Chapter IV: Part 4

Sir Fletcher Norton was noted for his want of courtesy. When pleading before Lord Mansfield, on some question of manorial right, he chanced unfortunately to say, "My lord, I can illustrate the point in an instant in my own person: I myself have two little manors." The judge immediately interposed, with one of his blandest smiles, "We all know that, Sir Fletcher."

The Stocks.--Lord Camden once presided at a trial in which a charge was brought against a magistrate for false imprisonment, and for putting the plaintiff in the stocks. The counsel for the magistrate, in his reply, said, the charges were trifling, particularly that of putting in the stocks, which everybody knew was no punishment at all. The chief justice rose, and leaning over the bench, said, in a half whisper, "Brother, were you ever in the stocks?" "In the stocks, my lord! no, never." "Then I have," said his lordship, "and I assure you, brother, it is no such trifle as you represent." His lordship's knowledge of the stocks arose from the following circumstance. When he was on a visit to Lord Dacre, his brother-in-law, at Alveley in Essex, he walked out one day with a gentleman remarkable for his absence of mind. When they had reached a hill, at some distance from the house, his lordship sat down on the parish stocks, which stood by the road side; and after some time, asked his companion to open them, as he wished to know what kind of punishment it was; this being done, the absent gentleman took a book from his pocket, and sauntered about, until he forgot both the judge and his situation, and returned to Lord Dacre's house. When the judge was tired of the experiment he had so rashly made, he found himself unable to open the stocks, and asked a countryman who passed by to assist him. "No, no, old gentleman," replied Hodge, "you was not set there for nothing, I'll be bound!" Lord C. protested his innocence, but in vain; the countryman walked on, and left his lordship to meditate for some time longer in his foolish situation, until some of Lord Dacre's servants, chancing to pass that way, released him.

Hanging Judge.--Counsellor Grady, in a late trial in Ireland, said, he recollected to have heard of a relentless judge; he was known by the name of the Hanging Judge, and was never seen to shed a tear but once, and that was during the representation of _The Beggar's Opera_, when Macheath got a _reprieve!_

It was the same judge, we believe, between whom and Mr. Curran the following pass of wit once took place at table. "Pray, Mr. Curran," said the judge, "is that hung beef beside you? If it is, I will try it." "If _you_ try it, my lord," replied Mr. Curran, "it is sure to be hung."

Keep to the Point.--Lord Tenterden contracted such an inveterate habit of keeping himself and everybody else to the precise matter in hand, that once, during a circuit dinner, having asked a country magistrate if he would take venison, and receiving what he deemed an evasive reply, "Thank you, my lord, I am going to take boiled chicken," his lordship sharply retorted, "That, sir, is no answer to my question; I ask you again if you will take venison, and I will trouble you to say yes or no, without further prevarication."

Longs and Shorts.--There were two barristers at the Irish bar who formed a singular contrast in their statures. Ninian Mahaffy, Esq., was as much above the middle size as Mr. Collis was below it. When Lord Redesdale was Lord Chancellor of Ireland, these two gentlemen chanced to be retained in the same cause, a short time after his lordship's elevation, and before he was personally acquainted with the Irish bar. Mr. Collis was opening the motion, when the lord chancellor observed, "Mr. Collis, when a barrister addresses the court, he must stand." "I am standing on the bench, my lord," said Collis. "I beg a thousand pardons," said his lordship, somewhat confused. "Sit down, Mr. Mahaffy." "I am sitting, my lord," was the reply to the confounded chancellor.

The Scotch bar had once to boast in Mr. Erskine, of Cardross, of a pleader quite as diminutive as Mr. Collis. He had usually a stool brought to him to stand upon when addressing the court, which gave occasion for a witty rival once to observe, that "that was one way of rising at the bar."

Lord Kaimes used to relate a story of a man who claimed the honour of his acquaintance on rather singular grounds. His lordship, when one of the justiciary judges, returning from the north circuit to Perth, happened one night to sleep at Dunkeld. The next morning, walking towards the ferry, but apprehending he had missed his way, he asked a man whom he met to conduct him. The other answered, with much cordiality, "That I will do with all my heart, my lord. Does not your lordship remember me? My name's John ----, I have had the _honour_ to be before your lordship for stealing sheep!" "Oh, John! I remember you well; and how is your wife? She had the honour to be before me too, for receiving them, knowing them to be stolen." "At your lordship's service. We were very lucky; we got off for want of evidence; and I am still going on in the butcher trade." "Then," replied his lordship, "we may have the _honour_ of meeting again."

Sergeant Hill, who was much celebrated as a lawyer, and eminently qualified to find out a case in point on any disputed question, was somewhat remarkable for absence of mind, the result of that earnestness with which he devoted himself to his professional duties. On the very day when he was married, he had an intricate case in his mind, and forgot his engagement, until reminded of his waiting bride, and that the legal time of performing the ceremony had nearly elapsed. Being once on circuit, and having occasion to refer to a law authority, he had recourse as usual to his bag; but, to the astonishment of the court, instead of a volume of Viner's abridgment, he took out a specimen candlestick, the property of a Birmingham traveller, whose bag the learned sergeant had brought into court by mistake.

