Chapter Eighteen.
Bristol was in those days the chief commercial city of England next to London. It was the centre, too, of a district where large quantities of woollen cloths were manufactured, which were sent forth to foreign lands by the numerous vessels which traded to its port. In a large room belonging to one of the principal merchants in the city, a number of persons were collected. At the head of a long table sat William Penn, while on either side of him were several friends,—Claypole, Moore, Philip Ford, and many others. They were engaged in organising a mercantile company, to which was given the name of the “Free Society of Traders” in Pennsylvania. William Penn, the governor of the new colony, was addressing them.
“I have secured, friends, a number of persons skilful in the manufacture of wool, who have agreed to go forth to our new colony from the valley of Stroud. From the banks of the Rhine, also, many persons conversant with the best modes of cultivating the vine have promised to emigrate.”
“We need not fear, then, for the success of our holy enterprise,” observed Philip Ford; “and I am ready to embark all my worldly possessions. I have already sent out my beloved son Jonas, a youth of fair promise, and what thing more precious could I stake on the success of our undertaking.”
William Penn having made all his arrangements with the new company, giving them very great facilities, returned to London. Here he made preparation for his own departure. It was grievous to him to leave his children and his beloved wife. He hoped, however, in a short time to come back and return with them to the land of his adoption. There was a great stir in the Quaker world, for not only farmers and artisans, but many persons of wealth and education were preparing to take part in the enterprise.
Among the first ships which sailed after the departure of the Amity, and those which have before been spoken of, was one, the Concord, on board which William Mead and his family, with several friends, set sail for the New World. William Penn saw his old friend off, his prayers going with him, and hoping himself to follow in a short time.
In the autumn of the year 1683, a large vessel might have been seen floating on the waters of the Thames. She was the Welcome. Surrounding her were a number of boats which had brought off passengers, while her decks were loaded with bales and packages of every possible description, which the crew were engaged in stowing below. On the deck, also, had been built up sheds for horses and pens for sheep, as also for goats to afford milk, and pigs and poultry in large quantities for provision. Already nearly a hundred persons were collected on board, besides the crew. The signal was given, and the Welcome got under weigh to proceed down the Thames. Once more she brought up in the Downs, off Deal. The 1st of September broke bright and clear. Her flags were flying out gaily to the breeze, her white canvas hung to the yards, when a large boat, followed by several smaller ones, came off from the shore, and the young and energetic preacher of the gospel, the governor of a vast province, the originator of the grandest scheme of colonisation ever yet formed, ascended the side of the Welcome which was to bear him to the shores of the New World. Prayers ascended from the deck of the proud ship as her anchor was once more lifted, and she proceeded on her voyage to the west. All seemed fair and smiling, and all that forethought and care could arrange had been provided for the passengers. Few who saw William Penn at that moment would have supposed, however, that he was a man of indomitable energy and courage. Downcast and sad, he gazed on the shores of the land he was leaving, which, notwithstanding his general philanthropy, contained those he loved best on earth, where all his tender affections were centred. The Isle of Wight was soon passed. The Land’s End faded in the distance, and the stout ship stood across the Atlantic. William Penn soon recovered his energy and spirits, and the captain promised a speedy and prosperous voyage. The governor was walking the deck, talking earnestly with his friend Pearson, a man of large mind and generous heart, when the captain came to them.
“I fear, friends,” he said, “that one of our passengers is not long for this world. She has been unwell since she came on board at Deal. Her lips are blue, and dark marks cover her countenance.”
The governor and his friend instantly went below; a young girl of some twelve years old lay on her bed in one of the close cabins.
“I fear me much it is the small-pox,” said Pearson. “Yet it would be well if we could avoid alarming the other passengers.”
The news, however, soon spread, and, alas! so did the disease. Before the next day closed in, the young girl had breathed her last, and her body was committed to the sea. By that time signs of the fearful disorder had appeared on four other persons. The governor, Pearson, and others went about the ship, urging the passengers to air and fumigate their cabins, beseeching them also not to lose courage, and fearlessly visiting those who were already attacked. The sun rose, and ere it sunk again into the ocean, death had claimed two other victims. All this time no sign of alarm was perceptible on the countenance of the governor. He set a noble example to his companions, as, indeed, did his friend Pearson. Perseveringly they went about at all hours of the night and day, attending to the sick, speaking words of comfort to them, and pointing to a Saviour who died to save them; and urging them to put their trust in Him, so that they might not fear, even should they be summoned from the world. It was a time to try all. Some who had appeared weak and nervous before, now exhibited courage and confidence in God’s protecting mercy; while others, who had seemed bold and fearless, trembled lest they should be overtaken by the fell disease. Young and old, however, were attacked alike. Day after day one of their number was summoned away, and before the shores of America appeared in sight, thirty-one had fallen victims to the disease. With the change of climate its virulence appeared to cease, and when the Welcome sailed up the Delaware, all were convalescent who had escaped its ravages.
