(see the "Song of the Brave Man," in "Popular Ballads.")
Countess de St. Belmont.--When M. de St. Belmont, who defended a feeble
fortress against the arms of Louis XIV., was taken prisoner, his wife, the
Comtesse de St. Belmont, who was of a most heroic disposition, still
remained upon the estates to take care of them. An officer of cavalry
having taken up his quarters there without invitation, Madame de St.
Belmont sent him a very civil letter of complaint on his ill behaviour,
which he treated with contempt. Piqued at this, she resolved he should give
her satisfaction, and sent him a challenge, which she signed "Le Chevalier
de St. Belmont." The officer accepted it, and repaired to the place
appointed. Madame de St. Belmont met him, dressed in men's clothes. They
immediately drew their swords, and the heroine had the advantage of him;
when, after disarming him, she said, with a gracious smile, "You thought,
sir, I doubt not, that you were fighting with the Chevalier de St. Belmont;
it is, however, Madame de St. Belmont, who returns you your sword, and begs
you in future to pay more regard to the requests of ladies." She then left
him, covered with shame and confusion.
French Peasant Girl.--One evening early in 1858, Melanie Robert, daughter
of a small farmer, near Corbeil, was proceeding to Essonnes, when a man
armed with a stout stick suddenly presented himself, and summoned her to
give up her money. Pretending to be greatly alarmed, she hastily searched
her pocket, and collecting some small pieces of coin held them out to the
man, who without distrust approached to take them. But the moment he took
the money, Melanie made a sudden snatch at the stick, and wresting it from
his hand, dealt him so violent a blow with it across the head that she
felled him to the ground. She then gave him a sound thrashing, and, in
spite of his resistance, forced him to accompany her to the office of the
commissary of police, by whom he was committed for trial.
Gallant Daughter.--Sir John Cochrane, who was engaged in Argyle's rebellion
against James II., was taken prisoner, after a desperate resistance, and
condemned to be executed. His daughter, having notice that the
death-warrant was expected from London, attired herself in men's clothes,
and twice attacked and robbed the mails between Belford and Berwick. The
execution was by this means delayed, till Sir John Cochrane's father, the
Earl of Dundonald, succeeded in making interest with the king for his
release.
A Gamekeeper's Daughter.--The Gazette of Augsburg for January, 1820,
contained a singular account of the heroism and presence of mind displayed
by the daughter of a gamekeeper, residing in a solitary house near Welheim.
Her father and the rest of the family had gone to church, when there
appeared at the door an old man apparently half dead with cold. Feeling for
his situation, she let him in, and went into the kitchen to prepare him
some soup. Through a window which communicated from the kitchen to the room
in which she had left him, she perceived that he had dropped the beard he
wore when he entered; that he now appeared a robust man; and that he was
pacing the chamber with a poignard in his hand. Finding no mode of escape,
she armed herself with a chopper in one hand and the boiling soup in the
other, and entering the room where he was, first threw the soup in his
face, and then struck him a blow with the hatchet on his neck, which
brought him to the ground senseless. At this moment a fresh knock at the
door occasioned her to look out of an upper window, when she saw a strange
hunter, who demanded admittance, and on her refusal, threatened to break
open the door. She immediately got her father's gun, and as he was
proceeding to put his threat in execution, she shot him through the right
shoulder, on which he made his way back to the forest. Half an hour after a
third person came, and asked after an old man who must have passed that
way. She said she knew nothing of him; and after useless endeavours to make
her open the door, he also proceeded to break it in, when she shot him dead
on the spot. The excitement of her courage being now at an end, her spirits
began to sink, and she fired shots, and screamed from the windows, until
some gendarmes were attracted to the house; but nothing would induce her to
open the door until the return of her father from church.
Reward of Heroism.--M. Labat, a merchant of Bayonne, ill in health, had
retired in the beginning of the winter, 1803, to a country house on the
banks of the Adour. One morning, when promenading in his robe-de-chambre,
on a terrace elevated a little above the river, he saw a traveller thrown
by a furious horse, from the opposite bank, into the midst of the torrent.
