No. LXVIII.
In 1670, William Penn was, for the third time, committed to Newgate, for preaching. His fines were paid by his father, who died this year, entirely reconciled to his son; and, upon his bed of death, pronounced these comforting words—“Son William, let nothing in this world tempt you to wrong your conscience: I charge you, do nothing against your conscience. So will you keep peace at home, which will be a feast to you in a day of trouble.”
Penn inherited from his father an estate, yielding about £1500 per annum. About this time he wrote his “Seasonable caveat against Popery;” though he knew it was the faith of the Queen and his good friend, the Duke of York. Shortly after, he travelled in Holland and Germany. In 1672, he married Gulielma Maria Springett. In 1675, he held his famous dispute with Richard Baxter; and, in 1677, he again visited the continent, in company with George Cox and Robert Barclay, constantly preaching, and writing, and importuning, in behalf of his despised and oppressed brethren. About this period, and soon after his return to England, we find him petitioning Parliament, in their behalf. Twice, he was permitted to address the committee of the House of Commons, upon this subject.
Whoever coveted the honor of being the creditor of royalty found a willing customer, in Charles the Second. In 1681, that monarch, in consideration of £16,000 due from him to the estate of Admiral Penn, conveyed to William the district, now called Pennsylvania. He himself would have given it the name of Sylvania, but the King insisted, on prefixing the name of the grantee. Full powers of legislation and government were bestowed upon the proprietor. The only limitation was a power, reserved to the Privy Council, to rescind his laws, within six months, after they were laid before that body. The charter bears date March 4, 1681. He first designed to call his domain “New Wales,” and nothing saved the Philadelphians from being Welchmen, but an objection, from the under-secretary of state, who was himself a Welchman, and was offended at the Quaker’s presumption.
He encouraged emigrants, judiciously selected, to embark for his Province; and followed, himself, with about a hundred Quakers, in September, 1682. His arrival in the Delaware, his beneficent administration, and the whole story of his negotiation, with the Indians, are full of interest, and overflowing. It is a long story withal, too long, altogether, for our narrow boundaries. I have indicated the sources of information, and this is all my limits will allow.
After two years, he returned to England, and became a greater favorite than ever, with James II.—was calumniated, of course—pursued by the unholy alliance of churchmen, and sectaries, and apostate Quakers—grossly insulted—“chastened but not killed”—and finally deprived of his government. Justice, at length, prevailed. Penn’s rights were restored, by William III. Having lost his wife and son, he went again, upon his travels, and again married. In 1699, he returned to Pennsylvania, and remained there, for the term of two years. He then went home to England; and, after continuing to employ his tongue and his pen, as freely as ever, for several years, he died, July 30, 1718, at the age of seventy-two years, at Jordan, near Beaconsfield, in Buckinghamshire.
Such is the mere skeleton of this good man’s life; and it is my purpose to flesh it up, with some few of those highly interesting, and well authenticated, incidents, which may be found, on the pages of trust worthy writers.
I do not believe, that the pen of any past, present, or future historian, or biographer, however masterly the hand that holds it—however bitter and pungent the gall of bigotry or political venom, in which it may dipped—will ever be able, very grievously, or lastingly, to soil the character of William Penn. The world’s opinion has settled down, upon firm convictions. If new facts can be produced, then, indeed, a writer may justly move, for a reconsideration of the public sentiment—but Mr. Macaulay does not present a single fact, in relation to William Penn, not known before—he gives a construction of his own, so manifestly tinctured with ill nature, as, at once, to excite the suspicion of his reader.
I wear a narrow brim, and have buttons behind—I am no Quaker—and, indeed, have a quarrel with them all—chiefly grammatical—though I esteem and respect the principles of that moral and religious people—but I simply describe the impulse of my own heart, when I say, that Mr. Macaulay’s ill natured treatment of William Penn painfully disturbed my confidence, in his impartiality; and constrained me to “read, mark, learn and inwardly digest,” the highly seasoned provant, which he has furnished—cum grano salis; and with great care, not to swallow the flummery. Scotchmen have not always written thus of William Penn; and the sentiments of mankind, now and hereafter, if I do not strangely err, will be found, embodied in the concluding passage of an article in the Edinburgh Review, vol. xxi. page 462.
