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antiquity, “attempt by curious research to account for this admirable
mechanism, he will, in doing so, but manifest how entirely ignorant he
is of the difference between divine and human power. It is true, that
God can intermingle those things one with another, and then sever
them at his pleasure, because he is, at the same time, all-knowing and
all-powerful; but there is no man now exists, nor ever will perhaps,
who shall ever be able to accomplish things so very difficult.”
What an eulogium is this from the pen of Plato! How glorious is he
who has successfully accomplished what appeared impracticable to
the prince of ancient philosophers! Yet what elevation of genius, what
piercing penetration into the most intimate secrets of nature, displays
itself in these passages concerning the nature and theory of colours,
at a time when Greek philosophy was in its infancy!

Light—Aristotle and Descartes.

Although the system of Descartes, respecting the propagation of
light in an instant, has been discarded since Cassini discovered that its
motion is progressive; yet it may not be amiss to show from whence
he obtained the idea. His opinion was, that light is the mere action of
a subtile matter upon the organs of sight. This subtile matter he
supposes to fill all that space which lies between the sun and us; and
that the particle of it, which is next to the sun, receiving thence an
impulse, instantaneously communicates it to all the rest, between the
sun and the organ of sight. To evidence this, Descartes introduces the
comparison of a stick; which, by reason of the continuity of its parts,
cannot in any degree be moved lengthways at one end, without
instantaneously being put into the same degree of motion at the other
end. Whoever will be at the pains to read, attentively, what Aristotle
hath written concerning light, will perceive that he defines it to be the
action of a subtile, pure, and homogeneous matter. Philoponus,
explaining the manner in which this action was performed, makes use
of the instance of a long string, which being pulled at one end, will
instantaneously be moved at the other: he resembles the sun, to the
man who quills the string; the subtile matter, to the string itself; and
the instantaneous action of the one, to the movement of the other.
Simplicius, in his commentary upon this passage of Aristotle, expressly
employs the motion of a stick, to intimate how light, acted upon by
the sun, may instantaneously impress the organs of sight. This
comparison of a stick seems to have been made use of first, by
Chrysippus—lastly, by Descartes.

Durhamiana.
For the Table Book.
WILLEY WALKER AND JOHN BOLTON.
Willey Walker, a well-known Durham character, who has discovered
a new solar system different from all others, is a beadsman of the
cathedral; or, as the impudent boys call a person of his rank, from the
dress he wears, “a blue mouse.” It is Willey’s business to toll the
curfew: but to our story. In Durham there are two clocks, which, if I
may so express myself, are both official ones; viz. the cathedral clock,
and the gaol or county clock. The admirers of each are about equal:
some of the inhabitants regulating their movements by one, and some
by the other. Three or four years ago it happened, during the middle
of the winter, that the two clocks varied considerably; there was only
three quarters of an hour’s difference between them. The citizens
cared very little about this slight discrepancy, but it was not at all
relished by the guard of the London and Edinburgh mail, who spoke
on the subject to the late John Bolton, the regulator of the county
clock. John immediately posted off to the cathedral, where he met
Willey Walker, and the following dialogue is said to have passed
between them.
Bolton. Willey, why doa’nt ye keep t’ abba clock reet—there’s a bit
difference between it and mine?
Willey. Why doa’nt ye keep yours so—it never gans reet?
Bolton. Mine’s set by the sun, Willey! (Bolton was an astronomer.)
Willey. By the sun! Whew! whew! whew! Why, are ye turned fule?
Nebody would think ye out else! and ye pretend to be an astronomer,
and set clocks by ’t’ sun in this windy weather!—ther’s ne depending
on it: the winds, man, blaw sa, they whisk the sun about like a
whirligig!
 Bolton, petrified by the outpouring of Willey’s astronomical
knowledge, made no answer.
Bolton was a very eccentric character, and a great natural genius:
from a very obscure origin he rose to considerable provincial celebrity.
Such was his contempt of London artists, that he described himself on
his sign as being “from Chester-le-Street, not London.” He was an
indefatigable collector of curiosities; and had a valuable museum,
which most strangers visited. His advertisements were curious
compositions, often in doggerel verse. He was a good astronomer and
a believer in astrology. He is interred in Elvet church-yard: a plain
stone marks the place, with the following elegant inscription from the
classic pen of veterinary doctor Marshall. I give it as pointed.
Ingenious artist! few thy skill surpast
In works of art. Yet death has beat at last.
Tho’ conquer’d. Yet thy deeds will ever shine,
Time cant destroy a genius large as thine!
Bolton built some excellent organs and turret clocks. For one of the
latter, which he made for North Shields, he used to say, he was not
paid: and the following notice in his shop, in large characters,
informed his customers of the fact—“North Shields clock never paid
for!”
R. I. P. Preb. Butt.

A SENSUALIST AND HIS CONSCIENCE.

