Summary
This book chronicles the early events of Philadelphia's history and
provides sketches of some of the city's more prominent citizens.
Table of Contents
Dedication
Preface
Chapter 1 - The Vision
Chapter 2 - Soul Life
Chapter 3 - Sorrow And Joy
Chapter 4 - Progress
Chapter 5 - Mutations
Chapter 6 - The Return
Chapter 7 - Migma
Chapter 8 - New Albion
Chapter 9 - A Clever Little Town
Chapter 10 - Nova Suabia
Chapter 11 - Germania
Chapter 12 - The Aftermath
Publication Details
"Let every house be placed, if the person pleases, in the middle of
its plat, as to the breadthway of it, so that there may be ground on each
side for gardens or orchards, or fields, that it may be a greene country
towne, which will never be burnt & always wholesome."
William Penn's Instructions to his Commissioners, William Crispin,
John Bezar, & Nathaniel Allen, dated 30th of Sept., A.D. 1681
It has been well said that "It is not necessary that those things which are constantly done should be noted in history, but those things that are rarely done." The history of Philadelphia, and of Pennsylvania in general, is a record of what has rarely been done in the world, and therefore it is most worthy of preservation.
In the following work the author has nowhere intentionally violated the essential truth of history. Yet there are passages in this narrative unsupported by any direct documentary evidence. They are not, however, free-handed fiction, and careful imaginative attempts to fill in the gaps inevitably left in the bare outline portraiture of character which is all that formal history supplies. The more intimate aspects of a man's nature are more essentially personal and peculiar to himself than his public actions, yet they are almost necessarily slighted by public records. To supply these aspects by inference from known facts is a necessary task of the historian who would make his characters living men to his readers. His justification rests more upon the essential truth of his picture than upon any close limitation of his field of view to the facts proved by formal records.
Talfourd said, in describing Hazlitt, that imagination "makes truth visible in the forms of beauty, and substitutes intellectual vision for proof." In this view imagination has an honored place in history, which has been defined as "philosophy teaching by example." It is this function of the imagination which the author has essayed to exercise, always under due historic restraint.
Having for many years enjoyed the pleasures and privileges of a life in Philadelphia, he takes great interest in striving to make its remarkable origin, and even more remarkable Founder, known to others who walk its streets and dwell in its comfortable mansions, as well as to those who have known it only as visitors, or through the printed page.
S. F. H.
Rectory of St. Luke's Church
Bustleton, Philadelphia
October, 1903.
The evening of October the fourteenth, Anno Domini 1644, was settling down into a dense London fog as the newly-made Captain Penn sat in the drawing-room of his house in St. Catherine's parish, near the Tower. The war between Charles the First and Parliament was stirring the kingdom, and the navy was at a loss how to act in the matter. The officer's head was filled with disquieting thoughts as he cogitated over the rumors of deadly strife which were constantly heard in the streets.
The young Captain had eaten his evening meal, and now sat by the fireplace, dreamily watching the cheerful gleam of its soft-coal fire playing upon the glittering silver candlesticks on the sideboard. He read a few letters from personal friends, full of thoughts of the impending strife, and then fell into a reminiscent mood. He thought of his old Welsh ancestors, who knew how to pray and to fight, and whom England had covered with her ample wing. The boyish life at Bristol rose up before him, and he recalled the Church of St. Thomas the Apostle, where he was baptized. The Cathedral, the beautiful St. Mary Redcliffe, and the immense tide in the Avon from the Bristol Channel, were other youthful recollections of what was then the second city in importance in the kingdom.
Then there rose before his vision the pleasures and toils of sea-life, as the lad had served his nautical father, Giles Penn, in mercantile voyages, and had sailed over the Mediterranean, filled with thoughts of St. Paul's sea experiences, and those of many worthies of later years. Then came a lieutenancy in the Royal Navy, in which his father was a captain. Then there crept in a sad reverie of the elder and only brother of the dreamer—George, the rich merchant in Seville, who had married a Spanish lady, and who was for three years a prisoner of the Inquisition; but in the Captain's vision this brother was only the Bristol boy and playmate.
Deeper and more personal thoughts loom up in his mind. There was a trip to quaint old Rotterdam, and business took the young man to the house of Hans Jasper, the alderman and merchant. Who is this stout young maiden, full of life, whom the eye of memory paints gliding through the hall, when the father bids her come in and speak with the young Englishman? The coy smile and demure look of the damsel give way to a thrill of sympathy as the seaman, like Othello, tells his fair Desdemona stories of the perils of the sea.
Providence has settled two young lives, and business which is too important to be neglected detains the sailor. How vivid the picture becomes! He sees the numerous canals, like those of Venice, the island and drawbridges, the ships in the streets, with lanterns on their masts, and the lighthouses on the bridges, with the rejections on the water, answered by the lamps on the houses, which the ardent lover tells Margaret remind him of the light of her dear eyes. The triangular city, with its immense dyke to warn the river Meuse to keep its distance, forming a walk called The Boompjes (meaning small trees), from the row of elms upon it, comes into his mental view. Sometimes the lovers walked here, and at others along the river Rotte, finding in the trees the glory of a scenery where hills were lacking.
Jasper's low brick house, with its high front wall, concealing the roof, is again before him, with parapets, and the doors and windows bordered by white stripes; the dwelling leaning forward as if to accommodate the beam with its cord and pulley which raised baskets and buckets. The shop was on the first floor, and the carved head of a deer jutted out from a round window above it as a sign. A row of flower-pots adorned the outer window-sills, as is now often seen in Liverpool. A spy-mirror showed the dwellers who was at the street door, and Penn waited not long when Margaret's sharp eyes beheld the suitor at the gate. It was not needful for him to stoop and read the brass doorplate, which was polished until it shone like gold.
The quiet burghers in the street, who, unlike Chaucer's sergeant, were busier than they seemed, gazed at the fiery youth as his heart drove him rapidly along the way to his sweetheart's home; and thoughts of their young loves brought a brightness to the cheek and a thrill to the heart as they stopped to buy a nosegay for the housewife at home. The women washing walls and windows stopped long enough to see the waiting one admitted, and hear a sound that appeared to be a welcome from honest lips; and then they remarked that they had beheld that sight several times in one day; that boys would be boys and girls would be girls; that their men were foolish when they were young, and they had been a little silly themselves; but they wished the alderman's daughter would not take up with that foreigner, for they disliked the English, and expected soon to be at war with them. Still, they did like this particular Englishman, who had been very generous to the Jasper servants, and they wished him well; but it seemed needful to add a mournful headshake and a shrug of the shoulders.
A fine wire network prevents a sight within the windows of the house of Margaret, but we must follow William's mental vision and take an inquisitive look. A table of porcelain objects, crystal and flowers and toys serves for bric-a-brac ornament. The shining furniture and clear window-panes show Dutch housekeeping, but we will go upstairs, and see the short wide beds, with their immense feather pillows, the copper candlesticks, with the little candles, and the white linen sheets. The house was cleaned twice a week, and the maid-servant, with her lilac gown, white apron and sabots, and turned-up sleeves, was ever at work.
Now wedding preparations are going on. The furniture is carried into the street for cleaning, and woe to the luckless intruder who strives to navigate between the buckets and pans, brushes and brooms that litter the doorsteps and stairs. Penn found it worse than the English Channel, but to him it was the doubling of the Cape of Good Hope, and he bore it bravely. The water ran into the gutters, and rejoiced to splash all things. Passengers were driven from the pavement by the fiery zeal of the cleaners.
And now comes the happy morning of the first of May, the wedding-day. The pale morning light is coming from the North Sea to wake Margaret. She rises to look on the varied colors of houses and ships and trees, fences and fields and gardens. The scene has been familiar from babyhood, but it is now dearer, for she is about to leave her much-loved native land. She attires herself in a gay and richly-hued dress, and selects tulips and hyacinths such as Rembrandt would delight to paint. A white lily is the choicest flower for the chosen bride. Her earrings are accompanied by that wondrous golden ornament encircling the head which one sees in Holland. This had been handed down in the family for generations, and is deemed more precious than diamonds. A headdress of lace and muslin falls like a veil over the white neck and the well-rounded shoulders.
The kisses of father, mother and bridegroom bring a rosy color to her cheeks; and the coaches start for the old church, which was once a cathedral. The bride glances at the streets which she had often seen so full of traders at night, and brightly illuminated by the interior shop lights, and at the windows above, where many faces of rosy servants and curious children gaze at the gay procession.
The old gothic Cathedral of St. Lawrence is reached, and its large square pews are filled with an expectant throng. Bride and groom, bridesmaids and groomsmen are soon before the altar. It is a goodly sight. The aged Dominie Van Dusen performs the solemn marriage ceremony. The immense organ, which had welcomed the entrance of the wedding party, now cheers their exit, and adds to Dutch airs the English national anthem. The notes echo through the large building, while the tombs of Admirals, with their Dutch and Latin inscriptions, seem to utter a gentle murmur, as forewarning that the bridegroom will yet battle against the Dutch-land, which has been wrested from the sea by toil, and kept from invaders' hands by blood.
The crown, which was placed on the head of the bride when young girls led her to the altar, still adorns her forehead as she rides home in state. A particular door is entered by the bride and groom at the home mansion which is never to be opened again until one of them is borne out to burial. The solemn threshold is strewn with flowers and greens, and the laurel is conspicuous as a sign of triumph. The sun, which has been partially veiled by clouds during the ceremony, bursts out in full splendor as the door is entered, which seems a happy augury to all. The wind rustles among the trees, and stirs the flags displayed on the ships as if singing a wedding hymn. The windmills add a chorus, and the benediction of peace falls on every heart.
The Dutch are large eaters; the wedding dinner would have delighted Sardanapalus. The fish of the sea, and the cattle of the plain, the fowls and the milk, the Dutch cheese, and cake and sweetmeats that disappear this day will leave a tradition in the hospitable house. The unmarried persons who inadvertently place themselves between a married couple at table are, by Dutch folklore, to be married within a year. Some are playfully charged with making an intentional blunder. Instead of cake, the bride sends each friend two bottles of spiced and sugared wine, decorated with a profusion of ribbons. Medals with pretty devices are distributed. Only the relatives in this nation are permitted to give presents, but the glittering silverware proves that they have not forgotten the pleasant duty. As the day wears on, music and the dance awaken mirth. On the next day the bride appears with her head covered and gives all guests a glass of wine or other liquor, to show that she is mistress of her house.
But Margaret Penn must leave her home, and the carriage runs past the houses with their ancient inscriptions which had moved her childish curiosity, past the statue of Erasmus in the market-place, out into the vast green plain that surrounds the city, with its verdant villages whose church-bells are chiming national and sacred airs. A trip to Scheveningen to look from its dunes over the broad sea, a further journey to Antwerp, a sail to Ostend, and thence a jaunt to London, and our heroine is an Englishwoman.
But Captain Penn is tired of reminiscences, and must find a change in brushing up his seamanship. He picks up Tapp's "Seaman's Kalendar," and "The New Attracter for Navigation." He reads a vivid description of a sea fight, given for "young captaines," from the cry "a saile" and the flying of the colors. until victory perches on the banners, with the drums and trumpets sounding, and the echo, "St. George for England."
Next the seaman glances into Captain John Smith's "Sea Grammar," with references to "Master Wright's Errours of Navigation "; but his eyes grow dull, and he falls asleep. What dreams are rushing through his brain as he turns and breathes heavily in his chair. He fancies himself a vice-admiral, honored in life and death.
But another vision comes before the troubled mind. It is not of warlike honor, but it echoes the Angels' song at Bethlehem at the birth of Christ, and sings a peaceful anthem to praise God and bless men. He beholds a fair city in the distant land of which Smith wrote, where two goodly rivers meet, where commerce rules the waves, and men pass rapidly in moving machines incomprehensible to his mind. A million people are dwelling happily in this vast city, and in its midst stands a great building, surmounted by a statue of its founder.