During the long vacation, the sergeant usually retired to his country seat at Rowell in Northamptonshire. It happened, during one autumn, that some of the neighbouring sportsmen, among whom was the present Earl Spencer, being in pursuit of a fox, Reynard, who was hard pressed, took refuge in the court-yard of this venerable sage. At this moment the sergeant was reading a _case in point_, which decided that in a trespass of this kind the owners of the ground had a right to inflict the punishment of death. Mr. Hill accordingly gave orders for punishing the fox, as an original trespasser, which was done instantly. The hunters now arrived with the hounds in full cry, and the foremost horseman, who anticipated the glory of possessing the brush, was the first to behold his victim stretched lifeless on the ground, pinioned to the earth by plebeian pitchforks. The hunters were very anxious to discover the daring culprit who had presumed to deprive the field and the pack of their prey; when the venerable sergeant made his appearance, with his book in his hand, and offered to convince them that execution had taken place according to legal authority. The sportsmen got outrageous, but the learned sergeant was not intimidated; he knew the force of his authorities, and gravely invited the attention of his auditory to a case from one of the old reporters, that would have puzzled a whole bar of modern practitioners to controvert. The effect was ludicrous; the extraordinary appearance of the worthy sergeant, not in his bargown, but in what these adventurous mortals called a mere bedgown; the quaintness of his manner, the singularity of the occurrence, and the novelty of the incident, threw them completely out.

LIBRARIANS.

Budaeus, a very learned man, librarian to Francis the First of France, was one day engaged in deep study, when his servant came running to him in a great fright, to tell him that the house was on fire. "Go," said he, with perfect calmness, and hardly raising his eyes from his book, "and inform your mistress, 'tis her concern, you know I never interfere in domestic matters."

Knowledge.--The famous Duval, librarian to the Emperor Francis the First, often used to reply to questions that were put to him, "I do not know." An ignoramus one day said to him, "But the emperor pays you for _knowing_." "The emperor," he replied, "pays me for what I know; if he were to pay me for what I am ignorant of, all the treasures of his empire would not be sufficient."

Bautru, a celebrated French wit, being in Spain, went to visit the famous library of the Escurial, where he found a very ignorant librarian. The King of Spain asked him his opinion of it. "It is an admirable one, indeed," said he; "but your majesty should give the man who has the care of it the administration of your finances."--"Wherefore?" asked the king. "Because," replied Bautru, "the man never touches the treasure that is confided to him."

MAGNANIMITY.

At the siege of one of the strong towns in Flanders, during the wars of Louis XIV., it was necessary to reconnoitre the point of attack. The danger was great, and a hundred louis were promised to any one who would undertake it. Several of the bravest of the soldiers appeared indifferent to the offer, when a young man stepped forward to undertake the task; he left the detachment, and remained absent a long time; he was thought killed. While the officers were deploring his fate, he returned, and gained their admiration no less by the precision than the _sang froid_ of his recital. The hundred louis were immediately presented to him. "_Vous vous moquez de moi, mon general_," was his reply; "_va-t-on la pour de l'argent_."--[You are jesting with me, general; one does not perform such actions for money.]

Colonel Hawker, who commanded the 14th Light Dragoons in most of the serious engagements in the Peninsula, having formerly lost an arm in action, was attended by an orderly man, who held a guiding rein to the bridle of the colonel's charger; this attendant being slain by his side, just as the enemy's cavalry had broken the line of the 14th, by a heavy charge of superior numbers, great slaughter ensued on both sides, when a French officer immediately opposed to Colonel Hawker, lifted up his sabre, and was in the act of cutting him down, but observing the loss of his arm, he instantly dropped the point on the colonel's shoulder, and, bending his head, passed on. A truly noble adversary!

St. Louis.--Louis IX., after his captivity among the Saracens, was, with his queen and children, nearly shipwrecked on his return to France, some of the planks of the vessel having started. He was pressed to go on board another ship, and so escape the danger, but he refused, saying, "Those that are with me, most assuredly are as fond of their lives as I can be of mine. If I quit the ship, they will likewise quit it; and the vessel not being large enough to receive them, they will all perish. I had rather entrust my life, and the lives of my wife and children, in the hands of God, than be the occasion of making so many of my brave subjects suffer."

