On the twenty-seventh of October the Welcome cast anchor before Newcastle, a small village on the strip of land granted to Penn by the Duke of York. News of the arrival of the vessel quickly spread and the entire population, young and old, regardless of nationality, flocked to welcome the long-expected governor. English, Scotch, and Irish stood side by side with the stolid German, the clumsy Hollander, and the fair-haired Swede, all eager to behold at last the man in whose hands lay the moulding of their future. The native children of the wilderness in their strange dress, with high fringed moccasins, an eagle or heron’s feather thrust through the head band, bow in hand, a quiver of feathered arrows fastened to the shoulder, also flocked to meet him. Who can say which gazed with keener interest on the approaching ship flying a great English flag from her masthead, the white men, who had some idea of what to expect from the newcomer, or the redskins, who in spite of their apparently calm indifference must have been inwardly consumed with curiosity to see what sort of man it was in whose name and by whose orders they had met with treatment so different from any that had hitherto been accorded them by white men. Certainly nothing but good-will could have been read in the noble features and the earnest, kindly gaze of the dignified-looking man who now disembarked from the vessel, distinguished only from his companions by the broad blue scarf he wore. As he stepped ashore on the landing stage and received the greetings of his cousin, Markham, a deafening shout burst from the assembled throng. Deeply moved, Penn bowed in acknowledgment of the tribute, and through the tears that glittered in his eyes shone the resolve to merit the confidence so spontaneously expressed.
The following day, after he had somewhat recovered from the long and trying voyage, a meeting of the people was held in the town-hall and the legal documents pertaining to the transfer of the tract were read aloud, after which a deputy of the Duke of York handed to Penn, in the name of his master, a flask of water and a small basketful of earth in token that the land had been actually delivered over to him. The new owner then arose and in his deep rich voice addressed the assembly, which listened in breathless silence to his words. He told how from early youth it had been his dream to found somewhere a free State to be governed by the people, where full liberty of conscience could be enjoyed and the Christian virtues flourish. He explained the principles according to which he had drawn up the constitution for Pennsylvania, and promised that the same laws should be followed in the administration of this additional territory which had been granted to him, assuring the people that the chief power should be exercised by himself only until the new constitution could be put into force, during which time he would endeavor to wield it to the best of his ability for the public good. Lastly he retained all existing officials in their positions as proof that he harbored no prejudices and was disposed to deal fairly in all particulars.
When he had finished speaking a rousing cheer testified to the approval of his audience and he was unanimously urged to retain the governorship of the new territory, making it a part of Pennsylvania. This he promised to take into consideration, leaving the matter to be decided at the next assembly, which was to be held at Upland, a settlement made by the Swedes in Delaware, and up to this time the most important town in that region. This was now Penn’s destination, and as he sailed up the Delaware River his heart must have thrilled with delight at the fresh beauties revealed by each curve of the winding stream, until at last the settlement was reached and he stepped ashore on his own dominions, his Pennsylvania. The spot where Penn first landed is still shown, marked by a solitary pine tree.
Here, too, his arrival was hailed with general rejoicing. Those who had preceded him to America with Markham and done all in their power to carry out his plans looked anxiously for his coming to better their situation, which truly was in need of improvement. They had been received in the most friendly way, it is true, by the Swedish settlers, who had given them all the assistance possible, but their hospitality was unable to afford shelter for all. A few, whose means permitted, had managed to bring over with them enough lumber to build a small house at once, but the majority were forced to live in tents or huts made from clay and the branches of trees, neither of which offered much protection against the severe weather of the winter months. Some had even made use of the caves hollowed out from the high banks of the Delaware by the Indians in former times or dug new ones for themselves, finding them a better shelter than any other available. It was in one of these caves that the first birth in the settlement occurred, and the child, who was named John Key, received from Penn the gift of a building site in the new town he had planned.
