that ill-fortune and bad treatment he was soon afterwards destined to experience, made their appearance. His past services, his integrity, his constant zeal in the support of every measure for the public good, were forgotten. Some very absurd and ill-founded clamours were raised in the house of commons relative to the quality of the provisions with which several of the ships had been supplied. These acquired in a short time such head, that the earl of Torrington, whose character certainly rendered him as little liable as any man in the kingdom to the suspicion of having connived at any imposition or impropriety practised by contractors or other persons connected with the navy, felt it an imperative duty indignantly to withdraw himself from the abuse of a faction whose contumely he despised. He accordingly resigned his office of first commissioner for executing the functions of lord-highadmiral, but retained that of commander-in-chief of the fleet.

The most indefatigable exertions had been constantly made by France, ever since the commencement of the war, and particularly during the preceding winter, for the augmentation of her marine; but the same degree of activity by no means appeared to prevail in the arsenals of England; so that when the French fleet made its appearance early in the month of June, augmented to the almost incredible extent of seventyfive sail of the line, attended by a proportionable number of frigates and smaller vessels, the combined fleet of England and Holland exceeded not fifty-six sail. Great as the disparity was, his lordship, considering that it would tend more to the advantage of his country for him to put to sea, and at least watch the motions of the enemy, in the hope that fortune might afford him some partial opportunity of attacking them to advantage, quitted his anchorage almost on the instant he heard of the arrival of the hostile fleet; but the magnitude of the trust confided to him caused him to act with extreme caution; and it is far from improbable, that, had he been permitted to follow the dictates of his own opinion, the fleet of Louis XIV., feeling itself incapable of effecting any advantageous service, would have retired, after having enjoyed the short and empty parade of momentarily alarming the English nation. The ill-fortune of Britain decreed it should be otherwise. Certain fallacious, though apparently plausible reasons for risking an action, even against such fearful odds, induced her majesty to send peremptory orders to engage the enemy without further delay. "The noble admiral instantly took every measure in his power to render the event of the expected contest, if not successful, at least as little disastrous as possible. He immediately convened all the flag and principal officers of the fleet, and communicated to them his orders. It was for them, as well as for himself, to obey, and not to remonstrate. On the 30th of June the signal for battle was displayed at the dawn of day, and, as soon as the line was formed, which was not till near eight o'clock, was followed by a second for close action. The line formed by the English fleet was nearly straight, the van and rear extending almost as far as that of their opponents; but there was some distance between the red, or centre squadron, commanded by the earl in person, and the Dutch, who being in the van, contrary to their usual caution, pressed forward rather too rashly to engage the van of the French fleet. There was also a second interval between the rear of the red squadron and the van of the blue, which cautiously and very prudently avoided closing in with the centre,

through the fear of having their own rear completely destroyed. In few words, the whole space between the rear of the Dutch division and the van of the blue squadron was filled up in the best manner circumstances would admit, by the earl of Torrington, and the red separated into three subdivisions, which, by necessarily narrowing the different openings in the line, rendered it less easy for the enemy to break through, or throw it into any material confusion. Opposed to the earl lay the French centre, and, owing to the very superior number of ships which it contained, crowded in the extreme; in so great a degree, indeed, were the ships of the enemy huddled together, that they were compelled, in order to avoid falling on board each other, to form themselves into a kind of semicircle, of such depth, as caused the centre of the French fleet to be considerably distant from that of Earl Torrington and the red squadron. To have approached the enemy under these circumstances, would have betrayed the most unpardonable rashness in the earl's conduct, and have exposed the whole of his fleet to the dreadful disaster of the most unqualified defeat; instead of which, by adopting the system of action which he displayed through the whole unequal encounter, he completely kept at bay, with eighteen or twenty ships, double that number, of which the French centre was composed. But the very measure which so deservedly entitled him to public gratitude and applause, became instantly the parent of invective, ingratitude, and persecution. It was urged by his enemies, and implicitly believed by the ignorant, that he had traitorously and ignominiously hung back from the contest, and had thereby sacrificed the first interests of his country. The trivial damage sustained by the red squadron, in consequence of its peculiar situation during the action, afforded to the clamorous a sufficient proof of the delinquency and cowardice of the earl. To have saved the greater part of his fleet, was madly considered inglorious; and the Dutch, who, so far it must in justice be allowed them, fought with consummate, though ill-timed gallantry, took every possible means to augment the outcry, as some species of palliative to their own loss."