Magnanimous Rebel.--Sir Phelim O'Neil, one of the leaders in the Irish rebellion of 1641, while in prison, previous to his trial, was frequently solicited, by promises of a free pardon, and large rewards, to bear testimony that the king (Charles the First) had been actively instrumental in stirring up that rebellion. It was one of the arts of the factions of that period to throw the odium of the massacre which followed the Irish rebellion upon Charles; but whatever may have been the political sins of that unhappy prince, impartial history has not ranked this among the number. Sir Phelim declared, that he could not, in conscience, charge the king with any thing of the kind. His trial was drawn out to the length of several days, that he might be worked upon in that time; but he persisted with constancy and firmness in rejecting every offer made to him by the commissioners. Even at the place of execution, the most splendid advantages were pressed upon him, upon the condition of falsely accusing King Charles in that point. Men saw with admiration this unfortunate chieftain under all the terrors of death, and the strongest temptations man could be under, bravely attesting the king's innocence, and sealing the truth of his testimony with his blood. When on the ladder, and ready to be thrown off, two marshals came riding in great haste, and cried aloud, "Stop a little." Having passed through the, crowd of spectators and guards, one of them whispered something into the ear of Sir Phelim, who made answer in so loud a voice, as to be heard by several hundreds of the people. "I thank the lieutenant-general for the intended mercy; but I declare, good people, before God and his holy angels, and all of you that hear me, that I never had any commission from the king for what I have done, in levying, or in prosecuting this war; and do heartily beg your prayers, all good Catholics and Christians! that God may be merciful unto me, and forgive me my sins." On this the guards beat off those that stood near the place of execution, and in a few minutes Sir Phelim was no more.

Admiral Thurot.--It has been said of the French naval commander Thurot, that he was strictly honest in circumstances that made the exertion of common honesty an act of the highest magnanimity. When this officer appeared on the coast of Scotland, and landed in order to supply his three vessels with provisions, he paid a liberal price for every thing he wanted, and behaved with so much affability, that a countryman ventured to complain to him of an officer, who had taken 50 or 60 guineas from him. The officer, on being called on to vindicate himself against the charge, acknowledged the fact, but said, that he had divided the money among his men. Thurot immediately ordered the officer to give his bill for the money, which he said should be stopped out of his pay, if they were so fortunate as to return to France. On another occasion, one of Thurot's officers gave a bill upon a merchant in France, for some provisions that he had purchased. Thurot hearing of the circumstance, informed the countryman that the bill was of no value; and reprimanding the officer severely for the cheat, compelled him to give another on a merchant, whom he knew would pay the money. What makes this act of integrity still more striking and praiseworthy, is, that Thurot's men at this time were so dissatisfied, as to be ready to break out in open mutiny.

The Chevalier Bayard.--The town of Bresse having revolted against the French, was attacked, taken, and sacked, with an almost unexampled fury. The chevalier Bayard, who was wounded at the beginning of the action, was carried to the house of a person of quality, whom he protected from the fury of the conquerors, by placing at the door two soldiers, whom he indemnified with a gift of eight hundred crowns, in lieu of the plunder they might have lost by their attendance at the door. The impatience of Bayard to join the army without considering the state of his wound, which was by no means well, determined him to depart. The mistress of the house then threw herself at his feet, saying, "The rights of war make you master of our lives and our possessions, and you have saved our honour. We hope, however, from your accustomed generosity that you will not treat us with severity, and that you will be pleased to content yourself with a present more adapted to our circumstances, than to our inclinations." At the same time, she presented him with a small box full of ducats.

Bayard, smiling, asked her how many ducats the box contained. "Two thousand five hundred, my lord," answered the lady, with much emotion; "but if these will not satisfy you, we will employ all our means to raise more."--"No, madam," replied the chevalier, "I do not want money: the care you have taken of me more than repays the services I have done you. I ask nothing but your friendship; and I conjure you to accept of mine."

So singular an instance of generosity gave the lady more surprise than joy. She again threw herself at the feet of the chevalier, and protested that she would never rise until he had accepted of that mark of her gratitude. "Since you will have it so," replied Bayard, "I will not refuse it; but may I not have the honour to salute your amiable daughters?" The young ladies soon entered, and Bayard thanked them for their kindness in enlivening him with their company. "I should be glad," said he, "to have it in my power to convince you of my gratitude; but we soldiers are seldom possessed of jewels worthy the acceptance of your sex. Your amiable mother has presented me with two thousand five hundred ducats; I make a present to each of you of one thousand, for a part of your marriage portion. The remaining five hundred I give to the poor sufferers of this town, and I beg you will take on yourselves the distribution."

One of the finest actions of a soldier of which history makes mention, is related in the history of the Marechal de Luxemburg. The marechal, then Count de Boutteville, served in the army of Flanders in 1675, under the command of the Prince of Conde. He perceived in a march some soldiers that were separated from the main body, and he sent one of his aides-de-camp to bring them back to their colours. All obeyed, except one, who continued his road. The count, highly offended at such disobedience, threatened to strike him with his stick. "That you may do," said the soldier, with great coolness, "but you will repent of it." Irritated by this answer, Boutteville struck him, and forced him to rejoin his corps. Fifteen days after, the army besieged Furnes; and Boutteville commanded the colonel of a regiment to find a man steady and intrepid for a coup-de-main, which he wanted, promising a hundred pistoles as a reward. The soldier in question, who had the character of being the bravest man in the regiment, presented himself, and taking thirty of his comrades, of whom he had the choice, he executed his commission, which was of the most hazardous nature, with a courage and success beyond all praise. On his return, Boutteville, after having praised him highly, counted out the hundred pistoles he had promised. The soldier immediately distributed them to his comrades, saying, that he had no occasion for money; and requested that if what he had done merited any recompense, he might be made an officer. Then addressing himself to the count, he asked if he recognised him? and on Boutteville replying in the negative, "Well," said he, "I am the soldier whom you struck on our march fifteen days ago. Was I not right when I said that you would repent of it?" The Count de Boutteville, filled with admiration, and affected almost to tears, embraced the soldier, created him an officer on the spot, and soon made him one of his aides-de-camp.

