CURIOSITIES RESPECTING MAN.—(Continued.)

Striking Instances of Integrity.

A man of integrity will never listen to any reason, or give way to any measure, or be misled by any inducement, against conscience. The inhabitants of a great town offered Marshal de Turenne 100,000 crowns, upon condition he would take another road, and not march his troops their way. He answered them, “As your town is not on the road I intend to march, I cannot accept the money you offer me.”—The Earl of Derby, in the reign of Edward III. making a descent in Guienne, carried by storm the town of Bergerac, and gave it up to be plundered.—A Welsh Knight happening to light upon the receiver’s office, found such a quantity of money, that he thought himself obliged to acquaint his general with it, imagining that so great a booty belonged to him. But he was agreeably surprised, when the Earl wished him joy of his good fortune, and said he did not make the keeping of his word depend on the great or little value of what he had promised.—In the siege of Falisci, by Camillus, General of the Romans, the schoolmaster of the town, who had the children of the senators under his care, led them abroad, under the pretext of recreation, and carried them to the Roman camp; saying to Camillus, that, by this artifice, he had delivered Falisci into his hands. Camillus, abhorring his treachery, said, “That there were laws for war as well as for peace; and that the Romans were taught to make war with integrity, not less than with courage.” He ordered the schoolmaster to be stripped, his hands to be bound behind his back, and to be delivered to the boys, to be lashed back into the town. The Falerians, hitherto obstinate in resistance, struck with an act of justice so illustrious, delivered themselves up to the Romans; convinced that they would be far better to have the Romans for their allies, than their enemies.

Shocking Instances of Ingratitude.—Herodotus informs us, that when Xerxes, king of Persia, was at Celene, a city of Phrygia, Pythius, a Lydian, who resided there, and, next to Xerxes, was the most opulent prince of those times, entertained him and his whole army with an incredible magnificence, and made him an offer of all his wealth towards defraying the expenses of his expedition. Xerxes, surprised at so generous an offer, inquired to what sum his riches amounted. Pythius answered, that having the design of offering them to his service, he had taken an exact account of them, and that the silver he had by him, amounted to 2000 talents, (about £255,000 sterling), and the gold to 3,993,000 darics (about £1,700,000 sterling). All this money he offered him, telling him, that his revenue was sufficient for the support of his household. Xerxes made him very hearty acknowledgments, and entered into a particular friendship with him, and declined accepting his present. Some time after this, Pythius having desired a favour of him, that out of his five sons, who served in his army, he would be pleased to leave him the eldest, to comfort him in his old age; Xerxes was so enraged at the proposal, though so reasonable in itself, that he caused the eldest son to be killed before his father’s eyes, giving the latter to understand, that it was a favour he spared him and the rest of his children. Yet, this is the same Xerxes who is so much admired for his humane reflection at the head of his numerous army.—The emperor Basilius I. exercised himself in hunting: a great stag running furiously against him, fastened one of the branches of his horns in the emperor’s girdle, and, pulling him from his horse, dragged him a good distance, to the imminent danger of his life; which a gentleman of his retinue perceiving, drew his sword, and cut the emperor’s girdle asunder, which disengaged him from the beast, with little or no hurt to his person. But, observe his reward! “He was sentenced to lose his head for putting the sword so near the body of the emperor; and suffered death accordingly.” (Zonor. Annal. tom. 3. p. 155.)—In a little work entitled Friendly Cautions to Officers, the following atrocious instance is related. An opulent city, in the west of England, had a regiment sent to be quartered there: the principal inhabitants, glad to shew their hospitality and attachment to their sovereign, got acquainted with the officers, invited them to their houses, and shewed them every civility in their power. A merchant, extremely easy in his circumstances, took so prodigious a liking to one officer in particular, that he gave him an apartment in his own house, and made him in a manner master of it, the officer’s friends being always welcome to his table. The merchant was a widower, and had two favourite daughters: the officer cast his wanton eyes upon them, and too fatally ruined them both. Dreadful return to the merchant’s misplaced friendship! The consequence of this ungenerous action was, that all officers ever after were shunned as pests to society; nor have the inhabitants yet conquered their aversion to a red coat.—We read in Rapin’s History, that during Monmouth’s rebellion, in the reign of James II. a certain person, knowing the humane disposition of one Mrs. Gaunt, whose life was one continued exercise of beneficence, fled to her house, where he was concealed and maintained for some time. Hearing, however, of the proclamation, which promised an indemnity and reward to those who discovered such as harboured the rebels, he betrayed his benefactress: and such was the spirit of justice and equity which prevailed among the ministry, that he was pardoned, and recompensed for his treachery, while she was burnt alive for her charity!—The following instance is also to be found in the same history. Humphrey Bannister and his father were both servants to, and raised by, the Duke of Buckingham; who being driven to abscond by an unfortunate accident befalling the army he had raised against the usurper Richard III. he retired to Bannister’s house near Shrewsbury, as to a place where he might be quite safe. Bannister, however, upon the king’s proclamation promising 1000l. reward to him that should apprehend the duke, betrayed his master to John Merton, high sheriff of Shropshire, who sent him under a strong guard to Salisbury, where the king then was; and there, in the market-place, the duke was beheaded. But Divine vengeance pursued the traitor Bannister; for, demanding the 1000l. that was the price of his master’s blood, Richard refused to pay it him, saying, “He that would be false to so good a master, ought not to be encouraged.” He was afterwards hanged for manslaughter; his eldest son went mad, and died in a hog-sty; his second became deformed and lame; and his third son was drowned in a small puddle of water; his eldest daughter became pregnant by one of his carters, and his second was seized with a leprosy whereof she died. Hist. of Eng. i. p. 304. Let us guard against this odious vice, ingratitude, being assured that sooner or later the bitter effects of this, as well as of all other sins, will find us out.