His first care was to establish a permanent location for the colonists who had come over with him before they should scatter in search of homes, as the previous ones had done, regardless of any definite plan. Markham was in favor of using Upland, or Chester as Penn now called it, as the nucleus of the future city. But Penn had made a better choice, in which he was supported by Thomas Holme, an experienced surveyor whom he had sent out from England and who had already thoroughly explored the surrounding country. A more favorable spot for the location of a great commercial centre could scarcely have been found than the one thus selected. It was at the junction of the Schuylkill and Delaware Rivers, where the high banks of the latter ensured a safe harbor, while near by Holme had discovered quarries containing an inexhaustible supply of the finest building stone, which would make the construction of houses a comparatively simple matter. Penn lost no time in purchasing this land from the three Swedes to whom it belonged and set to work at once with the assistance of Thomas Holme to draw up plans for laying out the new city, which was to receive the name of Philadelphia, signifying “brotherly love.” This being the ruling principle on which his State was founded, he wished it to attract thither all who had suffered so bitterly from the lack of brotherly love in religious matters. Before a single one of the trees that covered the spot was felled, before a single foundation stone was laid, the plan of the whole city was already clear in Penn’s mind and the enterprising Holme began at once to lay out its streets and public squares. An additional tract of about two square miles was also purchased, so that these might be of ample width and size to afford the future inhabitants plenty of space and air, while the building lots were to be large enough to permit every house to be surrounded by a garden, thus giving the city the appearance, as Penn expressed it, of a green country village.
His next act was to summon a general assembly of the people, at which were also present delegates from those settlements on Delaware Bay which were anxious to join Penn’s Commonwealth, a desire which was granted, the assembly unanimously agreeing to the union of the two territories. The constitution drawn up by Penn was accepted almost without a change, and to the forty provisional laws were added twenty-one more, made necessary by the special requirements of the new State. In three days the whole work of legislation was completed, a proof of the unanimity of opinion that existed among these enthusiasts drawn thither by the same desire, that of finding an asylum where they could live undisturbed in the enjoyment of their religious convictions. Once this blessing was secured, they willingly submitted to laws and regulations that may not have been altogether in accordance with their own ideas, as indeed could scarcely have been expected among people of so many different nationalities and traditions. This matter settled, Penn now made a series of visits to his neighbors the governors of New York, Maryland, and New Jersey, hoping by a personal interview with Lord Baltimore to arrive at some settlement of the troublesome boundary question, but failing in this he returned to his own colony, where there was abundance of work for him.
After Penn’s departure from England, hundreds who had hitherto hesitated decided at once to follow him. During the Spring of 1683 twenty-three ships came sailing up the Delaware River, filled with colonists for whom it was necessary to provide quarters that they might lose no time in making a home for themselves while the favorable season lasted. This task was made somewhat easier now, as the indefatigable Holme had already explored the whole State and divided it into counties. In order that all might have an equal chance, Penn had the land sold at public auction. Prices were absurdly low, averaging threepence an acre, with an additional rental of one shilling on every hundred acres, which was to form a sort of State revenue for the governor. When it is remembered that Penn had not only paid the English government for the land originally, even though a comparatively small sum, but had also bought it again from the Indians, whose right of possession seemed to him far more well founded than that of the English crown, this rental seems a poor compensation, and he can hardly be blamed for afterward reserving a considerable estate for himself and his children, especially as he also made a handsome provision both for the Duke of York and for his friend and co-worker George Fox. The colonists now found themselves in the midst of stirring times, especially in the region of the new town, Philadelphia. Alloted building sites were cleared of trees and all who could work were pressed into service to secure as soon as possible a better shelter against the weather than was afforded by the tents or temporary huts already erected. Even delicate women unused to manual labor of any kind helped their fathers or husbands in the fields as they could, cooked, carried wood and water, and cared for the cows they had brought with them from England, some even sawing wood or carrying mortar for building. If strength or courage failed, it was restored and hearts and hands again strengthened by the singing of some hymn and by the remembrance of the inestimable blessing which was theirs as a reward of their labors and sacrifices.
The first building completed was a block-house twelve feet wide and twenty-two feet long, called the “Blue Anchor” and forced to serve a variety of purposes. It was used as a general place of business, and being on the bank of the river, formed a landing place for vessels, as well as a tavern. Later it was also used for a post-house, for Penn, realizing the necessity of some regular means of communication between Philadelphia and the outlying settlements to the west, soon established a messenger post service by which news could be sent and received once a week. Travellers could also be provided with horses if desired. Few availed themselves of this service at first, it is true, for the rates were very high; the delivery of a letter from Philadelphia to Trenton Falls in New Jersey, for example, costing threepence, and ninepence to Baltimore, Maryland. The “Blue Anchor” soon had companions, however. In the course of a few months as many as eighty houses had been built and a regular trade gradually developed. Merchants set up shops supplied with merchandise such as was constantly arriving by vessel from England. Trained artisans were now available to do the work that every man had been hitherto obliged to perform for himself as best he could. The husbandman betook himself to the hoe and plough wherever there was a clearing large enough to use them and won such rich harvests from the virgin soil that it soon became no longer necessary to bring grain from abroad.
