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them. Having done this, he laid the roll of parchment on the ground, observing again, that the ground should be common to both people. He then added, that he would not do as the Marylanders did, that is, call them Children or Brothers only ; for often parents were apt to chastise their children too severely, and Brothers sometimes would differ: neither would he compare the Friendship between him and them to a Chain, for the rain might sometimes rust it, or a tree might fall and break it; but he should consider them as the same flesh and blood with the Christians, and the same as if one man's body were to be divided into two parts. He then took up the parchment, and resented it to the Sachem, who wore the horn in is chaplet, and desired him and the other Sachems to preserve it carefully for three generations; that their children might know what had passed between them, just as if he had remained himself with them to repeat it.”—pp. 341–343.
The Indians, in return, made long and stately harangues—of which, however, no more seems to have been remembered, but that “they pledged themselves to live in love with William Penn and his children, as long as the sun and moon should endure.” And thus ended this famous treaty;-of which Voltaire has remarked, with so much truth and severity, “that it was the only one ever concluded between savages and Christians that was not ratified by an oath—and the only one that never was broken o'
Such, indeed, was the spirit in which the negotiation was entered into, and the corresponding settlement conducted, that for the space of more than seventy years—and so long indeed as the Quakers retained the chief power in the government, the peace and amity which had been thus solemnly promised and concluded, never was . ;—and a large and most striking, though solitary example afforded, of the facility with which they who are really sincere ...} friendly in their own views, may live in harmony even with those who are supposed to be peculiarly fierce and faithless. We cannot bring ourselves to wish that there were nothing but Quakers in the world—because we fear it would be insupportably dull;-but when we consider what tremendous evils daily arise from the petulance and profligacy, and ambition and irritability, of Sovereigns and Ministers, we cannot help thinking that it would be the most efficacious of all reforms to choose all those ruling personages out of that plain, pacific, and sober-minded sect.
William Penn now held an assembly, in which fifty-nine important laws were passed in the course of three days. The most remarkable were those which limited the number of capital crimes to two—murder and high treason—and which provided for the reformation, as well as the punishment of offenders, by making the prisons places of compulsive industry, sobriety, of instruction. It was likewise enacted, that all children, of whatever rank, should be instructed in some art or trade. The fees of law proceedings were fixed, and inscribed on public tables;–and the amount of fines to be | ". for offences also limited by legislative authority. Many admirable regulations were
added, for the encouragement of industry, and mutual usefulness and esteem. There is something very agreeable in the content. ment, and sober and well-earned self-com placency, which breathe in the following le: ter of this great colonist—written during his first rest from those great labours. “I am now casting the country into townships for large lots of land. I have i. an Assembly, in which many good laws are passed. We could not stay safely till the spring for a Government. I have No. Territories lately obtained to the Province, and passed a general naturalization for strangers; which hath much pleased the peopleAs to outward things, we are satisfied; the land good, the air clear and sweet, the springs plentiful, and provision good and easy to come at ; an innu. merable quantity of wild fowl and fish : in fine, here is what an Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob would be well contented with ; and service enough for God, for the fields are here white for harvest. 0, how sweet is the quiet of these parts, freed from the anxious and troublesome solicitations, hurries, and perplexities of woful Europe!”—pp. 350, 351.
We cannot persuade ourselves, however, to pursue any farther the details of this edify. ing biography. W. Penn returned to England after a residence of about two years in his colony—got into great favour with James II. —and was bitterly calumniated as a Jesuit, both by churchmen and sectaries—went on doing good and preaching Quakerism—was sorely persecuted and insulted, and deprived of his E. but finally acquitted, and honourably restored, under King William— lost his wife and son—travelled and married again—returned to Pennsylvania in 1699 for two years longer—came finally home to England—continued to preach and publish as copiously as ever—was reduced to a state of kindly dotage by three strokes of apoplexy— and died at last at the age of seventy-two, in the year 1718.