The tall ship came to an anchor before Newcastle, and numbers of boats came on to welcome the passengers. Loud shouts arose from the shore when it was known that the long-looked-for governor had arrived. He had lived too long in the world not to be well aware of the importance of appearing to advantage among strangers. He, accompanied by Pearson and the principal friends who had been companions in his voyage, landed in the ship’s barge, with flags flying and all the party dressed in their best. He himself appeared in a plain though becoming costume, being distinguished among his companions by his tall and graceful figure, and the blue silk scarf which he wore across his shoulders. It was on the 27th of October, a day memorable in the annals of the colony. As he stepped on shore, old and young of his motley colonists, habited in the costumes of their different nations, crowded forth from their quaint old Dutch and Flemish houses to the shore to meet him. Swedes and Germans—the original settlers—Dutchmen with pipe in mouth, a scattering, albeit, of Scotch everywhere to be found, and English and Welsh in greater numbers. As the party leaving the stately ship reached the land, the crowd on shore opened, and two persons, remarkable for their appearance, with numerous attendants, advanced to the landing-place. One was Colonel Markham, known by his soldier-like bearing, and the handsome uniform of the British army which he still wore. Near him was Wenlock Christison, and Jonas Ford also, who took care to appear among the first in the group. On the other side, a tall figure, his war plumes waving in the breeze, his dress richly ornamented with feathers, his countenance marked with paints of various hue appeared. He was Taminent, the chief of the country, accompanied by a number of his followers of the tribe of Leni-Lenapé. With earnest words of congratulation the governor was welcomed to the land of his adoption by the chief, while Colonel Markham briefly described how far he had carried out his employer’s wishes. He had selected a site for the governor’s residence, on the Delaware, a few miles below the Falls of Fenton, having purchased the land from the chiefs, who claimed it as their own. He had also laid out the grounds and commenced the building, to which he had given the name of Pennsbury. Then turning to the chief, he said:
“And our brother will bear witness that happily no dispute has taken place between the white men and the natives, while not a drop of blood of either has been shed.”
“And while Taminent and his descendants live they will pray the Great Spirit to watch over the white men who have come to their land, and to guard them from all harm,” said the chief, taking the governor’s hand.
Chapter Nineteen.
As soon as Wenlock could approach the governor, he inquired for his friends, the Meads.
“Have you not seen them?” exclaimed Penn. “Surely the Concord, in which they sailed, left England nearly three months ago, and they should have been here for some time already.”
“The Concord has not arrived,” answered Wenlock, and his heart sunk within him.
Every inquiry was made, but none of the vessels which had arrived of late had heard of the Concord. Wenlock had been hoping that they might have come out, and almost expected to see them on board the Welcome. He was now almost in despair. “I grieve for thee, young man,” said the governor; “for I know thy love for my old friend’s daughter. I grieve also myself at his loss, if lost he is.”
Wenlock was unable to speak in reply.
“The only remedy I can advise for thee, is active employment of body and mind, and the reading of the best of books,” added the governor, with a look of compassion at the young man.
Wenlock endeavoured, as far as he could, to follow the advice of his friend. The governor now proceeded up the river, touching on his way at Upland. The inhabitants of the place came out to receive him with delight, a tall pine, which had been allowed to stand when its neighbours were cut away, marking the spot where he went on shore. Turning to Pearson, who had so nobly supported him in his arduous labours among the sick daring the voyage: “What wilt thou, friend, that I should call this place?” he asked.
“Chester, an’ it please thee,” answered Pearson. “It is my native city, and the affection I bear for it will never be effaced. Yet I might transfer some slight portion to this town.”
“Chester, therefore, let it be henceforth called,” answered Penn.
While the governor was stopping at the house of Mr Wade, Wenlock went to visit old Rullock, and to see his own humble abode. He found a large party of Dutch emigrants in the town, who had arrived the day before. Among them he recognised a face he knew. Yes, he was certain. It was that of Dr Van Erk.