The candles have burned out, the fire is low, the Tower clock is striking eleven. The door opens. The dreamer starts as he hears the voice of the old family physician, Doctor Pharmax, crying, "Eh, Captain! asleep, are you? Wake up; you have new cares and duties. A bouncing young boy upstairs will soon learn to call you father. You have no time for sleep now. Of what were you dreaming?"
"Never mind, Doctor," said Penn; "I am rejoiced to hear your good news. I hope my lady is doing well."
Yes, indeed," replies the good-natured Doctor.
Then," says the proud father, "let us drink the young man's health."
"With all my heart," answers the physician, and the Captain cries, "Here, Cæsar, bring fresh candles, and wine and coal, and let us be joyful on this auspicious night."
A sprightly young black enters the room, and soon all is bright, as the friends wish happiness to the young feet that are to tread the rough ways of life.
"What," says the Doctor, "is to be the name of the new heir of the noble Penns?"
The Captain's reply is not long in coming. "Why," he responds, quickly, "William, of course. I bear the name of my worthy grandfather, and he shall continue it in the family. Minety, in the county of Gloucester, and Penn's Lodge, in the county of Wilts, keep up his memory. He died in 1591, and was buried before the altar in Minety Church. May such high honor be granted me when my work for my native land and the holy Church of England is done, and I go to my heavenly reward with my blessed Saviour, and my sainted ancestors."
The doctor drank to the health of young William, and there was a little chat about old times and new, family changes and the present exciting war. The physician stoutly adhered to his King, Charles the First, while the Captain was beginning to waver, having embraced the doctrine of the Dutch proverb, "Magt maakt regt,"—"Might makes right." The sturdy Cromwell and his psalm-singing and praying men were constantly impressing that idea on the public mind by the powerful argument of the pike-point,—an argumentum ad hominem hard to resist.
But the Doctor must be moving, and calls aloud, "Pompey!" A second black boy answers the call. The Captain recalls having heard some horse-play in the kitchen before he fell asleep, and knows that the representatives of the two Roman emperors have been amusing themselves in the present, while his vision has been running into the distant future. The boys came together in a ship from the West Indies, and are fast friends, hence the lights grow dim and the fire dull, as Cæsar neglects them and exercises his African wit in teasing Pompey.
Now it is Pompey's turn to work. He lights his torch, and leads his master in the darkness through the unlighted and muddy streets of the poor London of the seventeenth century. The mud-bespattered and tired Doctor walks into his office, crowded with pills and potions, writes an entry of the birth, hoping that no more children will need his aid in entering this rough world that night, and goes to bed for a dreamless sleep.
As Captain Penn passes to his chamber, he stops and listens at his wife's door. He hears her humming gently a song of Dirk Coornhert, private secretary of the States of Holland, which he had taught her in courting days:
And so we leave the happy father, the trusting mother and the unconscious child with a benediction of peace. Let them rest now, for God wisely conceals from young and old the troubles of coming years, as the Saviour declared that the passing day had cares enough, without adding those of tomorrow.
Note: It is an interesting fact, perhaps not generally known, that Anne Jasper, sister of Margaret Jasper, the mother of William Penn, married Wm. Crispin, whom Penn appointed Surveyor General of Pennsylvania, but who died in the West Indies on his way hither. His son afterward filled the same post.—See History of the Hart Family, by Gen. W.H.H. Davis; Capt. Wm. Crisping and the Crispin Family, by Rev. Wm. Frost Crispin.
Allhallows Church, Barking, stands at the end of Tower Street, in old London. It lost its dial and porch in the great fire of A.D. 1666, but one of the finest Flemish brasses in England is still on its antique floor, elaborately engraved and enamelled, to the memory of Andrew Evyngar and his wife (about 1535), and another to William Thynne, to whom we owe the first edition of Chaucer's Works, in 1532. Other brasses and old tombs cover the floor and walls. Here the poetic Earl of Surrey was hurriedly buried after his execution; as was also Bishop Fisher, the friend of More. Archbishop Laud was ignominiously interred in the churchyard, but afterwards removed to honorable sepulture in St. John's College, Oxford.
It is the 23d day of October, A.D. 1644. A stately group is advancing along the stone floor of the aisle. They are Captain Penn and his pious wife, and the sponsors, being two military friends and a titled lady, who are to act, as godfathers and godmother. Thus did religious parents give back to God in Holy Baptism the child which He had given them but nine days before. As the aged clergyman signed the youthful forehead of the unconscious babe with the sign of the cross, prayed that he might ever be "Christ's faithful soldier and servant," and hoped that he was raising another bulwark to support the magnificent Church of England, did his voice tremble a little as a presentiment arose in his mind that the prop might prove a weak one?
We may suppose that in after days the mind of William Penn at times reverted to his spiritual birthday, and the solemn scene in that ancient sanctuary of God. Who shall say that the mighty work for good he accomplished may not be dated from that day? Spiritual forces, like natural ones, are quiet, but mighty, and "the kingdom of God cometh not with observation." Electricity is coming to dominate the physical world, but its forces were hidden until late years brought them into play as man found and utilized God's power.
Next we find the promising heir of a large estate at a school founded by Bishop Harsnet, at Chigwell, anciently Cinguella, supposed to mean The King's Well, near his father's residence in Essex. Here the thoughtful boy wanders among the wheat fields of a fertile section, or looks at an old royal mansion in the forest, or passes along the long street to worship in the ancient church. He admires the cattle and at times visits the seashore, and watches the hard work of the oystermen. He glances across the wide expanse of water which is washing the distant American coast, not knowing what a riddle for him lies beyond his feeble gaze.
Sea and shore teach the boy of twelve religious lessons, and in all natural objects he loves to see the hand of his Heavenly Father. Benevolence already indicates the mind of the child. Does a poor beggar, or a wandering minstrel approach the school? No sneer or jibe is on his lips, but his abundant pocket-money melts away before the piteous tale. The Holy Spirit has touched his young heart, and he feels that a knowledge of Greek and Latin does not constitute the full education of a Christian lad. The vices of heathen emperors, the questionable tales of mythology, and the bloody accounts of heathen battles, are not as improving as a quiet hour with God in the evening twilight, and a self-examination ending in a hold resolution that tomorrow shall be a step heavenward longer than to-day.
The Vice-Admiral goes to his Irish estates near Cork, which Cromwell had given him; and a tutor takes the place of a schoolmaster. Now comes the crisis that all must meet in life. Thomas Loe, the English Quaker, visits Ireland. The boy's father invites him to his house. The young boy sees a black servant weeping at the earnest words of the minister, and tears are running down the cheeks of the soldierly father. The strange scene was never forgotten.
Christ Church College, Oxford, is the next scene of study. The many temptations of a university town are to be met, and overcome by the grace of God, by one only a little more than fifteen years old. Athletics and good society brighten the life of the student. Robert Sunderland, the future illustrious Earl of Sunderland, and the venerable John Locke, were among his companions. Oxford was debating over the religious views of the scholarly Vice-Chancellor, the famous Dr. John Owen, who had entered Queen's, College at twelve, and had risen to this high position. Being a Puritan, he had been ejected after the Restoration, but his influence survived his departure. Thomas Loe had belonged to the University, but had joined the Society of Friends, and was holding meetings which Penn and his friends attended. The young men neglected the college services; some irregularities occurred, and they were expelled.
The earthly paradise of Oxford must be left. The Cathedral, the church towers and pealing bells, the sounding organs, the walls that have echoed to the words of the Gospel for centuries, the memory of thousands of white-robed Bishops and clergy who have gone out to bless the world,—all these must be things of the past. The little Cherwell River, the velvet grass, the Bodleian Library and Christ Church meadow are abandoned. Thomas Warton, a Poet-Laureate, described old Oxenford, "majestic Oxford," thus:
This glory was not appreciated by one who believed himself to be contending for a principle.
The family now felt disgraced. The father was highly displeased at his son's conduct. The son abhorred fashionable life, and associated with religious persons. The Admiral felt that William's prospects in life might be destroyed. He strove, to persuade, he argued and chastised, without effect; and then turned the son out of his house.
Then there was relenting. The amiable wife interceded, and may have naturally pleaded that she herself was educated in the Reformed Church of Holland, but had conformed to the Church of England on her marriage; and that the young man had received the blood of his warlike father and grandfather, and could not be coerced. There is a compromise. The wise Admiral thinks that William must go to France, where change of scene and gaiety will make a new man of him. He travels with people of rank to Paris, and is kept pure in a gay metropolis.
Saumur, on the bank of the Loire, lies on a steep hill, with an ancient castle above it, which now serves as a town hall. Penn was passionately fond of the study of theology, the queen of the sciences, as treating of God, the source of all science; and to Saumur he went where the great Divinity professor of the theological school was Moses Amyrault, a French Calvinist. He it was who obtained the revocation of the order that Protestants must address the King on their knees. Richelieu and Mazarin were friendly to him.
As the students walked over the beautiful bridge that spans the Loire, or climbed the neighboring hill, his mind was full of the deep thoughts of Calvin and St. Augustine which his preceptor had given him. Like the angels of Milton, he
The Admiral must needs take his fleet to fight the Dutch, and the young man leaves his loved books to care for the family in his father's absence. He studies law at Lincoln's Inn. He writes to his dear father that he prays that God may shield him amidst the perils of battle. He visits Charles the Second with dispatches, and the manly and ruddy youth has high prospects of advancement. But the father has been deceived in the thought that the world is the master, and he sends his son to Ireland that the Lord-Lieutenant, the graceful and lively Duke of Ormond, and his court, may enliven him.
He assists in putting down a mutiny in a garrison, and thinks of taking the command of a fort. But the Admiral holds him back from motives of discretion. The armor which is seen on the portrait of the young William Penn is laid aside, and the ceremonies of the court are abandoned.
The Admiral next employs his son in the care of his Irish estates in the county of Cork, which. includes Shannigarry Castle. The business is well done, but William enters a shop in Cork kept by a female member of the Society of Friends, whom he knew in boyhood; and recalling Loe's visit to his father, declares that he would travel a hundred miles to hear this powerful preacher speak again. The response is that Loe is even now in Cork, and is to hold a meeting the following day.
Penn hears him tell of the faith which overcomes the world, and the faith which is overcome by the world. Old impressions of divine things are revived. Again his heart thrills with the thoughts of eternity that came to him in the London plague, when death stared him in the face and whispered in his ear. Thomas Loe has won him to the new faith, and Penn pays the penalty by being arrested at a Friends' meeting.
The son continues in his faith, and will not give a bond, but is soon released, although his opinions cause another breach with his father, and he is again expelled from home. Yet the dear mother clings to her child, and prevails on the Admiral to use his influence to have William released whenever his religion causes imprisonment. The former young man of fashion now assumes the plain dress of Friends, which was simply the apparel of those of that day who did not enter the fashionable world.
William Penn becomes the friend of George Fox, is guided and inspired by him, and afterward propagates Fox's opinions through the medium of his own voluminous writings on religious subjects. Having experienced the troubles of a sojourn in the Tower, he does much to obtain the release of those who are thus vainly punished to force their unwilling minds. How often such experiences arise in his mind may be conceived by those who have, though innocent, been immured within gloomy walls. He has sat where murderers and thieves have consorted, and reflected, "Here am I, a loyal English subject, the son of an officer, held in vile durance, as a malefactor, because I hold opinions not allowed by the State. A day will dawn when minds shall not be thus oppressed. May God give me strength to hasten it!"
Admiral Penn closes a life of hard toil for his native land with kindly words for his son, and commits him to the care of his friend and sovereign, Charles the Second, and the Duke of York, who was to become James the Second.
