleasures, and by those 
 means first ruined his fortune, and finally his 
 health beyond repair. 
 
 Having led this life till he was brought to 
 death's door, his neighbour, dean Madden, a 
 man of exemplary piety, hearing of his condi- 
 tion, wrote him a very pathetic letter, in which 
 he freely remonstrated with him upon the whole 
 of bis past conduct, and after painting all the 
 vices of which he had been guilty, earnestly ex- 
 horted him to repentance, that h might obtain 
 pardon of the offended deity before whom he was 
 shortly to appear. 
 
 When the earl had read over this admonitory 
 epistle he folded it up in another cover, and hav- 
 ing directed it to his neighbour, the earl of K. 
 he prevailed upon the dean's servant to carry it 
 thither. Lord K. was a very formal, effeminate 
 man, and in every respect a contrast to the earl
 
 HUMOUR. 431 
 
 of Ross ; what therefore must have been his asto- 
 nishment, at finding himself accused of crimes of 
 which he was utterly innocent ! He first ran to 
 his lady, exclaiming that dean Madden was cer- 
 tainly gone mad, to prove which he shewed her the 
 letter which he had just received. Her ladyship 
 was as much confounded as he could be, but with- 
 al observed, that the letter was not written in the 
 style of a madman, and therefore advised him to 
 go to the archbishop of Dublin about it. Accord- 
 ingly his lordship ordered his coach, and went 
 to the palace, where he found his grace, whom he 
 thus accosted : " Pray, my lord, did you ever hear 
 that I was a blasphemer, a whoremonger, a game- 
 ster, a rioter, and every thing that is infamous ?" 
 "You, my lord," says the archbishop, "every 
 one knows that you are the contrary of all this, 
 and a pattern of virtue." " Well, ray lord," 
 replied the other, " what satisfaction can I have 
 of a learned and reverend divine, who, under his 
 own hand, lays all this to my charge ?" " Sure- 
 ly," answered his grace, " no man in his senses, 
 that knew your lordship, would presume to do 
 it : and if any clergyman has been guilty of such 
 an offence, he will be obliged to give satisfaction 
 in the spiritual court." Upon this lord K. de- 
 livered the letter to the archbishop, who imme- 
 diately knew it to be the dean's hand-writing. 
 His grace then sent for the dean, who came in-
 
 432 HUMOUR. 
 
 stantly : but before lie entered ihe room, the arch- 
 bishop advised lord K. to withdraw into another 
 apartment, while he discoursed with the gentle- 
 man about, which his lordship accordingly did. 
 When the dean came in, his grace looking very 
 sternly, demanded if he wrote that letter ? The 
 dean answered, " I did, my lord." " Mr. Dean," 
 returned the prelate, " 1 always thought you was 
 a man of sense and prudence, but this unguarded 
 action must lessen you in the esteem of all good 
 men : to throw out so many causeless invectives 
 against the most unblemished nobleman in Eu- 
 rope, and accuse him of crimes to which he and 
 his family have ever been strangers, must certainly 
 be the effect of a distempered brain ; besides, you 
 have by this means laid yourself open to a pro- 
 secution, which will either oblige you publicly 
 to retract what you have said, or suffer the con- 
 sequence." " My lord," answered the dean, " I 
 never think, write, or act any tiling for which I 
 am afraid to be called to account before any tri- 
 bunal upon earth ; and if I am to be prosecuted 
 for discharging the duties of my function, I will 
 suffer patiently the severest penalties in justifica- 
 tion of it." Having said this, the dean retired 
 with some emotion, and left the archbishop and 
 the earl as much in the dark as ever. Lord K. 
 went home, and sent for a proctor, to whom he 
 committed the dean's letter, and ordered a cita-
 
 humour. 433 
 
 time, the archbishop, who knew the dean had a 
 family to provide for, and foresaw that ruin 
 must attend his entering into a suit with so pow- 
 erful a nobleman, went to his house, and endea- 
 voured to persuade him to ask pardon, before 
 the affair became public. "Ask pardon," said 
 the dean *' why the man's dead." " What, 
 lord K. dead ?" u No, lord Rossi" "Good 
 God!" said the archbishop, " did not you send 
 a letter yesterday to lord K. V 9 " No truly, my 
 lord, but 1 sent one to the unhappy earl of Ross, 
 who was then given over, and 1 thought it my 
 duty to write to him in the manner I did." Upon 
 examining the servant, the whole mistake was 
 rectified, and the dean saw with regret, that lord 
 Ross died as lie had lived ; nor did he continue 
 in this life above four hours after he sent off the 
 letter. The footman lost his place by the jest, 
 and was indeed the only sufferer by his lordship's 
 last piece of humour. 
 