“Yes, I am indeed myself!” exclaimed the doctor, shaking Wenlock warmly by the hand. “Not knowing by what tyranny we might next be oppressed at home, I resolved to quit the shores of the Old World, and to seek refuge in the New; and my brother agreeing with me, we have come over with our wives and families. He will carry on mercantile pursuits,—and, by the by, he will be glad, I doubt not, to give you employment,—and I shall follow my own profession. My wife and children will, I am sure, be very glad to see you, but as yet we can show you very little hospitality. But you look somewhat sad, my young friend. Tell me what has occurred?”
Wenlock told him the cause of his sadness.
“Well, we will give you all the consolation in our power.”
Wenlock felt much pleased at meeting his old friends, and was amply employed, for some time, in obtaining accommodation for them. Every day vessels were arriving with passengers and cargoes, but not one of them brought any account of the Concord. His Dutch friends, however, did their utmost to console Wenlock. He thanked them, but yet found his thoughts more than ever going back to Mary. He would have been well-pleased if Ford had kept out of his way, but that person managed to introduce himself to the Van Erks, and he felt sure he was meditating mischief of some sort. The governor then proposed that he should go on a mission on state affairs to Boston, hoping that the change of life and scene might benefit him. Wenlock having received his instructions, accordingly went on board the Amity, which vessel, having been thoroughly repaired, was engaged for the purpose.
“But I cannot part from you,” exclaimed old Bill Rullock. “I did not think to go to sea again, but if the captain will let me work my passage there and back, I will go along with you.”
No arguments would induce the old man to give up his purpose, and Wenlock was not sorry to have so faithful a companion. Rounding Cape May, the Amity sailed along the shores of New Jersey, steering to the north, keeping in sight of land till she came off Long Island, forming one side of the magnificent harbour of the New York Bay. Then she stood on, through Massachusetts Bay till the long established city of Boston was reached. Wenlock had expected to meet with kindness and sympathy from the descendants of those who had been driven for conscience’ sake to seek a home in the New World. However, even by those to whom he had letters he was received with coldness, and he heard remarks made about Quakers generally, and himself especially, which somewhat tried his temper. His name, too, seemed especially to excite anger among the citizens. At length he was summoned to appear before the governor of the state.
“Know you not, young man, that we allow no persons of your persuasion to remain in our state?” exclaimed the governor. “There was one, of your name too, banished not long since; and some who have ventured to return, have of necessity been put to death, as breakers of the law and rebels against the state.”
“Verily, I knew not that such was the case,” answered Wenlock; “and when I have performed my business here, I am ready to take my departure. I have never been here before, and truly I should be glad to hear of one of my name, hoping that he might prove a relative; for at present I know not any one to whom I am kith and kin.”
“Stand aside, young man, and bring forth the prisoner, with whose trial we will proceed,” exclaimed the governor, casting a frowning glance at Wenlock.
The governor was proceeding to condemn the prisoner, when a loud voice was heard, exclaiming, “Pronounce not judgment.” Wenlock started, and looked towards the speaker. He almost fancied that he saw his father standing before him.
“Who are you, who thus dares to interrupt the court?” exclaimed the governor.
“I am Wenlock Christison,” was the answer. “I come to prevent you from condemning the innocent.”
“Then thou art my uncle!” exclaimed Wenlock, hurrying towards him. “I know thee by thy likeness to my father.”
“And, verily, I know thee,” exclaimed the old man. “And what is thy name?”
“Thine own,” answered Wenlock.
“Carry them both off to prison. They will hang together well,” exclaimed the governor.
In spite of Wenlock’s protestations that he had been sent in the character of an envoy by the governor of the new state, he and his uncle were committed to prison. The old man, however, seemed but little concerned at this.
“We shall be set at liberty ere long, nephew,” he said; “and I rejoice greatly to have at length found thee, and more than all, that thou hast embraced the true and perfect way of life.”
Bill Rullock, on hearing what had occurred, was very indignant, and, almost forgetting that he himself had become a Quaker, was about to attempt forcibly to liberate his friend.
The governor kept Wenlock shut up, but seemed doubtful about proceeding with him. His uncle was, however, brought up day after day, refusing to acknowledge himself guilty, warning his persecutors of the punishment which was soon to overtake them. Old Rullock employed himself in making interest with various people in the place, to obtain the liberation of his friend, warning them that though Master William Penn might not take vengeance on them, there was a certain Colonel Markham, who would be influenced by no such scruples. The result was, that not only young Wenlock, but old Christison, was set at liberty.