He seems to have been a man of kind affec. tions, singular activity and perseverance, and great practical wisdom. Yet we can well believe with Burnet, that he was “a little puffed up with vanity;” and that “he had a tedious, luscious way of talking, that was apt to tire the patience of his hearers.” He was very neat in his person; and had a great horror at tobacco, which occasionally endangered his popularity in his American domains. He was mighty methodical, too, in ordering his household; and had stuck up in his hall a written directory, or General Order, for the regulation of his family, to which he exacted the strictest conformity. According to this rigorous system of discipline, he required—
or of unavoidable engagement. The servants were to be called up after supper to render to their master and mistress an account of what they had done in the day, and to receive instructions for the next; and were particularly exhorted to avoid lewd discourses and troublesome noises."
We shall not stop to examine what dregs of ambition, or what hankerings after worldly prosperity, may have mixed themselves with
the pious and philanthropic principles that were undoubtedly his chief guides in forming that great settlement which still bears his name, and profits by his example. Human virtue does not challenge, nor admit of such a scrutiny! And it should be sufficient for the glory of William Penn, that he stands upon record as the most humane, the most moderate, and the most pacific of all rulers.
A Selection from the Public and Private Correspondence of Vice-Admiral Lord Collingwood: interspersed with Memoirs of his Life. By G. L. Newnham Collingwood, Esq. F. R. S. 2 vols. 8vo. Ridgway. London: 1828.
We do not know when we have met with to delightful a book as this,—or one with \vhieh we are so well pleased with ourselves for being delighted. Its attraction consists almost entirely in its moral beauty; and it has the rare merit of filling us with the deep-' est admiration for heroism, without suborning our judgments into any approbation of the vices and weaknesses with which poor mortal heroism is so often accompanied. In this respect, it is not only more safe, but more agreeable reading than the Memoirs of Nelson; where the lights and shadows are often too painfully contrasted, and the bane and the antidote exhibited in proportions that cannot but be hazardous for the ardent and aspiring spirits on which they are both most calculated to operate.
It is a mere illusion of national vanity which prompts us to claim Lord Collingwood asa character peculiarly English 1 Certainly we must admit, that we have few Englishmen left who resemble him; and even that our prevailing notions and habits make it likely that we shall have still fewer hereafter. \ et we do not know where such a character could have been formed but in England ;— ami feel quite satisfied, that it is there only that it can be properly valued or understood. The combination of the loftiest daring with tht> most watchful humanity, and of ihe noblest ambition with the greatest disdain of pt'rsonal advantages, and the most generous sympathy with rival merit, though rare enouch In draw forth at all times the loud applause ('f mankind, have not been without example, in any race that boasts of illustrious ancestors. But, for the union of those high qualities with unpretending and almost homely simplicity, sweet temper, undeviating rectitude, anil all the purity and sanctity of domestic affection ana humble content—we can look, we think, only to England,—or to the fabulous legends of uncorrupted and uninptructed Rome. All these graces, however, and more than these, were united in Lord Collingwood: For he had a cultivated and even elegant mind, a taste for all simple enjoyments, and a rectitude of understanding— which seemed in him to be but the emanation
of a still higher rectitude. Inferior, perhaps, to Nelson, in original genius and energy, and in that noble self-confidence in great emergencies which these qualities usually inspire, he was fully his equal in seamanship and the art of command; as well as in that devotedness to his country and his profession, and that utter fearlessness and gallantry of soul which exults and rejoices in scenes of tremendous peril, which have almost ceased to be remarkable in the character of a British sailor. On the other hand, we think it will scarcely be disputed, that he was superior to that great commander in general information and accomplishment, and in those thoughtful habits, and that steadiness and propriety of personal deportment, which are their natural fruit. His greatest admirers, however, can ask no higher praise for him than that he stood on the same lofty level with Nelson, as to that generous and cordial appreciation of merit in his brother officers, by \vhich, even more, perhaps, than by any of his other qualities, that great man was distinguished. It does one's heart good, indeed, to turn from the petty cabals, the paltry jealousies, the splendid detractions, the irritable vanities, which infest almost every other walk of public life, and meet one, indeed, at every turn in all scenes of competition, and among men otherwise eminent and honourable,—to the brother-like frankness and open-hearted simplicity, even of the official communicationsbetween Nelson and Collingwood: and to the father-like interest with which they both concurred in fostering the a;lory, and cheering on the fortunes of their younger associates. In their noble thirst for distinction, there seems to be absolutely no alloy of selfishness; and scarcelyeven a feeling of rivalry. If the opportunity of doing a splendid thing has not come to them, it has come to some one who deserved it as well, and perhaps needed it more, li will come to them another day—and then the heroes of this will repay their hearty congratulations. There is something inexpressibly beautiful and attractive in this spirit of magnanimous fairness; and if we could only believe it to be general in the navy, we should gladly recant all our heretical doubts as to the superior virtues of men at sea, join chorus to all the elan" songs of Dibdin on the subject, and applaud to the echo all the tirades about British tars and wooden walls, which have so often nauseated us at the playhouses.