The following lines, written in the year 1609, are said, in the
“Notes of a Bookworm,” to have induced Butler to pursue their manner
in his “Hudibras.”
 Dialogue.
Glutton. My belly I do deify.
Echo. Fie!
Gl. Who curbs his appetite’s a fool.
Echo. Ah! fool!
Gl. I do not like this abstinence.
Echo. Hence!
Gl. My joy’s a feast, my wish is wine.
Echo. Swine.
Gl. We epicures are happy truly.
Echo. You lie.
Gl. May I not, Echo, eat my fill?
Echo. Ill.
Gl. Will it hurt me if I drink too much?
Echo. Much.
Gl. Thou mock’st me, nymph, I’ll not believe it.
Echo. Believe it.
Gl. Do’st thou condemn, then, what I do?
Echo. I do.
Gl. Is it that which brings infirmities?
Echo. It is.
Gl. Then, sweetest Temperance, I’ll love thee.
Echo. I love thee.
Gl. If all be true which thou dost tell.
To gluttony I bid farewell.
Echo. Farewell!

PLAYWRIGHT-ING.
To the Editor.
Sir,—The following short matter-of-fact narrative, if inserted in your
widely circulated miscellany, may in some degree tend to lessen the
number of dramatic aspirants, and afford a little amusement to your
readers.
I was, at the age of sixteen, apprenticed to a surgeon, and had
served but two years of my apprenticeship, when I began to conceive
that I had talents for something superior to the profession I had
embraced. I imagined that literature was my forte; and accordingly I
tried my skill in the composition of a tale, wherein I was so far
successful, as to obtain its insertion in a “periodical” of the day. This
was succeeded by others; some of which were rejected, and some
inserted. In a short time, however, I perceived that I had gained but
little fame, and certainly no profit. I therefore determined to attempt
dramatic writing, by which I imagined that I should acquire both fame
and fortune. Accordingly, after much trouble, I concocted a plot, and
in three months completed a farce! I submitted it to my friends, all of
whom declared it to be “an excellent thing;” and that if merit met with
its due reward, my piece would certainly be brought out. Flattered and
encouraged by their good opinion, I offered it, with confidence of
success, to the proprietors of Drury-lane theatre. In the space of a
week, however, my piece was returned, with a polite note, informing
me, that it was “not in any way calculated for representation at that
theatre.” I concluded that it could not have been read; and having
consoled myself with that idea, I transmitted it to the rival theatre.
One morning, after the lapse of a few days, my hopes were clouded
by a neat parcel, which I found to contain my manuscript, with the
same polite but cutting refusal, added to which was an assurance,
“that it had been read most attentively.” I inwardly execrated the
Covent Garden “reader” for a fool, and determined to persevere. At
the suggestion of my friends I made numerous alterations, and
submitted my farce to the manager of the Haymarket theatre, relying
upon his liberality; but, after the usual delay of a week, it was again
returned. At the Lyceum it also met with a similar fate. I was much
hurt by these rejections, yet determined to persevere. The minor
theatres remained for me, and I applied to the manager of one of
these establishments, who, in the course of time, assured me, that my
piece should certainly be produced. I was delighted at the brilliant
prospects which seemed to open to me, and I fancied that I was fast
approaching the summit of my ambition. Three tedious months
ensued before I was summoned to attend the rehearsal; but I was
then much pleased at the pains the actors appeared to have taken in
acquiring their parts. The wished-for night arrived. I never dreamed of
failure; and I invited a few of my select friends to witness its first
representation—it was the last: for, notwithstanding the exertions of
the performers, and the applause of my worthy friends, so unanimous
was the hostility of the audience, that my piece was damned!—
damned, too, at a minor theatre! I attributed its failure entirely to the
depraved taste of the audience. I was disgusted; and resolved, from
that time, never more to waste my talents in endeavouring to amuse
an unappreciating and ungrateful public. I have been firm to that
resolution. I relinquished the making up of plays for the more
profitable occupation of making up prescriptions, and am now living in
comfort upon the produce of my profession.
Auctor.

EPIGRAM.
A few years ago a sign of one of the Durham inns was removed,
and sent to Chester-le-Street, by way of a frolic. It was generally
supposed that the feat was achieved by some of the legal students
then in that city; and a respectable attorney there was so fully
persuaded of it, that he immediately began to make inquiries
corroborative of his suspicions. The circumstances drew forth the
following epigram from our friend T. Q. M., which has never appeared
in print.
From one of our inns was a sign taken down.
And sent by some wags to a neighbouring town.
To a limb of the law the freak caus’d much vexation,
And he went through the streets making wild lamentation;
And breathing revenge on the frolicsome sparks,
Who, he had not a doubt, were the “gentlemen clerks.”[363]
From the prophets methinks we may inference draw
To prove how perverse was this man of the law.
For we find it inscrib’d in the pages divine—
“A perverse generation looks after a sign!”

[363] A favourite expression of the legal gentleman alluded to.