M. Labat was a good swimmer: he did not stop a moment to reflect on the
danger of the attempt, but, ill as he was, threw off his robe-de-chambre,
leaped into the flood, and caught the drowning stranger at the moment when,
having lost all sensation, he must have otherwise inevitably perished. "Oh,
God!" exclaimed M. Labat, clasping him in his arms, and recognizing with a
transport of joy the individual he had rescued, "I have saved my son!"
The Douglas.--When King Robert I. died he exacted a promise from Sir James
Douglas to convey his heart to the Holy Land, where he had been on the
point of going when death arrested him. The party had reached Sluys, so far
on their way to Jerusalem, when Alonzo, King of Leon and Castile, at that
time engaged in war with the Moorish governor of Granada, Osmyn, sent to
demand the aid of Douglas; and by his oath as a knight, which forbade him
ever to turn a deaf ear to a call in aid of the Church of Christ, he was
obliged to attend to the summons. He fought with his usual heroism, till
the Moslems believed he bore a charmed life when they saw him rush into the
thickest of the fight and escape unwounded. But the Christian ranks
nevertheless began to give way; and to stem the flight the Douglas threw
the casket containing the king's heart into the _melée_, and rushed after
it, exclaiming, "Now pass onward as thou wert wont, and Douglas will follow
thee or die!" The day after the battle the body of the hero and the casket
were found by his surviving companions; and the squire of Douglas finding
it was impossible to convey it to Jerusalem, brought back the king's heart
to Scotland, and it was interred in Melrose Abbey.
Marshal de Nevailles.--At the battle of Senef, the Prince of Condé sent
word to Marshal de Nevailles to be ready to engage the enemy. The messenger
found him hearing mass, at which the prince being enraged, muttered
something in abuse of over-pious persons. But the marquis having evinced
the greatest heroism during the engagement, said after it to the prince,
"Your highness, I fancy, now sees that those who pray to God behave as well
in battle as their neighbours."
HOSPITALITY.
Breton Peasants.--At the conclusion of the war in 1814, three hundred
British sailors, who had been prisoners, were assembled on the coast of
Britanny to embark for England. Being severally billetted on the
inhabitants for some days before they embarked, one of them requested
permission to see the superintendant, Monsieur Kearnie, which being
granted, the British tar thus addressed him: "An please your honour, I
don't come to trouble you with any bother about ourselves: we are all as
well treated as Christians can be; but there is one thing that makes my
food sit heavy on my stomach, and that of my two messmates." "What is it,
my brave fellow?" replied the superintendent;--"the persons on whom you are
quartered don't grudge it you?" "No, your honour;--if they did, that would
not vex us." "What, then, do you complain of?" "Only this, your
honour--that the poor folk cheerfully lay their scanty allowance before us
for our mess, and we have just found out that they have hardly touched a
mouthful themselves, or their six babes, for the last two days; and this we
take to be a greater hardship than any we found in prison." M. Kearnie told
them that from this hardship they should all be relieved. He instantly
ordered the billets to be withdrawn, and rewarded all parties for their
kindness, so compassionately exercised and interchanged.
An Archbishop.--Henry Wardlaw, Archbishop of St. Andrew's, at the beginning
of the fifteenth century was a prelate of such unbounded liberality, that
the masters of his household, apprehensive that his revenues might be
exhausted by the expense of entertaining the great numbers who resorted to
his palace, solicited him to make out a list of persons to whom the
hospitality of his board might be confined. "Well," said the archbishop to
his secretary, "take a pen and begin. First put down Fife and Angus"--two
large counties, containing several hundred thousands of people. His
servants hearing this, retired abashed; "for," says the historian, "they
said he would have no man refused that came to his house."
