Part 4 (1/2)
Triboulet, the fool of Francis the First, was threatened with death by a man in power, of whom he had been speaking disrespectfully; and he applied to the king for protection. ”Be satisfied,” said the king: ”if any man should put you to death, I will order him to be hanged a quarter of an hour after.” ”Ah, sir!” replied Triboulet, ”I should be much obliged if your majesty would order him to be hanged a quarter of an hour before!”
Dr. Gregory, professor of the practice of physic at Edinburgh, was one of the first to enrol himself in the Royal Edinburgh Volunteers, when that corps was raised. So anxious was he to make himself master of military tactics, that he not only paid the most punctual attendance on all the regimental field-days, but studied at home for several hours a day, under the serjeant-major of the regiment. On one of these occasions the serjeant, out of all temper at the awkwardness of his learned pupil, exclaimed in a rage, ”Why, sir, I would rather teach ten fools than one philosopher.”
James I. gave all manner of liberty and encouragement to the exercise of buffoonery, and took great delight in it himself. Happening once to bear somewhat hard on one of his Scotch courtiers, ”By my saul,” returns the peer, ”he that made your majesty a king, spoiled the best fool in Christendom.”
FORGIVENESS.
French Curate.--During the French revolution, the inhabitants of a village in Dauphine had determined on sacrificing their lord to their revenge, and were only dissuaded from it by the eloquence of the cure, who thus addressed them:--”My friends,” said he, ”the day of vengeance is arrived; the individual who has so long tyrannized over you must now suffer his merited punishment. As the care of this flock has been entrusted to me, it behoves me to watch over their best interests, nor will I forsake their righteous cause. Suffer me only to be your leader, and swear to me that in all circ.u.mstances you will follow my example.” All the villagers swore they would. ”And,” continues he, ”you will further solemnly promise to enter into any engagement which I may now make, and to remain faithful to this your oath.” All the villagers exclaimed, ”We do.” ”Well then,” said he, solemnly taking the oath, ”I swear to forgive our lord.” Unexpected as this was, the villagers kept their word and forgave him.
The Duke of Orleans, on being appointed Regent of France, insisted on possessing the power of pardoning. ”I have no objection,” said he, ”to have my hands tied from doing harm, but I will have them left free to do good.”
Abon Hannifah, chief of a Turkish sect, once received a blow in the face from a ruffian, and rebuked him in these terms, not unworthy of Christian imitation: ”If I were vindictive, I should return you outrage for outrage; if I were an informer, I should accuse you before the caliph: but I prefer putting up a prayer to G.o.d, that in the day of judgment he will cause me to enter paradise with you.”
Alphonsus, King of Naples and Sicily, so celebrated in history for his clemency, was once asked why he was so forgiving to all men, even to those most notoriously wicked? ”Because,” answered he, ”good men are won by justice; the bad by clemency.” When some of his ministers complained to him on another occasion of his lenity, which they were pleased to say was more than became a prince: ”What, then,” exclaimed he, ”would you have lions and tigers to reign over you? It is for wild beasts to scourge; but for man to forgive.”
Van d.y.k.e.--”When any one commits an offence against me,” this painter used to say, ”I try to raise my soul so high that the offence shall not be able to reach up to it.”
Marie Antoinette.--On the elevation of this princess to the throne after the death of Louis XV., an officer of the body-guard, who had given her offence on some former occasion, expressed his intention of resigning his commission; but the queen forbade him. ”Remain,” said she, ”forget the past as I forgive it. Far be it from the Queen of France to revenge the injuries of the Dauphiness.”
FRIENDS.
Friends and Hares.--The Duke of Longueville's reply, when it was observed to him that the gentlemen bordering on his estates were continually hunting upon them, and that he ought not to suffer it, is worthy of imitation: ”I had much rather,” answered the duke, ”have friends than hares.”
Henri IV. once reproached M. d'Aubigne for continuing his friends.h.i.+p for M.
de la Tremouille, who had recently been banished from court. D'Aubigne replied--”As M. de la Tremouille is so unfortunate as to have lost the confidence of his master, he may well be allowed to retain that of his friend.”