The interiors of the houses were quite as rude and rough as the outsides. Once sure of a sound roof to cover them, the settlers were content with only the barest necessities in the way of household furniture, whatever luxuries and comforts they may have been accustomed to in the past. Costly furnishings would have formed indeed a strange contrast to the rough bark-covered logs that constituted the walls, and the covering of lime and moss that served as hangings, or the hard-packed clay that took the place of boards for flooring. A table, a bench or two, a bed, all hewed by hand with an axe and innocent of saw or plane, besides a few necessary cooking utensils,—these sufficed for the needs of the hard-working settlers, who only sought the shelter of a house when night or stormy weather made work without impossible and the axe and plough must needs be laid aside. Not until the original block-houses began to be replaced by stone buildings was any thought given to interior convenience, but as soon as it became possible to employ the services of skilled workmen the question of comfort and even elegance began to be more considered. Nor was this long in coming, for in less than a year from the time when Penn first landed at Newcastle there were more than a hundred stone houses erected in Philadelphia, and two years later the number had increased to six hundred. Penn could with truth assure his English friends that his American colony was the largest ever founded on private credit, and this in no spirit of undue pride or self-applause. “In seven years,” he writes, “with the help of God and of my noble companions, I will show you a province that shall rival our neighbors’ growth of forty years.” Nor did he leave any stone unturned on his part to make good this prophecy.
One of his chief desires was to provide some means for the education of the colonists’ children that they might not grow up rude and ignorant—a state of things most undesirable among a people who were to govern themselves. This was no easy matter, for the hard-working settler, struggling to wrest a home from the wilderness, needed the help of his children as soon as they were old enough to be of any use. He himself was little disposed after the day’s labors to devote the evenings to teaching his children, even did his own education warrant it, nor could he spare the time to send them to a school. Any regular form of tuition, moreover, could only be possible to those living in Philadelphia. For those who had settled many miles, sometimes a whole day’s journey to the westward, it would have been impossible to make paths through the trackless wilderness for their children, even had there been a school within reach.
Nevertheless Penn made every exertion to accomplish this end, and as early as December, 1683, even before the site of Philadelphia was entirely cleared of trees, he had a certain Enoch Flower open a school in a wretched wooden cabin which was divided into two rooms. Instruction was confined, however, to reading and writing, for the former of which a charge of four shillings, the latter six shillings, a quarter, was made, to form a school fund. Arrangements were also made by which the children of distant settlers could be provided with board and lodging at a cost of ten pounds a year. This primitive institution was gradually improved and enlarged till in six years’ time the position of head master was assumed by Penn’s friend, George Keith. By the efforts of a certain William Bradford who had come over from England on the Welcome, a printing press was also set up in Philadelphia, the first product of which, of any note, was a calendar for the year 1687.
Another of Penn’s special cares was the maintenance of friendly relations with the Indians, for which Colonel Markham had already paved the way. He made it a personal duty to win their confidence and to this end mingled with them as much as possible, roaming about with them through the forest, wholly unarmed, sharing their meals, and even joining in the games and sports of the young men, at which he sometimes displayed skill or agility equal to their own. In this way he also learned their language and became so familiar with their habits and manner of thought that it became as easy for him to communicate with them as if he had been one of themselves.
PENN AND THE INDIANS
It was necessary, however, for him to establish peaceful relations with all the Indian tribes claiming his territory as their hunting grounds, as well as with those nearer at hand, for the farther the settlers penetrated into the wilderness the greater was the danger of their being treated by the Indians as hostile invaders, unless protected by some agreement. He therefore determined to invite all the tribes to a general council for the purpose of concluding a solemn treaty of peace and friendship.
The place chosen by Penn for this conference was a spot which had been used by the natives from time immemorial for such purposes. It was called “Sakimaxing,” now Shakamaxon, meaning “Place of the King,” and was situated on the bank of the Delaware not far from the site of Philadelphia. The wide-spreading branches of a huge elm, then at least a hundred and fifty years old, shaded the beautiful spot which commanded a superb view of the river and the dark woods of the New Jersey shore beyond. Long before a paleface ever entered these regions the Indians had assembled here to hold their councils, settle their disputes, and smoke the pipe of peace, as was their custom. It was here too that Colonel Markham had first treated with them.