Our following article consists of some Extraordinary Instances of Honour.

The Spanish historians relate a memorable instance of inviolable regard to the principles of honour and truth. A Spanish cavalier, in a sudden quarrel, slew a Moorish gentleman, and fled. His pursuers soon lost sight of him, for he had, unperceived, leaped over a garden wall. The owner, a Moor, happening to be in his garden, was addressed by the Spaniard on his knees, who acquainted him with his case, and implored concealment. “Eat this,” said the Moor (giving him half a peach), “you now know that you may confide in my protection.” He then locked him up in his garden, telling him, as soon as it was night he would provide for his escape to a place of greater safety. The Moor then went into his house, where he had but just seated himself, when a great crowd, with loud lamentations, came to his gate, bringing the corpse of his son, who had just been killed by a Spaniard. When the first shock of surprise was a little over, he learned, from the description given, that the fatal deed was done by the very person then in his power. He mentioned this to no one; but, as soon as it was dark, retired to his garden, as if to grieve alone, giving orders that none should follow him. Then accosting the Spaniard, he said, “Christian, the person you have killed is my son, his body is now in my house. You ought to suffer; but you have eaten with me, and I have given you my faith, which must not be broken.” He then led the astonished Spaniard to his stables, mounted him on one of his fleetest horses, and said, “Fly far while the night can cover you; you will be safe in the morning. You are indeed guilty of my son’s blood; but God is just and good; and thank him, I am innocent of your’s, and that my faith given is preserved.” This point of honour is most religiously observed by the Arabs and Saracens, from whom it was adopted by the Moors of Africa, and by them was brought into Spain.—The following instance of Spanish honour may still be in the memory of many living, and deserves to be handed down to the latest posterity. In 1746, when Britain was at war with Spain, the Elizabeth of London, captain William Edwards, coming through the gulf from Jamaica, richly laden, met with a most violent storm, in which the ship sprung a leak, that obliged them to run into the Havannah, a Spanish port, to save their lives. The captain went on shore, and directly waited on the governor, told the occasion of his putting in, and that he surrendered the ship as a prize, and himself and his men as prisoners of war, only requesting good quarter. “No, Sir,” replied the Spanish governor, “if we had taken you in fair war at sea, or approaching our coast with hostile intentions, your ship would then have been a prize, and your people prisoners; but when, distressed by a tempest, you come into our ports for the safety of your lives, we, though enemies, being men, are bound, as such, by the laws of humanity, to afford relief to distressed men who ask it of us. We cannot, even against our enemies, take advantage of an act of God. You have leave therefore to unload your ship, if that be necessary, and to stop the leak; you may refit her here, and traffic so far as shall be necessary to pay the charges; you may then depart, and I will give you a pass to be in force till you are beyond Bermuda: if after that you are taken, you will then be a lawful prize; but now you are only a stranger, and have a stranger’s right to safety and protection.” The ship accordingly departed, and arrived safe in London.—A remarkable instance of honour is also recorded of an African negro, in captain Snelgrave’s account of his voyage to Guinea. A New-England sloop, trading there in 1752, left her second mate, William Murray, sick on shore, and sailed without him. Murray was at the house of a black, named Cudjoe, with whom he had contracted an acquaintance during their trade. He recovered; and the sloop being gone, he continued with his black friend till some other opportunity should offer of his getting home. In the mean time a Dutch ship came into the road, and some of the blacks coming on board her, were treacherously seized and carried off as slaves. The relations and friends, transported with sudden rage, ran to the house of Cudjoe, to take revenge by killing Murray. Cudjoe stopped them at the door, and demanded what they wanted. “The white men,” said they, “have carried away our brothers and sons, and we will kill all white men. Give us the white man you have in your house, for we will kill him.” “Nay,” said Cudjoe, “the white men that carried away your relations are bad men, kill them when you can take them; but this white man is a good man, and you must not kill him.”—“But he is a white man,” they cried, “and the white men are all bad men, we will kill them all.”—“Nay,” says he, “you must not kill a man that has done no harm, only for being white. This man is my friend, my house is his post, I am his soldier, and must fight for him; you must kill me before you can kill him. What good man will ever come again under my roof, if I let my floor be stained with a good man’s blood?” The negroes, seeing his resolution, and being convinced by his discourse that they were wrong, went away ashamed. In a few days Murray went abroad again with his friend Cudjoe, when several of them took him by the hand, and told him, “they were glad they had not killed him; for, as he was a good man, their god would have been very angry, and would have spoiled their fishing.”