GRAt.i.tUDE.
Curran says, ”when a boy, I was one morning playing at marbles in the village ball alley, with a light heart and lighter pocket. The gibe and the jest went gaily round, when suddenly there appeared amongst us a stranger, of a very remarkable and very cheerful aspect; his intrusion was not the least restraint upon our merry little a.s.semblage, on the contrary, he seemed pleased, and even delighted; he was a benevolent creature, and the days of infancy (after all the happiest we shall ever see), perhaps rose upon his memory. G.o.d bless him! I see his fine form, at the distance of half a century, just as he stood before me in the little ball-alley in the days of my childhood. His name was Dr. Boyse. He took a particular fancy to me. I was winning, and was full of waggery, thinking every thing that was eccentric, and by no means a miser of my eccentricities; every one was welcome to a share of them, and I had plenty to spare after having freighted the company. Some sweetmeats easily bribed me home with him. I learned from poor Boyse my alphabet and my grammar, and the rudiments of the cla.s.sics. He taught me all he could, and then sent me to the school at Middleton. In short, he made a man of me. I recollect it was about five and thirty years afterwards, when I had risen to some eminence at the bar, and when I had a seat in parliament, on my return one day from court, I found an old gentleman seated alone in my drawing-room, his feet familiarly placed, on each side of the Italian marble chimney-piece, and his whole air bespeaking the consciousness of one quite at home. He turned round--_it was my friend of the ball-alley_. I rushed instinctively into his arms, and burst into tears. Words cannot describe the scene which followed:--”You are right, sir; you are right. The chimney-piece is your's--the pictures are your's--the house is your's. You gave me all I have--my friend--my father--my benefactor!” He dined with me; and in the evening I caught the tear glistening in his fine blue eye, when he saw poor little Jack, the creature of his bounty, rising in the House of Commons, to reply to a _Right_ Honourable. Poor Boyse! he is now gone; and no suitor had a larger deposit of practical benevolence in the Court above. This is his wine--let us drink to his memory.”
GHOSTS.
Bishop Fowler, of Gloucester, and Justice Powell, had frequent altercations on the subject of ghosts. The bishop was a zealous defender of the reality of them; the justice was somewhat sceptical. The bishop one day met his friend, and the justice told him that since their last conference on the subject, he had had ocular demonstration, which had convinced him of the existence of ghosts. ”I rejoice at your conversion,” replied the bishop; ”give me the circ.u.mstance which produced it, with all the particulars:-- ocular demonstration, you say?”--”Yes, my lord; as I lay last night in my bed, about the twelfth hour, I was awakened by an extraordinary noise, and heard something coming up stairs!”--”Go on, sir.”--”Fearfully alarmed at the noise, I drew my curtain--.” ”Proceed.”--”And saw a faint glimmering light enter my chamber.”--”Of a blue colour, was it not?” interrogated the doctor.--”Of a pale blue! and this pale blue light was followed by a tall, meagre, stern figure, who appeared as an old man of seventy years of age, arrayed in a long light coloured rug gown, bound with a leathern girdle: his beard thick and grisly; his hair scant and straight; his face of a dark sable hue; upon his head a large fur cap; and in his hand a long staff.
Terror seized my whole frame. I trembled till the bed shook, and cold drops hung upon every limb. The figure advanced with a slow and solemn step.”--”Did you not speak to it? there was money hid, or murder committed, without doubt,” said the bishop.--”My lord, I did speak to it; I adjured it by all that was holy to tell me whence, and for what purpose it thus appeared.”--”And in heaven's name what was the reply?”--”Before he deigned to speak, he lifted up his staff three several times, my lord, and smote the floor, even so loudly that verily the strokes caused the room to reverberate the thundering sound. He then waved the pale blue light which he bore in what is called a lantern, he waved it even to my eyes; and he told me, my lord, he told me that he was--yes, my lord--that he was--not more nor less than--_the watchman!_ who had come to give me notice that my street-door was open, and that unless I rose and shut it, I might be robbed before morning.” The justice had no sooner concluded, than the bishop disappeared.