THE ROMANS.
The whole early part of the Roman history is very problematical. It
is hardly possible to suppose the Romans could have made so
conspicuous a figure in Italy, and not be noticed by Herodotus, who
finished his history in Magna Græcia. Neither is Rome mentioned by
Aristotle, though he particularly describes the government of
Carthage. Livy, a writer by no means void of national prejudice,
expressly says, they had never heard of Alexander; and here we surely
may say in the words of the poet,
“Not to know him, argues themselves unknown.”
Pliny, it is true, quotes a passage of Theophrastus, to show that a
certain Greek writer, named Clitarchus, mentions an embassy from the
Romans to Alexander; but this can never be set against the authority
of Livy, especially as Quintilian gives no very favourable opinion of the
veracity of the Greek historian in these words,—“Clitarchi, probatur
ingenium, fides infamatur.”[364]

[364] H. J. Pye.

A LITERARY BLUNDER.
When the Utopia of sir Thomas More was first published, it
occasioned a pleasant mistake. This political romance represents a
perfect, but visionary republic, in an island supposed to have been
newly discovered in America. As this was the age of discovery, (says
Granger,) the learned Budæus, and others, took it for a genuine
history; and considered it as highly expedient, that missionaries should
be sent thither, in order to convert so wise a nation to Christianity.

TREASURE DIGGING.
A patent passed the great seal in the fifteenth year of James I.,
which is to be found in Rymer, “to allow to Mary Middlemore, one of
the maydes of honor to our deerest consort queen Anne, (of
Denmark,) and her deputies, power and authority, to enter into the
abbies of Saint Albans, Glassenbury, Saint Edmundsbury, and Ramsay,
and into all lands, houses, and places, within a mile, belonging to said
abbies;” there to dig, and search after treasure, supposed to be
hidden in such places.

PERSONAL CHARMS DISCLAIMED.

 By a Lady.
If any human being was free from personal vanity it must have
been the second duchess d’Orleans, Charlotte Elizabeth of Bavaria. In
one of her letters, (dated 9th August, 1718,) she says, “I must
certainly be monstrously ugly. I never had a good feature. My eyes are
small, my nose short and thick, my lips broad and thin. These are not
materials to form a beautiful face. Then I have flabby, lank cheeks,
and long features, which suit ill with my low stature. My waist and my
legs are equally clumsy. Undoubtedly I must appear to be an odious
little wretch; and had I not a tolerably good character, no creature
could enduer me. I am sure a person must be a conjuror to judge by
my eyes that I have a grain of wit.”

FORCIBLE ABDUCTION.
The following singular circumstance is related by Dr. Whitaker in
his History of Craven:—
Gilbert Plumpton, in the 21 of Henry II., committed something like
an Irish marriage with the heiress of Richard Warelwas, and thereby
incurred the displeasure of Ranulph de Glanville, great justiciary, who
meant to have married her to a dependant of his own. Plumpton was
in consequence indicted and convicted of a rape at Worcester; but at
the very moment when the rope was fixed, and the executioner was
drawing the culprit up to the gallows, Baldwin, bishop of Worcester,
running to the place, forbade the officer of justice, in the name of the
Almighty, to proceed: and thus saved the criminal’s life.

POLITENESS.
A polite behaviour can never be long maintained without a real
wish to please; and such a wish is a proof of good-nature. No ill-
natured man can be long well-bred. No good-natured man, however
unpolished in his manners, can ever be essentially ill-bred. From an
absurd prejudice with regard to good-nature, some people affect to
substitute good temper for it; but no qualities can be more distinct:
many good-tempered people, as well as many fools, are very ill-
natured; and many men of first-rate genius—with which perhaps
entire good temper is incompatible—are perfectly good-natured.

A FRENCH TRIBUTE TO ENGLISH INTEGRITY.

The Viscount de Chateaubriand gratefully memorializes his respect
for the virtue of a distressed family in London by the following
touching narrative prefixed to his Indian tale, entitled “The
Natchez:”—
When I quitted England in 1800 to return to France, under a
fictitious name, I durst not encumber myself with too much baggage. I
left, therefore, most of my manuscripts in London. Among these
manuscripts was that of The Natchez, no other part of which I brought
to Paris but René, Atala, and some passages descriptive of America.
Fourteen years elapsed before the communication with Great
Britain was renewed. At the first moment of the Restoration I scarcely
thought of my papers; and if I had, how was I to find them again?
They had been left locked up in a trunk with an Englishwoman, in
whose house I had lodged in London. I had forgotten the name of this
woman; the name of the street and the number of the house had
likewise escaped my memory.
In consequence of some vague and even contradictory information
which I transmitted to London, Messrs. de Thuisy took the trouble to
make inquiries, which they prosecuted with a zeal and perseverance
rarely equalled. With infinite pains they at length discovered the house
where I resided at the west end of the town; but my landlady had
been dead several years, and no one knew what had become of her
children. Pursuing, however, the clue which they had obtained, Messrs.
de Thuisy, after many fruitless excursions, at last found out her family
in a village several miles from London.
Had they kept all this time the trunk of an emigrant, a trunk full of
old papers, which could scarcely be deciphered? Might they not have
consigned to the flames such a useless heap of French manuscripts?
On the other hand, if my name, bursting from its obscurity, had
attracted, in the London journals, the notice of the children of my
former landlady, might they not have been disposed to make what
profit they could of those papers, which would then acquire a certain
value?
Nothing of the kind had happened. The manuscripts had been
preserved, the trunk had not even been opened. A religious fidelity
had been shown by an unfortunate family towards a child of
misfortune. I had committed with simplicity the result of the labours of
part of my life to the honesty of a foreign trustee, and my treasure
was restored to me with the same simplicity. I know not that I ever
met with any thing in my life which touched me more than the
honesty and integrity of this poor English family.

