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 Condé. 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. André 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. André 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.
Fouché.--Napoleon sent for Fouché 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 Fouché; "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 Vendée. "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.