As it is our intention to record whatever we meet with, that is curious or wonderful, we hesitate not in inserting the following Surprising Effects of Anger.

Physicians and naturalists afford instances of very extraordinary effects of this passion. Borrichius cured a woman of an inveterate tertian ague, which had baffled the art of physic, by putting the patient in a furious fit of anger. Valeriola made use of the same means, with the like success, in a quartan ague. The same passion has been equally salutary to paralytic, gouty, and even dumb persons; to which last it has sometimes given the use of speech. Etmuller gives divers instances of very singular cures wrought by anger; among others, he mentions a person laid up in the gout, who, being provoked by his physician, flew upon him, and was cured. It is true, the remedy is somewhat dangerous in the application, when a patient does not know how to use it with moderation. We meet with several instances of princes, to whom it has proved mortal; e. g. Valentinian I. Wenceslaus, Matthias Corvinus, king of Hungary, and others. There are also instances wherein it has produced the epilepsy, jaundice, cholera morbus, diarrhoea, &c. In fact, this passion is of such a nature, that it quickly throws the whole nervous system into preternatural commotions, by a violent stricture of the nervous and muscular parts; and surprisingly augments, not only the systole of the heart, and its contiguous vessels, but also the tone of the fibrous parts in the whole body. It is also certain, that this passion, by the spasmodic stricture it produces in the parts, exerts its power principally on the stomach and intestines, which are highly nervous and membraneous parts; whence the symptoms are more dangerous, in proportion to the greater consent of the stomach and intestines with the other nervous parts, and almost with the whole body. The unhappy influence of anger likewise on the biliary and hepatic ducts, is very surprising; since, by an intense constriction of these, the liver is not only rendered scirrhous, but stones also are often generated in the gall-bladder and biliary ducts: these accidents have scarcely any other origin than an obstruction of the free motion and efflux of the bile, by means of this violent stricture. From such a stricture, likewise, proceeds the jaundice, which, in process of time, lays a foundation for calculous concretions in the gall-bladder. By increasing the motion of the fluid, or the spasms of the fibrous parts, by means of anger, a large quantity of blood is forcibly propelled to certain parts; whence it happens, that they are too much distended, and the orifices of the veins distributed there, opened. It is evident, from experience, that anger has a great tendency to excite enormous hemorrhages, either from the nose, the aperture of the pulmonary artery, &c. The effects of this passion are well described by Armstrong in the following lines:—

“But there’s a passion, whose tempestuous sway
Tears up each virtue planted in the heart,
And shakes to ruin proud philosophy:
For pale and trembling anger rushes in
With falt’ring speech, and eyes that wildly stare,
Fierce as the tiger, madder than the seas,
Desp’rate, and arm’d with more than human strength;
But he whom anger stings, drops, if he dies,
At once, and rushes apoplectic down;
Or a fierce fever hurries him to hell.”

Now follows an account of some Remarkable Effects of Fright, or Terror.