We feel excessively obliged to the editor of this book; both for making Lord Collingwood known to us, and for the very pleasing, modest, and effectual way he has taken to do it in. It is made up almost entirely of his Lordship's correspondence; and the few connecting statements and explanatory observations are given with the greatest clearness and brevity; and very much in the mild, conciliatory, and amiable tone of the remarkable person to whom they relate. When we say that this publication has made Lord Collingwood known to us, we do not mean that we. or the body of the nation, were previously ignorant that he had long served with distinction in the navy, and that it fell to his lot. as second in command at Trafalgar, to indite that eloquent and touching despatch which announced the final ruin of the hostile fleets, and the death of the Great Admiral by whose might they had been scattered. But till this collection appeared, the character of the man was known, we believe, only to those who had lived with him ; and the public was generally ignorant both of the detail of his services, and the high principle and exemplary diligence which presided over their performance. Neither was it known, we are persuaded, that those virtues and services actually cost him his life! and that the difficulty of finding, in our large list of admirals, any une fit to succeed him in the important station which he filled in his declining years, induced the government, — most ungenerously, we must say, and unjustly,—to refuse his earnest desire to be relieved of it; and to insist on his remaining to the last gasp, at a post which he would not desert so long as his country required him to maintain it, but at which, it was apparent to himself, and all the world, that he must speedily die. The details now before us will teach the profession, we hope, by what virtues and what toils so great and so pure a fame can alone be won; and by rendering in this way such characters less rare, will also render the distinction to which they lead less fatal to its owners: While they cannot fail, we think, to awaken the government to a sense of its own ingratitude to those who have done it the noblest service, and of the necessity of at last adopting some of the suggestions which those great benefactors have so long pressed on its attention.
We have not much concern with the genealogy or early history of Lord Collingwood. He was born in 1750, of an honourable and ancient family of Northumberland, but of slender patrimony; and went to sea, under the care of his relative, Captain, afterwards Admiral Brathwaite, when only eleven years old. He used, himself, to tell, as an instance of his youth and simplicity at this time, "that as he was sitting crying for his sepalation from home, the first lieutenant ob•erved him, and pitying the tender years of
the poor child, spoke to him in terms of much encouragement and kindness; which, ae Lori Collingwood said, so won upon his heart that, taking this officer to his box. he offered km in gratitude a large piece of plumcake «Ькй hie mother had given him!'' Almost ¡rum this early period he was the intimate frierJ and frequent associate of the brave Nelscr.; and had his full share of the obscure per j and unknown labours which usually fonriihe noviciate of naval eminence. He was nmie commander in 1779; and being sent to th? West Indies after the peace of 1783. wa» o:!v restored to his family in 1786. He married in 1791; and was again summoned нрог. active service on the breaking out of the »ar with France in 1793; from which period 'o the end of his life, in 1810, he wasconliimau in employment, and never permitted tu s«e that happy home, so dear to his heart, an.! *• constantly in his thoughts, except for one Лег. interval of a year, during the peace of Amici » During almost the whole of this period he was actually afloat; and was frequently, ñ/: a year together, and ouce for the increiijl.< period of twenty-two months, without Jrnrping an anchor. He was in almost all it-1 great actions, and had more that his chart ;• the anxious blockades, which occurred ш ib: memorable time; and signalised himseií o all, by that mixture of considerate riguar.oand brilliant courage, which may be sani ;•> have constituted his professional cbaraCrr His first great battle was that which ende.- .n Lord Howe's celebrated victory of the 1*: c' June, 1794; and we cannot resist the tern potion of heading our extracts with a part c: the account he has given of it, in a letter to his father-in-law, Mr. Blackett—not so moch for the purpose of recalling the proud feeliuzJ which must ever cling to the memory of our first triumph over triumphant France, as io: the sake of that touching mixture it presecu of domestic affection and family recollectioni. with high professional enthusiasm, and th? kindling spirit of war. In this situation h; says :—