 The following story of dean Swift, was related 
 by Pope to Mr. S pence : 
 
 Dr. Swift has an odd blunt way, that is mis- 
 taken by strangers for ill-nature. It is so odd 
 that there is no describing it but by facts. I'll tell 
 you one that first comes into my head. One 
 evening Gay and I went to see him : you know 
 
 VOL. I. F f
 
 434 HUMOUR. 
 
 how intimately we were all acquainted. On our 
 coming in, " Hey-day, gentlemen," says the 
 doctor, " what's the meaning of this visit? How 
 came you to leave all the lords that you are so 
 fond of, to come here to see a poor dean ?" " Be- 
 cause we would rather see you than any of them." 
 <c Aye, any one that did not know you so well 
 as I do, might believe you. But since you are 
 come, I must get some supper, I suppose." 
 ** No, doctor, we have supped already." " Sup- 
 ped already, that's impossible! Why it is not 
 eight o'clock yet. That's very strange I But, if 
 you had not supped, I must have got something 
 for you. Let me see ; what should 1 have had ? 
 A couple of lobsters ; aye, that would have done 
 very well: two shilliugs : tarts, a shilling. But 
 you will drink a glats of wine with me, though 
 you have supped so much before your usual time, 
 only to spare my pocket." " No, we had rather 
 talk with you than drink with you." " But if 
 you had supped with me, as in all reason you 
 ought to have done, you must then have drank 
 with me. A bottle 01* win* 1 , two shillings two 
 and t\vo are four, and one is five: just two and 
 sixpence a piece. There, Pope, ther 's half a 
 crown lor you : and there's another for you, sir ; 
 for 1 won't save any thing by you, I'm deter- 
 mined." This was all said and done with his
 
 HUMOtm. 435 
 
 usual seriousness on such occasions ; and in spite 
 of every thing we could say to the contrary, he 
 actually obliged us to take the money. 
 
 The father of the late earl of Pembroke had 
 many good qualities, but always persisted in- 
 flexibly in his own opinion, which, as well as 
 his conduct, was often very singular. His lord- 
 ship thought of an ingenious expedient to pre- 
 vent the remonstrances and expostulations of those 
 about him ; and this was to feign himself deaf; 
 and thus, under pretence of hearing very imper- 
 fectly, he would always form his answers, not 
 by what was said to him, but by what he desired 
 to have said. 
 
 Among other servants, was one who had lived 
 with him from a child, and served him with great 
 fidelity in several capacities, till at length he be- 
 came coachman. This man, by degrees, got a ha- 
 bit of drinking, for which his lady often desired he 
 might be dismissed. My lord always answered, 
 " Yes, indeed, John is an excellent servant." 
 " I say," replies the lady, " that he is continu- 
 ally drunk, and therefore desire he may be 
 turned off." " Aye," said his lordship, " he 
 has lived with me from a child, and, as you say, 
 a trifle of vf ages should not part us." 
 
 John, however, one evening, as he was driving 
 from Kensington, overturned his lady in Hyde- 
 Ff 2
 
 436 humour. 
 
 park; though not much hurt, yet when she came 
 home, she began to rattle the earl. " Here,'* 
 says she, " is that beast John, so drunk, that he 
 can scarcely stand ; he has overturned the coach, 
 and if he is not discharged, he will one day break 
 our necks." " Aye," says my lord * is poor 
 John sick? Alas, I am sorry for him. ,r "I 
 am complaining," says my lady, " that he is 
 drunk, and has overturned me." " Aye," re- 
 plied my lord, " to be sure he has behaved very 
 well, and shall have proper advice." My lady 
 finding it useless to remonstrate, went away in a 
 passion ; and the earl having ordered John into 
 his presence r addressed him very coolly in these 
 terms I- "John, you know that 1 have a regard 
 for you,, and as long as you behave well, you 
 shall always be taken care of in my family. My 
 lady tell* me you arc taken ill, and indeed I see 
 that you can hardly stand : go to bed, and 1 will 
 take care that you* have proper advice." John 
 being thus dismissed,, was carried to bed, where, 
 by his lordship's ordsr, a large blister was put 
 upon his head,, another between* his shoulders, 
 and sixteen ounces of bltsod taken from his arm 
 John fo'ind himself next morning in a woful 
 condition, and was soon acquainted with the 
 whole process, and the reasons on which it was 
 made. lie had no remedy but to submit, for he 
 would rather have endured ten blisters,, than lose
 