DEVONSHIRE WRESTLING.

For the Table Book.

Abraham Cann, the Devonshire champion, and his brother
wrestlers of that county, are objected to for their play with the foot,
called “showing a toe” in Devonshire; or, to speak plainly, “kicking.”
Perhaps neither the objectors, nor Abraham and his fellow-
countrymen, are aware, that the Devonshire custom was also the
custom of the Greeks, in the same sport, three thousand years ago.
The English reader may derive proof of this from Pope’s translation of
Homer’s account of the wrestling match at the funeral of Patroclus,
between Ulysses and Ajax, for prizes offered by Achilles:—
 Scarce did the chief the vigorous strife propose,
When tower-like Ajax and Ulysses rose.
Amid the ring each nervous rival stands,
Embracing rigid, with implicit hands:
Close lock’d above, their heads and arms are mixt;
Below, their planted feet, at distance fixt.
Now to the grasp each manly body bends;
The humid sweat from every pore descends;
Their bones resound with blows; sides, shoulders, thighs
Swell to each gripe, and bloody tumours rise.
Nor could Ulysses, for his art renown’d,
O’erturn the strength of Ajax on the ground;
Nor could the strength of Ajax overthrow
The watchful caution of his artful foe.
While the long strife e’en tir’d the lookers on,
Thus to Ulysses spoke great Telamon:
Or let me lift thee, chief, or lift thou me;
Prove we our force, and Jove the rest decree:
He said, and straining, heav’d him off the ground
With matchless strength; that time Ulysses found
The strength t’evade, and, where the nerves combine,
His ancle struck: the giant fell supine;
Ulysses following, on his bosom lies;
Shouts of applause run rattling through the skies.
Ajax to lift, Ulysses next essays;
He barely stirr’d him but he could not raise:
His knee lock’d fast, the foe’s attempt deny’d,
And grappling close, they tumble side by side.
Here we find not only “the lock,” but that Ulysses, who is described
as renowned for his art, attains to the power of throwing his
antagonist by the device of Abraham Cann’s favourite kick near the
ancle.
I. V.
Vol. II.—41.
Penn and the Indians.

Penn and the Indians.

Yet thus could, in a savage-styled land,
A few—reviled, scorn’d, hated of the whole—
Stretch forth for Peace the unceremonious hand,
And stamp Truth, even on a sealed scroll.
They call’d not God, or men, in proof to stand:
They pray’d no vengeance on the perjured soul:
But Heaven look’d down, and, moved with wonder, saw
A compact fram’d, where Time might bring no flaw.