“Nephew, I have wealth,” exclaimed his uncle, “and I rejoice to find one who will inherit it. However, of one thing I am resolved, not to spend it among this people. The account thou dost give me of the new colony has made me resolve to go and end my days there; and we will together leave in the vessel that brought thee hither, as soon as she is ready to sail.”
Although the Friends were no longer persecuted at Boston, as may be supposed, it was not a pleasant city for them to reside in. A considerable number, therefore, set sail on board the Amity, which had a prosperous voyage to the Delaware.
Chapter Twenty.
We left the Amity sailing up the Delaware. During her absence, a number of vessels had arrived both from England and from Dutch and German ports, and it pleasant to those interested in the welfare of the colony to see them land their passengers and cargoes, the former often collected in picturesque spots on the banks, under the shelter of white tents, yellow wigwams, dark brown log huts, and sometime green arbours of boughs. Off Chester a shattered weather-beaten bark was seen at anchor. Here also the Amity came to an anchor, although news was brought on board that the governor had already selected the site of his capital on the point of land at the junction of the Delaware and the Schuylkill. Wenlock turned his eyes towards the shattered vessel, and naturally inquired who she was.
“Oh, she is the long lost Concord!” was the answer.
Wild agitation filled his bosom as he heard these words, but it was succeeded by fear.
“What have become of the passengers, then?” he asked.
“Some of them died, but others arrived in her. She was cast away on an island, and only with great difficulty was at length got off.”
“But where are they?” asked Wenlock.
“Most of them are at Chester, though some have gone off to the new city,” was the answer.
Unable to obtain any further information, Wenlock jumped into the first boat returning on shore. He bethought him that he would at once go to his friend, Dr Van Erk, who would be more likely than any one else to give him information. He inquired for his house. Wealth will do much. While others were lodged in huts, the doctor had already secured a comfortable residence for his family. Wenlock hurried towards it, but before he reached it he met the doctor. After they had greeted each other, he told him of whom he was in search.
“Come, my young friend, and perhaps we may find them.” The doctor took his arm and led him along till they reached a somewhat highly-pointed but very neat cottage.
“There, whom do you see there?” he asked, pointing through the window. There were four ladies, two old ones and two young. One of them was Gretchen. She was close to the window, so he saw her first; but beyond her,—yes, there was no doubt about it, there sat Mary Mead. They were engaged in their work, so they did not see him.
“Stay,” said the doctor, “I forgot. A certain friend of yours has been telling them that you are dead; that he has had news of it; and it might agitate them somewhat, if you were to appear suddenly. I will go in and prepare them.” Wenlock stood outside, hid by the porch. He heard first Master Mead’s rich voice utter a note of surprise, and then several female voices. He thought he could distinguish Mary’s. It was very low, though. Master Mead was the first to come out and welcome him, and in a few seconds he was in the presence of Mary and Gretchen and the two old ladies.
“My dear sister, I am so thankful,” exclaimed Gretchen, bestowing a kiss on Mary, “that he has been restored to you.” Whatever doubt Master Mead had before, as to bestowing his daughter on Wenlock, it was set at rest by the appearance of the elder Wenlock Christison, who very speedily satisfied all prudential scruples, by informing the worthy father of his intentions regarding his nephew.
While the party were assembled, a head was put into the door. It was quickly withdrawn.
“Oh! it is that odious Jonas Ford,” said Gretchen. “I am sure he never comes here to speak truth.”
“Nay; but we should not think harshly of a friend,” observed Mead.
“I do not think over harshly,” answered Gretchen. “If ever there was a sleek hypocrite, that man is one.” Time showed that Gretchen was right, although Wenlock escaped the consequences of his machinations. Wenlock, however, could not remain long at Chester, having to proceed up to the new capital, Philadelphia, to give an account of his mission to the governor. He was received in the kindest manner by the governor, who was living in a log hut while his intended residence, some way higher up, was building.