MUSICIANS.

Handel had such a remarkable irritation of nerves, that he could not bear to hear the tuning of instruments, and therefore at a performance this was always done before he arrived. A musical wag, who knew how to extract some mirth from Handel's irascibility of temper, stole into the orchestra, on a night when the Prince of Wales was to be present, and untuned all the instruments. As soon as the prince arrived, Handel gave the signal for beginning, _con spirito;_ but such was the horrible discord, that the enraged musician started up from his seat, and having overturned a double bass, which stood in his way, he seized a kettle-drum, which he threw with such violence at the leader of the band, that he lost his full-bottomed wig in the effort. Without waiting to replace it, he advanced bare-headed to the front of the orchestra, breathing vengeance, but so much choked with passion, that utterance was denied him. In this ridiculous attitude he stood staring and stamping for some moments, amidst a convulsion of laughter; nor could he be prevailed upon to resume his seat, until the prince went in person, and with much difficulty appeased his wrath.

Handel being only a musician, was obliged to employ some person to write his operas and oratorios, which accounts for their being so very defective as poetical compositions. One of those versifiers employed by him, once ventured to suggest, in the most respectful manner, that the music he had composed to some lines of his, was quite contrary to the sense of the passage. Instead of taking this friendly hint as he ought to have done, from one who (although not a Pindar) was at least a better judge of poetry than himself, he looked upon the advice as injurious to his talents, and cried out, with all the violence of affronted pride, "What! you teach me music? The music is good music: confound your words! Here," said he, thrumming his harpsichord, "are my ideas; go and make words to them."

Handel became afterwards the proprietor of the Opera House, London; and presided at the harpsichord in the orchestra (piano-fortes not being then known). His embellishments were so masterly, that the attention of the audience was frequently diverted from the singing to the accompaniment, to the frequent mortification of the vocal professors. A pompous Italian singer was, on a certain occasion, so chagrined at the marked attention paid to the harpsichord, in preference to his own singing, that he swore, that if ever Handel played him a similar trick, he would jump down upon his instrument, and put a stop to the interruption. Handel, who had a considerable turn for humour, replied: "Oh! oh! you vill jump, vill you? very vell, sare; be so kind, and tell me de night ven you vill jump, and I vill advertishe it in de bills; and I shall get grate dale more money by your jumping, than I shall get by your singing."

Although he lived much with the great, Handel was no flatterer. He once told a member of the royal family, who asked him how he liked his playing on the violoncello? "Vy, sir, your highness _plays like a prince_." When the same prince had prevailed on him to hear a minuet of his own composition, which he played himself on the violoncello, Handel heard him out very quietly; but when the prince told him, that he would call in his band to play it to him, that he might hear the full effect of his composition, Handel could contain himself no longer, and ran out of the room, crying, "Worsher and worsher, upon mine honour."

One Sunday, having attended divine worship at a country church, Handel asked the organist to permit him to play the people out; to which, with a politeness characteristic of the profession, the organist consented. Handel accordingly sat down to the organ, and began to play in such a masterly manner, as instantly to attract the attention of the whole congregation, who, instead of vacating their seats as usual, remained for a considerable space of time, fixed in silent admiration. The organist began to be impatient (perhaps his wife was waiting dinner); and at length addressing the performer, told him that he was convinced that _he_ could not play the people out, and advised him to relinquish the attempt; which being done, they were played out in the usual manner.

In 1741, Handel, who was then proceeding to Ireland, was detained for some days at Chester, in consequence of the weather. During this time he applied to Mr. Baker, the organist, to know whether there were any choir men in the cathedral who could sing _at sight_, as he wished to prove some books that had been hastily transcribed, by trying the choruses. Mr. Baker mentioned some of the best singers in Chester, and among the rest, a printer of the name of Janson, who had a good bass voice, and was one of the best musicians in the choir. A time was fixed for this private rehearsal at the Golden Falcon, where Handel had taken up his residence; when, on trial of a chorus in the Messiah, poor Janson, after repeated attempts, failed completely, Handel got enraged, and after abusing him in five or six different languages, exclaimed in broken English, "You schauntrel, tit not you dell me dat you could sing at soite?" "Yes sir," said the printer, "so I can, but not at _first sight_."