The whole of the loss sustained by the combined fleet on this momentous occasion did not exceed seven ships of the line, six of which belonged to the Dutch, and the seventh, the Ann of seventy guns, to the English. It must be observed, at the same time, that none of these vessels actually fell into the hands of the enemy, but were destroyed in action, or afterwards, in consequence of their disabled state; and the greater part of their crews were happily preserved. When it is considered, in addition to the comparatively trivial loss, that the fleet of the enemy, in consequence of the damages it sustained in the action, was totally incapacitated from undertaking any further offensive operation, though their opponents had been compelled to retire, perhaps it is not unfair to say, that the encounter off Beachy-head, though unattended with the brilliant honours of victory, was productive of many of the most solid advantages which could be expected to have resulted from it. Such, however, was the virulence of his enemies, that the earl's services were from that time lost to his country. He lived ever afterwards retired from public life, and died in a very advanced age, on the 13th day of April, 1716.

William Penn.

BORN A. D. 1644.-DIED A. D. 1718

WILLIAM PENN was born in London, in the parish of St Catharine, on Tower-hill, on the 14th day of October, 1644. He sprang from an old and honourable family, which had resided for four or five centuries at Penn in Buckinghamshire. His father was the well-known Admiral Sir William Penn, who distinguished himself during the time of the commonwealth, and still more, subsequent to the restoration, as an able and skilful naval commander, and received the honour of knighthood after the famous sea-fight with the Dutch in 1665.

William Penn was sent by his father to the free grammar school at Chigwell in Essex, which was but a short distance from Wanstead, where the admiral resided. When about eleven years of age he is said to have been surprised one evening, when twilight had gathered over him, as he sat alone in his chamber to study, by a certain external glory, and, as it were, preternatural, internal lifting up of the soul, which suddenly fell on him. This was in all probability the result of a high-wrought imagination, but it seriously impressed his mind with the great concerns of religion, and induced a belief that he was especially called by God to a holy life. At twelve he was sent to a school in London, and at fifteen he was entered a gentleman-commoner at Christchurch, Oxford. Here he remained for some time, prosecuting his studies with zeal, and forming friendships with several men of parts and distinction, among whom were Robert Spencer, afterwards earl of Sunderland, and John Locke. At this time one Thomas Loe, a layman, who had belonged to the university of Oxford, but had afterwards become a quaker, was in, the habit of preaching to the students, and with such effect, that several of them began to withdraw themselves from the established worship, and to hold meetings of their own. Penn was one of the seceders, and his bold, decisive temper, made him their leader. An unlucky event brought them into trouble. By an order from the king the wearing of the surplice was resumed, to the great delight of many, but to the chagrin of Penn and his associates, who beheld in it a flagrant violation of the simplicity and purity of the christian religion. Their zeal was at length roused to such a pitch, that, by concert, they fell on every one who ventured to assume this rag of popery, and tore it over their heads. For this outrage Penn and some others were expelled.

Returning home, he found scanty comfort. His father, who had conceived high hopes of his son's rise in life, was mortified by his recent conduct, and by the strictness and asceticism of his opinions. After a vain trial of argument, he proceeded to those

"Apostolic blows and knocks
Which prove a doctrine orthodox;"

and finding even these fail, he turned his son out of doors. Thus to part with an only son, was more than human nature, at least more than the admiral's nature could long endure, and, after a brief struggle,

young Penn was readmitted to his father's affection. It was now thought that it would be much easier to entice, than to drive away, his religious feelings, and, for that purpose, he was sent in 1662 to France. Here, after visiting the capital, he resorted to Saumur, that he might enjoy the instructions of the erudite Moses Amyrault, under whom he read the fathers, and studied the majority of the theological questions then most disputed. He returned to England, by way of Italy, and, in 1665, with more polish and greater learning, but unchanged sentiments on the all-important concerns of religion, he went down to his former residence in the country. His father, having failed in this his first design, next tried the expedient of sending him into Ireland to manage some estates belonging to the admiral in that country. But it seemed as if some strong destiny were urging him into a fixed and determined career, for, as in France he had fallen in with Amyrault, so here he met with his spiritual father, Thomas Loe, who was still labouring in his vocation as a preacher. From this man he heard a sermon on that striking declaration, "There is a faith which overcomes the world, and there is a faith which is overcome by the world." So strong was the impression produced on him by this discourse, that he resolved henceforward to cast in his lot openly with the Society of Friends, or, as they had already begun to be termed, from a silly joke of a country magistrate, quakers. That this step was the result of strong convictions, and the act of a mind free from fear, self-interest, baseness, and all the more degrading passions, few will doubt, who, remembering on the one hand that Penn was the only son of a father high in reputation, and possessing extraordinary powers of advancing his son's interests; and, on the other, that the quakers are of all sects the most despised and persecuted. Whether it was the act of a wise and well-balanced mind, we leave to be inferred from some remarks we shall have to offer, ere we conclude, on the tenets of the early quakers.