"We cruised for a few day», like disappoint J people looking for what we could not find, un';¡ '•"morning of little Sarah's birth-day, between fx-: and nine o'clock, when the French fleet, of twfrnfive nail of the line was discovered to wuujvir:. We chased them, and they bore down wiihm abcjt five mile« of us. The night was spent in wnchr.2 and preparation for the succeeding day; tnd mi"» a blessing did I send forth to my Sarah, lest I sbo" ¡ never bless her more! At dawn, we made our i> proach on the enemy, then drew up. dressed иг ranks, and it was about eight when the Admire! made the signal for each ship to engage her op;» nent, and bring her to close action,—end then da" я we went under a crowd of sail, and in a rrunnfr that would have animated the coldest bean. >' ¡ struck terror into the most intrepid enemy. TW ship we were to engage was two a-bead of •!••' French Admiral, so that we had 10 go throush h: fire and that of the two ships next him. and tww'J all their broadsides two or three times befo« « fired a gun. It was then near ten o'clock I observed to the Admiral, that about thai nine « wives were going to church, but that I tbourhi ths: the peal we should ring about the Frenchman'» «" would outdo their parish bell«! Lord Howe befu his fire йоте time before we did; and he is not in ihe habit of firing soon. We got very near indeed, and then began such в fire as would have done you good to have heard! During ihe whole action the most exact order was preserved, and no accident happened but what was inevitable, and the consequence of the enemy's shot. In ten minutes the Admiral was wounded; I caught him in my arms before he fell: the first lieutenant was slightly wounded by the вате shot, and I thought I was in a lair way of being left on deck by myself; but the lieutenant got his head dressed, and came up again. Soon after, they called from the forecastle that the Frenchman was sinking; at which the men started up and gave three cheers. I saw the French ship dismasted and on her broadside, but in an instant she was clouded with smoke, and I do not know whether she sunk or not. All the ships in our neighbourhood were dismasted, and are taken, except the French Admiral, who was driven out of the hue by Lord Howe, and saved himself by flight."
In 1796 he writes to the same gentleman, from before Toulon—
"h is but dull work, lying off1 the enemy's port: they cannot move a ship without our seeing them, which must be very mortifying to them; but we have the mortification also to see iheir merchantvessels going along shore, and cannot molest them. It is not a service on which we shall get fat; and often do I wish we had some of those bad potatoes which Old Scott and William used to throw over the wall of the garden, for we feel the want of vegetables more than anything!
"The accounts I receive of my dear girls give me infinite pleasure. How happy I shall be to see them again! but God knows when the blessed day will come in which we shall be again restored to the comforts of domestic life; for here, so far from any prospect of peace, the plot seems to thicken, ns if the most serious part of the war were but beginning."
In 1797 he had a great share in the splendid victory off Cape St. Vincent, and writes, as usual, a simple and animated account of it to Mr. Blackett. We omit ihe warlike details, however, and give only these characteristic sentences :—
"t wroie to Sarah the day after the action with the Spaniards, but I am afraid I gave her but an imperfect account of it. It is a very difficult thing fur thoee engaged in such a scene to give the detail of the whole, because all the powers they have ягс occupied in their own part of if. Aa to mypelf, I did my duty to the utmost of my ability, as I have ever done: That is acknowledged now; and that и the only real difference between this and the former action. One of the great pleasures I have received from this glorious event is, that I expect it •ill enable me to provide handsomely for those who Tve me well. Give my love to my wife, and blessing To my children. What a day it will bo to me when I meet them aeain '. The Spaniards always carry their patron saint to sea wim them, and I have given St. Isidro a berth in my cabin: It *ae the least I could do for him, after he had consigned Ins charge to me. It is a good picture, as you will gee when he goes to Morpelh." . . .
By some extraordinary neglect, Captain Coilingwood had not received one of the medals generally distributed to the officers who distinguished themselves in Lord Howe's action; and it is to this he alludes in one of the passages we have now cited. His efforts, however, on this last occasion, having been the theme of universal admiration throughout 'he tleet, and acknowledged indeed by a variety of grateful and congratulary letters from
the admirals, and from Captain Nelson, to whose aid he came most gallantly in a moment of great peril, it was at last thought necessary to repair this awkward omission.