Wealth is now in the hands of the youthful Friend, but Newgate again opens its gloomy doors to him by religious persecution. Rogues and felons here abound, as we are told by Thomas Ellwood, who has himself been imprisoned here. In the night, hammocks three stories high receive the poor sleepers, and the upper ones must first climb to their hanging beds. Under the lowest hammocks are beds on the floor, where the weak and the sick lie. The breath and steam from all these bodies is almost unbearably offensive. Health and mind suffer, and one prisoner dies from the cruel treatment. Farces of trials accompany these unjust imprisonments. Let us be thankful that a brighter day has enlightened men to see that minds are free.
Mars and Mercury, Fashion and Persecution, have striven to control the mind of Penn, and now Love will try its hand. Venus rose from the sea with her smiles, and angry waves are subdued by gentle oil.
Sir William Springett, a Parliamentary soldier, was killed in the days of Charles the First, in the wars between the King and the Parliament. The widow married Isaac Penington. A daughter, Gulielma Maria Springett, is a beautiful young lady, with many accomplishments, whose sweet disposition attracts all, while her dignity, piety and beneficence make her a meet companion for so worthy a husband. What London and Parisian ladies might not accomplish is easily performed by this country gentlewoman; and a willing captive sits at her feet. God's good Providence is seen by Penn as guiding his steps, for many suitors had sought the hand and heart now reserved for him. The lover himself tells us, "She loved him with a deep and upright love."
The "honeymoon," as Addison called it, is passed in the new home at Rickmansworth, in Hertfordshire. Edward the Elder, in the tenth century, rebuilt Hertford town and castle, and sometimes royalty honored the place by residing in it. Here, at times, the newly-wedded lovers are seen looking at the antiquities of early days, or wandering on the banks of the Colne or the Lea, where bright green meadows recall the imperial Roman days, when the camps of that warlike race ruled English soil. The Abbey of St. Albans, the church and cave of Roystone, the ruins of the castle of Berkhamstead, and the high chalk hills of the county, tempt them to many a wedding trip, where each enjoys the view with redoubled pleasure because of the company of the other. Often are the horses stopped during the pleasant horseback rides, that the devout riders may worship the God of Nature in the scenes of beauty which surround them; while a thought of the blessed Saviour, without whom nothing was made, as St. John tells us, gives a new life to the rose and the lily that bloom along their pathway.
They had found the "River of Juvenescence," of which Prester John wrote to Manuel Comnenus, the Emperor of Constantinople, saying that there was a spring at the foot of Mount Olympus which hourly changed its flavor, day and night; and that any one who tasted its delightful water could never know infirmity or fatigue.
Penn is in his twenty-eighth year at the time of his first marriage, which occurred in A.D. 1672.
Worminghurst House, in Sussex, a few miles from the sea, is a new home of the Penns. The eminence on which the house stands commands a view of the South Downs. The building has since Penn's time been destroyed, and the Duke of Norfolk now owns the estate. But to Penn in his youth the English Channel sings a daily and nightly song of distant America, washed by parent waters of the ocean; and Beachy Head stretches its longing gaze across the wide abyss.
The wheat and hop fields, and the famous cattle on the hills, please the agricultural Penn, and here he might well pass a pleasant life as a country gentleman, and perhaps grace the halls of Parliament. But God has another and a greater work in store for him. The prospective founder of a new empire is not to rust in comparative obscurity. The family motto of the Penn arms is "Dum clavum teneam,"—"While I can hold the helm,"—and the present representative of the family is to hold the helm of state, and add dignity to the family history. Meantime journeys in England, and on the Continent, for religious teaching, employ the mind and heart of the good man.
Chalfont, in Buckinghamshire, near Gerrard's Cross, was the residence of Gulielma Maria Springett when Penn first met her. "Guli," as she was called, was fond of Milton, who lived here, and on one occasion, when she was visiting in the cottage which the poet had rented near Penington Grange, Thomas Ellwood, the Quaker, being present, the announcement was made by Milton that "Paradise Lost" was written. Ellwood suggested "Paradise Regained" to finish the grand idea. The addition was accepted; and so the second great poem flowed from the active brain of the philosophic poet.
Then said Guli, "We will not, like Plato, banish music from our republic, lest, like Midas, we have asses' ears fastened to us for preferring Pan to Apollo; but as music was played while the walls of Thebes rose, let us join in a song." She took up her lute and sang with Milton, who dearly loved music, from "Il Penseroso":
Penn, as a friend of Isaac Penington, the stepfather of Guli, is admitted into this choice coterie. Sir William Springett's marriage to the mother of Guli was a love-match, encouraged by the mother of the baronet, who did not wish her son to marry for the sake of interest. Into this charmed circle Penn and his wife are ever welcome, and many happy days are thus spent.
Neither friends nor foes can draw Penn from the society of his beloved bride, and there is a long honeymoon. Then Guli accompanies her devoted husband on religious tours of mission work.
One of the notable deeds of the Admiral's career has been the conquest of Jamaica, and many an evening do the married lovers sit until the late hours listening to his weird tales of the strange natives, the wild animals and the tropical fruits of that ocean paradise. In the son's mind there springs up a restless desire to see the western world with its wonders.
While the Irish lands had been given to the Admiral and his wife by Cromwell, on account of their losses in the Irish rebellion, the sea-commander was also honored as the head of the expedition to the West Indies against the Spanish rule. The Admiral was then conniving with Charles the Second, who had not yet gained the throne, but secretly sanctioned Penn's action. The attack of the Admiral on Hispaniola failed. But he was successful at Jamaica, which Oldmixon called "the most flourishing colony in the new world."
The great Admiral afterward tasted uncertainty of power, and, like his son at a later period, endured imprisonment. Cromwell committed him to the Tower for leaving his command without license, thus hazarding the army. The shrewd Cromwell had probably received information of Penn's devotion to the cause of the King through spies. The Admiral acknowledged his fault, and was released, but lost his commission. When the Lord of Cork asked him to surrender his lands, he said he could not "be hectored out of anything," but was ready to be commanded "anything in reason."
But following this time of depression comes the intense joy of the crowds at the Restoration of Charles the Second. Let us gaze at the long procession of over twenty thousand horse and foot, shouting, while the ways are strewn with flowers, the bells are rung, and the streets adorned with tapestry. The fountains are running with wine, companies in livery are passing, and the nobles are clad in cloth of silver and gold and velvet. There are ladies in the balconies, trumpets are sounding, and music echoes in the resounding air. Myriads of people have come to join in the festivities, some from as far away as Rochester. The procession seems endless, and Evelyn relates in his diary that it was seven hours in passing,—from two o'clock in the afternoon to nine at night.
The King goes to Whitehall. The inns are filled with a noisy crowd through the whole night, and the Protector's memory is roundly cursed by a populace anxious to enjoy life under the new monarch. Little do they expect the voluptuous and disgusting reign which has left a foul blot on the history of England, and is mainly recalled in this new land by the name of a spaniel breed which was a favorite one in the palace of the wicked and dissolute monarch. Even on his deathbed Charles was a scoffer, and he could with difficulty be constrained to think of God and eternity and the sufferings of Christ, by the devout prayers and earnest exhortations of Bishop Ken, whose saintly life offered such a contrast to that of the royal sinner.
Let us hope that Ken's work was not in vain in the Lord, and that the dying sovereign, like the man thrown from his horse, could say:
After the Restoration, Charles the Second summoned the Admiral to Whitehall, and thus addressed him: "My worthy friend, whose heart was ready to aid me in trouble, I rejoice to share with you my joy. Knighthood shall be yours, and I appoint you a Commissioner of the Navy, and Governor of the Fort of Kinsale in Ireland."
When the seaman, at a later time, rose from the accolade, or stroke of the sword that consummated his nobility, he was happy not alone for himself, but for the honor of the family. He had been in the throng when the King went from the Tower to the palace of Whitehall, when little gossipy Pepys accompanied him in his fine velvet coat, which might have given him more pleasure had he known that his description of himself would endure for generations. The son William was with the Admiral at this great show.
Sir William Penn becomes a member of. Parliament from Weymouth, and the indefatigable Pepys is glad to note as important the fact that he was at church with the Admiral and his friend Sir William Batten, thus shining with reflected glory. Still the diarist becomes jealous of the Admiral because he interfered with his fees of office, and is ready to give him and his wife a sly hit on paper when he could do so, as he used to think with his faithful pen on the secretive diary, having the itch for writing mentioned by the Latin poet Horace. He styles the Admiral's carriage plain, but pretty.
In Charles the Second's day the Thames was a far more important highway for travel and commerce than it is now. The water-poet, John Taylor, bewails the coming of carriages in opposition to the barges. He was styled "The Swan of the Thames." Pope wrote of him, in the Dunciad,
The Dutch used to say that old Penn would war against them, and this prediction is now to be justified. The Admiral hoists his flag on the Royal James, and afterward takes command of the Royal Charles. But while the Dutch war and matters of state occupied the mind of the father, the son began to be deeply interested in a more distant region. His father and mother die, and leave him all their property. He writes to the Countess of Falkenstein that they loved him dearly and could not do enough for him. He adds: "Oh, how good is the Lord! yea, the ways of His mercy are past finding out."
The "ravishing glory" of the presence of God at the death of Thomas Loe, and the dying man's injunction to him to bear the cross to win the heavenly crown, make a lasting impression on the youthful Penn. The immortal life is brought near by the "Glory to the name of God!" which falls from dying lips; and the mantle of the man of God drops upon his pupil. He writes to Isaac Penington, "My soul loved him while living, and now bemoans his loss when dead."
Another death is to affect Penn's future life. Persecution and imprisonment in innocency can be endured; but now his dear wife, the joy of life, is to be removed. The blessed end is thus described by the husband: "She quietly expired in my arms, her head upon my bosom, with a sensible and devout resignation of her soul to Almighty God. I hope I may say she was a public as well as a private loss; for she was not only an excellent wife and mother, but an entire and constant friend; of a more than common capacity, and great modesty and humility, yet most equal and undaunted in danger; religious, as well as ingenuous, without affectation; an easy mistress and a good neighbor, especially to the poor; neither lavish nor penurious, but an example of industry as well as of other virtues; therefore our great loss, though her own eternal gain."
This lovely woman, whom her husband calls "one of ten thousand," left two sons and a daughter. These were Springett, Lætitia and William the younger. Mary and Hannah, the other children, had died in infancy.
Gulielma's health was broken by troubles, and the strain of the absence. of her loved husband in the strange and distant land. She died at Hoddesden, away from her loved home. Her body was carried thence to the sweet and quiet graveyard at rustic Jordans, where her husband in after days was buried at her side, and the picture has often met the eyes of Americans. The green graves are not far from Chalfont, where began the young dreams of a pure love which are now renewed in Paradise.
With God there are no trifles, but what looked to man to be a slight occurrence affected forever the destinies of Pennsylvania by turning the mind of its illustrious founder westward, whither Bishop Berkeley in his day, saw "the star of empire" gliding.
In A.D. 1664, Charles the Second claimed New England and the country southward; and, with the old English propensity for colonization, looked enviously on the Dutch community at New Netherlands. Charles gave a patent to his brother James, Duke of York and Albany, to American lands, including the New Netherlands. The "High Mightinesses" of New Amsterdam resisted the aggression; the old story of force followed, and the weaker party, as usual, went to the wall. New Amsterdam was called New York, after the Duke of York, who, after the death of Charles, reigned as James the Second. The Jerseys and the western shores of the Delaware also came under the rule of the British. Oldmixon gives the number of Swedes and Dutch on the river as three thousand.
The Duke of York granted the Jerseys to Sir George Carteret, intending the tract to be called Nova Cæsaria, to honor the family of Sir George, which came from the island of Jersey; but the people took the plainer name of the Jerseys. The Indian name was Scheyichbi. In 1675, West Jersey was sold to a Friend, Edward Byllinge, for whom Penn became a trustee. Penn, in this work, became familiar with Pennsylvania, and bought the province, paying for it by the surrender of a claim which his father had against the King. There had been a dispute between Byllinge and John Fenwick about the Jersey property. Penn became arbitrator, and Fenwick sailed hitherward, and settled at Salem. Byllinge's-port, on the Delaware River, keeps in memory these transactions.