Mozart, walking in the suburbs of Vienna, was accosted by a mendicant of a very prepossessing appearance and manner, who told his tale of woe with such effect, as to interest the musician strongly in his favour; but the state of his purse not corresponding with the impulse of his humanity, he desired the applicant to follow him to a coffee-house. Here Mozart, drawing some paper from his pocket, in a few minutes composed a minuet, which with a letter he gave to the distressed man, desiring him to take it to his publisher. A composition from Mozart was a bill payable at sight; and to his great surprise the now happy mendicant was immediately presented with five double ducats.

When Haydn was in England, one of the princes commissioned Sir Joshua Reynolds to take his portrait. Haydn went to the painter's house, and sat to him, but soon grew tired. Sir Joshua, careful of his reputation, would not paint a man of acknowledged genius, with a stupid countenance; and deferred the sitting till another day. The same weariness and want of expression occurring at the next attempt, Reynolds went and communicated the circumstance to his royal highness, who contrived the following stratagem. He sent to the painter's house a German girl, in the service of the queen. Haydn took his seat for the third time, and as soon as the conversation began to flag, a curtain rose, and the fair German addressed him in his native language, with a most elegant compliment. Haydn, delighted, overwhelmed the enchantress with questions; his countenance recovered its animation, and Sir Joshua rapidly seized its traits.

Haydn could be comic as well as serious; and he has left a remarkable instance of the former, in the well known symphony, during which all the instruments disappear, one after the other, so that, at the conclusion, the first violin is left playing by himself. The origin of this singular piece is thus accounted for. It is said that Haydn, perceiving his innovations were ill received by the performers of Prince Esterhazy, determined to play a joke upon them. He caused his symphony to be performed, without a previous rehearsal, before his highness, who was in the secret. The embarrassment of the performers, who all thought they had made a mistake, and especially the confusion of the first violin, when, at the end, he found he was playing alone, diverted the court of Eisenstadt. Others assert, that the prince having determined to dismiss all his band, except Haydn, the latter imagined this ingenious way of representing the general departure, and the dejection of spirits consequently upon it. Each performer left the concert room as soon as his part was finished.

PARLIAMENT.

Hume.--At a parliamentary dinner, Mr. Plunkett was asked if Mr. Hume did not annoy him by his broad speeches. "No," replied he, "it is the _length_ of the speeches, not their _breadth_, that we complain of in the House."

Henry Lord Falkland having been brought into the House of Commons at a very early age, a grave senator objected to his youth, remarked that "he did not look as if he had sown his wild oats." His lordship replied with great quickness, "Then I am come to the fittest place, where there are so many old geese to gobble them up."

The Duke of Newcastle, who was at the head of the Treasury, frequently differed with his colleague in office, Mr. Pitt, the first Earl of Chatham, though the latter, by his firmness, usually prevailed. A curious scene occurred at one of their interviews. It had been proposed to send Admiral Hawke to sea, in pursuit of M. Conflans. The season was unfavourable, and almost dangerous for a fleet to sail, being the end of the month of November, and very stormy. Mr. Pitt was at that time confined to his bed by gout, and was obliged to receive visitors in his chamber, in which he could not bear to have a fire. The Duke of Newcastle waited upon him one very raw day, to discuss the affair of the fleet, but scarcely had he entered the chamber, when shivering with cold, he said, "What, have you no fire?" "No," replied Mr. Pitt, "I can never bear a fire when I have the gout." The duke sat down by the side of the invalid, wrapt up in his cloak, and began to enter upon the subject of his visit. There was a second bed in the room, and the duke, unable longer to endure the cold, said, "With your leave, I'll warm myself in this other bed;" and without taking off his cloak, he actually got into the bed, and resumed the debate. The duke began to argue against exposing the fleet to hazard in such weather, and Mr. Pitt was as determined it should put to sea. "The fleet must absolutely sail," said Mr. Pitt, accompanying his words with the most expressive gesture. "It is impossible," said the duke, with equal animation, "it will certainly be lost." Sir Charles Frederick, of the ordnance department, arrived just at this time, and finding them both in this laughable posture, had the greatest difficulty to preserve his gravity, at seeing two ministers of state deliberating on the affairs of the country in so ludicrous a situation.

"They're all Out."--At the time when the unfortunate ministry, known as "All the Talents," was ousted in 1807, there stood upon the Earthen Mound in Edinburgh many caravans of wild beasts belonging to the famous Mr. Wombwell, around which there clustered a large crowd of idle folks listening to the dulcet strains of his most harmonious brass band. The news of the Tory victory was first made known in the parliament house, and, as can well be believed, the excitement that ensued was intense. Under its influence that eager and eccentric judge, Lord Hermand, making for his home, espied a friend among the Wombwell crowd, and shouted aloud in his glee across the street, "They're out! they're out! they're all out!" In half a second there was the wildest distribution of the mob--down to Prince's-street, up the Castle-hill, into the gardens, and up the vennels. The people picturing the horrors of a tiger-chase did not stop to hear more, and Hermand found himself, to his amazement, monarch of all he surveyed, and sole auditor of the last terrified shriek of the band.

