The Book of Three Hundred Anecdotes

A Test.—A cobbler at Leyden, who used to attend the public disputations held at the academy, was once asked if he understood Latin? "No," replied the mechanic, "but it is easy to know who is wrong in the argument." "How?" enquired his friend. "Why, by seeing who is first angry."

Casaubon, in his "Treatise on the Passions," relates the following pleasing anecdote of Robert, one of the greatest monarchs that ever swayed the sceptre of France. Having once surprised a rogue who had cut away the half of his mantle, he took no other notice of the offence than by saying mildly to him, "Save thyself, sinner, and leave the rest for another who may have need of it."

Garrick once complained to Sir Joshua Reynolds of the abuse with which he was loaded by Foote, when Sir Joshua answered, that Foote, in so doing, gave the strongest possible proof of being in the wrong; as it was always the man who had the worst side who became violent and abusive.

TIME, VALUE OF

Spare Moments.—The great French Chancellor D'Aguesseau carefully employed every moment of his time. Observing that Madame D'Aguesseau always delayed ten or twelve minutes before she came down to dinner, he began to compose a work to which he intended to devote these few minutes, which would otherwise have been lost. The result was, at the end of fifteen years, a work in three large quarto volumes, which went through several editions.

Buffon thus relates the manner in which he acquired a habit of early rising. "In my youth," says he, "I was excessively fond of sleep, and that indolence robbed me of much time. My poor Joseph (a domestic who served him for sixty-five years) was of the greatest benefit to me in overcoming it. I promised him a crown for every time he should make me get up at six o'clock. He failed not the next day to rouse me, but I only abused and threatened him. He tried the day following, and I did the same, which made him desist. 'Friend Joseph,' said I to him at last, 'I have lost my time and you have gained nothing. You do not know how to manage the matter. Think only of my promise, and do not regard my threatenings.' The day following he accomplished his point. At first I begged, then entreated and abused, and would have discharged him; but he disregarded me, and raised me up by absolute force. He had his reward every day for my ill-humour at the moment of waking, by thanks, and a crown an hour after. I owe to poor Joseph at least ten or twelve volumes of my works."

Cuvier, the celebrated naturalist, was singularly careful of his time, and did not like those who entered his house to deprive him of it. "I know," said he, "that Monsieur l'Abbé Hauy comes to see me; our conversation is an exchange; but I do not want a man to come and tell me whether it is hot or cold, raining or sunshine. My barometer and thermometer know more than all possible visitors; and in my studies in natural history," added he, "I have not found in the whole animal kingdom a species, or class, or family, who frighten me so much as the numerous family of idlers"

Dr. Pepusch.—"In one of my visits, very early in life, to that venerable master, Dr. Pepusch," says Dr. Burney, "he gave me a short lesson, which made so deep an impression that I long endeavoured to practise it. 'When I was a young man,' said he, 'I determined never to go to bed at night, till I knew something that I did not know in the morning.'"

TRAVELLING

A Tiresome Companion.—The celebrated George Selwyn was once travelling, and was interrupted by the frequent impertinence of a companion, who was constantly teasing him with questions, and asking him how he did. "How are you now, sir?" said the impertinent. George, in order to get rid of his importunity, replied, "Very well: and I intend to continue so all the rest of the journey."

Charles Lamb.—A farmer, by chance a companion in a coach with Charles Lamb, kept boring him to death with questions, in the jargon of agriculturists, about crops. At length he put a poser—"And pray, sir, how are turnips this year?" "Why that, sir," stammered out Lamb, "will depend upon the boiled legs of mutton."

Clans.—An English gentleman travelling through the Highlands, came to the inn of Letter Finlay, in the braes of Lochaber. He saw no person near the inn, and knocked at the door. No answer. He knocked repeatedly with as little success; he then opened the door, and walked in. On looking about, he saw a man lying on a bed, whom he hailed thus: "Are there any Christians in this house?" "No," was the reply, "we are all Camerons."

Welcome Sight.—A writer of a modern book of travels, relating the particulars of his being cast away, thus concludes: "After having walked eleven hours without having traced the print of human foot, to my great comfort and delight, I saw a man hanging upon a gibbet; my pleasure at the cheering prospect was inexpressible; for it convinced me that I was in a civilized country!"