When Carteret died Penn was one of the purchasers of East Jersey lands. In his student days at Oxford the new Western World was in his thought, and now interest and inclination seemed to lead him thither. He asked Charles the Second to grant him Pennsylvania in lieu of eighteen thousand pounds due his father for services to the British Government and for money advanced. Lord Baltimore had already received from Charles the First a grant for neighboring land, and a contest in boundaries followed which lasted for many a long year. In A.D. 1681, Penn received his charter, and was made Proprietary and governor of the province of Pennsylvania.
Now began a life of toil and care, trouble and disappointment, which might have made him wish that he had never heard the name of the new province. He would probably have been happier in his Irish estates with a title like that of his father, but the good Lord had other work for him to do. He wrote to Robert Turner that he would have called the land New Wales, but as the hilly country would answer to the Welsh "head,"(Pen), transferred his choice to that word when the Welsh secretary refused New Wales. He had first proposed Sylvania, but the King insisted on having "Penn" added to honor the Admiral, the father of William. The son feared it might be thought a mark of his own vanity, and time has proved that he is the one now held in honor.
It is remarkable that most of the places in Pennsylvania that bear the family name are small, but the vast State, which is indeed a mighty empire, full of varied and abundant resources, holds aloft its distinguished Founder, as the city of Philadelphia has placed his statue at the summit of its elevated City Hall.
Penn declared that he believed this grand possession, procured "through many difficulties," would be blessed by God and made "the seed of a nation." He thought that there was room in a new country for his "Holy Experiment" of a higher form of national life, which he could not have in England. He was a friend and admirer of the. great Algernon Sidney, who planned an English republic, but was tried on another charge by the infamous Judge Jeffreys; and on insufficient evidence was executed, dying bravely on Tower Hill, in 1688.
Penn longed for a land where infamous judges would be unknown, and executions of the innocent would be impossible. King Charles apparently favored his design, expressed in the charter, to enlarge his empire, to promote trade, and to civilize and Christianize the Indians; and further had regard to the worthy memory of his friend, the deceased Admiral.
Active preparations for the settlement were now begun. He printed the charter, with an account of the country, and gave terms of sale of the land, which read very queerly at this day, when the price of a lot in Chestnut Street, after the passage of two successful centuries, more than equals the amount paid for the whole province. One hundred acres could then be bought for forty shillings sterling, cash, and "one shilling per annum forever," according to the English custom of the day of holding one's hand over what he had sold, and claiming a small ground rent, even if it were only a few barleycorns or bushels of wheat, or a red rose. The troublesome quit-rent was a part of the first purchase, and could not be completely extinguished in the new transfer. Penn is said to have held his title from the King by a small yearly rent, and so a like rent from the purchasers to him was needful to make the titles valid. Penn's obligation to the King seems to have been nominal, unless mines of silver or gold were discovered, when one-fifth must be reserved. Blackstone defines a quit-rent as a payment by which the tenant is quieted, or quit, from other service. In the Latin it is quietus reditus. Penn himself held by feudal tenure, which implies a duty or service in return. Allodial tenure is freehold, free of rent or service to any paramount lord. Such are the good tenures of the latter times in Pennsylvania. There was an ancient idea that all land was vested in the sovereign, and the term "the King's highway" is a remnant of the thought.
Penn kindly warned his countrymen not to move rashly, and did not as a speculator simply strive to fill his own pocket at the pain and loss of others. He wished the intending emigrants to consult the Providence of God and the wishes of their relatives, to keep up natural affection, and to seek the glory of God.
The newly-made Proprietary gave up the oversight of West Jersey, where he had sent about fourteen hundred persons. Burlington had arisen, farms and roads had taken the place of forests, and religious meeting-houses now stood where sail-cloth tents had sheltered the first worshipers. He might well rejoice that his fostering care had accomplished such great results.
Penn wished no person having ten thousand, or more, acres to have over a thousand acres in one place, unless within the space of three years he would place a family on every thousand acres. He ordered that in clearing ground one acre of trees should be left for every five acres cleared, and mulberry and oak trees were to be preserved for the silk industry and for shipping.
The Indians were to have good and honest wares in return for their furs, and were not to be abused. Any wrongdoing to them was to be punished with the same penalty as if a white planter had been injured. If an Indian did an injury, the person injured might not take the law into his own hands, but must refer the matter to the Governor, or his deputy, or to a magistrate, who should treat with the Indian king for a satisfaction for the complainant. Differences between planters and Indians were to be settled by twelve men, six being Indians and six whites. In this respect he acted as the Swedes had done in their kind treatment of the savages.
Purchasers soon appeared. London and Liverpool, and especially Bristol, which then stood next to London in commercial importance, furnished buyers. Among the Bristolians were J. Claypoole, Nicholas Moore and P. Forde, who, with others, composed a company named "The Free Society of Traders in Pennsylvania." They purchased twenty thousand acres of land in trust, and prepared to undertake many kinds of trade. Welsh Friends were also purchasers of land. Their descendants to-day are among the most important and prosperous inhabitants of Pennsylvania, and the names of their fatherland are dotted over the region where the emigrants first settled. The early comers, with homesick hearts, thus recalled dear mother abodes; and their descendants now strive to keep up the connection of the old world and the new by adding to the stock kindred appellations.
For his new settlement Penn prepared laws giving to all of its inhabitants that liberty of conscience for which he had suffered so much. He, however, did not allow a licentious abuse of this liberty in a profane speaking of God, Christ, the Holy Scriptures, or religion; or in the commission of evil. He had lost large sums of money and great opportunities of preferment in giving his testimony to what he deemed to be right, but he did not murmur. He would not sell the monopoly of the Indian trade to a company for a large sum of money, and a portion of the profits, as he did not think such action right. James Claypole wrote that the Proprietary would not discriminate in favor of special persons in sales of land, even where he would get a larger price by so doing; and he added, "But he, I believe, truly does aim more at justice and righteousness and the spreading of Truth than at his own particular gain."
Penn instructed his three commissioners to be "just and courteous to all," and not to offend the Indians, but to let the red men "know that you are come to sit down lovingly among them."
It is marvelous that so many ships, with enthusiastic emigrants, sailed from England to America in Penn's day, there being fifty which reached here the year after the coming of the Welcome. This is especially noticeable when we consider that a large part of the emigrants belonged to the quiet and sedate Friends. The first emigrant ship, the John and Sarah, left London, and by the usual long voyage reached America before another London ship, the Amity, which did not come to the province until the next spring.
The Bristol Factor, from Bristol, arrived at what the Swedes called Oopland, or Upland (now Chester), and there the vessel was frozen up in the Delaware. The passengers were forced to spend the winter there. "What shall we do?" said the tired voyagers, after weeks of weary sailing. "Come into our houses," virtually replied the hospitable Swedes, "and where our quarters fail, build huts for yourselves, and you will find us good neighbors"; and so they did.
The fine stretch of hills, now crowned with their modern residences, which reach from Chester to Wilmington, well justified the old name Upland, but new comers desire new names, and Sweden must yield to England even in this matter.
William Markham, a relative of Penn, came over in one of the ships, to be Penn's secretary, when he should arrive. The commissioners went with him, and Penn sent a friendly and religious letter to the Indians by them.
Penn, as a Fellow of the Royal Society, hoped to send it scientific information from Pennsylvania.
The death of Penn's affectionate and beloved mother, only a few weeks before he sailed for Pennsylvania, made him ill from grief for several days.
In the governmental arrangements of the founder of Pennsylvania, it was wisely and devoutly advised that the Lord's Day should be duly observed, "according to the good example of the primitive Christians and the ease of creation."
William Penn procured from the Duke of York, who was afterward the King known as James the Second, a release from all claims he might have on Pennsylvania, and a grant of the "three lower counties," as they were called, on the Delaware River, which now constitute the State of Delaware. This made the free use of the river sure, and prevented the trouble which might arise if the water entrance to the province should fall into other hands. The northern boundary of Delaware was a circular line, twelve miles distant from New Castle.
Thomas Holme, the Surveyor-General, who preceded Penn by a few months, lies interred, among his kinsfolk, in the Crispin graveyard, near a grove of trees, on a little hill hard by Ashton station, on the Bustleton branch of the Pennsylvania Railroad; and a monument honors his memory. The line of Susquehanna Street, which was intended to run from the Delaware River to the Susquehanna River, passes near his tomb, but the design of a great highway, like the four Roman roads of England, was never fully carried out.
Penn himself now prepared to sail. He wished that his wife and three children might accompany him, but the new land was not yet fit to entertain them; and therefore he went alone, hoping to prepare an abode for them. He was a beautiful letter-writer, and on this occasion poured out his heart and soul in full measure. It is well that we have such a photograph of his real inner life. He touchingly charges his wife to be generous to the poor, whether they are Friends or not.
Penn sailed from Deal, on the North Sea. His wife and children accompanied him to the ship, and many other friends mingled their tears with those of the family, as it was remembered that months must elapse before a word could come announcing the arrival of the voyagers at their destination. There were about a hundred passengers, mainly Sussex Friends, as Penn's residence at Worminghurst was in that county. There was much weeping as the vessel left the shore, and strong men bowed themselves as they looked for the last time on the receding native land which held their ancestral graves, and many of the living still dear to them.
As Penn gazed on the fortress of Henry the Eighth and Sandown Castle, fading from view, he thought of his warlike father and grandfather, and of his early desires for military glory; but was thankful that he was now going forth on a ministry of the Prince of Peace, not to destroy the lives of his fellow-creatures, but to preserve them. In the road-stead styled the Downs, between the shore and the Goodwin Sands, the vessels lay and awaited favorable winds.
About two months brought the Proprietary and his companions within the Capes of the Delaware. Penn exerted a good influence in a religious way on the ship, and he would have been most happy could he have seen the glorious results that were to follow this remarkable voyage.
When the ship had sailed fourteen days, one of the passengers complained of a fever. At first he was supposed to be affected with the measles or scarlet fever, but the chills and pain in the back, nausea and vomiting soon showed that the fearful smallpox was on this crowded vessel. The fever increased, and delirium followed, as the poor man raved about the green shores of old England, and the family he had left there. Eruptions multiplied for five days, and the offensive odor made the cabin almost uninhabitable. Penn and others strove to minister to the bodily and spiritual wants of the poor sufferer, but he was to take a longer voyage than he had expected. He was going "to see the King in His beauty" in "the land which is very far off," and yet so near to all men. With words of hope and Christian prayer the patient closed his eyes in death.
It was a beautiful day when the sad funeral of this victim of disease occurred. The sun shone brightly on the smiling waves, and the good vessel glided on under a smart breeze, unconscious of the mournful burden she bore. The body, wrapped in sailcloth, with a weight attached to it, was carried on deck by two hardy seamen, and passengers and crew stood in awe-struck attention as Penn spoke a few words of heavenly hope and of Christian sympathy with the family of the dead man. Then the faithful shipmaster, Robert Greenway, read the solemn service of the English Church for the Burial of the Dead, changing the form of committal to the words, "We therefore commit his body to the deep, to be turned into corruption, looking for the resurrection of the body when the sea shall give up her dead, and the life of the world to come through our Lord Jesus Christ." There was not a dry eye on the deck as these words were uttered. Then the body was lowered into its watery grave, and Penn reflected upon the words which he had heard at the burial of his father and mother, and of many a friend. His heart was full of heavenly aspirations.
It is too sad to picture, even in the imagination, the death of about thirty of the emigrants of this dreaded disease, and to think, in what condition the ship must have been when sanitary science was so little known.