Lord Lyndhurst, it is said, tells this story of his surrender of the great seal in 1846. "When I went to the palace," says his lordship, "I alighted at the grand staircase; I was received by the sticks gold and silver, and other officers of the household, who called in sonorous tones from landing to landing, and apartment to apartment, 'Room for the Lord High Chancellor of England.' I entered the presence chamber; I gave the seals to her Majesty; I had the honour of kissing her hand; I left the apartment by another door and found myself on a back staircase, down which I descended without any one taking any notice of me, until, as I was looking for my carriage at the outer door, a lackey bustled up, and with a patronising air, said, 'Lord Lyndhurst, can I do anything for you?'"

The Slave Trade.--In one of the last discussions on the slave trade, Sir Charles Pole said, "while he deprecated the motion (for the abolition), he rejoiced that it had been brought forward thus early, because it showed the cloven foot which had been attempted to be concealed." To this remark Mr. Sheridan very spiritedly replied, "An honourable baronet," said he, "has talked of a cloven foot; I plead guilty to that cloven foot; but this I will say, that the man who expresses pleasure at the hope of seeing so large a portion of the human race freed from the shackles of tyranny rather displays the pinions of an angel than the cloven foot of a demon."

PATIENCE.

Father Bernard.--His patience was such as no circumstances, however offensive, could subdue. One day he presented a petition in favour of an unfortunate person, to a nobleman in place; the latter being of a hasty temper, flew into a violent passion, said many injurious things of the person for whom the priest interested himself. Father Bernard, however, still persisted in his request; and the nobleman was at last so irritated, that he gave him a box on the ear. Bernard immediately fell at his feet, and presenting the other, said, "Give me a blow on this also, my lord, and grant me my petition." The nobleman was so affected by this humility, that he granted his request.

Philip, the second King of Spain, had once spent several hours of the night in writing a long letter to the Pope, and having finished it, gave it to his secretary to fold it up and seal it. The secretary was half asleep, and instead of shaking the sand-bottle over it in order to dry it, he emptied that which contained the ink by mistake, so that all the ink ran out upon the letter and completely spoiled it; perceiving the accident, he was ready to drop with confusion, upon which the King quietly said: "Well, give me another sheet of paper;" and then began to write the letter over again with great tranquillity.

POETS.

An Italian poet presented some verses to the Pope, who had not gone far before he met with a line too short in quantity, which he remarked upon. The poet submissively entreated his holiness to read on, and he would probably meet with a line that was a syllable too long, so that the account would soon be balanced!

A certain Italian having written a book on the Art of making gold, dedicated it to Pope Leo X., in hopes of a good reward. His holiness finding the man constantly followed him, at length gave him a large empty purse, saying, "Sir, since you know how to make gold, you can have no need of anything but a purse to put it in."

POLITENESS.

A Polite Mayor.--At the time when Queen Elizabeth was making one of her progresses through the kingdom, a mayor of Coventry, attended by a large cavalcade, went out to meet her Majesty, and usher her into the city with due formality. On their return they passed through a wide brook, when Mr. Mayor's horse several times attempted to drink, and each time his worship checked him; which the Queen observing, called out to him, "Mr. Mayor, let your horse drink, Mr. Mayor;" but the magistrate, bowing very low, modestly answered, "Nay, nay, may it please your Majesty's horse to drink first."

A French Mayor.--A mayor of a small village in France, having occasion to give a passport to a distinguished personage in his neighbourhood who was blind of one eye, was in great embarrassment on coming to the description of his person. Fearful of offending the great man, he adopted the following ingenious expedient of avoiding the mention of his deformity, and wrote "Black eyes--one of which is absent."

Sir Wm. Gooch being engaged in conversation with a gentleman in a street of the city of Williamsburgh, returned the salute of a negro, who was passing by about his master's business. "Sir William," said the gentleman, "do you descend so far as to salute a slave?"--"Why, yes," replied the governor; "I cannot suffer a man of his condition to exceed me in good manners."

PRESENCE OF MIND.

The Marquis St. Andre applied to Louvois, the war-minister of Louis XIV., for a place then vacant. Louvois having received some complaints against the marquis, refused to comply. The nobleman, somewhat nettled, said, rather hastily, "If I were to enter again into the service, I know what I would do."--"And pray what would you do?" inquired the minister in a furious tone. St. Andre recollected himself, and had the presence of mind to say, "I would take care to behave in such a manner, that your excellency should have nothing to reproach me with." Louvois, agreeably surprised at this reply, immediately granted his request.

Carving.--An accomplished gentleman, when carving a tough goose, had the misfortune to send it entirely out of the dish, and into the lap of the lady next to him; on which he very coolly looked her full in the face, and with admirable gravity and calmness, said, "Madam, may I trouble you for that goose." In a case like this, a person must, necessarily, suffer so much, and be such an object of compassion to the company, that the kindest thing he can do is to appear as unmoved as possible.

Lord Peterborough was once taken by the mob for the duke of Marlborough (who was then in disgrace with them), and being about to be roughly treated by these friends to summary justice, he told them, "Gentlemen, I can convince you, by two reasons, that I am not the duke of Marlborough. In the first place, I have only five guineas in my pocket; and, in the second, they are heartily at your service." So throwing his purse amongst them, he got out of their hands, with loud huzzas and acclamations.