WAR

Camp Dinner.—During the war, in which the eccentric Count Schaumbourg Lippe commanded the artillery in the army of Prince Frederick of Brunswick, against the French, he one day invited several Hanoverian officers to dine with him in his tent. When the company were in high spirits, and full of gaiety, several cannon balls flew in different directions about the tent. "The French," exclaimed the officers, "are not far off." "No, no," replied the Count, "the enemy, I assure you, are at a great distance; keep your seats." The firing soon afterwards recommenced; when one of the balls carrying away the top of the tent, the officers suddenly rose from their chairs, exclaiming, "The French are here!" "No," replied the Count, "the French are not here; and, therefore, gentlemen, I desire you will again sit down, and rely upon my word." The balls continued to fly about; the officers, however, continued to eat and drink without apprehension, though not without whispering their conjectures to each other upon the singularity of their entertainment. The Count, at length, rose from the table, and addressing himself to the company, said, "Gentlemen, I was willing to convince you how well I can rely upon the officers of my artillery; for I ordered them to fire during the time we continued at dinner, at the pinnacle of the tent, and they have executed my orders with great punctuality."

A Ragged Regiment.—In 1690, the French attacked and defeated the Prince of Waldeck at Fleurus. During this action, a lieutenant-colonel of a French regiment was on the point of charging. Not knowing how to animate his men, who were discontented at having commenced the campaign without being fresh clothed, he said to them, "My friends, I congratulate you, that you have the good fortune to be in presence of a regiment newly clothed. Charge them vigorously, and we will clothe ourselves." This pleasantry so inspired the soldiers, that they rushed on, and speedily defeated the regiment.

The Ladies of Beauvais.—Charles the Bold, Duke of Burgundy, laid siege to the City of Beauvais in the year 1472. After investing it closely for twenty-one days, his troops made a general assault, and were on the point of carrying the place, when a band of women, headed by a lady of the name of Jeanne Hachette, rushing to the walls, opposed such a resistance, with showers of stones, and other missiles, that the tide of fortune was instantaneously turned. A Burgundian officer, who attempted to plant the duke's standard on the walls, was fiercely attacked by Jeanne Hachette, who, snatching the standard from his hands, threw him headlong over the wall. The assailants, in short, were completely repulsed; nor was the distaff, once thrown aside, resumed, till the ladies of Beauvais had forced the Duke of Burgundy to retire in shame from their walls. In memory of this gallant achievement, the Municipality of Beauvais ordered a general procession of the inhabitants to take place every year, on the 10th of July, the day on which the siege was raised, in which the ladies were to have the privilege of preceding the men. As long as Jeanne Hachette lived, she marched in this annual procession, at the head of the women, bearing the standard which she had captured from the Burgundian officer; and at her death this standard was deposited in the church of the Dominicans, and a portrait of the heroine placed in the Town-Hall of Beauvais.

Charles XII. was dictating a letter to his secretary during the siege of Stralsund, when a bomb fell through the roof into the next room of the house where they were sitting. The terrified secretary let the pen drop from his hand. "What is the matter?" said Charles, calmly. The secretary replied, "Ah, sire, the bomb!" "But what has the bomb to do," said Charles, "with what I am dictating to you?—go on."

Gonsalvo of Cordova.—In an engagement which the Spaniards fought under Gonsalvo of Cordova, their powder-magazine was blown up by the first discharge of the enemy; but so far was this from discouraging the general, that he immediately cried out to his soldiers, "My brave boys, the victory is ours! Heaven tells us by this signal that we shall have no further occasion for our artillery." This confidence of the general passed on to the soldiers; they rushed to the contest, and gained a complete victory.

Algerine Captain.—Louis XIV., who had once bombarded Algiers, ordered the Marquess du Quesne to bombard it a second time, in order to punish the treachery and insolence of the Moors. The despair in which the Corsairs found themselves at not being able to beat the fleet off their coasts, caused them to bring all the French slaves, and fasten them to the mouths of their cannon, where they were blown to pieces, the different limbs of their bodies falling even among the French ships. An Algerine captain, who had been taken on a cruize, and well treated by the French while he had been their prisoner, one day perceived, among those unfortunate Frenchmen who were doomed to the cruel fate just mentioned, an officer named Choiseul, from whom he had received the most signal acts of kindness. The Algerine immediately begged, entreated, and solicited in the most pressing manner, to save the life of the generous Frenchman; but all in vain. At last, when they were going to fire the cannon to which Choiseul was fixed, the captain threw himself on the body of his friend, and closely embracing him in his arms, said to the cannonier, "Fire! since I cannot serve my benefactor, I shall at least have the consolation of dying with him." The Dey, in whose presence this scene passed, was so affected with it, that he commanded the French officer to be set free.