Penn reached New Castle on the 24th of October, then considered the Eighth month. Thence he went to Chester. A barge conveyed him from that place to Philadelphia. He was accustomed to such a conveyance on the Thames. As he glided along the wooded banks of the beautiful Delaware, saw the Indian cabins, the occasional small dwelling of the settler, and the site of the old Swedish capital at Tinicum, and then ran through the Horse Shoe Bend, and beheld the former seat of Dutch rule at Fort Nassau, at the site of the present Gloucester, how many plans of future tasks rushed through his active mind, and how blithely the songs of the birds cheered his heart for work.
At Coaquannock, the bold shore with high pines, was the point established for the infant settlement of Philadelphia, now grown to be a mighty giant, known to the end of the civilized world. Compare the World's Exposition held there in late years with this little boat, landing on Dock Creek, at "Guest's New House," afterwards called the "Blue Anchor Tavern"!
Friends, who were already here, and Swedes, and Dutch, and Indians, joyfully received the new ruler. He ate the roasted acorns and hominy of the Indians, and in a jumping match with them showed his useful athletic training at Oxford by beating them, much to their delight. Such physical prowess doubtless gave him much influence with his red friends. Mrs. Amos Preston, who died A.D. 1774, at the age of one hundred years, saw and remembered this strange interview with the Indians, according to the account in "Watson's Annals of Philadelphia."
Mrs. Preston described Penn as rather short in stature, "but the handsomest, best-looking, liveliest gentleman she had ever seen." There was nothing like pride about him, but he was affable and friendly with the humblest in life.
Philadelphia streets had been named after colonists. Walnut Street was called Pool Street, and Arch was Holme's Street, and afterward Mulberry, while Chestnut. was Union. Penn called Market, High Street, and named other streets after forest trees which were found there. Ten acres of ground was reserved for a public square at Broad and Market Streets, where modern folly has blocked two fine streets by a mass of masonry invented apparently for the purpose of spending the money of the city. He wished to keep the bank of the Delaware free as a promenade, but health and beauty have given way to trade, and his wise foresight has been made of no avail. The town as he wished it would have contained ten thousand acres; but as the colonists thought this too large, he allowed it to be curtailed to about a mile along the Delaware, and reaching back to the Schuylkill, containing about twelve hundred acres. Later exigencies have extended the amount to over a hundred square miles.
Penn loved the water. His barge had a sail, a boatswain and a coxswain, and six oarsmen manned it. What was called "Penn's Palace" was rising at Pennsbury, near Tullytown, and near the Falls settlement of Friends, opposite Bordentown.
The Proprietary apparently dwelt in Chester for a time, and an old house on Penn Street, near the river, is said to have been his abode. At times he visited Caleb Pusey, whose little old stone house still stands on Chester Creek, in Crozerville, the ancient Upland. Its small room on the first floor, with its antique fireplace, doubtless heard the worthies discussing the plans for the new world, and recalling incidents of their life in the old world, until the fading fire and the stroke of midnight warned them to retire to their humble beds, in rustic chambers which would frighten their luxurious descendants of to-day, who reap the harvest which they sowed. In this rude simplicity, so different from the life he had lived in England, the head of Pennsylvania wrote a friend that this was a noble place for serving God, and added, "Oh, how sweet is the quiet of these parts, freed from the anxious and troublesome solicitations, hurries and perplexities of woeful Europe."
Charles the Second had intended to give Penn's father a peerage, with the title of Lord Weymouth, but this was frustrated by the action of the son in becoming a Friend.
Some of the colonists had good estates, and brought frames of houses with them. Others lived in log cabins covered with clapboards, or bark and turf huts, which served as shelters while they were constructing better houses. Caves were also dug in the river bank as temporary abodes for the poor. Wild pigeons enriched their diet. The Indians kindly provided provisions.
When John Chapman and his wife, near Neshaminy Creek, went to Yearly Meeting, the Indians came daily to watch over the wants of their young family.
The meetings of Friends were first held in private houses. Penn was deeply interested in the religious welfare of his new community. "One boarded meeting-house was set up," Richard Townsend writes, "where the city was to be." After "very comfortable meetings" the loving neighbors assisted each other in erecting their small houses. Such were the "bees" among the more northern settlers in later days, when heavy work, such as wood-cutting, was divided among many hands, and the jovial rustic meal sweetened the hard toil, and promoted good will. Penn brought a mill, which was placed on Chester Creek, and ground corn and sawed boards. Men carried corn on their backs for many miles.
The neck of land forming Philadelphia pleased Penn vastly. The water fronts on the Delaware and Schuylkill were valuable, and the coves and docks and springs, the lofty land and pure air were invaluable. Less than a year saw about eighty plain houses arise.
Amid all these encouragements the persecution of English Friends, the need of asserting his rights as to the Maryland boundary, and the longing desire to see his family, made the Proprietary turn his wistful eyes over the broad sea once more. He had spent thousands of pounds in promoting the welfare of the Indians. He made a league of friendship with nineteen Indian nations, covering all the English in America. He laid down excellent laws. Philadelphia, his capital, had nearly three hundred houses and twenty-five hundred inhabitants, and there were twenty other townships. Clarkson places the whole population at about seven thousand.
Before embarking Penn gave the Provincial Council authority to act in his place, Thomas Lloyd being President, and receiving from him the Great Seal. In August, 1684, the Proprietary sailed homeward, regretted by the country, for he had been just and kind to all. On the vessel he wrote a letter to Thomas Lloyd and others, to be communicated to the Friends' meetings, in which he says:—
"And thou, Philadelphia, the virgin settlement of this province, named before thou wert born, what love, what care, what service, and what travail has there been to bring thee forth and preserve thee from such as would abuse and defile thee!
"0 that thou mayest be kept from the evil that would overwhelm thee: that, faithful to the God of thy mercies, in the life of righteousness, thou mayest be preserved to the end! My soul prays to God for thee, that thou mayest stand in the day of trial, that thy children may be blessed of the Lord, and thy people, saved by His power. My love to thee has been great, and the remembrance of thee affects my heart and mine eye. The God of eternal strength keep and preserve thee to His glory and thy peace!
"So, dear friends, my love again salutes you all, wishing that grace, mercy and peace, with all temporal blessings, may abound richly amongst you. So says, so prays your friend and lover in the truth, "WILLIAM PENN."
This beautiful epistle shows how its writer had so fully idealized his darling city that she had become human to him, and as a personal friend; and he ever seemed to rejoice in that relation, ever kept her in mind, and ever strove for her welfare at home and abroad through crowds of difficulties. Now he receives the due honor which was often denied him in life. Posthumous honor is the truest praise; for the thoughts of men in life are dimmed by suspicion and distrust, and a knowledge of human frailty, which is the lot of every child of man; but real nobility shines the brightest in the deepest night, of affliction, and so it was in this case.
Penn's work in England, in changing reigns, was very difficult. Dancing attendance on courts and seeking royal smiles is never an easy task. The Wise Man in Proverbs said, "The wrath of a king is as messengers of death: but a wise man will pacify it. In the light of the king's countenance is life: and his favor is as a cloud of the latter rain."
William Penn was born in the reign of Charles the First, and lived in the reigns of Charles the Second, James the Second, William and Mary, Queen Anne, and George the First, and also under the rule of the Protector Cromwell, and the short tenure of Cromwell's son Richard. So the septuagenarian had seen eight rulers in England, and experienced tempestuous storms in Church and State, ever in mature life singing songs of peace, while his countrymen were ever making ready for battle.
He strove earnestly to use the influence at court which he had inherited from his father, and which he maintained by spotless integrity, to mitigate persecution, and to obtain the freedom of captives, whether of his own faith or not. But men who have kingly favor are oftentimes burned by its light. The jealous ones called him a trickster and a Jesuit in disguise, and repeated foolish stories, which calm minds would have dismissed with a sneer. The old Latin motto reads, Inter arma leges silent, and while civil laws are too often silent in the din of the alarms of war, tongues and pens rage with sad rapidity.
It is natural that when worldly interests and life are at stake the red-hot fever of anger should emit a flame, and fire does not always distinguish friends from foes, as in the battle's smoke men wrongly fire at their own comrades. When governmental matters were mixed with spiritual ones, and the Province of Pennsylvania and the Maryland bounds claimed by Lord Baltimore were mingled together, an audience with the King, or his prospective successor, the Duke of York, was a very troublesome and uncertain affair, especially as the moods of a sovereign, or a court, are likely to be variable, and affected by other interests than those of the last suppliant, who deems his own case the most important.
This volume may not dwell on the long and disappointing struggles with the law, and the whims of the great, which distressed and wore out the spirit of the founder of Pennsylvania. At one time, he says, he was well received at court as the proprietor and governor of a royal province; at another he was arrested at a Friends' meeting, and again informed of for meeting with the Whigs. In all these troubles and perplexities this man, who was far ahead of his day, pleaded for liberty of conscience.
In the winter of 1684-5 the death of Charles the Second occurred by apoplexy, and his brother James, the Duke of York, succeeded to the throne as James the Second. James was the friend of Penn, who strove to be loyal to him. Toleration in religion, and the opening of prisons, came on this king's accession.
When England had been shaken by dissension, James the Second was driven from his throne, and William and Mary came into power, it is striking to read that little Philadelphia, too, had her internal troubles. Penn writes to the magistrates about excesses in the caves, which he declares are his property, intended for the use of poor emigrants.
Thomas Lloyd, a minister among Friends, had performed the executive functions of the government, as President of Council and afterwards as Chairman of the Commissioners, for years. He became weary of his task. Penn released him, and appointed Captain John Blackwell, a British officer, who was not a Friend. In writing to Lloyd the Proprietary styled Pennsylvania "my worldly delight."
When the "Act of Toleration" was passed, Penn felt that one of the greatest objects of his tarrying in England was accomplished, and desired to return to his colony. The new governor was not a success, and had disagreed with the Council and the Assembly. Thomas Lloyd again came into power. Penn suggested to the Provincial Council that they should name several deputy governors, and begged them to be at peace with God, in faith in Christ, "in this momentary, troublesome, busy world."
In A.D. 1689, Penn instructed Thomas Lloyd, President of the Council, to set up a school. Thus arose the "Friends' Public School," incorporated in 1697, with a new patent in 1701, and another charter in 1708. The present charter was given by Penn in 1711. The scholar in classical literature, George Keith, was the first teacher. He was originally a minister of prominence among Friends, but afterward became a clergyman of the Church of England.
Penn still looked toward America, but government troubles detained him, and the prison again received him. The death of George Fox deeply affected him; his dying words, "William, mind poor Friends in America," rang in Penn's ears, as "Arise, ye dead, and come to judgment," did in those of St. Jerome.
In Pennsylvania, troubles arose between that province and Delaware. The Scotchman, George Keith, had lived in England, and traveled with Penn on the continent. He now set up a separate meeting, and then went to England, and was ordained a clergyman of the English Church by the Bishop of London, who had the spiritual oversight of this region.
In 1792 William and Mary gave the jurisdiction of Pennsylvania to Benjamin Fletcher, the Governor of New York.
A new and sharp affliction arose in the death of Penn's excellent wife. For nearly three years he withdrew from the world, and prayed and wrote. He proposed in "An Essay toward the Present and Future Peace of Europe" what the world has lately seen in that beautiful "House in the Wood" at The Hague, where, among the surrounding trees, a Congress met to talk of universal peace, and then the nations began to show their depravity by practicing war.
The effort of Penn and his wife to be just toward their rulers is indicated by the fact, given in Agnes Strickland's "Life of Mary Beatrice," wife of James the Second, that Gulielma Penn made an annual pilgrimage to the Court of St. Germain, carrying presents from the friends of the exiled king and queen, and was received by them affectionately, though she claimed that the revolution was necessary.
