He was born in Cornhill, London, Dec. 26, 1716. On the 30th of July, 1771, while at dinner, he was attacked with convulsions, and died a few days after, in his 55th year.
Of his memorable prose remarks we give but one selection, which shows the industrious habits and inside life of the man. He said:—
I am persuaded the best way of living is always to have something going forward. Happy are they who, if they cannot do anything greater, can create a rosebush or erect a honeysuckle.
As we think of this we are reminded of the like opinion held by the great Daniel Webster, who entertained so much regard for the Elegy that he had portions of it read to him but a few hours before his departure. When the statesman was once asked what was in his opinion the best way to enable one to be comfortable during the heat of summer, he replied: "Always have something to do. Keep busy, and you'll have no time to think of the heat."
It is said of General Wolf, that while he was floating on the River St. Lawrence, on the evening of Sept. 12, 1759,—the night before his memorable attack on Quebec, in which on the next day he lost his life,—he was beguiling an hour in reading Gray's poems, and closing the book, said: "I had rather be the author of that poem, the Elegy, than to be the captor of Quebec."
We now turn our feet homeward, and as our carriage passes, we take a distant look, perhaps half a mile away, of the old mansion and grounds once occupied by William Penn, or at least in which he is said to have resided. Of the proof of this we may say that we have none, aside from the assertion of the guide stationed on the tower at the castle and of people who reside in the region. Our history of the great man is somewhat meagre concerning his last days. One of his last official public acts in America was to aid in making our Philadelphia a city, the charter of which was signed Oct. 28, 1701. He soon after returned to England, and was for the next succeeding years involved in much trouble on account of his business matters in Pennsylvania, by reason of the vicious conduct of his son, to whom he had intrusted his affairs, and commissioned to act as his representative. And then as now, troubles never come singly; for after his already eventful life, at the age of 64 a new and grievous trouble was in store for him. At this time died his trusted friend and agent in London, a Quaker by the name of Ford, who left to his executors false claims against Penn to a very large amount. Conscious of his integrity, and to avoid the extortion, he suffered himself to be committed to the Fleet Prison in London. This was in 1708, and he remained there a long time, till finally released by his friends, who, as best they could, compounded with the creditors. In 1712 he made arrangements with the crown for a transfer of his rights in Pennsylvania, receiving from it $60,000. He soon after was afflicted with paralysis; and though living yet six more years, and experiencing other shocks which greatly impaired his vigor and faculties, especially his memory and power of motion, he finally died at Ruscombe, Berkshire, July 30, 1718, at the age of 74, and was buried in Jordan, a Quaker burial-ground, near the village of Chalfont, in Buckinghamshire.
In passing we remark that, during the plague at London in 1665, Milton made Ruscombe his residence, and that here he finished his great poem, "Paradise Lost." And who can say how much of the coloring of the celebrated poem is not to be attributed to the trouble the people of London, as well as the great bard, were, in consequence of the plague, experiencing? This parish is about twenty miles north of Stoke Pogis, in the county of Buckingham, as before named.
We took our team back for Windsor, and train from there to London, arriving at 8.30 p. m.,—well repaid for our labors of the eventful day, if labor which was a perpetual pleasure can be so called. For the first time in one's life, being at and seeing Windsor Castle and the seat of the great Elegy! A great thing doing and done! A long breath, and no befitting remark; only silence, thankfulness, and contemplation avail.