THE CONFERENCE
They willingly obeyed the summons of the “great Onas,” as they called the white chief who had completely won their hearts, while the distant tribes who had never seen Penn in person were most curious to behold this paleface of whom they had heard so much and who must be so different from any other of whom they had ever heard. They arrived in bands, in their picturesque garb, the skin of some animal or a handwoven blanket wrapped about the upper part of their bodies, which were marked with strange signs and painted in the most brilliant colors, their feet enclosed in leather moccasins, making possible a light and perfectly noiseless tread, their heads adorned with the huge war bonnets of many-colored feathers. All the great chiefs were present, among them the wise old Tamemund, most distinguished of all. Penn, now in the prime of manhood, was handsomely dressed in European fashion to receive his Indian friends. The long coat with its rows of shining buttons and lace ruffles falling from the wrists fitted smoothly over his tall, well-built frame and half covered the slashed knee breeches. He wore, according to the custom of the time, a long curled wig on which rested a plain beaver hat. As he stood there calm and dignified, as became a great leader, surrounded by a few of his closest friends, among whom was Colonel Markham, already known to most of the Indians, the kindness and benevolence that shone in his dark eyes could not but win the confidence of these simple children of the forest.
After the pipe of peace had been passed around the circle, Tamemund arose and placed on his head a sort of crown, or wreath, to which was attached a small horn. This was to signify that the spot as well as the company was now consecrated, so to speak, and the conference could proceed. He then seated himself again, surrounded by the oldest and most renowned chiefs of tribes, the warriors forming a semi-circle behind them, while the youths who had not yet attained the dignity of braves ranged themselves in the background. Tamemund now announced that his children were ready to listen to the great Onas.
Slowly and with dignity Penn arose in answer to this summons, and after letting his keen glance travel lightly over the assembled group, waiting silent and motionless for his words, he began to speak, using the Lenni Lennapee dialect, with which he was most familiar, and preserving as far as possible the figurative language of the Indians. The Great Spirit, so he declared, who made all men and to whom all good men return after death, who reads all hearts, knew that he and his children meant well by their red brothers and sincerely wished to live in peace and concord with them and to be their friends and to help them in every way possible. This too was the will of the Great Spirit, that all his people should be as one family, bearing one another’s burdens and sharing one another’s sorrows. Thus would he and his children treat their Indian brothers; musket and sword should be discarded and they should live together friendly and loyally. In return they hoped for the same pledge from the redmen, in whose justice and honesty they had the firmest trust.
After these introductory words, which were received with repeated signs of approval from his audience, Penn read aloud the treaty of peace, drawn up by himself, and explained its various points more in detail. It stipulated that everything should be free, alike to the palefaces and their red brothers, and the doors of the one be ever open to the other, that the children of Onas would listen to no false tales against their brothers, who on their part must believe no evil of the palefaces, but each must agree to report to the other anything that should come to his knowledge which might prove harmful to him. Should any one suffer a real injury he must not take vengeance himself, but lay the matter before his chief or Onas, when sentence should be passed by the judgment of twelve just men; after this the injury must be forgotten as if it had never occurred. Lastly, this treaty of friendship should be handed down to their children and be kept sacred so long as water flowed in the rivers or the sun, moon, and stars shone in the heavens.
Penn then placed the written treaty on the ground between himself and the Indian chiefs, who retired to hold a brief consultation, after which Tamemund answered for his companions that they were satisfied with the treaty and would keep it in the letter and in the spirit. This was all. No oaths were taken, no seal set; the simple word of both was sufficient. It has been said of this treaty made by Penn with the Indians, in contrast to the many signed and sealed between Christian peoples only stands alone as the only treaty never sworn to and never broken. While the other settlers in the New World were perpetually at warfare with the Indians, and many were slain by them in the most cruel manner, there was never a drop of blood shed in this manner in the Quaker colony. The memory of Penn, the great Onas, was cherished by the natives long after he had left America and even after his death, and none of his children ever lacked shelter and hospitality from them. Nor have his countrymen forgotten the service rendered to them by this treaty with the Indians. When in 1810 the great elm under which it was concluded was blown down in a terrific storm, Penn’s descendants in England were sent a block of wood from this famous tree, which, according to its rings, had attained an age of nearly three hundred years and the enormous circumference of twenty-four feet. On the spot where it had stood a simple monument of granite was afterward placed in memory of that invaluable covenant to which Pennsylvania was so largely indebted for its quick and prosperous development.