Difficulty arose in Pennsylvania about military demands, which the Friends opposed. Fletcher appointed the cousin of Penn, William Markham, lieutenant-governor. He himself was afterward relieved of his post, and the government was, in 1694, returned to Penn by William and Mary. The colonists had seen to their cost how different was the mild rule of Penn from that of a military governor. This year Penn made Markham lieutenant-governor. Thomas Lloyd had lately died. He was a man beloved and honored by all, a Welshman, educated at Oxford, and a worthy minister of the Society of Friends. He did not seek office, but office sought him. He was the only one of the early governors of Pennsylvania whose conduct pleased both Penn and the people, and he died at the early age of forty-four. Before dying he declared that he had "fought the good fight and kept the faith."
After Penn was reinstated in his government, in 1694, the English people had a reaction in his favor, and he held large religious meetings in various parts of the kingdom.
In 1696 there came a turn in the life of our hero, which we must note. He had held a large meeting in Bristol, the home of his father. His powerful exhortations on the higher spiritual life moved some to tears. In the audience he recognized his friend of early days, Hannah Callowhill, daughter of the prominent merchant, Thomas Callowhill, and granddaughter of the great merchant Dennis Hollister, who were Friends. Her sweet face and sympathetic look haunted him after the excitement of his address was over, and his anxious mind, contending between the kindred emotions of love and religion, would not allow him to sleep.
He recalled his early days of restful happiness with Guli, who had answered to his every smile and gentle word, giving him double payment for his affection. Then the train of reflection brought up the birth of the children, and the faith with which the innocent babes were laid away with tears in their mother earth, to await a joyful resurrection when Christ should come in the heavenly clouds with His holy angels. How many united cares had hung around the three children who survived, and what pleasant days two congenial souls had seen in religious journeys. How much self-denial there was in Guli's mind and heart when she allowed her dear husband to go to a new and wild land; and how she pined away in his enforced absence, though sharing his hopes of a new empire of peace across the wilderness of waters!
Then came the sad summons home to look once again on the sweet lily before it faded, and after that the weary days of watching declining health after the glad meeting; and next the dying-bed, and the final messages of undying love, and concerning the children's welfare when they should be motherless. Death claimed his own, and a new beauty passed over the face so dear to him, as Lavater notes the wondrous charm of the still countenance which has lost the look of care, and the wrinkles that mark the milestones of time; and the smile, as on Cowper's face, denoting the entrance to a higher and a happier state. He kept his Rizpah watch, and then, like Charles the Second, of Spain, gazed on the corpse of his wife, trying to pry into the hidden mysteries of the future state, but was compelled to give up the vain search. Byron's poem on Greece illustrates the feeling:
The rising of the sun found Penn still cogitating on the days that were gone, and yet turning hopefully to the future, as he cries, "I am loyal to the past, but must seek the good of the present. Guli's name shall ever be dear to me, and in the coming world, where marriage, according to the Master, is unknown, Guli and Hannah shall be as sisters. My business and family and religious affairs are pressing on me, so that my brain is nearly bursting. When I leave a prison, or fight a governmental cabal, at home or in the colony, I need a sympathetic heart to comfort and advise me. I will do what millions of my fellow-men have done, and what I thought needless until to-day. I will seek the love and the hand of Hannah Callowhill."
As the morning progressed the unconscious Hannah was sitting at the window of her father's fine mansion, driving her busy needle, as the stitches flew through a snowy garment. She sees a well-known and revered form approaching in the dignity of manly beauty, and herself opens the door to welcome William Penn.
"Good morning, Hannah," says the visitor.
"Good morning to thee," replies the fair hostess.
"We had a sensible blessing in the goodly motions of the Spirit in our meeting yesterday," remarked the minister, "and I observed that thou wast not unmoved."
"Indeed I was not, Friend William. I have heard of the crowds that have attended thy meetings in the open air, and may God seal thy testimony for Truth in the salvation of many poor souls, who may shine in heaven in thy crown of rejoicing."
Penn answered, "Thank thee, kind heart, for thy blessed words of comfort to a wearied soul, and I wish to drink deeper of this refreshing stream. Thou knows the many hard cares of my most toilsome life. At this present time my poor Springett hangs between life and death, and is ripe for the kingdom. His Christian humility and his retiring and soft tenderness in our meetings show that his bright mind is looking heavenward, and the Master is calling for him, as He did for Mary, the sweet sister of Lazarus, in the ancient day. William and Tishe are a grief and pain to me. Whence they got their strange humors I cannot tell; certainly not from their sainted mother; and their father humbly tries to walk in the ways of the Lord. The sick one and the well ones need a woman's tender care; my hand is not soft enough to soothe the brow of my dear Springett. Thy sweet face and tender words would lighten our household. I think that my concern for thee is the leading of the Holy Spirit. Wilt thou be mine?"
Hannah sat through this long speech with her eyes on the carpet, in pleased wonder that the thought that had already entered her heart had become the ruling idea in the mind of him whom she had so highly honored, but never expected to claim as her very own. She had no speeches to make, but rose and gently placed her hand in that of the earnest pleader; and with a blushing cheek parted her lips only to whisper, "I am thine." Such a salute followed as would not have shamed the "holy kiss" of the primitive Church, mentioned in Holy Scripture, or such as the angels may use in heaven.
That hour was a memorable one for both, and also for the future of the infant settlement. The business-like daughter of the Bristol merchant was to be a tower of strength to Penn and Pennsylvania. During the final weary years of the illness of her husband, with the assistance of the faithful James Logan, she guided in large measure the fortunes of the new province, and with rare wisdom and discretion: She "looked well to the ways of her household," managed wisely and successfully the financial and other problems which had broken down the health of William Penn; smoothed with her devotion the troublous pathway of his last years, and then dutifully closed his eyes, and gave her faithful testimony to his holy life.
The next Thursday, in Friends' meeting, the two parties "passed meeting," or received the approval of both the male and female assemblies; and the brave Hannah, as she held her future husband's hand, and declared her purpose, was less moved than her spouse, who could endure a prison or a mob but was very nervous over a few words of betrothal said before a company of his fellow believers. The betrothal, which comes from Jewish days, is common in Germany, and forms a part of the service of the English Church, is wisely used by Friends, making marriage respectable, and by its notice in public, as in the publishing of the banns, checking improper marriages.
This being over, in a short time the marriage followed. At a public meeting the pair, in Friends' fashion, married themselves by declaring that they took each other as husband and wife, for a loving and faithful wedded life, "until death should separate them," trusting in "Divine assistance" to keep their solemn pledge. The woman received her new name, and the certificate was signed by many witnesses, as a good custom to certify the marriage, and keep up a memory of the signers. Many an old American certificate to-day recalls the names of families who would otherwise be almost forgotten.
There was a quiet, but sumptuous entertainment at the Callowhill mansion, and the willing captive went to her husband's home, in a union of hearts as well as hands. The walks along the deep cut formed by the river Avon, the visits to see the relics of St. Mary's Church, Redclyffe, and the various sights of old Bristol, became a pleasant memory as the new life called to fresh duties and joys. The care of Springett now fell into skillful hands and there was no "lack of woman's nursing," until the last words were heard: "I am resigned to what God pleaseth. He knows what is best. I would live, if it pleased Him, that I might serve Him; but, O Lord, not my will, but Thine be done."
When Peter the Great was working at Deptford, Penn called on him, with other Friends, and gave him books in German explaining their principles. The Czar of Muscovy received them pleasantly, and sometimes went to the meetings of the Friends m that place, and Penn afterward wrote him a letter. When in Frederickstadt, in Holstein, assisting the Danes in opposition to the Swedes, the Czar made an arrangement to have a meeting of Friends held, and attended it with several of his officers, and, as "Story's Journal," quoted by Janney, relates, commended the doctrine then taught.
In September, 0. S., A.D. 1699, Penn sailed from Cowes, in the Isle of Wight, on his long-delayed return to his province. When the ship Canterbury appeared at Chester, December 1st, 0. S., 1699, after a three months' voyage, the colonists were glad that, after an absence of fifteen years, the Proprietary had come to make a home with them, bringing his family. The evening before, Penn had come up in his barge to the house of Lydia Wade, not far from Chester, which he reached after dark. Thomas Story met him there, and spent the night; while doubtless many a story of early politics and business occupied the fleeting hours, as they talked of things which would have consumed too much time in writing. The next day, when the peaceful governor landed on Chester creek, a number of young men, contrary to the magistrate's order, "fired a salute 'with two small sea-pieces of cannon.' " An accident occurred, which cost the loss of an arm to one of the young men. Penn kindly paid the expenses of the surgeon and the support of the youth until death followed, and then he met the charges of the funeral. The governor went to Philadelphia, and was gladly received there.
The yellow fever, which had been brought from Barbadoes, and was called the Barbadoes fever, and which afterwards at times grievously affected the new city, had claimed of late more than two hundred victims, touching nearly every house. A solemnity hung over the town, and jesting, feasting and worldly pleasure stood aside, awed by the direful calamity. Still the Friends determined to hold their yearly meeting, and it was a solemn one. No one attending it was smitten.
The coming of the cheerful Penn lightened the gloom, and the fact that his family were in his company seemed to promise that he was to make a home among his loving people.
James Logan wrote to William Penn, Jr., who was in England, about the reception of his father. Logan's birthplace was Lurgan, Ireland, though his parents were Scotch, and had held estates in Scotland, which had been confiscated in the conspiracy of the Earl of Gowrie. The son knew Latin, Greek and Hebrew before he was thirteen years old, and in his sixteenth year mastered Laybourn's Mathematics without instruction. His father was a teacher in the English Bristol, and James assisted him. He came with Penn as his secretary. He became the Secretary of the Province, Commissioner of Property, President of the Council, and Chief-Justice. This bright man was literary and scientific, and was a correspondent of European men of learning. His country-seat was Stenton, now at Wayne Junction station, in Germantown, where distinguished strangers who visited Pennsylvania were hospitably entertained. He was a patron of learning, and presented his valuable library by will to the Library Company of Philadelphia, and it is now known as the Loganian Library. Although he was a Friend, he was in favor of military defence. His business and prudence made him a great aid to Penn. In person Logan was tall, and in manner graceful and dignified, kind and attractive. The letters which passed between him and Penn were toilfully copied and published to the world by the faithful Deborah Logan, the widow of Dr. George Logan, who died at Stenton in 1821.
Stenton is still an attractive, old-fashioned country-seat, and lovers of athletic games are familiar with its aspect of antique dignity as seen from the neighboring cricket grounds.
Deborah Logan wrote of her husband's ancestor, James Logan:
Stenton is supposed to have been finished in 1728. It is a quiet and dignified mansion of brick, suited to the character of its master. The large hall gives a hearty welcome. It used to be thought a palace, and was the scene of many an ancient feast, where were gathered the most notable figures of the colonial society. Scriptural paintings on the old fireplace tiles remind one of the lessons learned by Dr. Doddridge from his religious mother from similar scenes. The woodwork is remarkable. An underground passage ran from the house to the barn as a means of escape in time of danger. Tradition says that visiting Indians have slept on the old stairway. The chief Wingohocking loved Logan, and asked him in Indian fashion to exchange names with him. Logan told the Indian that he might have his name, and he would give that of the Indian to the creek on the Stenton estate. William Wirt used the name of this chief to illustrate Indian oratory.
Deborah Logan is buried in an old graveyard near the mansion. She copied thousands of pages of letters of Penn, Logan and others, found neglected, mouldy and torn in the attic, adding notes. She worked in the early morning, and wrote a poem entitled "The Hour of Prime." She was the granddaughter of Penn's friend and coworker, Isaac Norris, Sr., whose letters appear in the Logan Correspondence. He was Chief-Justice of Pennsylvania when be died. Deborah Logan, as a young girl, heard the Declaration of Independence read in the State House yard, and as a matron she entertained Washington at Stenton, and visited Mount Vernon with her husband.
In the Revolution it was ordered that Stenton should be burned, when seventeen houses between Philadelphia and Germantown were fired for alleged aggressions from some of them. Two men came to burn Stenton, and told the colored housekeeper to take her property out, while they went to the barn for straw to set the house on fire. A British officer rode up seeking deserters. The quick-witted housekeeper replied that they had gone to the barn to hide in the straw. The officer cried: "Come out, rascals, and run before me into camp!" They protested, and alleged their commissions, but the Logan house, with its important manuscripts, was saved. This faithful woman was buried in the garden at Stenton.