This stanza is in a delightful little volume, entitled “The Desolation

of Eyam; the Emigrant, a tale of the American Woods; and other
poems: By William and Mary Howitt, authors of the Forest Minstrel,
&c.” The feeling and beauty of one of the poems, “Penn and the
Indians,” suggested the present engraving, after a celebrated print
from a picture by the late Benjamin West. The following particulars are
chiefly related by Mr. Clarkson, respecting the scene it represents.
King Charles II., in consideration of a considerable sum due from
the crown for the services of admiral sir William Penn, granted to his
son, the ever-memorable William Penn, and his heirs, in perpetuity, a
great tract of land on the river Delaware, in America; with full power
to erect a new colony there, to sell lands, to make laws, to create
magistrates, and to pardon crimes. In August, 1682, Penn, after
having written to his wife and children a letter eminently remarkable
for its simplicity and patriarchal spirit, took an affectionate leave of
them; and, accompanied by several friends, embarked at Deal, on
board the Welcome, a ship of three hundred tons burthen. The
passengers, including himself, were not more than a hundred. They
were chiefly quakers, and most of them from Sussex, in which county
his house at Warminghurst was seated. They sailed about the first of
September, but had not proceeded far to sea, when the small-pox
broke out so virulently, that thirty of their number died. In about six
weeks from the time of their leaving the Downs they came in sight of
the American coast, and shortly afterwards landed at Newcastle, in the
Delaware river.
William Penn’s first business was to explain to the settlers of Dutch
and Swedish extraction the object of his coming, and the nature of the
government he designed to establish. His next great movement was to
Upland, where he called the first general assembly, consisting of an
equal number, for the province and for the territories, of all such
freemen as chose to attend. In this assembly the frame of
government, and many important regulations, were settled; and
subsequently he endeavoured to settle the boundaries of his territory
with Charles lord Baltimore, a catholic nobleman, who was governor
and proprietor of the adjoining province of Maryland, which had been
settled with persons of his own persuasion.
Penn’s religious principles, which led him to the practice of the
most scrupulous morality, did not permit him to look upon the king’s
patent, or legal possession according to the laws of England, as
sufficient to establish his right to the country, without purchasing it by
fair and open bargain of the natives, to whom, only, it properly
belonged. He had therefore instructed commissioners, who had
arrived in America before him, to buy it of the latter, and to make with
them at the same time a treaty of eternal friendship. This the
commissioners had done; and this was the time when, by mutual
agreement between him and the Indian chiefs, it was to be publicly
ratified. He proceeded, therefore, accompanied by his friends,
consisting of men, women, and young persons of both sexes, to
Coaquannoc, the Indian name for the place where Philadelphia now
stands. On his arrival there he found the Sachems and their tribes
assembling. They were seen in the woods as far as the eye could
carry, and looked frightful both on account of their number and their
arms. The quakers are reported to have been but a handful in
comparison, and these without any weapon; so that dismay and terror
had come upon them, had they not confided in the righteousness of
their cause.
It is much to be regretted, when we have accounts of minor
treaties between William Penn and the Indians, that there is not in any
historian an account of this, though so many mention it, and though
all concur in considering it as the most glorious of any in the annals of
the world. There are, however, relations in Indian speeches, and
traditions in quaker families, descended from those who were present
on the occasion, from which we may learn something concerning it. It
appears that, though the parties were to assemble at Coaquannoc, the
treaty was made a little higher up, at Shackamaxon. Upon this
Kensington now stands; the houses of which may be considered as
the suburbs of Philadelphia. There was at Shackamaxon an elm tree of
a prodigious size. To this the leaders on both sides repaired,
approaching each other under its widely-spreading branches. William
Penn appeared in his usual clothes. He had no crown, sceptre, mace,
sword, halberd, or any insignia of eminence. He was distinguished
only by wearing a sky-blue sash[365] round his waist, which was made
of silk net-work, and which was of no larger apparent dimensions than
an officer’s military sash, and much like it except in colour. On his right
hand was colonel Markham, his relation and secretary, and on his left
his friend Pearson; after whom followed a train of quakers. Before him
were carried various articles of merchandise; which, when they came
near the Sachems, were spread upon the ground. He held a roll of
parchment, containing the confirmation of the treaty of purchase and
amity, in his hand. One of the Sachems, who was the chief of them,
then put upon his own head a kind of chaplet, in which appeared a
small horn. This, as among the primitive eastern nations, and
according to Scripture language, was an emblem of kingly power; and
whenever the chief, who had a right to wear it, put it on, it was
understood that the place was made sacred, and the persons of all
present inviolable. Upon putting on this horn the Indians threw down
their bows and arrows, and seated themselves round their chiefs in
the form of a half-moon upon the ground. The chief Sachem then
announced to William Penn, by means of an interpreter, that the
nations were ready to hear him.
Having been thus called upon, he began. The Great Spirit, he said,
who made him and them, who ruled the heaven and the earth, and
who knew the innermost thoughts of man, knew that he and his
friends had a hearty desire to live in peace and friendship with them,
and to serve them to the utmost of their power. It was not their
custom to use hostile weapons against their fellow-creatures, for
which reason they had come unarmed. Their object was not to do
injury, and thus provoke the Great Spirit, but to do good. They were
then met on the broad pathway of good faith and good will, so that no
advantage was to be taken on either side, but all was to be openness,
brotherhood, and love. After these and other words, he unrolled the
parchment, and by means of the same interpreter, conveyed to them,
article by article, the conditions of the purchase, and the words of the
compact then made for their eternal union. Among other things, they
were not to be molested in their lawful pursuits even in the territory
they had alienated, for it was to be common to them and the English.
They were to have the same liberty to do all things therein relating to
the improvement of their grounds, and providing sustenance for their
families, which the English had. If any disputes should arise between
the two, they should be settled by twelve persons, half of whom
should be English and half Indians. He then paid them for the land,
and made them many presents besides, from the merchandise which
had been spread before 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 whip 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 presented it to the Sachem who wore the horn in the
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.
That William Penn must have done and said a great deal more on
this interesting occasion than has now been represented, there can be
no doubt. What has been related may be depended upon. It is to be
regretted, that the speeches of the Indians on this memorable day
have not come down to us. It is only known, that they solemnly
pledged themselves, according to their country manner, to live in love
with William Penn and his children as long as the sun and moon
should endure.
Thus ended this famous treaty, of which more has been said in the
way of praise than of any other ever transmitted to posterity. “This,”
said Voltaire, “was the only treaty between those people and the
Christians that was not ratified by an oath, and that was never
broken.” “William Penn thought it right,” says the abbé Raynal, “to
obtain an additional right by a fair and open purchase from the
aborigines; and thus he signalized his arrival by an act of equity, which
made his person and principles equally beloved. Here it is the mind
rests with pleasure upon modern history, and feels some kind of
compensation for the disgust, melancholy, and horror, which the whole
of it, but particularly that of the European settlements in America,
inspires.” Noble, in his Continuation of Granger, says, “He occupied his
domains by actual bargain and sale with the Indians. This fact does
him infinite honour, as no blood was shed, and the Christian and the
barbarian met as brothers. Penn has thus taught us to respect the
lives and properties of the most unenlightened nations.”—“Being now
returned,” says Robert Proud, in his History of Pennsylvania, “from
Maryland to Coaquannoc, he purchased lands of the Indians, whom he
treated with great justice and sincere kindness. It was at this time
when he first entered personally into that friendship with them, which
ever afterwards continued between them, and which for the space of
more than seventy years was never interrupted, or so long as the
quakers retained power in the government. His conduct in general to
these people was so engaging, his justice in particular so conspicuous,
and the counsel and advice which he gave them were so evidently for
their advantage, that he became thereby very much endeared to
them; and the sense thereof made such deep impressions on their
understandings, that his name and memory will scarcely ever be
effaced while they continue a people.”
The great elm-tree, under which this treaty was made, became
celebrated from that day. When in the American war the British
general Simcoe was quartered at Kensington, he so respected it, that
when his soldiers were cutting down every tree for fire-wood, he
placed a sentinel under it, that not a branch of it might be touched. In
1812 it was blown down, when its trunk was split into wood, and cups
and other articles were made of it, to be kept as memorials of it.