The original constitution drawn up by Penn proving in some respects no longer adapted to existing conditions in the colony, it was subjected to some changes, though the fundamental principles were retained unaltered. The government was now placed entirely in the hands of the people, to be exercised through their deputies, and a council also chosen by them, Penn resigning all share in the administration. “My aim,” he wrote one of his friends, “is to leave no power to my successors by which any single individual may work harm to or interfere with the welfare of the whole country.” How much this was appreciated is shown by the passage of a resolution by the government to impose a tax on certain articles for Penn’s benefit. He refused to accept it, however, although he might have done so with a clear conscience, as it was well known that he had spent over twenty thousand pounds at various times in paying the Indians for the land they had given up, but in which they still retained the right to hunt and fish. On the thirtieth of March, 1683, the newly revised constitution was accepted, signed by Penn, and then submitted to the English government for approval.
At this time Penn was much interested in the progress of a house which was being built for him under Markham’s supervision at a place afterward known as Pennsburg, which was to be his family mansion when he brought his wife and children out from England. Anxious as he was, however, that all about it should be according to his wishes, the troublesome boundary dispute called him away to Newcastle, where it was hoped the matter might be finally settled. But no agreement was reached and Lord Baltimore soon afterward sailed for England to lay his claims before the King. Reluctant as he was to leave America, and necessary as his presence was there at that time, Penn realized, therefore, that in order to protect his own rights he would be forced to follow the same course and carry his case to England likewise. This decision was hastened by the arrival of letters from home informing him not only of the dangerous illness of his wife, but also of the outbreak of fresh persecutions against all dissenters, and especially the Quakers. The Friends wrote urging his return and beseeching him to use his influence at court once more in their favor, as he had so often done in the past. Moreover, his enemies had circulated various calumnies against him which could only be refuted by himself in person.
There seemed no choice left him. He must put the Atlantic Ocean between him and his province, for which he had labored so zealously and so successfully for more than a year and a half. But before he sailed he once more summoned the Indian chiefs to bid them farewell and urge them even more strongly than before to keep faith with him and observe their treaty with his “children.” During his absence the business of government was entrusted to a few chosen citizens on whom he could depend to carry out his ideas and principles. How hard it was for him to leave in spite of his anxiety to be at the bedside of his sick wife, and how much at heart he had the welfare of his province, is shown by the fact that even after he had boarded the ship he took time before it sailed to write a parting letter of instructions to his deputies, urging them to maintain the peace he had striven so hard to establish and invoking the blessing of God on the new settlement.
The return voyage was a more prosperous one than the last, and in June, 1684, Penn landed safely on his native shores again. The anxiety he had suffered during the voyage as to his wife’s illness fortunately proved groundless, for he found her quite restored to health, thus leaving nothing to mar the joy of reunion with his family. He did not long enjoy this happiness, however, for his first care was to secure some settlement of his dispute with Lord Baltimore. He hastened to London, therefore, after a few days, to present himself at court, where he was most graciously received both by the King and the Duke of York, who assured him that the matter should be promptly adjusted in all fairness. The King falling ill soon after this, however, the subject was again deferred and Lord Baltimore determined to take advantage of the situation by possessing himself of the disputed territory. He sent word, therefore, to his agents in America to seize it by force, ejecting all settlers who refused to acknowledge his sovereignty or to pay the tax imposed by him. Nothing but the threat made by the government of Pennsylvania of an immediate complaint to the King prevented the execution of this order, the result of which interference was that in addition to the malicious charges already heaped upon Penn by his enemies it was said that this apostle of peace had done his best to kindle a civil war in America.