Deborah Logan wrote an account of James Logan, as she was very conversant with his history. One morning in June she had risen very early, and was at work at her copying, as the fragrance of the roses was wafted into the open windows of the upper room which had been the library of Penn's secretary. She had been for a day or two toiling over a letter from Logan to Penn, on which the mice and the mould had been contending for generations and where it was hard to name the victors. Her sleep had been disturbed by the puzzle, and she caught herself in waking talking aloud about it. She gazed fixedly at the portrait of Logan which hung on the wall before her for a time, and then addressed it, as if it were alive: "Honored ancestor of my worthy husband, I deeply wish that thou couldst unravel my riddle!"
So engrossed was she in the thought, and so closely did she feel the relation with him who had occupied her life-work for years, that she felt no wonder when the countenance moved, the eyes looked kindly down on her, and the lips parted to explain the difficulty, and then added more instruction, thus:
"Dear child of my house, I thank thee for the great care which thou hast taken to preserve the memory of my governor, William Penn, and that of my less worthy self. I trace my ancestry back to a Baron of Restalrig, and am most nobly connected, as one of our race married a daughter of Robert the Second, who granted him the Grugar lands in a charter addressed to 'Militi dilecto fratri suo.' ('To his well-beloved soldier brother.') Sir Walter and Sir Robert Logan were associates with Sir James Douglas in the glorious band of Scotch chivalry, who strove to comply with the dying request of Robert Bruce to carry his heart to the Holy Sepulchre. The Logans fell under the walls of Granada, fighting with the Moors. The heart of the hero was brought back and buried in the monastery of Montrose. Sir Robert Logan once defeated an English fleet.
"I was born in Ireland of a Scotch family. My wife Sarah Reed was ever a true helpmeet to me. I ever tried to perform the business of William and Hannah Penn most faithfully, and they treated me as a brother. I was for a time the President of the young Province. For forty years I served Penn, and when I wished to retire, sickness fell on him, and for six more years I continued my work. I loved the dear Indians, and they loved me….I labored to lead a Christian life, and to lead others Heavenward, and was not disappointed of my hope....My worthy granddaughter, so spend thy earthly years that the eternal years at God's right hand with Christ may be thy lot."
The eyes closed, and the face resumed its expression of placid repose, but the amanuensis went on with her toil cheerfully, and never forgot the pleasant hour which had brightened her tasks, and left a glow behind it like that of the setting sun.
Logan, in his seventy-third year, was invited to resume the presidency of the Province, but declined. His son William was a member of the Provincial Council, and benevolent in giving the Indians land for a settlement, and in educating them. Deborah Logan's husband, Dr. George Logan, was a United States Senator, and visited France to stop the war between France and America, if possible. He met Talleyrand. An act of Congress was passed, which is "sometimes called the Logan Act." In after years, he again went to France, hoping to show English statesmen the poor policy of the conduct which induced the war of 1812. "Blessed are the peacemakers," said the Master; let, us honor his good deeds. He was an acquaintance of Sir Samuel Romilly, Wilberforce, Thomas Clarkson, Coke, the Duke of Bedford, and the Marquis of Wellesley.
Deborah Logan survived her husband eighteen years, living through the Revolution. Mrs. Owen J. Wister gives a sketch of her in "Worthy Women of Our First Century," edited by Mrs. Wister and Miss Agnes Irwin. Sally Wister's Journal was kept for the use of her "Dear Debby Norris," afterward Mrs. Logan. Conarroe painted her portrait when she was over seventy.
In Deborah Logan's day, on her first going to Stenton, the estate, which had already been divided, stretched from Fisher's to Nicetown Lane, and from the Germantown turnpike to the Old York Road. It lies in a beautiful country, and Washington was delighted with its fine grass and tasteful improvements, while he kindly noticed the children there. During the Revolution Stenton was for a time the headquarters of General Howe.
Another character of importance in Penn's day was Colonel Robert Quarry. He was a British Judge of the Admiralty, whose duty it was to see that the revenue laws were enforced. He was a leader of the English Church folk, and opposed Penn. He wished the pirates to be checked. They had become very powerful in the new world, and men of high standing were ready to share their nefarious gains. Penn accomplished this, and when he was present in the colony his personal influence was very great, but he was absent so many years that there was much dissension, and it was very difficult to guide the ship of state when the commander was not on deck.
That age had not advanced to our present standard. Penn was a slaveholder, in accord with the custom of his day, but he desired to make marriage the rule of the colored people, to raise their standard of morality. The office of Quarry, and that of the advocate, John Moore, of the same court, made them independent of Penn, and of the Legislature, and it was their interest to be in the opposition. So they sent to the Board of Trade in London complaints and highly-colored reports.
Another colonial character was David Lloyd, a Welshman and a lawyer. He had been a captain in Cromwell's army, and Penn made him Attorney-General. He was an able man, of fair character, but disturbed himself and the people. As a maintainer of the rights of the people he acquired much influence, and brought many of them into opposition to the government. He also had difficulty with Colonel Quarry, who accused him of disrespect to the King, of insulting his commission and the seal of the Court of Admiralty, of saying of the picture on the Seal, "What is this? Do you think to scare us with a great box [meaning the seal in a tin box] and a little baby?" [That was the picture.] He said, " 'Tis true, fine pictures please children; but we are not to be frightened at such a rate."
When Penn went in his barge from Pennsbury to Philadelphia, he used to stop at Burlington to see Governor Jennings, of New Jersey. Once the governor was smoking with his friends, and heard that the barge of the Proprietary was approaching. They put their pipes aside, for fear of annoying him. He came in sooner than he was expected, and said that he was pleased that they had had enough propriety to be ashamed of their actions. Jennings answered, "We are not ashamed, but stopped to avoid hurting a weak brother."
A visit to an Indian cantico, or fair, was a pleasant diversion for the Penn family. Logan notes the money, spent on such an occasion by the mother and the children, and even by the Governor, as well as by Hannah Carpenter; and the comfits show that youngsters liked candy as well then as they do to-day, though it was probably of a simpler kind.
The Penn family were held in high esteem by their neighbors. lsaac Norris wrote of the son, John, "the American," who was born at Trent's slate-roof house, in Philadelphia, that he was "a lovely babe," and that Hannah Penn was "extremely well beloved here, exemplary in her station, and of an excellent spirit, which adds luster to her character, and has a great place in the hearts of good people. The governor is our Pater Patriś, and his worth is no new thing to us; we value him highly, and hope his life will be preserved till all things now on the wheel are settled here to his peace and comfort and the people's ease and quiet."
We can see William and Hannah Penn, as they sit on a summer day on the banks of the bright Delaware, as the rippling breeze dances over the waves of the wide river, and hear them talking of the joys and sorrows of colonial life, and the hopes of brighter days for themselves and the colony. Sad tidings come of the misdoings of the son William in the motherland, and at times the father blames himself sorely for having left him among the temptations of the gay society of London; and then he thinks of the good he is doing to the many now, and in the future, when the unborn shall bless his gentle rule. Hannah hears of deaths and sicknesses at home among her beloved ones, and grieves that by the time the letter arrives announcing their illness they may be dead and buried, and that it is impossible for her to reach them to help or solace them.
The Greek word "Migma," which gives a title to this chapter, signifies a mixture, and is used to imply a compound of made dishes or of medicine. It here refers to the miscellaneous character of the matters to be treated of, and might fitly be applied to this whole volume.
The virgin world of which Pennsylvania was a specimen, is supposed by some to have been known to the ancient world. The following passage from the mouth of the Chorus in Seneca's Medea is certainly a most remarkable one: "The sea has now yielded, and patiently endures all laws. No Argo compacted by the hand of Pallas, and impelled illustrious by the oars of princes, is now sought after: any vulgar bark safely wanders over the deep. Every ancient boundary is removed, and cities have placed their new walls in new lands. The pervious globe has left nothing in the situation where once it was. The Indian drinks the cold Araxes: the Persians taste the Elbe and the Rhine. In late years ages shall arrive when the ocean shall relax the bounds of the universe, a mighty land shall be laid open, Tiphys shall unveil new wonders, and Thule shall no longer be the utmost extremity of the earth."
Tiphys was the pilot of the ship of the Argonauts. "Ultima Thule" are the words used by Seneca, and the ancients called Thule the extreme of the earth, though they did not know its position; it was supposed to be in the most northerly parts of the German Ocean, perhaps Iceland, or a portion of Greenland, or the Shetland Isles. The Greek navigator, Pytheas, first mentions it, saying, "It is six days sail from Britain," and that the climate is a "mixture of earth, air, and sea." It has generally been located as the Faroe Islands. Suidas says it was named from Thulus, its most ancient king. The Greek Antonius Diogenes composed a romance on "The Incredible Things Beyond Thule," which has produced many similar tales. There is something so mysterious about an unknown world, that it is no wonder that romance loves to dwell on its mysteries. Thomson, in his "Seasons," calls it "farthest Thule," and the old ballad runs:
The wonderful island of Atlantis had a similar history, and it is claimed to have been America. The wonders crowded into both these stories have been more than made good in this new country, and Pennsylvania alone may be considered a theater of romance almost passing belief. Seneca may have learned of America from Diodorus Siculus and others, it having been, it was thought, discovered by the ancient sea-loving Phśnicians driven there by a tempest. The "Gallio, deputy of Achaia," before whom St. Paul was brought, was named Annæus Seneca Novatus, and afterward adopted by Junius Gallio. He was a brother of the philosopher.
Centuries have rolled away since men guessed dimly about new worlds beyond the sea; but now they were not only found, but settled; and we will come back on a fine summer morning, and behold Hannah Penn, in Penusbury, as she is sitting in a true motherly way by the side of her babe, John, "the American." A pretty little barefoot girl is walking up the avenue, with some berries and cottage cheese, which her mother sends to show her goodwill to the wife of the Governor, who had sent her dainties in her illness. The door is open, and the awestruck maiden peeps into what the rustics call a "palace," and fears to enter.
"Come in, my little Mary," says the mistress of the house. "How are thy good mother and father and the children?"
"Very well, I thank thee," responds the damsel, "and mother sends thee a little present, and hopes that thee and the Governor and little John are well."
"Thank thy mother for me," replies Hannah Penn; "and tell her that I am soon coming over Welcome Creek to see her. Here is a nice red apple for thee. The scion came from Maryland, and William is proud of it."
Hereupon John proceeds to show his independent sympathies for the equal rights of the oppressed, by waking up with a loud yell, and the pretty and delicate woman grasps the babe in her arms to quiet its wail on her gentle breast, while Mary departs to live to tell her great-grandchildren the tale of her youth. The story of Sutcliff, about Penn taking little Rebecca Wood on his horse, as she was going from Darby to Haverford meeting, betrays a kind heart.
Thrice daily Penn assembled his family at Pennsbury for the worship of God. Once he was lodging at a house in Merion, and a lad peeping through the latchet-hole of the door saw him kneeling in prayer at his bedside, and heard him thank God for a provision in the wilderness.
Domestic affairs at Pennsbury ever interested the great man. He sends orders for milk and baking pans, which Betty Webb may select, and for Indian meal, which proves that he had learned to use this American luxury. Indian corn is now one of the great staples of life, and grows on Italian plains, as well as on the hills and valleys of this new world. He wishes to be at the wedding of Captain Richard Hill and Hannah Deleval.