LINES
On receiving from Dr. Rush, of Philadelphia, a piece of the Tree under
which William Penn made his Treaty with the Indians, and which
was blown down in 1812, converted to the purpose of an Inkstand.
BY WILLIAM ROSCOE, ESQ.
 From clime to clime, from shore to shore,
The war-fiend raised his hateful yell,
And midst the storm that realms deplore,
Penn’s honour’d tree of concord fell.
And of that tree, that ne’er again
Shall Spring’s reviving influence know,
A relic, o’er th’ Atlantic main,
Was sent—the gift of foe to foe!
But though no more its ample shade
Wave green beneath Columbia’s sky,
Though every branch be now decay’d,
And all its scatter’d leaves be dry;
Yet, midst this relic’s sainted space,
A health-restoring flood shall spring,
In which the angel-form of Peace
May stoop to dip her dove-like wing.
So once the staff the prophet bore,
By wondering eyes again was seen
To swell with life through every pore,
And bud afresh with foliage green.
The wither’d branch again shall grow,
Till o’er the earth its shade extend—
And this—the gift of foe to foe—
Become the gift of friend to friend.
In the “Conditions” between William Penn, as Proprietary and
Governor of Pennsylvania, and the Adventurers and Purchasers in
the same province, “in behalf of the Indians it was stipulated, that,
as it had been usual with planters to overreach them in various
ways, whatever was sold to them in consideration of their furs
should be sold in the public market-place, and there suffer the test,
whether good or bad: if good, to pass; if not good, not to be sold for
good; that the said native Indians might neither be abused nor
provoked. That no man should by any ways or means, in word or
deed, affront or wrong any Indian, but he should incur the same
penalty of the law as if he had committed it against his fellow-
planter; and if any Indian should abuse, in word or deed, any planter
of the province, that the said planter should not be his own judge
upon the said Indian, but that he should make his complaint to the
governor of the province, or his deputy, or some inferior magistrate
near him, who should to the utmost of his power take care with the
king of the said Indian, that all reasonable satisfaction should be
made to the said injured planter. And that all differences between
planters and Indians should be ended by twelve men, that is, by six
planters and six Indians, that so they might live friendly together, as
much as in them lay, preventing all occasions of heart-burnings and
mischief. These stipulations in favour of the poor natives will for ever
immortalize the name of William Penn; for, soaring above the
prejudices and customs of his time, by which navigators and
adventurers thought it right to consider the inhabitants of the lands
they discovered as their lawful prey, or as mere animals of the brute-
creation, whom they might treat, use, and take advantage of at their
pleasure, he regarded them as creatures endued with reason, as
men of the like feelings and passions with himself, as brethren both
by nature and grace, and as persons, therefore, to whom the great
duties of humanity and justice were to be extended, and who, in
proportion to their ignorance, were the more entitled to his fatherly
protection and care.”[366]

The identical roll of parchment given by William Penn to the

Indians was shown by their descendants to some English officers
some years ago. This information, with the following passages, will
be found in the “Notes” to “Penn and the Indians,” the poem, by
“William and Mary Howitt,” from whence the motto is taken:—
“What shows the scrupulous adherence of the Indians to their
engagements in the most surprising light is, that long after the
descendants of Penn ceased to possess political influence in the
state, in comparatively recent times, when the Indian character was
confessedly lowered by their intercourse with the whites, and they
were instigated both by their own injuries and the arts of the French
to make incursions into Pennsylvania, the ‘Friends’ were still to them
a sacred and inviolable people. While the tomahawk and the
scalping-knife were nightly doing their dreadful work in every
surrounding dwelling—theirs were untouched; while the rest of the
inhabitants abandoned their houses and fled to forts for security,—
they found more perfect security in that friendship which the wisdom
and virtue of Penn had conciliated, and which their own disinterested
principles made permanent.”