Marshal Boufflers.—A few days previous to the battle of Malplaquet, it was publicly talked of at Versailles, that a very important battle would soon take place between the French army commanded by Marshal Villars, and the allied army under Prince Eugene and Marlborough. Louis XIV., who for some years had met with many mortifying repulses, seemed to be very uneasy about the event. Marshal Boufflers, in order to quiet in some degree the perturbation of his sovereign's mind, offered, though a senior officer to Villars, to go and serve under him, sacrificing all personal considerations to the glory of his country. His proposal was accepted, and he repaired to the camp. On his arrival, a very singular contest took place between the two commanders. Villars desired to have Boufflers for his leader; but the latter persisted in yielding him all the glory, while he shared the danger. No event in the life of Boufflers ever contributed more to render his name illustrious. Marshal Villars, who commanded the left wing at the battle, being obliged to retire on account of a wound he had received, Marshal Boufflers charged the enemy six times after this accident; but finding they had made themselves master of a wood through which they penetrated into the centre of the French army, he yielded them the field of battle, and made a retreat in such good order, that the allies declined pursuing him.

War by Candle Light.—Shortly after the commencement of the last Peninsular war, a tax was laid on candles, which, as a political economist would prove, made them dearer. A Scotch wife, in Greenock, remarked to her chandler that the price was raised, and asked why. "It's a' owin' to the war," said he. "The war!" said the astonished matron, "gracious me! are they gaun to fight by candle licht?"

Admiral Duncan's address to the officers of his fleet, when they came on board his ship for his final instructions, previous to the memorable engagement with Admiral De Winter, was couched in the following laconic and humorous words:—"Gentlemen of my Fleet, you see a very severe Winter fast approaching; and I have only to advise you to keep up a good fire!"

A Noble Enemy.—When the Laura and Andromeda frigates were wrecked in a violent hurricane in the West Indies, on the coast of the Martinique, thirty-five men were thrown ashore alive. The Marquess de Bouille, on hearing of the circumstance, took them to his house, where he treated them most hospitably. After he had cured them of their bruises and sickness, and had clothed them from head to foot, he sent them with a flag of truce to the commanding officer of St. Lucia, with a letter, stating that these men having experienced the horrors of shipwreck, he would not add those of war, and had therefore set them free, and at liberty again to serve their country.

French Grenadier.—During the assault of Thurot on the town of Carrickfergus in 1760, an incident took place, reflecting at once the highest lustre on the soldier concerned, and evincing the union of consummate courage with noble humanity. Whilst the combatants were opposed to each other in the streets, and every inch was pertinaciously disputed by the British forces, a child by some accident escaped from a house in the midst of the scene of action, and ran, unawed by the danger, into the narrow interval between the hostile fronts. One of the French grenadiers seeing the imminent danger of the child, grounded his piece; left the ranks in the hottest fire; took the child in his arms, and placed it in safety in the house from which it had come, and then with all possible haste returned to resume his part in the fight.

George I.—During the siege of Fort St. Philip, a young lieutenant of marines was so unfortunate as to lose both his legs by a chain-shot. In this miserable and helpless condition he was conveyed to England, and a memorial of his case presented to a board; but nothing more than half-pay could be obtained. Major Manson had the poor lieutenant conducted to court on a public day, in his uniform; where, posted in the ante-room, and supported by two of his brother officers, he cried out, as the king was passing to the drawing-room, "Behold, sire, a man who refuses to bend his knee to you; he has lost both in your service." The king, struck no less by the singularity of his address, than by the melancholy object before him, stopped, and hastily demanded what had been done for him. "Half-pay," replied the lieutenant, "and please your majesty." "Fye, fye on't," said the king, shaking his head; "but let me see you again next levee-day." The lieutenant did not fail to appear, when he received from the immediate hand of royalty a present of five hundred pounds, and an annuity of two hundred pounds a-year for life.

Charles VI.—At the breaking out of the war against the Turks, in the year 1717, the Emperor Charles VI. of Austria took leave of his general, Prince Eugene, with the following words: "Prince, I have set over you a general, who is always to be called to your council, and in whose name all your operations are to be undertaken." With this he put into his hand a crucifix, richly set with diamonds, at the foot of which was the following inscription, 'Jesus Christus Generalissimus.'—"Forget not," added the Emperor, "that you are fighting his battles who shed his blood for man upon the Cross. Under his supreme guidance, attack and overwhelm the enemies of Christ and Christianity."