Penn was rather averse to lawyers, and preferred to settle things in his own way. Judge Guest represented the law, but Thomas Story, who had been a lawyer, gave up that profession when he became a minister among the Friends. The persons who were employed at Pennsbury were "John Sotcher, steward; Hugh Sharp, gardener; Robert Beekham, man-servant; Mary Lofty, housekeeper; Ann Nichols, cook; Dorothy Mullers, a German maid; and Dorcas, a coloured woman." The Friends held meetings for the negroes, and Penn declared in his will that his slaves were to be free, but the conditions of the will do not appear to have been observed. The Governor and Council strove to Christianize the Indians.
The danger of losing his power in the Province by its falling to the crown led Penn to return to England. "Poor Phinehas Pemberton" was then dying, though he had "crept to meeting," as Penn writes Logan, and he adds, "I am grieved at it, for he has not his fellow, and without him this is a poor country indeed." Penn's wife and daughter, "Tishe," would not stay in America without him, and Samuel Carpenter was ready to excuse the young woman, who must have naturally had more interest in the life of England, with its society, than in the dull existence of an American colony. The Proprietary had a great desire to return hither, and his interest was in Pennsylvania, as he had given his English and Irish estates to the children of his first wife.
His Indian friends came to say good-bye. They declared that they did not break covenants, and they now renewed their old ones. One smote his hand on his head thrice, saying that they did not make their covenants in their heads, but, striking his breast three times, declared that they made them there, in their hearts. Hither came the great and good Sachem, Tamanend , who is said to be buried in the soil of Pennsylvania, but whose name has been adopted by the Tammany Society of New York, and also Cannassetego, the Chief of the Onondagas, who loved Logan, and, when he discovered him sick, said in Indian fashion, that he "found him hid in the bushes," was among the visitors, with words of true friendship. Naaman, the noble chief, who gave the name of Naaman's creek to what is now Claymont, on the northern border of Delaware, and Nanne Seka, Keka Rappan, Tong Goras, and Espan Appe were present, with two hundred Indians. Many fair words were spoken, but one there was who was not in accord with the general sentiment in favor of the white man. He boldly stood up and declared that the Great Spirit had given the land to their forefathers, who had fished and hunted at their pleasure on it, and now Penn and his friends had come, and not only become owners of it, but wished to give it to their children, thus alienating it forever from the ancient true and rightful owners, who trusted God, and never bequeathed land to their offspring. This speech of our Indian friend really indicates the feeling of some of the wiser red men when they saw their soil slipping away from under their feet, as if by a tidal wave. When Nicholas Scull was surveying land in what is now Monroe County, Pennsylvania, an old Indian laid his hand on his shoulder saying, "Put up iron string, go home," and the surveyor obeyed. The savage knew that the dreaded instrument meant loss of home and property and ancestral graves.
Then arises the old and sad query, Have savage nations a right to the soil? Does a man who pretends to discover a country, which had been discovered and populated ages ago, have a right to dispossess the inhabitants by force? The answer has been written in blood at the death of Guatemozin, in Mexico, and at that of Atahuallpa, by Pizarro's cruel treachery, in Peru; and too often elsewhere in fair America, as the Indian has been pressed onward to the setting sun, and has cried with the ancient British that he was driven to the sea, and the raging sea drove him back upon his enemies. He has replied with the blazing torch and the bloody tomahawk, and the question is yet being answered, as fraud and the greed of gain are pushing the original owners of our land into the Pacific ocean, and we have not the grace to fully Christianize and civilize the poor remnant of the natives who preceded us in this good land. We keep up the names of the towns and creeks as a poetic fancy, and then neglect the aborigines. Still many there are who are really striving to undo this wrong, and may God richly bless their efforts to establish righteousness in this country.
But we must stop this digression, return to the broad meadows on the bank of the Delaware at Pennsbury, and behold the Indians in picturesque groups on the sod, sitting down to enjoy the rich feast given by the Proprietary, who was greatly pleased in seeing their happiness. The table was loaded with a hundred turkeys, and venison was not lacking. The rude sons of the forest did ample justice to the good cheer, with many a grunt of deep satisfaction. The chief Colkamicha made a speech of thanks, and the Indians performed a little dance, which pleased the whites by its grace and agility. Then the older chiefs advanced to the Governor, and with many a profound salaam bade him farewell, wishing him happiness and health in this world, and joy in the Better Land, when the Great Spirit should call him home.
Penn replied with words of love, his family received the polite greetings of the natives, and then these guests silently and gravely marched through the old cherry hedge to the highway, and disappeared. They were never again on earth to behold the kindly face of their benefactor; but may we not believe that some of these faithful souls, who strove to serve God according to their light, have met him whom they loved in the Paradise of God, where wars and troubles and property questions may not vex the hearts of the dwellers above? — where, as Pindar sings,
These "Fortunate Islands," or "Islands of the Blessed," beyond life's tumultuous sea, have been the thought of poet and seer from Greek days to the early times of America, and the magnificent glories of the setting sun will ever he a foretaste of that other world where rest and joy follow the toil and disquiet in this state of existence, where too often the more one toils for his fellow men the more heartaches and disappointments and lack of appreciation follow him.
Penn, in expressing his reluctance to leave the Province, where he had attempted to set everything to rights, declared to the Assembly that he had promised himself "the quietness of a wilderness." In treating with the Assembly of property affairs it is noteworthy that the old quit-rent of a hundred acres of land was one bushel of wheat per annum, but he would not promise that the same low rate should be maintained in the territories now constituting Delaware, whence an appeal came, as the property might rise in value, and there had been expense in the long controversy with Lord Baltimore about the Maryland boundary, which the Council had promised that the public should pay.
Isaac Norris wrote of the "excellent wife" of the Governor, before her departure, that her friends sorrowed heavily at her leaving them, and that her "wonderful evenness, humility and freedom, her sweetness and goodness, have become her character, and are indeed extraordinary. In short, we love her, and she deserves it."
Now delightful Pennsbury, with its trees and flowers, the favorite horses, kind neighbors, and loved domestics, the affectionate Indians and the pleasant religious meetings, must all be left and the uncertain sea must be braved for a long voyage. Andrew Hamilton, a former governor of East and West Jersey, is appointed Deputy-Governor, and James Logan is appointed Provincial Secretary and Clerk of the Council.
After the return to England, Penn sent his son William to the Province, directing Logan to have oversight of him, as he was inclined to be wild. He wished him to live at Pennsbury, and have "no rambling to New York, nor mongrel correspondence. He has promised fair; I know he will regard thee," writes Penn to Logan, and he goes on to say, "He has wit, kept the top company, and must be handled with much love and wisdom; and urging the weakness or folly of some behaviours, and the necessity of another conduct from interest and reputation, will go far. And get Samuel Carpenter, Edward Shippen, Isaac Norris, Phinehas Pemberton, Thomas Masters, and such persons to be soft and kind and teaching; it will do wonders with him, and he is conquered that way. Pretends much to honour, and is but over-generous by half, and yet sharp enough to get to spend. All this keep to thyself. Vale." The kind father's hope of secrecy was destroyed by the actions of his son on his arrival in the Province.
The father was kept in England by the danger of the supersession of the proprietary government by the crown. In 1702, William the Third died. Queen Anne, daughter of James the Second, and wife of Prince George of Denmark, succeeded him on the throne. Penn presented an address to her from the Friends, and was graciously received.
Colonel Quarry's opposition still troubled Penn. The Church of England people were disaffected to the Quaker governor. The Friends were losing their majority in numbers, and were not ready to serve in military affairs, and thus lost prestige. In 1702, Logan thought that, the city having over half the inhabitants of the Province, two-thirds were not Friends, but that the larger part of the country residents were members of that body, which made about an equal division of opinions in the whole Province. The Churchmen had been used to exclusive privileges in England, and wished more than equality here. They desired that Pennsylvania, like the Jerseys, should he made a royal province, and declared that they were persecuted. Penn considered this an unfounded accusation, and wished a paper signed to contradict it. Logan tried to get leading men to sign it, but without avail. They maintained that the clergy of the English Church should have the same standing as in the mother country.
The Proprietary considered the idea of selling his government to the Crown, according to the advice of some of his good friends. Even Logan was ready to adopt this, if "good terms for thyself and thy people" could be secured. The faithful Secretary had a hard work to do, and the Governor a harder one; and the son William complicated matters greatly by his pecuniary demands The father was kept in hot water. He settled a part of his Irish rents on William, and he was in debt, with a large interest to pay. He exhorts Logan to do all that he can in the trade in furs and skins, which he thinks more profitable than tobacco. His letters are a constant wail of real poverty in high station. He was indeed land-poor, and would have been happier if he had never heard of his costly and ungrateful province, where his son was heaping up his sorrows until, if he had not learned to seek the pitying grace of the all-loving God through His blessed Son, he would have been heart-poor as well as purse-poor.
Penn's ideas were intensely English, and his plans for government, and for the sale of land, show this at every turn. In the Bermuda Islands the traveller can see the England of generations ago crystallized, and they may be said to be almost more English than the modern England of to-day in the home land. If steam, and the newspaper, and the endless inventions of modern life had not come to bless America, we might have been in a similar position now, especially if we had not broken the leading-strings which bound us to Old Albion with its white cliffs. It was natural to think of the new land as a repetition of the old one. When the young farmer takes a new place, be strives to follow his good father's precepts in agriculture, the young bride carries on her household as her dear mother did, and tradition still rules the world; though its force is partly broken by the intense restlessness which stirs business by invention, and stimulates travel and the imitation of foreign countries.
In South Carolina, about Charleston, which had close water connection with England in early days, there lingered a touch of the grand and hospitable life of the English manor-house of old times; and in Virginia, along the James River, in those large plantation abodes, the life of early days on British soil was long repeated. The whole manor system which was developed here in Penn's day, and that of his descendants, was calculated to bring in a set of proprietors who, with their large holdings, would have been virtually like the English nobility, and the poor would have had slight chance for advancement.
The names of the manors are quite a history of national and family life. Amsterdam, Rotterdam, and Williamstadt have an eye toward Holland, the home of Penn's affectionate mother, to whom deserved honor is given. The last-named tract was given to William Penn, Jr., and contained 7,482 acres. This was bought by Penn's friend, Isaac Norris, and Norristown and Norriton township preserve the memory of the transaction. Ruscombe refers to the English home of the Proprietary. Pennsbury, the Governor's own manor, had 8,431 acres within its wide bounds. Three Springetts-burys loyally kept in memory the beloved first wife of Penn. One of these is marked as Springett Penn's property. The first surveys in Pennsylvania were not done with great care, and resurveys were sometimes needful; but when land was almost as free as water a few acres did not matter much. Springfield is assigned to Gulielma Maria Penn. Gulielma shows a fashion of Latinizing names. It would be equivalent to Williamette. Stoke Manor recalls the splendid Stoke Park, with its ancient church, supposed to be the scene of Gray's Elegy, which estate belonged to the Penn family in later days. It is near Windsor, and the Penns were friends of royalty. It has now passed out of the hands of the family. Callowhill Manor was a memento of the faithful second wife of Penn, and a street in Philadelphia also bears her name. Fermor refers to the titled lady Julianna Fermor of the Penn family, who is also commemorated by a street in Easton. Letitia Aubrey's Manor brings in another family name in the case of the daughter of William Penn. Mount Joy Manor was also her property. Sir John Fagg's Manor, and Moreland Manor may be mentioned. The last was called from the English attorney, Nicholas Moore., who held high office in the Province under Penn. His Green Spring farm lay on the Comly Road, between Bustleton and Somerton. The two Morelands are named for him. He had a lockup, and was privileged to use punishment in the case of those under his employ. The manor-holders seem to have been like English justices of the peace.
Nicholas Moore had a daughter Mary, who brightens our page with a touch of romance. Not far from her father's abode lay the old Pennypack Baptist Church, which is now the oldest organization of that body in Pennsylvania, the one at Cold Spring having passed away. Elias Keach, the son of a noted divine and author in England, came to this land, pretending to be a clergyman, when he had not been ordained, for a little amusing experience. He was preaching, and suddenly began to weep, and then informed his hearers of his deception. The Rev. Tho