Fouche.--Napoleon sent for Fouche one day, in a great rage, told him that he was a fool, and not fit to be at the head of the police, as he was quite ignorant of what was passing. "Pardon me, Sire," said Fouche; "I know that your Majesty has my dismissal ready signed in your pocket." Napoleon changed his mind, and kept his Minister.

Vendean Servant.--An unexampled instance of self-devotion and presence of mind was manifested by a maidservant, during the war in La Vendee. "The wife of Lepinai, a general in the Vendean army, was imprisoned at Nantes, and attended by a young girl, a native of Chatellerault, so faithfully attached to the service of her mistress that she had followed her to prison. One day the soldiers arrived to summon the prisoners who were destined to death: this faithful girl heard Madame Lepinai called, who had but an instant before retired to her chamber. Glad of the opportunity of saving the life of her beloved mistress, she presented herself, and answered to the name. The affectionate creature was instantly led away with the other prisoners, and precipitated among the waves of the Loire, in place of Madame Lepinai."

The Gendarmes and the Priest.--During the Revolution a priest took refuge in the house of a farmer. Some gendarmes having heard of it came one evening to the house. The whole family were gathered round the hearth, and among them was the priest, disguised as a servant. When the soldiers entered every one grew pale; they asked the farmer if there was not a priest concealed in the house. "Gentlemen," returned he, without losing his presence of mind, "you see very well there is no priest here; but one might conceal himself in the house without my knowledge; so I will not prevent you from doing your duty; search the house from cellar to garret." Then he said to the priest, "I say, Jacques, take your lantern and show these gentlemen everywhere; let them see every corner of the farm." The gendarmes made a minute inspection of the house, uttering many imprecations and many menaces against the priest, promising themselves to pay him well for the trouble he had cost them, if they succeeded in discovering him. Seeing their search was useless, they prepared to leave. As they were going the farmer said, "Pray gentlemen, remember the boy." They gave the disguised priest a small coin, and thanking him for his civility took their leave.

A housemaid in Upper Grosvenor Street, London, going to the cellar for a draught of ale, after the family had retired to bed, glided silently in without a candle. As she was feeling about for the cask, she put her hand upon something which she immediately perceived to be the head of a man. The girl, with great fortitude and presence of mind, forebore to cry out, but said, in a tone of impatience, "That stupid creature, Betty, is always putting the mops in the way." She then went on to the cask, quietly drew her beer, retired from the cellar, fastened the door, and then alarmed the house. The man was taken; and afterwards declared, that the maid was entirely indebted to her presence of mind for her life, for had she cried out, he would instantly have murdered her: but as he firmly believed she mistook his head for a mop, particularly as she had drawn the beer after she had felt it, he let her go without injury.

King James the Fourth of Scotland, who used often to amuse himself in wandering about the country in different disguises, was once overtaken by a violent storm in a dark night, and obliged to take shelter in a cavern near Wemys. Having advanced some way in it, the king discovered a number of men and women ready to begin to roast a sheep, by way of supper. From their appearance, he began to suspect that he had not fallen into the best of company; but, as it was too late to retreat, he asked hospitality from them till the tempest was over. They granted it, and invited the king, whom they did not know, to sit down, and take part with them. They were a band of robbers and cut-throats. As soon as they had finished their supper, one of them presented a plate, upon which two daggers were laid in form of a St. Andrew's cross, telling the king, at the same time, that this was the dessert which they always served to strangers; that he must choose one of the daggers, and fight him whom the company should appoint to attack him. The king did not lose his presence of mind, but instantly seized the two daggers, one in each hand, and plunged them into the hearts of the two robbers who were next him; and running full speed to the mouth of the cavern, he escaped from their pursuit, through the obscurity of the night. The rest of the band were seized next morning and hanged.

The Marquess del Campo.--When the attempt was made upon the life of George III., by Margaret Nicholson, who attempted to stab him as he was going to St. James's to hold a levee, a council was ordered to be held as soon as the levee was over. The Marquess del Campo, the Spanish ambassador, being apprised of that circumstance, and knowing that the council would detain the king in town three or four hours beyond the usual time, took post horses, and set off for Windsor. Alighting at the castle, he called upon a lady there with whom he was acquainted. The queen, finding that the king did not return at the usual time, and understanding that the marquess was in the palace, sent to ask him if he had been at the levee. He replied that he had, and that he had left his majesty in perfect health, going to council. When the king arrived, he, of course, told her majesty the extraordinary occurrence of the morning. The queen expressed great surprise that the Marquess del Campo, who had been nearly three hours in the palace, had not mentioned the subject to her; he was then sent for, when he told their majesties, that finding upon his arrival at the castle, that no rumour of the attempt upon the life of his majesty had reached the queen, he did not think it expedient to apprise her of it till his majesty's arrival gave full assurance of his safety; but, at the same time, fearing that some incorrect and alarming reports might be brought down, he deemed it right to remain in the palace, in order in that case, to be able to remove all apprehensions from her majesty's mind, by acquainting her with the real facts. The king, taking the ambassador graciously by the hand, complimented him on his presence of mind, and assured him, that he scarcely knew a man in the world to whom he was so much obliged.