Rights of Hospitality.--Dr. Johnson, in his tour through North Wales,
passed two days at the seat of Colonel Middleton, of Gwynnagag. While he
remained there, the gardener found a hare amidst some potatoe plants, and
brought it to his master, then engaged in conversation with the doctor. An
order was given to carry it to the cook. As soon as Johnson heard this
sentence, he begged to have the animal placed in his arms, which was no
sooner done, than approaching the open window, he restored the hare to her
liberty, shouting after her to accelerate her speed. "What have you done,
doctor?" cried the colonel. "Why you have robbed my table of a
delicacy--perhaps deprived us of a dinner." "So much the better, sir,"
replied the humane champion of a condemned hare; "for if your table is to
be supplied at the expense of the laws of hospitality, I envy not the
appetite of him who eats it. This, sir, is not a hare taken in war, but one
which had voluntarily placed itself under your protection; and savage
indeed must be that man who does not make his hearth an asylum for the
confiding stranger."
Mungo Park.--While Park was waiting on the banks of the Niger for a
passage, the king of the country was informed that a white man intended to
visit him. On this intelligence, a messenger was instantly dispatched to
tell the stranger that his majesty could not possibly admit him to his
presence till he understood the cause of his arrival, and also to warn him
not to cross the river without the royal permission. The message was
accordingly delivered by one of the chief natives, who advised Mr. Park to
seek a lodging in an adjacent village, and promised to give him some
requisite instructions in the morning. Mr. Park immediately complied with
this counsel; but on entering the village he had the mortification to find
every door closed against him. He was, therefore, obliged to remain all the
day without food, beneath the shade of a tree. About sunset, as he was
turning his horse loose to graze, and expected to pass the night in this
lonely situation, a woman returning from her employment in the fields
stopped to gaze at him, and observing his dejected looks, enquired from
what cause they proceeded? Mr. P. endeavoured, as well as he could, to make
known his destitute situation. The woman immediately took up his saddle and
bridle, and desired him to follow her to her residence, where, after
lighting a lamp, she presented him with some broiled fish, spread a mat for
him to lie upon, and gave him permission to continue under her roof till
morning. Having performed this humane action, she summoned her female
companions to their spinning, which occupied the chief part of the night,
while their labour was beguiled by a variety of songs--one of which was
observed by Mr. Park to be an extemporaneous effusion, created by his own
adventure. The air was remarkably sweet and plaintive, and the words were
literally the following:--
"The winds roared, and the rain fell.
The poor white man, faint and weary, came and sat under our tree.
He has no mother to bring him milk, no wife to grind him corn.
_Chorus._ Let us pity the white man: no mother has he to bring him
milk, no wife to grind his corn."
HUMANITY.
M. Neckar.--The six companies, or bodies corporate, of the City of Paris,
set on foot in the month of October, 1788, a subscription for the relief of
the sufferers by a dreadful hail-storm, which had ravaged a part of the
country, and totally destroyed all the hopes of the husbandmen. To the
honour of these companies, no less than 50,000 livres were collected in a
short time, and placed in the hands of M. Neckar, in order to be applied to
the purpose for which they were subscribed. M. Neckar, on receiving the
money, directed it to be sent to the Treasury. "To the Treasury, my lord!"
exclaimed the bearer. "Yes, sir," replied M. Neckar; "50,000 livres will do
well for the Treasury, from which I drew yesterday 150,000 livres, to be
distributed among the same husbandmen whom it is your object to relieve,
feeling assured that the Treasury could never suffer from an advance made
on the credit of the humanity of Frenchmen."
Siege of Cajeta.--The City of Cajeta having rebelled against Alphonsus, was
invested by that monarch with a powerful army. Being sorely distressed for
want of provisions, the citizens put forth all their old men, women, and
children, and shut the gates upon them. The king's ministers advised his
majesty not to permit them to pass, but to force them back into the city;
by which means he would speedily become master of it. Alphonsus, however,
had too humane a disposition to hearken to counsel, the policy of which
rested on driving a helpless multitude into the jaws of famine. He suffered
them to pass unmolested; and when afterwards reproached with the delay
which this produced in the siege, he feelingly said, "I had rather be the
preserver of one innocent person, than be the master of a hundred Cajetas."