On the sixth of February, 1685, King Charles the Second died and his brother the Duke of York succeeded to the throne as James the Second. The time now seemed ripe for Penn to pave the way for the establishment in England of that liberty of conscience for which he had already made so many sacrifices and secured so successful a home across the sea. The new King had always been opposed to the religious persecutions that had existed during his brother’s reign and Penn looked with confidence for some manifestation of these sentiments now that James was on the throne. Nor was he disappointed. In response to a petition addressed to the new sovereign by Penn, an order was immediately issued suspending all penalties against religious offenders and releasing those who were imprisoned for such reasons, among whom were more than twelve hundred Quakers alone. But the mere exercise of the royal right of pardon by no means satisfied Penn. His aim was to secure universal liberty of conscience in England by the passage of a law which should guarantee this, and through the favor he enjoyed with the King he still hoped to bring it about. In order to be near at hand, therefore, he removed his residence from Worminghurst to London, that he might lose no opportunity of exerting his influence with James, nor did the fact of his being accused of having secretly joined the Catholic religion to please the King deter him in the least, accustomed as he was to all sorts of calumny.
The political intrigues in which James the Second was continually involved, and which finally led to another revolution, Penn was careful to avoid, and he would gladly have exchanged the turmoil of court life for his peaceful transatlantic colony had not a feeling of duty to the cause he had undertaken urged him to remain where he might be of some use. He spent much time at court and was held in high regard by the King, who permitted him to say many things that no other could have ventured with impunity. This was well known and Penn’s house was constantly besieged with petitioners seeking to profit by his influence with the King. Yet firm as was Penn’s confidence in James’ good faith, he could not blind himself to the ever-increasing distrust and dissatisfaction with which his subjects regarded him. Not only did he openly practise the rites of his religion, having a magnificent chapel built near the palace for the observance of Catholic worship, but he also instituted several monastic orders, while the Jesuits were permitted such influence at court that it was generally feared an attempt would be made to introduce that religion as the state form of worship. This suspicion was still further increased when in March, 1687, the King summarily abolished all penal laws against dissenters, including the so-called Test Act, which permitted none but members of the established church to hold public office of any kind. As this act had been originally framed for the express purpose of excluding Catholics from the government, its abolition naturally was regarded with alarm.
Rejoiced as Penn was at the repeal of the hated laws against dissenters, he felt it his duty to warn the King against showing such open favor toward Catholicism, urging him at the same time to secure the authority of Parliament for these reforms. But James heeded neither the warning nor the appeal and insisted on the exercise of absolute power without reference to Parliament. Fearing lest the abolition of some of the fundamental national laws might follow in the same arbitrary manner, a storm of protest followed and a general revolt seemed imminent. Many eyes had already been turned toward the King’s son-in-law, Prince William of Orange, as a possible successor to the English throne, and at this crisis the Prince, being even then in communication with the malcontents in England, was approached with offers as to the dethronement of James, offers which he had no scruples in accepting.
On the fifth of November, 1688, he accordingly landed on the English coast with a well-armed force and was hailed with general acclamations, the troops hastily collected by the King for his own defence also deserting to his standard. On hearing this news James fled from London, thinking to escape to France, but being discovered on his way to the coast he was advised by his friends to return to London. At the approach of the Prince of Orange, however, he again fled, and this time succeeded in reaching the shores of France in safety, where he was willingly given shelter by his friend Louis the Fourteenth.
On the twenty-second of January, 1689, the throne of England was declared vacant by Parliament and the Prince of Orange proclaimed King, as William the Third, on subscribing to a law regulating the prerogatives of the crown as well as the State and depriving the sovereign of those rights which James had so arbitrarily exercised of abolishing laws on his own absolute authority or of interfering with their execution.
The flight of King James was the signal for the departure of his friends and favorites also, but Penn refused to leave the country in spite of urgent entreaties from all sides to do so. Calm in the consciousness that he had done nothing which was not for the honor and welfare of England, he persisted in this determination even when the houses of many who were supposed to favor the fugitive King were burned by the populace. When called upon by the council, which had assumed the reins of government, to explain his relations with James, he declared simply that his life had been devoted to the service of his country and the Protestant religion, that the King had been his father’s friend and his own guardian, and that while he had always shown him the respect and obedience due from a subject, he had done nothing and should do nothing inconsistent with his duty to God and his country.
