The Works of Benjamin Franklin, Volume 4. Бенджамин Франклин

had laid down their arms, submitted, and demanded protection. Mahomet, when the account was brought to him, applauded the men for their humanity; but said to Khaled, with great indignation: “O Khaled, thou butcher, cease to molest me with thy wickedness. If thou possessedst a heap of gold as large as Mount Obod, and shouldst expend it all in God’s cause, thy merit would not efface the guilt incurred by the murder of the meanest of those poor captives.”

      Among the Arabs or Saracens, though it was lawful to put to death a prisoner taken in battle, if he had made himself obnoxious by his former wickedness, yet this could not be done after he had once eaten bread, or drunk water, while in their hands. Hence we read in the history of the wars of the Holy Land, that when the Franks had suffered a great defeat from Saladin, and among the prisoners were the king of Jerusalem, and Arnold, a famous Christian captain, who had been very cruel to the Saracens; these two being brought before the Sultan, he placed the king on his right hand and Arnold on his left; and then presented the king with a cup of water, who immediately drank to Arnold; but when Arnold was about to receive the cup, the Sultan interrupted, saying: “I will not suffer this wicked man to drink, as that, according to the laudable and generous customs of the Arabs, would secure him his life.”

      That the same laudable and generous custom still prevails among the Mahometans, appears from the account, but last year published, of his travels by Mr. Bell, of Antermony, who accompanied the Czar, Peter the Great, in his journey to Derbent through Daggestan. “The religion of the Daggestans,” says he, “is generally Mohammedan, some following the sect of Osman, others that of Haly. Their language for the most part is Turkish, or rather a dialect of the Arabic, though many of them speak also the Persian language. One article I cannot omit concerning their laws of hospitality, which is, if their greatest enemy comes under their roof for protection, the landlord, of what condition soever, is obliged to keep him safe, from all manner of harm or violence, during his abode with him, and even to conduct him safely through his territories to a place of security.”

      From the Saracens this same custom obtained among the Moors of Africa; was by them brought into Spain, and there long sacredly observed. The Spanish historians record with applause one famous instance of it. While the Moors governed there, and the Spaniards were mixed with them, a Spanish cavalier in a sudden quarrel slew a young Moorish gentleman and fled. His pursuers soon lost sight of him; for he had, unperceived, thrown himself 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 apartment, telling him that as soon as it was night he would provide for his escape to a place of more safety. The Moor then went into his house, where he had scarce seated himself when a great crowd, with loud lamentations, came to his gate, bringing the corpse of his son, that had just been killed by a Spaniard. When the first shock of surprise was a little over, he learnt from the description given that the fatal deed was done by the person then in his power. He mentioned this to no one; but as soon as it was dark retired to his garden apartment, as if to grieve alone, giving orders that none should follow him. There 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. Follow me.” 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 I thank him that I am innocent of yours, and that my faith given is preserved.”

      The Spaniards caught from the Moors this punto of honor, the effects of which remain, in a degree, to this day. So that when there is fear of a war about to break out between England and Spain, an English merchant there, who apprehends the confiscation of his goods as the goods of an enemy, thinks them safe if he can get a Spaniard to take charge of them; for the Spaniard secures them as his own, and faithfully redelivers them, or pays the value, whenever the Englishman can safely demand it.

      Justice to that nation, though lately our enemies, and hardly yet our cordial friends, obliges me on this occasion not to omit mentioning an instance of Spanish honor which cannot but be still fresh in the memory of many yet living. In 1746, when we were in a hot 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, for the saving of their lives, to run her into the Havana. The captain went on shore, directly waited on the governor, told the occasion of his putting in, and that he surrendered his 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 the ship, if that be necessary, to stop the leak; you may refit 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 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.

      Will it be permitted me to adduce, on this occasion, an instance of a like honor in a poor unenlightened African Negro? I find it in Captain Seagrave’s account of his Voyage of Guinea. He relates that a New England sloop, trading there in 1852, left their 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 meanwhile, a Dutch ship came into the road, and some of the blacks going on board her, were treacherously seized, and carried off as slaves. Their 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 that you keep in your house, for we will kill him.” “Nay,” said Cudjoe, “the white men that carried away your brothers are bad men, kill them when you can catch them; but this white man is a good man, and you must not kill him.” “But he is a white man,” they cried; “the white men are all bad, and 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 fort, and I am his soldier. I 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 ventured abroad again with 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 (meaning an innocent) man, their God would have been angry, and would have spoiled their fishing. “I relate this,” says Captain Seagrave, “to show that some among these dark people have a strong sense of justice and honor, and that even the most brutal among them are capable of feeling the force of reason, and of being influenced by a fear of God (if the knowledge of the true God could be introduced among them), since even the fear of a false god, when their rage subsided, was not without its good effect.”

      Now I am about to mention something of Indians, I beg that I may not be understood as framing apologies for all Indians. I am far from desiring to lessen the laudable spirit of resentment in my countrymen against those now at war with us, so far as it is justified by their perfidy and inhumanity. I would only observe, that the Six Nations, as a body, have kept faith with the English ever since we knew them, now near a hundred years; and that the governing part of those people have had notions of honor, whatever may be the case with the rum-debauched, trader-corrupted vagabonds and thieves on the Susquehanna and Ohio,