It happened much about this time, that a famous gladiator, who, in his travels, had foiled the most able fencers in Europe, and lately killed three men who had entered the lists against him, took up his residence in Mantua. The duke, under whose promised protection he had taken shelter, on finding that he had afforded an asylum to a troublesome inmate, by whom the inhabitants were much annoyed, did not hesitate to manifest his regret: but having pledged his word, which he could neither recall nor violate, no way remained to release the public from this sanctioned pest, but that of finding some person who would dare to meet him in single combat.
Crichton having been informed of the fact, in connection with its various circumstances, voluntarily offered his services, not only to drive the murderer from Mantua, but to prevent his remaining in any part of Italy. He therefore made a proposal to fight him for fifteen hundred pistoles. The duke, though anxious to be delivered from his troublesome intruder, was unwilling that the valuable life of Crichton should be placed in competition with that of such a barbarous adventurer. But having been informed that he was as capable of appearing in feats of arms, as in scientific disquisitions, he gave his consent, that he should undertake to meet the combatant. Affairs being arranged, and the day appointed, the whole court assembled to witness the issue of this singular conflict. In the commencement of this encounter, Crichton stood wholly on the defensive; while his antagonist assailed him with such eagerness and fury, that in a short time he became exhausted. This Crichton soon perceived; and availing himself of the opportunity, attacked him in return, with so much skill and resolution, that he was unable to withstand the assault. The weapons with which they fought were rapiers, then but newly brought into use; but so far had Crichton made himself master of this instrument of death, that he ran his antagonist through the body three times, and saw him fall dead at his feet. The spectators, on perceiving this victory, uttered thunders of applause, making the earth resound with their united acclamations. And although many present were much skilled in the use of arms, they united in declaring, that they had never seen art grace nature, or nature second the precepts of art, in so lively a manner as the events of this day had exhibited before their eyes. Crichton in the meanwhile, to prove that his generosity was equal to his skill and courage, distributed the fifteen hundred pistoles which he had won by his valour, among the widows of the three men who had lost their lives in fighting with the gladiator whom he had slain.
Pleased with this bloody performance, the duke of Mantua is said immediately to have chosen Crichton as preceptor to his son Vincentio di Gonzaga, who is represented as a youth of a turbulent disposition, and a dissolute life. This appointment was pleasing to the court, and highly flattering to the vanity of the victor; who, to testify his gratitude, and to contribute to their diversion, is said to have framed a comedy, in which he exposed to ridicule, the foibles, weaknesses, and defects of the several employments in which men were engaged. The composition was regarded as one of the most ingenious satires that was ever made upon mankind. In the performance of this comedy, Crichton is represented as sustaining no less than fifteen characters in his own person. Among the rest, he acted the divine, the philosopher, the lawyer, the mathematician, the physician, and the soldier, with such an inimitable grace, that every time he appeared on the theatre, he seemed to be a different person.
But it was not long after he had sustained these various characters, in the comedy which he had composed for public entertainment, before he became the subject of a dreadful tragedy, which furnished a melancholy occasion for lamentation.
It happened one night, during the time of carnival, as he was walking along the streets of Mantua, playing upon his guitar, that he was attacked by six persons in masks. He immediately drew his weapon to defend himself; and soon convinced his assailants, that they had something more than an ordinary person with whom to contend. In this conflict, when they found they were unable to stand their ground, their leader, being disarmed, pulled off his mask, and begged his life, telling him that he was prince Gonzaga his pupil. Crichton, on making this discovery, fell upon his knees, and expressed much concern for his mistake; alleging that what he had done was only in his own defence, and that if Gonzaga had any design upon his life, he was always master of it. Having said this, he took his sword, and holding it by the point, presented the handle to the prince, who instantly received it, and, with a degree of barbarous meanness, that will always be associated with his name, immediately stabbed Crichton to the heart.
On the causes which led to this brutal action, various conjectures have been started. Some have imagined, that it arose from the mortification of being foiled, disarmed, and discovered, and being obliged to beg for his life. Others have supposed, that it was nothing more than the effect of a drunken frolic, in which the passions assumed the dominion over reason. And others have intimated, that it was the effect of jealousy, Gonzaga being suspicious that Crichton was more in favour than himself, with a lady whom he passionately loved. In one point, however, all who have recorded these transactions mutually agree, namely, that Crichton lost his life in this rencontre; but whether the meeting was premeditated on the part of the prince and his associates, or purely as accidental as it was on that of Crichton, we have no means of ascertaining. The time when this disastrous event took place, is said, by the generality of his biographers, to have been early in July 1583; but Lord Buchan thinks it to have happened one year earlier. The difference is still greater with regard to his age, when he was thus assassinated. The common accounts declare, that he was killed in his thirty-second year; but Imperialis asserts, that he was only in his twenty-second; and in this he is confirmed by the testimony of Lord Buchan. His death was universally lamented, the people of Mantua mourned for him three-quarters of a year, and his picture appeared in the chambers and houses of every Italian.
The fame of Crichton, like that of an actor, was chiefly confined to those who had witnessed his achievements. He wrote little, but he performed much. The latter was soon forgotten; or so blended with fiction, that it became doubtful. He blazed like a meteor for a moment; his coruscations dazzled the eyes of the beholder; but when he vanished, the impression which he had made was no where to be found. Yet, we must again repeat, he was certainly one of the most accomplished men, who, in that age, had ever appeared.
To those who feel the aspirings of genius, he furnishes an example of the heights to which it can ascend. And to those who are less gifted by nature, his unsettled life, and his melancholy end, may at least teach acquiescence in the humbler gifts which Providence has assigned them.—See British Nepos, p. 101.
In favour of Crichton’s moral character, we fear that little can be said. His warmest admirers have furnished us with the means of making this reflection. They have occasionally palliated dissipation; but unfortunately, while softening his vices into youthful foibles, they have recorded facts, to which posterity have given names. On the vanity, which in too many instances marked his life, and the unhappy manner in which it was terminated, no comment can be deemed necessary. In his whole history, all those, “who in the confidence of superior capacities or attainments disregard the common maxims of life, shall be reminded, that nothing will supply the want of prudence; and that negligence and irregularity, long continued, will make knowledge useless, wit ridiculous, and genius contemptible.”—Johnson’s Life of Savage.
Miss Margaret M‘Avoy.—Some time in the year 1815, an extraordinary phenomenon appeared at Liverpool, in the person of Miss M‘Avoy, a young lady about fifteen years of age, reputed to be totally blind; but whose exquisite nervous sensibility enabled her to distinguish, by the power of touch, a variety of objects, which, to all other persons, were perceptible only through the medium of vision. The circumstances connected with this case, taken in all their bearings, are such, that it may be justly doubted if any thing more extraordinary has ever occurred in the physiological history of our species.