Out of many instances of the fatal effects of fear, the following is selected as one of the most singular:—George Grochantzy, a Polander, who had enlisted as a soldier in the service of the king of Prussia, deserted during the last war. A small party was sent in pursuit of him, and, when he least expected it, surprised him singing and dancing among a company of peasants in an inn. This event, so sudden, and so dreadful in its consequences, struck him in such a manner, that, giving a great cry, he became altogether stupid and insensible, and was seized without the least resistance. They carried him away to Glocau, where he was brought before the council of war, and received sentence as a deserter. He suffered himself to be led and disposed of at the will of those about him, without uttering a word, or giving the least sign that he knew what had happened or would happen to him. He remained immoveable as a statue wherever he was placed, and was wholly regardless of all that was done to him or about him. During all the time that he was in custody, he neither ate, nor drank, nor slept, nor had any evacuation. Some of his comrades were sent to see him; after that, he was visited by some officers of his corps, and by some priests; but he still continued in the same state, without discovering the least signs of sensibility. Promises, entreaties, and threatenings, were equally ineffectual. It was at first suspected that these appearances were feigned; but such suspicions gave way, when it was known that he took no sustenance, and that the involuntary functions of nature were in a great measure suspended. The physicians concluded that he was in a state of hopeless idiocy; and after some time they knocked off his fetters, and left him at liberty to go where he would. He received his liberty with the same insensibility that he had shewn on other occasions; he remained fixed and immoveable, his eyes turned wildly here and there, without taking cognizance of any object, and the muscles of his face were fallen and fixed, like those of a dead body. He passed twenty days in this condition, without eating, drinking, or any evacuation, and died on the 20th day. He had been sometimes heard to fetch deep sighs; and once he rushed with great violence on a soldier who had a mug of liquor in his hand, forced the mug from him, and having drank the liquor with great eagerness, let the mug drop to the ground.—Among the ludicrous effects of fear, the following instance, quoted from a French author, by Mr. Andrews, in his volume of Anecdotes, shews upon what slight occasions this passion may be sometimes excited in a very high degree, and even in persons the most unlikely to entertain fear. “Charles Gustavus (successor to Christina, queen of Sweden,) was besieging Prague, when a boor of a most extraordinary visage desired admittance to his tent; and being allowed entrance, offered, by way of amusing the king, to devour a whole hog of 100 weight in his presence. The old general, Konigsmarc, who stood by the king’s side, and who, soldier as he was, had not got rid of the prejudices of his childhood, hinted to his royal master that the peasant ought to be burnt as a sorcerer. ‘Sir,’ said the fellow, irritated at the remark, ‘if your majesty will but make that old gentleman take off his sword and his spurs, I will eat him, before I begin the hog.’ Konigsmarc (who had, at the head of a body of Swedes, performed wonders against the Austrians, and who was looked upon as one of the bravest men of the age,) could not stand this proposal; especially as it was accompanied by a most hideous and preternatural expansion of the frightful peasant’s jaws. Without uttering a word, the veteran turned round, ran out of the court, nor thought himself safe until he had arrived at his quarters, where he remained above 24 hours locked up securely, before he had got rid of the panic which had so severely affected him.” Such is the influence of fright or terror.

The following is a notable instance of The Power of Conscience.

It is a saying, that no man ever offended his own conscience, but first or last it was revenged upon him. The power of conscience indeed has been remarked in all ages, and the examples of it upon record are numerous and striking.—The following is related by Mr. Fordyce, in his Dialogues on Education, (vol. ii. p. 501.) as a real occurrence, which happened in a neighbouring state not many years ago. A jeweller, a man of good character and considerable wealth, having occasion, in the way of his business, to travel to some distance from the place of his abode, took along with him a servant, in order to take care of his portmanteau. He had with him some of his best jewels, and a large sum of money, to which his servant was likewise privy. The master having occasion to dismount on the road, the servant watching his opportunity, took a pistol from his master’s saddle, and shot him dead on the spot; then rifled him of his jewels and money, and, hanging a large stone to his neck, threw him into the nearest canal. With his booty he made off to a distant part of the country, where he had reason to believe that neither he nor his master were known. There he began to trade in a very low way at first, that his obscurity might screen him from observation, and in the course of a good many years seemed to rise, by the natural progress of business, into wealth and consideration; so that his good fortune appeared at once the effect and reward of industry and virtue. Of these he counterfeited the appearance so well, that he grew into great credit, married into a good family, and by laying out his sudden stores discreetly, as he saw occasion, and joining to all an universal affability, he was admitted to a share of the government of the town, and rose from one post to another, till at length he was chosen chief magistrate. In this office he maintained a fair character, and continued to fill it with no small applause, both as a governor and a judge; till one day, as he sat on the bench, with some of his brethren, a criminal was brought before him, who was accused of murdering his master. The evidence came out full, the jury brought in their verdict that the prisoner was guilty, and the whole assembly waited the sentence of the president of the court (which he happened to be that day) with great suspense. Meanwhile he appeared to be in unusual disorder and agitation of mind, and his colour changed often; at length he rose from his seat, and coming down from the bench, placed himself by the unfortunate man at the bar. “You see before you (said he, addressing himself to those who had sat on the bench with him,) a striking instance of the just awards of heaven, which, this day, after 30 years’ concealment, presents to you a greater criminal than the man just now found guilty.” Then he made an ample confession of his guilt, and of all the aggravations: “Nor can I feel (continued he) any relief from the agonies of an awakened conscience, but by requiring that justice be forthwith done against me in the most public and solemn manner.” We may easily suppose the amazement of all the assembly, and especially of his fellow judges. However, they proceeded, upon this confession, to pass sentence upon him, and he died with all the symptoms of a penitent mind. Let it be our constant aim to keep a conscience void of offence towards God, and towards man; being assured that,

One self-approving hour whole years outweighs
Of stupid starers, and of loud huzzas.
Pope.