“Here, my young friend,” he said, pointing to a large sheet of paper spread out on a table, “is the plan of our future capital. See, we shall have two noble rows of houses fronting the two rivers; and, here, a magnificent avenue of one hundred feet in width, which we will call the High Street, uniting them with lines of trees on either side. Then we will have Broad Street, cutting the city in two parts from north to south, with a magnificent square of ten acres in the centre, and in the middle of each quarter there shall be another square, each of eight acres, for the recreation of the people, and we will have many detached buildings covered with trailing plants, green and rural, to remind us of the country towns of England. Already many houses have been put up, and the people show a commendable energy in erecting more, as fast as materials can be procured. To-morrow I have appointed for a meeting with the native chiefs, to hold a solemn conference for the purpose of confirming former treaties, and forming with them a lasting league of peace and friendship. I am glad that thou art come, Christison, as it will be a matter of great interest. Thou hast probably visited the spot with my kinsman, Colonel Markham. It is called Sakimaxing, the meaning of which is, ‘The place or locality of kings.’”
“Yea,” answered Wenlock; “I accompanied him on more than one occasion, when he had to make arrangements with Taminent. The natives hold in great respect an ancient elm of vast size which, they say, is already one hundred and fifty-five years old. Under its branches the tribes are wont to meet to smoke the calumet of peace, and to arrange their disputes.”
“No fitter spot could have been chosen,” observed Penn. “We hope, too, that they will ever be ready to smoke with us the calumet of peace.”
At an early hour the following morning, the governor, with his faithful friend Pearson, and other attendants, men of influence among the settlers, set forth on horseback to a spot where the conference was to take place. It was an open space, close to the banks of the magnificent Delaware. In the centre stood the stately council elm, spreading its branches far and wide over the green turf. Circling round was the primeval forest, with the dark cedar, the tall pine, the shining chestnut, and the bright maple, and many other trees, stretching far away inland. The governor and his companions, leaving their horses, advanced towards the meeting-place. His tall and graceful figure was especially distinguished by the light-blue sash he wore, as a simple mark by which the natives of the forest might recognise him. He had never affected ultra-plainness in dress, preferring rather to simplify the costume which he had hitherto worn. His outer coat was long, covered, as was the custom, with buttons. An ample waistcoat of rich material, with full trousers, slashed at the sides and tied with ribbons, while his shirt had a profusion of handsome ruffles, and a hat of the form worn in his younger days, completed his costume. On one side was Colonel Markham, already well known to the natives, and on the other his faithful friend Pearson; while Wenlock and his other companions came a little way behind them. As they advanced, the Indians were seen to approach, led by Taminent, their chief, all habited in the ancient costume of the forest, with the brightest of feathers, their faces painted in their most gorgeous style. A number of the settlers from various parts had followed the governor, and now formed a circle at a respectful distance. No monarchs of the Old World could have behaved with more dignity than did the Indian chief and the Quaker governor. Taminent having retired and consulted with his councillors, again advanced, placing on his own head a chaplet, in which was fastened a small horn, the symbol of his power. Whenever a chief of the Leni-Lenapé placed on his brow this chaplet, the spot was made sacred, and all present inviolable. The chief then seated himself with his councillors on either side, the older warriors ranging themselves in the form of a crescent round them, the younger forming an outer semicircle. The English governor then arose, the handsomest and most graceful of all present, and addressed the natives in their own language. He told them that they had one common Father, who reigns above; and that his desire was that his people, and theirs should be brothers, and that as brothers and friends they should treat each other, and that thus they should help each other against all who would do them harm. And, lastly, that both his people and the Leni-Lenapé should tell their children of this league and bond of friendship which had been formed,—that it might grow stronger and stronger, and be kept bright and clean, as long as the waters should run down the creeks and rivers, and the sun and moon and stars endure. He then laid the scroll containing the proposed treaty on the ground, which was accepted by Taminent, and preserved for ages afterwards by the Indians. Thus was this treaty ratified with a “Yea, yea,”—the only treaty, as has been remarked, known in the world, never sworn to, and never broken. Thus was Pennsylvania happily founded without injustice, without bloodshed, without crime; and, blessed by Heaven, continued to flourish, the most happy and prosperous colony ever formed by Britons.
Our tale is ended. A faint outline of the history of a true hero has been traced. From it may be learned in what true heroism consists. William Penn (for he is our real hero), like the Master he served, though in the world, was not of it. He, as all must who desire to be faithful subjects of the Lord Jesus Christ, and not mere nominal Christians, took Him as his example. He had counted the cost, and entered boldly on the warfare. Worldly honours and distinctions were given up, though the highest were within his grasp. Persecution and contempt were willingly accepted; imprisonment endured without murmuring. He trusted to One all-powerful to help in time of need. His firm faith even in this life was rewarded. He was enabled to overcome the world.
So will it be with all who like William Penn, know in whom they trust, if they persevere like him without wavering.