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.”