“We shall not stop to examine what dregs of ambition, or what hankerings after worldly prosperity may have mixed themselves with the pious and philanthropic principles, that were undoubtedly his chief guides in forming, that great settlement, which still bears his name, and profits by his example. Human virtue does not challenge nor admit of such a scrutiny: and it should be sufficient for the glory of William Penn, that he stands upon record, as the most humane, the most moderate, and most pacific of all governors.” All this may be enough for his glory. But there are some simple, touching truths, to be told of William Penn, and some highly interesting personal details; which, though they may have little about them, in accordance with the ordinary estimate of glory, will long continue to envelop the memory of this extraordinary man, with a purer and a milder light.
I know no better mode of concluding the present article, than by presenting a few extracts, from the valedictory letter of William Penn to his wife and children, written on the eve of his first visit to Pennsylvania, September, 1682. If the saints write such admirable love letters, it would greatly benefit the sinners—the men of this world—to follow the example, and surpass it, if they can.
“My dear wife and children. My love, which neither sea, nor land, nor death itself can extinguish nor lessen towards you, most endearingly visits you, with eternal embraces, and will abide with you forever. My dear wife! remember thou wast the love of my youth, and much the joy of my life; the most beloved, as well as most worthy of all my earthly comforts; and the reason of that love was more thy inward than thy outward excellencies, which yet were many. God knows, and thou knowest it, I can say it was a match of Providence’s making; and God’s image in us both was the first thing, and the most amiable and engaging ornament in our eyes. Now I am to leave thee, and that, without knowing whether I shall ever see thee more in this world. Take my counsel into thy bosom, and let it dwell with thee, in my stead, while thou livest.”
Here follows some domestic advice. Penn then proceeds—“And now, my dearest, let me recommend to thy care, my dear children, abundantly beloved of me, as the Lord’s blessings, and the sweet pledges of our mutual and endeared affection. Above all things, endeavor to breed them up, in the knowledge and love of virtue, and that holy plain way of it, which we have lived in, that the world, in no part of it, get into my family. * * *
“For their learning, be liberal. Spare no cost. For by such parsimony all is lost, that is saved: but let it be useful knowledge, such as is consistent with truth and godliness, not cherishing a vain conversation, or idle mind. * * * I recommend the useful parts of mathematics, &c., but agriculture is especially in my eye: let my children be husbandmen and housewives: it is industrious, healthy, honest and of good example. * * * Be sure to observe their genius, and do not cross it as to learning. * * * I choose not they should be married to earthly, covetous kindred; and of cities and towns of concourse, beware. The world is apt to stick close to those, who have lived and got wealth there. A country life and estate, I like best for my children. I prefer a decent mansion, of an hundred pounds per annum, before ten thousand pounds, in London, or such like place, in a way of trade.”
He then addresses his children, and finally his elder boys, in the following admirable strain, honorable alike to his understanding and his heart.
“And, as for you, who are likely to be concerned, in the government of Pennsylvania, I do charge you, before the Lord God and his holy angels, that you be lowly, diligent and tender, fearing God, loving the people, and hating covetousness. Let justice have its impartial course, and the law free passage. Though to your loss, protect no man against it—for you are not above the law, but the law above you. Live therefore the lives, yourselves, you would have the people live; and then you have right and boldness to punish the transgressor. Keep upon the square, for God sees you: therefore do your duty, and be sure you see with your own eyes, and hear with your own ears. Entertain no lurchers; cherish no informers for gain or revenge; use no tricks; fly to no devices, to support or cover injustice but let your heart be upright before the Lord, trusting in him, above the contrivances of men, and none shall be able to hurt or supplant.”
The letter, from which I have made these few extracts, concludes—“So farewell to my thrice dearly beloved wife and children! Yours as God pleaseth, in that, which no waters can quench, no time forget, nor distance wear away.”
It is truly pleasant to get behind the curtain of form and ceremony, and look at these eminent men, in their night-gowns and slippers, and listen to them thus, while talking to their wives and their children.