The Book of Three Hundred Anecdotes Part 9

PATIENCE.

Father Bernard.--His patience was such as no circ.u.mstances, however offensive, could subdue. One day he presented a pet.i.tion in favour of an unfortunate person, to a n.o.bleman in place; the latter being of a hasty temper, flew into a violent pa.s.sion, said many injurious things of the person for whom the priest interested himself. Father Bernard, however, still persisted in his request; and the n.o.bleman 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 pet.i.tion." The n.o.bleman 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 quant.i.ty, 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 pa.s.sed 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 pa.s.sport to a distinguished personage in his neighbourhood who was blind of one eye, was in great embarra.s.sment 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 pa.s.sing 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 n.o.bleman, 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 compa.s.sion 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 pa.s.sing. "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 fort.i.tude 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 amba.s.sador, being apprised of that circ.u.mstance, 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 a.s.surance 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 amba.s.sador graciously by the hand, complimented him on his presence of mind, and a.s.sured 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 pa.s.sing 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 un.o.bserved, 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 pa.s.sed 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 a.s.sistance, 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 n.o.bility 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 n.o.ble 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."

A curious anecdote is related respecting a contest for precedence, between the rival Welch Houses of Perthir and Werndee, which, though less b.l.o.o.d.y, was not less obstinate than that between the Houses of York and Lancaster.

Mr. Proger, of Werndee, dining with a friend at Monmouth, proposed riding home in the evening; but his friend objecting because it was late and likely to rain, Mr. Proger replied, "With regard to the lateness of the hour, we shall have moonlight; and should it happen to rain, Perthir is not far from the road, and my cousin Powell will, I am sure, give us a night's lodging." They accordingly mounted their horses; but being soon overtaken by a violent shower, rode to Perthir, and found all the family retired to rest. Mr. Proger, however, calling to his cousin, Mr. Powell opened the window, and looking out, asked, "In the name of wonder, what means all this noise? Who is there?" "It is only I, your cousin Proger of Werndee, who am come to your hospitable door for shelter from the inclemency of the weather, and hope you will be so kind as to give my friend and me a lodging." "What! Is it you, cousin Proger? You and your friend shall be instantly admitted, but upon one condition, that you will allow, and never hereafter dispute, that I am the head of the family." "What did you say?"

returned Mr. Proger. "Why, I say, if you expect to pa.s.s the night in my house, you must allow that I am the head of the family." "No, sir, I never will admit that; were it to rain swords and daggers, I would ride this night to Werndee, rather than lower the consequence of my family. Come up, Bold, come up." "Stop a moment, cousin Proger; have you not often confessed that the first Earl of Pembroke (of the name of Herbert) was the youngest son of Perthir; and will you set yourself above the Earls of Pembroke?"

"True, I must give place to the Earl of Pembroke, because he is a peer of the realm; but still, though a peer, he is of the youngest branch of my family, being descended from the fourth son of Werndee, who was your ancestor, and settled at Perthir; whereas I am descended from the eldest son. Indeed, my cousin Jones of Lanarth is of an older branch than you, and yet he never disputes that I am the head of the family." "Why, cousin Proger, I have nothing more to say; so, good night to you." "Stop a moment, Mr. Powell," said the stranger, "you see how it pours; do admit me at least; I will not dispute with you about our families." "Pray, sir, what is your name, and where do you come from?" "My name is * * *, and I come from the county of * * *." "A Saxon of course; it would be very curious indeed, sir, should I dispute with a Saxon about families; no, sir, you must suffer for the obstinacy of your friend, and so a pleasant ride to you both."