On this frank declaration he was allowed to go free, after giving a bond of six thousand pounds, until his public trial should take place, at which he was later acquitted. In spite of this, however, he was twice again tried for treason, in one case even being accused of complicity in a plot to restore James the Second to the throne, but his innocence was so clearly proved and his frank simplicity made so favorable an impression on his judges and on the King as well, that in both cases he was fully exonerated and discharged from custody. Owing to his being still under suspicion, however, and secretly watched, he was doubtless warned to remain out of sight for a time, for except for some works of his which were published at this period, even his friends saw nothing of him for a space of two years. The passage of a law framed by the new King acknowledging the existence of dissenters and forbidding their persecution in future rejoiced Penn greatly, even though the Test Act still remained in force and only members of the established church could enjoy the full rights of citizenship. But other matters had arisen in the meantime that caused him great uneasiness.
War between France and England again seemed inevitable, in which case the North American States would be placed in a position of great danger, the French having established such friendly relations with the Indians that an alliance between them must be expected. Under these circumstances it seemed absolutely necessary for Penn to carry out the plan he had long had in mind of returning to Pennsylvania to protect the rights he had earned by such labor and sacrifice. An unforeseen event, however, interfered for a time with this intention, for on the tenth of March, 1692, a royal decree was issued placing both Pennsylvania and New Jersey under the military command of a Colonel Fletcher, who was to defend them against the hostile tribes of Indians already on the war-path. It came about in this way. The North American provinces, already grown or growing into States, having been made practically independent either by gift or purchase during the preceding reigns, King William determined to unite them again with the English crown and thereby provide himself with part of the force he needed for the war with France. As the Quakers of Pennsylvania had shown no great haste to offer allegiance to the new sovereign, Penn’s enemies had taken advantage of this fact to urge the withdrawal of his charter, and while Penn himself had no doubt that this arbitrary measure would be revoked in the course of time, and felt convinced that the money he had spent in purchasing the land from the Indians, almost his entire fortune, must constitute an indubitable claim to the province, still the blow was a hard one and he found himself in a by no means encouraging situation. Added to this were family cares and anxieties, both his wife and eldest son being seriously ill at the time.
Amid these troubles he was only sustained by his faith in God and in the ultimate triumph of right, a faith which was justified after some delay by the restoration to him of his American province, the King, however, reserving the right to defend it until the end of the war, a condition to which Penn, being a Quaker, could conscientiously make no objection.
Penn’s greatest anxiety now was to return to America, but he was still detained in England by the condition of his oldest son, who had developed consumption. Shortly before this he had experienced the bitter sorrow of losing Guli, his beloved wife, who for twenty-one years had been the joy of his life. Being unable consequently to leave England he arranged by permission of the government to send a few trustworthy representatives to Pennsylvania to protect his rights while he remained to care for his sick son. After an illness of two years Springett died, February 10, 1696, and the heartbroken father exclaimed: “I have lost in him all that a father can lose in a son.”
Penn was now left in sole care of his two remaining children, Letty and William, the latter of whom, resembling his grandfather more than his father in character, needed judicious control. It was this fact chiefly that induced Penn, then nearly fifty years old, to marry again. At the beginning of the year 1696 he was united to Hannah Callowhill of Bristol, a sensible, pious woman, who presented him with six children and outlived him several years. Still Penn found himself unable to go back to Pennsylvania, which he had not seen for thirteen years. For neither his wife nor his daughter Letty, now grown to womanhood, could make up their minds to follow him to America and leave their native land, perhaps forever. As little would his son William listen even to the idea of exchanging the pleasures he enjoyed at home for the monotony of life in Pennsylvania.
By the year 1699, however, the English government had received so many complaints of mismanagement on the part of Markham and Penn’s other representatives there that Penn, fearing he might again be in danger of losing his province, decided to make the move to America at any cost, especially as the French war had been brought to a close by the Peace of Ryswick and the usual peaceful conditions might be expected again to exist in Pennsylvania. Under these circumstances his wife and daughter abandoned their opposition to the plan, but young William still refusing to leave England, the family were forced to sail without him. Owing to contrary winds, the passage this time was a very long one, lasting fully three months, a fortunate occurrence as it proved, notwithstanding general complaints, for they thereby escaped an epidemic of some malignant fever which had caused great loss of life in Philadelphia.