He had not long joined his new friends, before he was thrown into prison on account of his belief. On his release, he was summoned home by his father, who had received tidings of the still more decided shape his puritanism had now taken, and who endeavoured to prevail on him to abandon his principles. All was useless; so rigid indeed were his notions, that although, after a long struggle, the only concession demanded from him was, that he would sit without his hat when in the presence of his father, of the king, or of the duke of York, he refused obedience, and was consequently once more set adrift on the world. This second disinheritance abated not his heart or hope. In 1668 he came out as a preacher in the Society of Friends, and in the same year stood forth in print as the champion of the peculiar doctrines he had espoused. It is not our intention to follow him through the varied scenes of the life on which he had now entered. Our object, in the limited space which is all we can fairly claim, must be to give as faithful and lively a picture of the man as is possible, without narrating all the turus and changes of his lot. We find him steadily pressing onwards in the high career on which he had entered, though scorn, oppression, bonds, and even death itself beset his path. When free, he proclaimed the new light which, as he thought, had dawned on the world, and when imprisoned, his pen was equally busy in its propagation. It is pleasing to know that his father gradually became reconciled to him, and though

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he never embraced his son's views, at length tolerated them. In 1670 he was imprisoned for preaching in Gracechurch-street, and was brought to trial before the lord-mayor and recorder. The narrative of this trial is one of intense interest. We pity any one who can read it without feeling his blood boil with indignation at the brutality of the court to this innocent and high-minded man. Penu displayed a knowledge of the rights of an Englishman-a steadiness in asserting them, and a noble calmness, which united, amount to something very like sublimity. The jury, though shamefully threatened by the court, refused for some time to bring in any other verdict than the unmeaning one, Guilty of speaking in Gracechurch-street." Being repeatedly sent back to reconsider their verdict, at last, after two days and two nights spent without refreshment, undaunted by the frowns of a powerful court, they unanimously brought in a verdict of "Not guilty." It will scarcely be believed, that, even after this acquittal, Penn was detained in prison for certain pretended fines, and was only released through his father's influence, privately exerted. In the same year his father died, completely reconciled to his son, whom he had always loved, and now respected for his sincerity and decision. By this event Penn became master of an ample fortune, but it did not in the least diminish his zeal. In 1672, having returned from a tour through Holland and Germany, undertaken to proclaim the doctrines of his sect, he married, and settled at Rickmansworth in Hertfordshire. In this and the several succeeding years his time was spent chiefly in preaching and in writing. His writings are many of them controversial, and would hardly repay perusal, but some of them, written to assert the right of man to worship his Creator as conscience dictates, breathe noble sentiments, and will remain instances of the degree by which some minds outrun their age. In 1676, Penn, in consequence of the misfortunes of a friend, became the manager of a large tract of land in the new world, and to which he gave the name of West New Jersey. In the difficult employment thus devolved on him, he showed his accustomed ability. In 1677 he removed from Rickmansworth to Worminghurst in Sussex, and in the same year he undertook a missionary tour through Holland and Germany, where, as the fruits of his former labours, watered by subsequent travellers, a body of quakers had grown up. In this journey he met with much that was encouraging. To use his own phrase, "the gospel was preached, the dead were raised, and the living comforted." He was received with great respect by several royal and noble persons, and wherever he proclaimed his errand was heard with attention.

Passing over some events of minor importance, we come, in 1680, to the commencement of the undertaking which has immortalized Penn's character. His attention had already been drawn, by his management of West New Jersey, to the hope of escape which the new world presented from the misery and oppression of the old. For a great number of years a debt had been due to his father from the court, no part of which had ever been repaid. Penn offered, in lieu of this debt, to accept a vast tract of land, bounded on the east by the Delaware river, on the south by Maryland, and extending northwards as far as was plantable. After some difficulty, which arose almost entirely from dislike to Penn's religious opinions, the grant of these lands was made, and by a charter, dated March 4th, 1681, he was constituted full and