Miss Bailly.--A few days before the battle of Falkirk, so disastrous to the English army, Lord Loudon made a bold attempt to seize the Pretender at Moy, a castle belonging to the chief of the clan of Mackintosh, about six miles from Inverness, where he was then staying, and where he conceived himself in perfect security. His lordship would probably have succeeded in this design, but for the singular courage and presence of mind of a young girl. While some English officers were drinking in the house of Mrs. Bailly, an innkeeper in Inverness, and passing the time till the hour of setting out for the intended capture, her daughter, a girl of about thirteen or fourteen years of age, who happened to wait on them, paid great attention to their conversation, and from certain expressions which they dropped she discovered their design. As soon as she could do so unobserved, she left the house, escaped from the town, notwithstanding the vigilance of the sentinels, and took the road to Moy, running as fast as she was able, without shoes or stockings, which to accelerate her progress she had taken off, in order to inform the Prince of the danger which menaced him. She reached Moy, quite out of breath, before Lord Loudon and his troops; and the Prince had just time to escape, in his robe-de-chambre, nightcap, and slippers, to the neighbouring mountains, where he passed the night in concealment. This girl, to whom the Prince owed his life, was in great danger of losing her own, from the excessive fatigue and excitement; but by care and attention she eventually recovered.

Servant at Noyon.--Some years ago, an instance of humanity and presence of mind occurred at a place called Noyon, in France, which well deserves to be commemorated. Four men, who were employed in cleansing a sewer, were so affected by the foetid vapours, that they were unable to ascend. The lateness of the hour (for it was eleven at night) rendered it difficult to procure assistance, and the delay must have been fatal, had not a young girl, a servant in the family, at the hazard of her own life, attempted their deliverance. This generous girl, who was only seventeen years of age, was, at her own request, let down several times to the poor men by a rope: she was so fortunate as to save two of them, but, in tying the third to the cord, which was let down to her for that purpose, she found her breath failing, and was so much affected by the vapour as to be in danger of suffocation. In this dreadful situation, she had the presence of mind to tie herself by her hair to the rope, and was drawn up almost expiring, with the poor man in whose behalf she had so humanely exerted herself. The corporation of the town of Noyon, as a small token of their approbation, presented the generous girl with six hundred livres, and conferred on her the civic crown, with a medal engraved with the arms of the town, her name, and a narrative of the action. The Duke of Orleans also sent her five hundred livres, and settled two hundred yearly on her for life.

PRIDE OF RANK AND ANCESTRY.

The anecdote is well known of the celebrated Dr. Busby keeping on his hat when visited by King Charles II., and apologizing for his apparent want of respect, by saying, that he should never be able to keep his scholars in subjection, if they thought that there was a greater man in the world than himself. The same feeling seems to have actuated the Gaelic chiefs, who were excessively proud of their rank and prerogatives. When the first Marquess of Huntly, then the chief of the clan Gordon, was presented at the court of James VI., he did not so much as incline his head before his sovereign. Being asked why he failed in this point of etiquette? he replied, that he had no intention whatever of showing any disrespect to his king, but that he came from a country where all the world were accustomed to bow down before him. A similar instance occurred with the head of another family. When George II. offered a patent of nobility to the chief of the Grants, the proud Celt refused it, saying, "Wha would then be Laird of Grant?"

James I. in his progress into England, was entertained at Lumley Castle, the seat of the Earl of Scarborough. A relation of the noble earl was very proud in showing and explaining to his majesty an immense genealogical chart of the family, the pedigree of which he carried back rather farther than the greatest strength of credulity would allow. "I gude faith, man," says the king, "it may be they are very true, but I did na ken before that Adam's name was Lumley."

An anecdote is told of a gentleman in Monmouthshire, which exhibits the pride of ancestry in a curious point of view. His house was in such a state of dilapidation that the proprietor was in danger of perishing under the ruins of the ancient mansion, which he venerated even in decay. A stranger, whom he accidentally met at the foot of the Skyrrid, made various enquiries respecting the country, the prospects, and the neighbouring houses, and, among others, asked--"Whose is this antique mansion before us?" "That, sir, is Werndee, a very ancient house; for out of it came the Earls of Pembroke of the first line, and the Earls of Pembroke of the second line; the Lord Herberts of Cherbury, the Herberts of Coldbrook, Ramsay, Cardiff, and York; the Morgans of Acton; the Earl of Hunsdon; the houses of Ircowm and Lanarth, and all the Powells. Out of this house also, by the female line, came the Duke of Beaufort." "And pray, sir, who lives there now?" "I do, sir." "Then pardon me, and accept a piece of advice; come out of it yourself, or you'll soon be buried in the ruins of it."