In endeavouring to conclude with a specimen of the elegant

poem of “William and Mary Howitt,” an unexpected difficulty of
selection occurs—it is a piece of continuous beauty that can scarcely
be extracted from, without injury to the stanzas selected; and
therefore, presuming on the kind indulgence of the amiable authors,
it is here presented entire:—
PENN AND THE INDIANS.

“I will not compare our friendship to a chain; for the rain might sometimes rust
it, or a tree might fall and break it; but I shall consider you as the same flesh and
blood as the Christians; and the same as if one man’s body were to be divided into
two parts.”
W. Penn’s Speech to the Indians.
There was a stir in Pennsylvanian woods:
A gathering as the war-cry forth had gone;
And, like the sudden gush of Autumn floods,
Stream’d from all points the warrior-tribes to one.
Ev’n in the farthest forest solitudes,
The hunter stopped the battle-plume to don,
And turn’d with knife, with hatchet, and with bow,
Back, as to bear them on a sudden foe.
Swiftly, but silently, each dusky chief
Sped ’neath the shadow of continuous trees;
And files whose feet scarce stirr’d the trodden leaf;
And infant-laden mothers, scorning ease;
And childhood, whose small footsteps, light and brief,
Glanced through the forest, like a fluttering breeze,
Followed—a numerous, yet a silent band,—
As to some deed, high, fateful, and at hand.
But where the foe? By the broad Delaware,
Where flung a shadowy elm its branches wide,—
In peaceful garments, and with hands that bare
No sign of war,—a little band they spied.
Could these be whom they sought? And did they fare
Forth from their deserts, in their martial pride,
Thus at their call? They did. No trumpet’s tongue
Had pierced their wild-woods with a voice so strong.
Who were they? Simple pilgrims:—it may be,
Scarce less than outcasts from their native isles,—
From Britain,—birth-place of the great and free,
Where heavenly lore threw round its brightest smiles,
Then why depart? Oh seeming mockery!
Were they not here, on this far shore, exiles,
Simply because, unawed by power or ban,
They worshipped God but would not bow to man?
Oh! Truth! Immortal Truth! on what wild ground
Still hast thou trod through this unspiritual sphere!
The strong, the brutish, and the vile surround
Thy presence, lest thy streaming glory cheer
The poor, the many, without price or bound.
Drowning thy voice, they fill the popular ear,
In thy high name, with canons, creeds, and laws,
Feigning to serve, that they may mar thy cause.
And the great multitude doth crouch and bear
And the great multitude doth crouch, and bear
The burden of the selfish. That emprize,
That lofty spirit of virtue which can dare
To rend the bands of Error from all eyes;
And from the freed soul pluck each sensual care,
To them is but a fable. Therefore lies
Darkness upon the mental desert still;
And wolves devour, and robbers walk at will.
Yet, ever and anon, from thy bright quiver,
The flaming arrows of thy might are strown;
And, rushing forth, thy dauntless children shiver
The strength of foes who press too near thy throne.
Then, like the sun, or thy Almighty Giver,
Thy light is through the startled nations shown:
And generous indignation tramples down
The sophist’s web, and the oppressor’s crown.
Oh might it burn for ever! But in vain—
For vengeance rallies the alarmed host,
Who from men’s souls draw their dishonest gain.
For thee they smite, audaciously they boast,
Even while thy sons are in thy bosom slain.
Yet this is thy sure solace,—that, not lost,
Each drop of blood, each tear,—Cadmean seed,
Shall send up armed champions in thy need.
And these were of that origin. Thy stamp
Was on their brows, calm, fearless, and sublime.
And they had held aloft thy heavenly lamp;
And borne its odium as a fearful crime,
And therefore, through their quiet homes the tramp
Of Rain passed,—laying waste all that Time
Gives us of good; and, where Guilt fitly dwells,
Had made them homes in execrable cells.
We dwell in peace;—they purchased it with blood.
We dwell at large;—’twas they who wore the chain,
And broke it. Like the living rocks they stood,
Till their invincible patience did restrain
The billows of men’s fury. Then the rude
Shock of the past diffused a mild disdain
Through their pure hearts, and an intense desire
For some calm land where freedom might respire.
Some land where they might render God his due,
Nor stir the gall of the blind zealot’s hate.
 Nor stir the gall of the blind zealot s hate.
Some land where came Thought’s soul-refreshing dew
And Faith’s sublimer visions. Where elate,
Their simple-hearted children they might view,
Springing in joy,—heirs of a blest estate:
And where each worn and weary mind might come
From every realm, and find a tranquil home.
And they sought this. Yet, as they now descried
From the near forest, pouring, horde on horde,
Armed, painted, plumed in all their martial pride,
The dwellers of the woods—the men abhorred
As fierce, perfidious, and with blood bedyed,
Felt they no dread? No;—for their breasts were stored
With confidence which pure designs impart,