Provost Drummond.--About the middle of last century, George Drummond was
provost or chief magistrate of Edinburgh, and renowned for his humane
disposition. He was one day coming into the town by the suburb called the
West Port, when he saw a funeral procession leaving the door of a humble
dwelling, and setting out for the churchyard. The only persons composing
the funeral company were four poor-looking old men, seemingly common
beggars, one at each end of a pole carrying the coffin, and none to relieve
them; there was not a single attendant. The provost at once saw that it
must be a beggar's funeral, and he went forward to the old men, saying to
them, "Since this poor creature now deceased has no friends to follow his
remains to the grave, I will perform that melancholy office myself." He
then took his place at the head of the coffin. They had not gone far, till
they met two gentlemen who were acquainted with the provost, and they asked
him what he was doing there. He told them that he was going to the
interment of a poor friendless mendicant, as there were none else to do it;
so they turned and accompanied him. Others joined in the same manner, and
at last there was a respectable company at the grave. "Now," said the
kind-hearted provost, "I will lay the old man's head in the grave," which
he accordingly did, and afterwards saw the burial completed in a decent
manner. When the solemnity was over, he asked if the deceased had left a
wife or family, and learned that he had left a wife, an old woman, in a
state of perfect destitution. "Well, then, gentlemen," said the provost,
addressing those around him, "we met in rather a singular manner, and we
cannot part without doing something creditable for the benefit of the
helpless widow; let each give a trifle, and I will take it upon me to see
it administered to the best advantage." All immediately contributed some
money, which made up a respectable sum, and was afterwards given in a
fitting way to the poor woman; the provost also afterwards placed her in an
industrious occupation, by which she was able to support herself without
depending on public relief.
Sir Philip Sidney was a gallant soldier, a poet, and the most accomplished
gentleman of his time. At the battle of Zutphen, in the Netherlands, after
having two horses killed under him, he received a wound while in the act of
mounting a third, and was carried bleeding, faint, and thirsty to the camp.
A small quantity of water was brought to allay the thirst of Sir Philip;
but as he was raising it to his lips, he observed that a poor wounded
soldier, who was carried past at the moment, looked at the cup with wistful
eyes. The generous Sidney instantly withdrew it untasted from his mouth,
and gave it to the soldier, saying, "Thy necessity is yet greater than
mine." He died of his wound, aged only thirty-three; but his kindness to
the poor soldier has caused his name to be remembered ever since with
admiration, and it will probably never be forgotten while humane and
generous actions are appreciated among men.
Bishop of St. Lisieux.--The massacre of St. Bartholomew was not confined to
Paris; orders were sent to the most distant provinces to commence the work
of destruction. When the governor of the province brought the order to
Hennuyer, Bishop of Lisieux, he opposed it with all his power, and caused a
formal act of his opposition to be entered on the registers of the
province. Charles IX., when remorse had taken place of cruelty, was so far
from disapproving of what this excellent prelate had done, that he gave him
the greatest praise for his humanity; and Protestants flocked in numbers to
adjure their religion at the feet of this good and kind shepherd, whose
gentleness affected them more than either the commands of the sovereign,
or the violence of the soldiery.
On the same occasion, Viscount d'Orthe had the courage to write from
Bayonne to Charles IX., that he found many good soldiers in his garrison,
but not one executioner; and begged him to command their lives in any
service that was possible to men of honor.
Baron Von Stackelberg, in going from Athens to Thessalonica in an armed
vessel, was taken by some Albanian pirates, who immediately sent the
captain of the vessel to the former place, demanding 60,000 piastres for
the baron's ransom, and threatening that if it was not paid, they would
tear his body to pieces. They obliged him, at the same time, to write to
Baron Haller and another friend, to acquaint them with the demand. The time
fixed by the pirates had elapsed, and Baron Stackelberg, who had become
extremely ill, was expecting a cruel death, when the humane and generous
Haller, who had borrowed 14,500 Turkish piastres, at 30 per cent.,
appeared. The pirates refused to take less than the sum demanded. Haller
offered himself as a hostage instead of his friend, if they would prolong
his life, and suffer him to recover from his sickness. This noble deed
contributed to convince the pirates, that no larger sum could be obtained;
they accepted it, and Haller returned to Athens with the friend whom his
humanity had preserved.