George the Second.—It was once found an impracticable task to make George the Second acquiesce in a judgment passed by a court-martial on the conduct of two officers high in the army. One of the officers had made himself amenable to military law, by fighting in opposition to the orders of his commander in chief, instead of retreating; by which act of disobedience, the general's plans were frustrated. On these circumstances being detailed to the king, his majesty exclaimed, "Oh! the one fight, the other run away." "Your majesty will have the goodness to understand, that General – did not run away; it was necessary for the accomplishment of his schemes, that he should cause the army to retreat at that critical moment; this he would have conducted with his wonted skill, but for the breach of duty in the officer under the sentence of the court-martial." "I understand," impatiently returned the king; "one fight, he was right; the other run away, he was wrong." It was in vain that ministers renewed their arguments and explanations; his majesty could not, or would not, understand the difference between a disgraceful flight and a politic retreat; they were therefore obliged to end a discussion which merely drew forth the repetition of the same judgment—"The one face the enemy and fight, he right; the other turn his back and not fight, he wrong."

Ximenes.—At the siege of Oran, in Africa, Cardinal Ximenes led the Spanish troops to the breach, mounted on a charger, dressed in his pontifical robes, and preceded by a monk on horseback, who bore his archiepiscopal cross. "Go on, go on, my children," exclaimed he to the soldiers, "I am at your head. A priest should think it an honour to expose his life for his religion. I have an example in my predecessors, in the archbishopric of Toledo. Go on to victory." When his victorious troops took possession of the town, he burst into tears on seeing the number of the dead that were lying on the ground; and was heard to say to himself, "They were indeed infidels, but they might have become Christians. By their death, they have deprived us of the principal advantage of the victory we have gained over them."

An Odd Grenadier.—During the famous siege of Gibraltar, in the absence of the fleet, and when an attack was daily expected, one dark night, a sentinel, whose post was near a tower facing the Spanish lines, was standing at the end of his walk, looking towards them, his head filled with nothing but fire and sword, miners, breaching, storming, and bloodshed, while by the side of his box stood a deep narrow-necked earthen jug, in which was the remainder of his supper, consisting of boiled pease. A large monkey (of which there were plenty at the top of the rock), encouraged by the man's absence, and allured by the smell of the pease, ventured to the jug; and, in endeavouring to get at its contents, thrust his neck so far into the jug, as to be unable to withdraw it. At this instant, the soldier approaching, the monkey started up to escape, with the jug on his head. This terrible monster no sooner saluted the eyes of the sentry, than his frantic imagination converted poor pug into a blood-thirsty Spanish grenadier, with a tremendous cap on his head. Full of this dreadful idea, he instantly fired his piece, roaring out that the enemy had scaled the walls. The guards took the alarm; the drums were beat; signal-guns fired; and in less than ten minutes, the governor and his whole garrison were under arms. The supposed grenadier, being very much incommoded by his cap, and almost blinded by the pease, was soon overtaken and seized; and by this capture, the tranquillity of the garrison was soon restored, without that slaughter and bloodshed which every man had prognosticated at the beginning of this dire alarm.

MISCELLANEOUS

Dunning.—The witty Lord Ross, having spent all his money in London, set out for Ireland, in order to recruit his purse. On his way, he happened to meet with Sir Murrough O'Brien, driving for the capital in a handsome phaëton, with six prime dun-coloured horses. "Sir Murrough," exclaimed his lordship, "what a contrast there is betwixt you and me! You are driving your duns before you, but my duns are driving me before them."

Steele & Addison.—A gentleman who was dining with another, praised the meat very much, and asked who was the butcher? "His name is Addison."—"Addison!" echoed the guest, "pray is he any relation to the essayist?"—"In all probability he is, for he is seldom without his steel (Steele) by his side."

A Tedious Preacher.—Mr. Canning was once asked by an English clergyman how he liked the sermon he had preached before him. "Why, it was a short sermon," quoth Canning. "Oh yes," said the preacher; "you know I avoid being tedious." "Ah, but," replied Canning, "you were tedious."

Charity sermon.—Sydney Smith, preaching a charity sermon, frequently repeated the assertion that, of all nations, Englishmen were most distinguished for generosity and the love of their species. The collection happened to be inferior to his expectations, and he said that he had evidently made a great mistake, for that his expression should have been, that they were distinguished for the love of their specie.

Pope the Poet.—This celebrated poet is said to have been once severely retorted upon. A question arose in company respecting the reading of a passage with or without a note of interrogation. Pope rather arrogantly asked one gentleman if he knew what a note of interrogation was. "Yes, sir: it is a little crooked thing that asks questions." Pope was little and deformed.