And faith in Him who framed the human heart.
And they—the children of the wild—why came
They at this summons? Swiftly it had flown
Far through their woods, like wind, or wind-sent flame,
Followed by rumours of a stirring tone,
Which told that, all unlike, except in name,
To those who yet had on their shores been known,
These white men—wearers of the peaceful vest,—
Craved, in their vales, a brother’s home and rest.
On the red children of the desert, fell
The tidings, like spring’s first delicious breath;
For they had loved the strangers all too well;
And still—though reaping ruin, scorn, and death
For a frank welcome, and broad room to dwell,
Given to the faithless boasters of pure faith,—
Their wild, warm feelings kindled at the sight
Of Virtue arm’d but with her native might.
What term we savage? The untutored heart
Of Nature’s child is but a slumbering fire;
Prompt at each breath, or passing touch, to start
Into quick flame, as quickly to retire:
Ready alike, its pleasance to impart,
Or scorch the hand which rudely wakes its ire:
Demon or child, as impulse may impel;
Warm in its love, but in its vengeance fell.
And these Columbian warriors to their strand
Had welcomed Europe’s sons,—and rued it sore,
Men with smooth tongues, but rudely armed hand;
 g , y ;
Fabling of peace when meditating gore;
Who, their foul deeds to veil, ceased not to brand
The Indian name on every Christian shore.
What wonder, on such heads, their fury’s flame
Burst, till its terrors gloomed their fairer fame.
For they were not a brutish race, unknowing
Evil from good; their fervent souls embraced
With virtue’s proudest homage to o’erflowing
The mind’s inviolate majesty. The past
To them was not a darkness; but was glowing
With splendour which all time had not o’ercast;
Streaming unbroken from creation’s birth,
When God communed and walked with men on earth.
Stupid idolatry had never dimmed
The Almighty image in their lucid thought.
To him alone their jealous praise was hymned;
And hoar Tradition, from her treasury, brought
Glimpses of far-off times, in which were limned
His awful glory: and their prophets taught
Precepts sublime,—a solemn ritual given,
In clouds and thunder, to their sires from heaven.
And, in the boundless solitude which fills,
Even as a mighty heart, their wild domains;
In caves and glens of the unpeopled hills;
And the deep shadow that for ever reigns
Spirit-like in their woods; where, roaring, spills
The giant cataract to the astounded plains,
Nature, in her sublimest moods, had given,
Not man’s weak lore,—but a quick flash from heaven.
Roaming, in their free lives, by lake and stream;
Beneath the splendour of their gorgeous sky;
Encamping, while shot down night’s starry gleam,
In piny glades, where their forefathers lie;
Voices would come, and breathing whispers seem
To rouse within the life which may not die;
Begetting valorous deeds, and thoughts intense,
And a wild gush of burning eloquence.
Such were the men who round the pilgrims came.
Oh! righteous heaven! and thou, heaven-dwelling sun!
How from my heart spring tears of grief and shame,
To think how runs—and quickly shall have run
O’er earth, for twice a thousand years, your flame,
Since, for man’s weal, Christ’s victories were won;
Since dying, to his sons, love’s gift divine
He gave, the bond of brotherhood and the sign.—
Where shines the symbol? Europe’s mighty states,
The brethren of the cross—from age to age,
Have striven to quench in blood their quenchless hates;
Or—cease their armed hosts awhile their rage,
’Tis but that Peace may half unclose her gates
In mockery; that each diplomatic sage
May treat and sign, while War recruits his power
And grinds the sword fresh millions to devour.
Yet thus could, in a savage-styled land,
A few,—reviled, scorn’d, hated of the whole,
Stretch forth for peace the unceremonious hand,
And stamp Truth, even upon a sealed scroll.
They called not God, or men, in proof to stand:
They prayed no vengeance on the perjured soul:
But heaven look’d down, and moved with wonder saw
A compact framed, where time might bring no flaw.
Yet, through the land no clamorous triumph spread.
Some bursts of natural eloquence were there:
Somewhat of his past wrongs the Indian said;
Of deeds design’d which now were given to air.
Some tears the mother o’er her infant shed,
As through her soul pass’d Hope’s depictions fair;
And they were gone—the guileless scene was o’er;
And the wild woods absorb’d their tribes once more.
Ay, years have rolled on years, and long has Penn
Pass’d, with his justice, from the soil he bought;
And the world’s spirit, and the world’s true men
Its native sons with different views have sought.
Crushing them down till they have risen again
With bloodiest retribution; yet have taught,
Even while their hot revenge spread fire and scath,
Their ancient, firm, inviolable faith.
When burst the war-whoop at the dead of night,
And the blood curdled at the dreadful sound;
And morning brought not its accustomed light
To thousands slumbering in their gore around;
Then, like oases in the desert’s blight,
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