"When Lord St. Vincent informed Captain Coilingwood that he was to receive one of the medals which were distributed on this occasion, he told the Admiral, with great feeling and firmness, that he could not consent to receive a medal, while that for the 1st of June was withheld. 'I feel,' said he, 'that I was then improperly passed over ; and to receive such a distinction now, would be to acknowledge the propriety of that injustice.'—' That is precisely the answer which I expected from you, Captain Collingwood,' was Lord St. Vincent's reply.
"TAe (too medals were afterwards—.md as Captain Collingwood seems to have thought, by desire of the King—transmitted to him at the same time by Lord Spencer, the then First Lord of the Admiralty, with a civil apology for the former omission. 'I congratulate you most sincerely,' said his Lordship, 'on having had the good fortune to bear so conspicuous a part on two such glorious occasions; and have troubled you with ihis letter, only to say, that the former medal would have been transmitted to you eome months ago, if a proper conveyance had been found for it.'
We add the following little trait of the undaunted Nelson, from a letter of the game year:—
"My friend Nelson, whose spirit is equal to all undertakings, and whose resources are fitted to all occasions, was sent with three sail of the line and some other ships to Teneriffe, to surprise and capture it. After a series of adventures, tragic and comic, that belong to romance, they were obliged to abandon the enterprise. Nelson was shot in the right arm when landing, and was obliged to be carried on board. He himself hailed the ship, and desired the surgeon would get his instruments ready to dis-arm him; and in halt an hour after it was off, he gave all the orders necessary for carrying on their operations, ae if nothing had happened to him. In three weeks after, when he joined us, he went on board the Admiral, and I think exerted himself to a degree of great imprudence."
The following letter to Captain Ball, on occasion of the glorious victory of the Nile, may serve to illustrate what we have stated, as to the generous and cordial sympathy with rival glory and fortune, which breathes throughout the whole correspondence :—
"I cannot express to you how great my joy was when the news arrived of ihe complete ana unparalleled victory which you obtained over ihe French; or what were my emotions of thankfulness, that the life of my worthy and much-respected friend was preserved through euch a day of danger, to hie family and his country. I congratulate you. my dear friend, on your euccess. Oh, my dear Ball, how I have lamented that I was not one of you! Many a victory has been won, and I hope many are yet to come, but there never has been, nor will be perhaps again, one in which the fruits have been so completely gathered, the blow so nobly followed up. and the consequences so fairly brought to account. I hnve heard with great pleasure, that your squadron has presented Sir H. Nelson with a sword; it is the honours ю which he led you reflected back upon himself,—the finest testimony of his merits lor having led you to a field in which you all so nobly displayed your own. The expectation of the people of England was raised to the highest pitch; the event has exceeded all expectation."
After this he is sent, for repairs, for a fewweeks to Portsmouth, and writes to his father in-law as follows :—
"We never know, till it is too laie, whether we are going too fast or loo slow; but I am now repenting that I did not persuade my dear Sarah to ronie to me as soon as 1 knew I was nol to go from lliia port; but the lengih of the journey, ihe inclemency of the weaiher, and the Utile prospect of my staying here half this time, made me think it an unnecessary fatigue for her. I am now quite sick at heart with disappointment and vexation ; and though I hope every day for relief, yel I find it impossible 10 say when I shall be clear.
"Last night I went to Lady Parker's twelfthnight, where all the gentlemen's children of the town were at dance and revelry: But I thought of my own! and was so completely out of spirits that I left them in the middle of it. My wife shall know all my movements, even the very hour in which I shall be able to come to you. I hope they will not hurry me to sea again, for my spirit requires some respite from the anxieties which a ship occasions.
"Bless my precious girls for me, and their beloved mother."
The following are in the same tone of tenderness and considerate affection ; and coming from the hand of the fiery warrior, and devoted servant of his country, are to us extremely touching:—
"Would to God that this war were happily concluded! It is anguish enough lo me to he thus for ever separated from my family; but that my Sarah should, in my absence, be suffering from illness, is complele misery. Pray, my dear sir, have the goodness to write a line or two very often, to tell me how she does. I am quite pleased at the account you give me of mygirls. If it were peace, I do not think there would be a happier set of creatures in Northumberland than we should be! ....