The Princess Charlotte.--During the residence of Her Royal Highness at
Bognor, where she had gone for the recovery of her health, an officer of
long standing in the army was arrested for a small sum, and being at a
distance from his friends, and unable to procure bail, he was on the point
of being torn from his family to be conveyed to Arundel gaol. The
circumstance came to the knowledge of the princess, who, in the momentary
impulse of generous feeling, exclaimed, "I will be his bail!" Then,
suddenly recollecting herself, she inquired the amount of the debt; which
being told her, "There," said she, handing a purse with more than the sum,
"take this to him; it is hard that he who has exposed his life in the
field of battle should ever experience the rigours of a prison."--During
the last illness of an old female attendant, formerly nurse to the Princess
Charlotte, she visited her every day, sat by her bedside, and with her own
hand administered the medicine prescribed. When death had closed the eyes
of this poor woman, instead of fleeing in haste from an object so appalling
to the young and gay in general, the princess remained and gave utterance
to the compassion she felt on viewing the remains in that state from which
majesty itself cannot be exempt. A friend of the deceased, seeing Her Royal
Highness was much affected, said, "If your Royal Highness would condescend
to touch her, perhaps you would not dream of her." "Touch her," replied the
amiable princess, "yes, poor thing! and kiss her, too; almost the only one
I ever kissed, except my poor mother!" Then bending her head over the
coffin of her humble friend, she pressed her lips to the cold cheeks, while
tears flowed from her eyes.
M. de Montesquieu being at Marseilles, hired a boat with the intention of
sailing for pleasure; the boat was rowed by two young men, with whom he
entered into conversation, and learnt that they were not watermen by trade,
but silversmiths, and that when they could be spared from their usual
business, they employed themselves in that way to increase their earnings.
On expressing his surprise at their conduct, and imputing it to an
avaricious disposition; "Oh! sir," said the young men, "if you knew our
reasons, you would ascribe it to a better motive.--Our father, anxious to
assist his family, devoted the produce of a life of industry to the
purchase of a vessel, for the purpose of trading to the coast of Barbary,
but was unfortunately taken by a pirate, carried to Tripoli, and sold as a
slave. In a letter we have received from him, he informs that he has
luckily fallen into the hands of a master who treats him with great
humanity; but the sum demanded for the ransom is so exorbitant, that it
will be impossible for him ever to raise it. He adds, that we must
therefore relinquish all hope of ever seeing him again. With the hopes of
restoring to his family a beloved father, we are striving by every honest
means in our power to collect the sum necessary for his ransom, and we are
not ashamed to employ ourselves for such a purpose in the occupation of
watermen." M. de Montesquieu was struck with this account, and on his
departure made them a handsome present. Some months afterwards, the young
men being at work in their shop, were greatly surprised at the sudden
arrival of their father, who threw himself into their arms; exclaiming at
the same time, that he feared they had taken some unjust method to raise
the money for his ransom, for it was too great for them to have gained by
their ordinary occupation. They professed their ignorance of the whole
affair; and could only suspect they owed their father's release to that
stranger to whose generosity they had before been so much obliged. Such,
indeed, was the case; but it was not till after Montesquieu's death that
the fact was known, when an account of the affair, with the sum remitted to
Tripoli for the old man's ransom, was found among his papers.
Fenelon.--The venerable Archbishop of Cambray, whose humanity was
unbounded, was in the constant habit of visiting the cottages of the
peasants, and administering consolation and relief in their distress. When
they were driven from their habitations by the alarms of war, he received
them into his house, and served them at his table. During the war, his
house was always open to the sick and wounded, whom he lodged and provided
with every thing necessary for their relief. Besides his constant
hospitalities to the military, he performed a most munificent act of
patriotism and humanity after the disastrous winter of 1709, by opening his
granaries and distributing gratuitously corn to the value of 100,000
livres. And when his palace at Cambray, and all his books and furniture,
were destroyed by fire, he bore it with the utmost firmness, saying, "It is
better all these should be burned, than the cottage of one poor family."