Estimate of Greatness.—Pope was with Sir Godfrey Kneller one day, when his nephew, a Guinea trader, came in. "Nephew," said Sir Godfrey, "you have the honour of seeing the two greatest men in the world."—"I don't know how great you may be," said the Guinea-man, "but I don't like your looks: I have often bought a man much better than both of you together, all muscles and bones, for ten guineas."

"Rejected Addresses."—The fame of the brothers James and Horatio Smith was confined to a limited circle, until the publication of "The Rejected Addresses." James used to dwell with much pleasure on the criticism of a Leicestershire clergyman: "I do not see why they ('The Addresses') should have been rejected: I think some of them very good." This, he would add, is almost as good as the avowal of the Irish Bishop, that there were some things in "Gulliver's Travels" which he could not believe.

The Two Smith's.—A gentleman took lodgings in the same house with James Smith, one of the celebrated authors of the "Rejected Addresses." His name was also James Smith. The consequence was an eternal confusion of calls and letters, and the postman had no alternative but to share the letters equally between the two. "This is intolerable, sir," said our author, "you must quit." "Why am I to quit more than you?" "Because you came last, and being James the Second you must abdicate."

Coleridge, the Poet, once dined in company with a person who listened to the conversation and said nothing for a long time; but occasionally nodded his head, and Coleridge concluded him a thoughtful and intelligent man. At length, towards the end of the dinner, some apple dumplings were placed on the table, and the listener had no sooner seen them than he burst forth, "Them's the fellows for me!" Coleridge adds: "I wish Spurzheim could have examined the fellow's head."

An Appropriate Successor.—Clerambault, who was deformed, was elected to succeed La Fontaine in the French Academy. On that occasion it was said that "La Fontaine was very properly succeeded by Esop."

Erskine.—Lord Kellie was amusing the company with an account of a sermon he had heard in Italy, in which the preacher related the miracle of St. Anthony preaching to the fishes, who, in order to listen to his pious discourse, held their heads out of the water. "I can credit the miracle," said Erskine, "if your lordship was at church." "I certainly was there," said the peer. "Then, rejoined Erskine, there was at least one fish out of water."

Memory.—A humorous comment on this system of artificial memory was made by a waiter at an hotel where Feinaigle dined, after having given his lecture on that subject. A few minutes after the Professor left the table, the waiter entered, with uplifted hands and eyes, exclaiming, "Well, I declare, the memory man has forgotten his umbrella!"

Parisian rag-picker.—An old chiffonnier (or rag picker) died in Paris in a state apparently of the most abject poverty. His only relation was a niece, who lived as servant with a greengrocer. This girl always assisted her uncle as far as her slender means would permit. When she heard of his death, which took place suddenly, she was upon the point of marriage with a journeyman baker, to whom she had been long attached. The nuptial day was fixed, but Suzette had not yet bought her wedding clothes. She hastened to tell her lover that their marriage must be deferred, as she wanted the price of her bridal finery to lay her uncle decently in the grave. Her mistress ridiculed the idea, and exhorted her to leave the old man to be buried by charity. Suzette refused. The consequence was a quarrel, in which the young woman lost at once her place and her lover, who sided with her mistress. She hastened to the miserable garret where her uncle had expired, and by the sacrifice not only of her wedding attire, but of nearly all the rest of her slender wardrobe, she had the old man decently interred. Her pious task fulfilled, she sat alone in her uncle's room weeping bitterly, when the master of her faithless lover, a young good-looking man, entered. "So, my good Suzette, I find you have lost your place!" cried he, "I am come to offer you one for life—will you marry me?" "I, Sir? you are joking." "No, indeed, I want a wife, and I am sure I can't find a better." "But everybody will laugh at you for marrying a poor girl like me," "Oh! if that is your only objection we shall soon get over it; come, come along; my mother is prepared to receive you." Suzette hesitated no longer; but she wished to take with her a memorial of her deceased uncle: it was a cat that he had kept for many years. The old man was so fond of the animal that he was determined even death should not separate them, and he had caused her to be stuffed and placed near his bed. As Suzette took puss down, she uttered an exclamation of surprise at finding her so heavy. The lover hastened to open the animal, when out fell a shower of gold. There were a thousand louis concealed in the body of the cat, and this sum, which the old man had contrived to amass, became the just reward of the worthy girl and her disinterested lover.