 iiumoue. 437 
 
 his place. His lordship sent very formally twice 
 a day to know how he did, and frequently con- 
 gratulated his lady upon John's recovery, whom 
 he directed to be fel only with water-gruel, 
 and to have no company but an old woman, who 
 acted as his nurse. In about a week, John hav- 
 ing constantly sent word that he was well, bis 
 lordship thought fit to understand the messenger, 
 and said, " he- was extremely glad to hear the fe- 
 ver had quite left him, and desired to see him." 
 When John came in, " Well, John," says his 
 lordship, " I hope this bout is over." "Ah, my 
 lord," says John, I humbly ask your lordship'* 
 pardon, and 1 promise never to commit the same 
 fault again." " Aye, aye," replied my lord, 
 "you say right; nobody can prevent sickness, 
 and if you should be ill again, John, 1 shall see 
 it, though perhaps you would not complain; 
 and I promise you that you shall have always the 
 same advice and the same attendance that yon 
 have had now." " God bless your lordship," 
 says John, "I hope there will be no need." 
 " So do I," says the earl, "but as long as 
 you perform your duty to me, John, I will do 
 mine to you, never fear." John then withdrew, 
 and so dreaded the discipline he had undergone, 
 *>hat lie never was known to be drunk afterward*.
 
 43& HTTMOUR* 
 
 When the army of Louis XIV. of France 
 was encamped in Flanders, during his war with 
 the confederates, the king used to reside some- 
 times at the head-quarters himself. It happen- 
 ed, that a very fine horse which he had lately 
 purchased, was exercised before his tent, and, 
 among others who had gathered round him was a 
 corporal, who having been that afternoon too 
 free with aqua vitae, was become as great a man 
 as his majesty. He had strolled up to the spot, 
 and getting within the circle, put himself into an 
 attitude of consequence ; and after having for some 
 time made his observations with the air of a pro- 
 found connoisseur, he thrust a quid of tobacco 
 into his mouth, and swore it was as fiue a crea- 
 ture as ever he saw, and as well broke ; then tot- 
 tering up to the groom, who had been riding it, 
 and just dismounted, asked him who was the 
 owner. At this moment the king came out from 
 his tent, and overhearing the corporal's question, 
 with whom he had already been diverted, told 
 him courteously, that the horse was his the cor- 
 poral made his majesty a slight compliment, by 
 moving his hat, and then setting his arms a-kim- 
 bo, told him that his reason for asking was, 
 that he had taken a liking to the horse, and was 
 inclined to buy it. The king said, he had no in- 
 tention to sell it, but if it would oblige him, he 
 would treat with him on the spot the next morn-
 
 HUMOUR. 439 
 
 ing: the corporal, thrusting out his hand, cried, 
 " a match !" to which the king consented, and 
 rode off", giving private orders that no punish- 
 ment should be inflicted upon the corporal, but that 
 he should be brought before him the next morn- 
 ing. In the morning, when the poor fellow was 
 told what had passed, and was conducted to the 
 king's tent, he was seized with a dreadful panic, 
 lest his insolence and drunkenness might cost him 
 his life. Into the presence, however, he was 
 carried, and the king, who intended only some 
 sport, asked him if he was the man that would 
 last night have bought his horse? "No, and 
 please your majesty," says the fellow, " that man 
 went away at three o'clock this morning." "Did 
 he so ?" said the king (who understood that at 
 three o'clock sleep had substituted a sober man 
 for one that was drunk) ; I am very glad that I 
 have got so sensible and decent a person as you 
 are in his stead, and I hope he will never come 
 back ; for if I see him I shall certainly resent his 
 behaviour. 
 
 When the celebrated earl of -Chesterfield was 
 in the cabinet, a place of importance happened 
 to become vacant, to which the king, George 
 the Second, wanted to appoint one person, and 
 his ministers another. His majesty espoused the 
 interest of his friend with considerable heat, and
 
 440 HUMOUR. 
 
 told them, that " he would be obeyed;" but not 
 being able to succeed, he left the council cham- 
 ber in great displeasure. As soon as he was re- 
 tired, the matter was debated very warmly, but 
 at length it was carried against the king ; how- 
 ever, in the humour his majesty was then in, a 
 question arose, who should carry the grant of 
 the office for the royal signature ; and the lot fell 
 upon lord Chesterfield. His lordship expected 
 to find the king in a very bad humour, and so it 
 happened; for his majesty, according to his 
 custom when out of temper, was kicking his hat 
 about the floor ; therefore the earl forbore to in- 
 cense him by an abrupt request,, and instead of 
 asking him to sign the instrument, very submis- 
 sively enquired whose name he would be pleased 
 to have inserted to fill up the blanks. The king 
 answered in h is German-English, " The Devil's, 
 ^f you will." " Very well," replied his lordship, 
 " but would your majesty have the instrument to 
 run in the usual style, Our trusty and well-be- 
 loved cousin and counsellor?" The king laugh- 
 ed, and with all the good-nature in the world, 
 set his name to the paper, though it was to pro- 
 mote a person not agreeable to him. 
 
 ENJ) OF VOL. I. 
 
 mdon : Prir.tttJ by li. M'Miilar, } 
 JBo -IickI, Cover.l Garutn. J
 
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