Penn’s return to his province after an absence of fifteen years was hailed with universal rejoicing, and now that he had brought his family with him it was hoped he would remain to watch over the people who had so long been deprived of his fatherly care. It must indeed have been a temptation to Penn to settle down here in peace for the rest of his days, for his Pennsburg had now grown into a most beautiful estate. The land chosen for it by himself and Markham was superbly situated and protected against any kind of attack by the Delaware River, which almost entirely surrounded it, affording at the same time a delicious coolness that made it comfortable even in the intense heat of summer. The house, which was built overlooking the river, was sixty feet in length by forty in depth and was surrounded with magnificent gardens, which were Penn’s special delight. Beyond these stretched a fine park, left for the most part in its natural wildness and filled with huge trees whose interlacing branches formed a canopy overhead, while here and there were artfully planned nooks and bits of fine landscape gardening. The lower story of the stately mansion was almost entirely taken up by a great hall capable of accommodating the largest assemblies, while the upper contained the living rooms, the windows of which commanded a charming view across the river to the wooded shores of New Jersey. The extensive outbuildings included a fine stable, for Penn was a great lover of horses, and on the water before the house was moored a charming pleasure yacht for excursions on the river. Penn’s wife and daughter were equally pleased with this delightful home, and as the master of the house was fond of having guests and willingly permitted all innocent forms of amusement, they found little reason to regret the change to which they had found it so hard to reconcile themselves.
Penn himself, however, had little time to devote to pleasure, for much and difficult work awaited him. First of all it was necessary to rectify the evils which had given rise to so much complaint, chief of which was the introduction of contraband trade. He soon found that by no means all the inhabitants of his colony shared his disinterestedness or his loftiness of purpose. He met with especial opposition in his efforts to better the condition of the negro slaves. This traffic in human beings had continued to flourish ever since his first visit to America, for at that time its infamy was not recognized. The blacks were looked upon as creatures little above the brutes, to buy and sell whom was perfectly legitimate. In the first constitution drawn up by him, Penn had inserted an article stipulating that negro servants should be freed after fourteen years of service, provided they gave their former masters two-thirds of all they produced from the land assigned to them, failing which they were to return to servitude. This did not prevent the continuation of slavery, however, the legality or illegality of which being regarded as a question which no reasonable man need trouble himself about. The German settlers from the Rhine Palatinate were the only ones to protest against it, and they indeed left no stone unturned to secure support and recognition for their cause. Penn’s attempts to introduce a law for the benefit of the negroes therefore met with such strong opposition from the assembly that he was forced to abandon his benevolent plans until a more favorable opportunity should occur. He kept no slaves himself, preferring to hire those of his neighbors when he needed their services.
The Indians were overjoyed at the return of the great Onas, who immediately renewed the old friendly relations with them. They had faithfully observed the treaty concluded in 1682 and had fared so well in consequence that other tribes which had then held aloof were now eager to join the alliance, to which Penn gladly agreed, as it would add in no small degree to the safety of his province. After this ceremony had been performed in the manner already described, Penn entertained his new allies in the great hall of his mansion, while they returned the hospitality by performing some of their wild dances upon the lawn for their host and his family.
Penn continued to labor unceasingly for the welfare not only of his own, but also of the neighboring provinces for two years, when once more he was interrupted by the arrival of bad news from England. This was the introduction of a bill into Parliament bringing all proprietary governments under the control of the crown, and it was with difficulty that Penn’s friends succeeded in having the hearing deferred until he could return from America. His presence in England therefore seemed indispensable at this juncture and the assembly of Pennsylvania urged him to lose no time. All necessary measures of government were hastily arranged and some alterations made in the constitution, but already it had become painfully evident that the representatives of the people were seeking their own advantage only and paying little heed to the interests of the man to whom they owed so much. They even refused to furnish the means for his journey to England, though it was undertaken entirely at their behest and in their interest, and Penn was forced to depend on raising the necessary money during his stay in London by the sale of some of his lands.
His wife and daughter were glad enough to return to England. The novelty and excitement of the new life had worn away by this time and they hastened as much as possible the preparations for departure. The Indians, on the contrary, were bitterly disappointed when they heard that the great Onas was to leave them again so soon. They came from near and far to bid him farewell and were only consoled by the assurance that during his absence the same justice and friendship should be shown them, to insure which Penn made both the council and his deputy, Colonel Hamilton, personally responsible. As a parting gift he presented the city of Philadelphia with a deed of grant for the land on which it stood, and after promising to send his son out at once, that he might become familiar with the nature and needs of the country over which he might one day claim ownership, Penn left the shores of America, never to return.