"It is a great comfort to me, banished as I am from all thnt is dear to me, to learn that my beloved Sarah and her girls are well. Would ю Heaven it were peace! that I might come, and for the rest of my life be blessed in their affection. Indeed, this unremitting hard service is a great sacrifice; giving up all that is pleasurable to the soul, or soothing to the mind, and engaging in a constant contest with the elements, or with tempers and dispositions as boisterous and untractable. Great allowance should be made for us when we come on shore: for being long in the habits of absolute command, we grow impatient of contradiction, and are unfitted, I fear, for the gentle intercourse of quiet life. I am really in great hopes that it will not be long before the experiment will be made upon me—for I think we shall soon have peace; and I assure yon that I wil endeavour to conduct myself with as much modera tion as possible! I have come to another resolution, which is, when this war is happily terminated, to think no more of ships, but pass the rest of my days in the bosom of my family, where I think my prospects of happiness are equal to any man's." ....
"You have been made happy this winter in the visit of your daughter. How glad should I have been could I have joined you! but it will not be long; two years more will, I think, exhaust me completely, and then I shall be fit only to be nursed. God knows how Hule claim I have on anybody lo lake that trouble. My daughters can never be to me what yours have been, whose affections have been nurtured by daily acts of kindness. They maybe told that it is a duly to regard me, but it is not reasonable to expect that they should have the same feeling for a person of whom they have only heard: But if they are good and virtuous, as I hope and believe they will he, I may share at least in their kindness with the rest of the world."
He decides at last on sending; for his wife ant child, in the hope of being allowed to remain for some months at Portsmouth/ but is suddenly ordered off on the very day they are ex
He does stay accordingly, and eeee those
beloved pledges for a few short hours. \Ve will not withhold from our readers his accouLt of it :—
'Sarah will have told you how and when we mel; it was a joy to me that I cannot describe, and repaid me, short as our interview was, for (world of woe which I was suffering on her account I Ka-i been reckoning on the possibiliiy of her arma! ir,:: Tuesday, when about two o'clock I received ta express to go to sea immediacy with all the .-h ;j that were ready, and had we not then been er.gx:?C at a court martial, I might have got out thai d^\; but this business delaying me till near night, I determined to wait on shore until eight o'clock for 'с» chance of their arrival. I went to dine with Lord Nelson; and while we were at dinner their imvil was announced to me. I flew to ihe inn »hfre I had desired my wife to come, and found hfr »rJ little Sarah as well after their journey as if h Ы lasted only for the day. No greater happiness н human nature capable of than was mine that evc-ing; but at dawn we parted—and I went to sei'"
"You will have heard from Sarah whai « ranting we had, how short our interview, and tío* ?l-denly we parted. It i« grief lo me to think of it now; it almost broke my heart then. Alter rucha journey, to see me but for a few hours, with scarr* time for her to relate the incidents of her jourr**, and no time for me to tell her half that my n*irt tt i at such a proof of her affection: But I am tharikfji that I did see her, and my sweet child. It ** i blessing to me, and composed my mind, which »м before very much agitated. I have little char.« ••! seeing her again, unless a storm should drirenmso port, for the French fleet is in л state of prepntion, which makes it necessary for us to watch ibem narrowly.
"I can still talk to you of nothing but iho deucht I experienced in the little I have had of thecompr r of my beloved wife and of my little Sarah. Wh¿ comfort is promised lo me in ihe affections ot tin child, ¡fit should please God that we етег«рпттturn to the quiet domestic cares of peace! 11hou J be much obliged to you if you would send Sem: i guinea for me, for these hard times must pinch 'M poor old man, end he will miss my wife, who« very kind lo him!"
Upon the peace of Amiens he at last 20: home, about the middle of 1802. The following brief sketch of his enjoyment there, и from the hand of his affectionate editor:—
"During thi-* short period of happing?» and rw: he was occupied in superintend.пц 'he edncaMor '•[ his daughters, and in rontinuirg th'ise hai-r? :¡ study which had long been familiar ?« him K« reading was extensive, particularly in history; v<i it was his constant practice lo exercise himsfll :t composition, by making abstracts from the book«