The Indian Conference—Signing of the Treaty—Penn Returns to England to
Defend his Rights against Lord Baltimore—Accession of James the
Second—His Dethronement and Accession of William the Third
The place chosen by Penn for this conference was a spot which had been
used by the natives from time immemorial for such purposes. It was
called “Sakimaxing,” now Shakamaxon, meaning “Place of the King,” and
was situated on the bank of the Delaware not far from the site of
Philadelphia. The wide-spreading branches of a huge elm, then at least a
hundred and fifty years old, shaded the beautiful spot which commanded a
superb view of the river and the dark woods of the New Jersey shore
beyond. Long before a paleface ever entered these regions the Indians
had assembled here to hold their councils, settle their disputes, and
smoke the pipe of peace, as was their custom. It was here too that
Colonel Markham had first treated with them.
[Illustration: _THE CONFERENCE_]
They willingly obeyed the summons of the “great Onas,” as they called
the white chief who had completely won their hearts, while the distant
tribes who had never seen Penn in person were most curious to behold
this paleface of whom they had heard so much and who must be so
different from any other of whom they had ever heard. They arrived in
bands, in their picturesque garb, the skin of some animal or a handwoven
blanket wrapped about the upper part of their bodies, which were marked
with strange signs and painted in the most brilliant colors, their feet
enclosed in leather moccasins, making possible a light and perfectly
noiseless tread, their heads adorned with the huge war bonnets of
many-colored feathers. All the great chiefs were present, among them the
wise old Tamemund, most distinguished of all. Penn, now in the prime of
manhood, was handsomely dressed in European fashion to receive his
Indian friends. The long coat with its rows of shining buttons and lace
ruffles falling from the wrists fitted smoothly over his tall,
well-built frame and half covered the slashed knee breeches. He wore,
according to the custom of the time, a long curled wig on which rested a
plain beaver hat. As he stood there calm and dignified, as became a
great leader, surrounded by a few of his closest friends, among whom was
Colonel Markham, already known to most of the Indians, the kindness and
benevolence that shone in his dark eyes could not but win the confidence
of these simple children of the forest.
After the pipe of peace had been passed around the circle, Tamemund
arose and placed on his head a sort of crown, or wreath, to which was
attached a small horn. This was to signify that the spot as well as the
company was now consecrated, so to speak, and the conference could
proceed. He then seated himself again, surrounded by the oldest and most
renowned chiefs of tribes, the warriors forming a semi-circle behind
them, while the youths who had not yet attained the dignity of braves
ranged themselves in the background. Tamemund now announced that his
children were ready to listen to the great Onas.
Slowly and with dignity Penn arose in answer to this summons, and after
letting his keen glance travel lightly over the assembled group, waiting
silent and motionless for his words, he began to speak, using the Lenni
Lennapee dialect, with which he was most familiar, and preserving as far
as possible the figurative language of the Indians. The Great Spirit, so
he declared, who made all men and to whom all good men return after
death, who reads all hearts, knew that he and his children meant well by
their red brothers and sincerely wished to live in peace and concord
with them and to be their friends and to help them in every way
possible. This too was the will of the Great Spirit, that all his people
should be as one family, bearing one another’s burdens and sharing one
another’s sorrows. Thus would he and his children treat their Indian
brothers; musket and sword should be discarded and they should live
together friendly and loyally. In return they hoped for the same pledge
from the redmen, in whose justice and honesty they had the firmest
trust.
After these introductory words, which were received with repeated signs
of approval from his audience, Penn read aloud the treaty of peace,
drawn up by himself, and explained its various points more in detail. It
stipulated that everything should be free, alike to the palefaces and
their red brothers, and the doors of the one be ever open to the other,
that the children of Onas would listen to no false tales against their
brothers, who on their part must believe no evil of the palefaces, but
each must agree to report to the other anything that should come to his
knowledge which might prove harmful to him. Should any one suffer a real
injury he must not take vengeance himself, but lay the matter before his
chief or Onas, when sentence should be passed by the judgment of twelve
just men; after this the injury must be forgotten as if it had never
occurred. Lastly, this treaty of friendship should be handed down to
their children and be kept sacred so long as water flowed in the rivers
or the sun, moon, and stars shone in the heavens.
Penn then placed the written treaty on the ground between himself and
the Indian chiefs, who retired to hold a brief consultation, after which
Tamemund answered for his companions that they were satisfied with the
treaty and would keep it in the letter and in the spirit. This was all.
No oaths were taken, no seal set; the simple word of both was
sufficient. It has been said of this treaty made by Penn with the
Indians, in contrast to the many signed and sealed between Christian
peoples only stands alone as the only treaty never sworn to and never
broken. While the other settlers in the New World were perpetually at
warfare with the Indians, and many were slain by them in the most cruel
manner, there was never a drop of blood shed in this manner in the
Quaker colony. The memory of Penn, the great Onas, was cherished by the
natives long after he had left America and even after his death, and
none of his children ever lacked shelter and hospitality from them. Nor
have his countrymen forgotten the service rendered to them by this
treaty with the Indians. When in 1810 the great elm under which it was
concluded was blown down in a terrific storm, Penn’s descendants in
England were sent a block of wood from this famous tree, which,
according to its rings, had attained an age of nearly three hundred
years and the enormous circumference of twenty-four feet. On the spot
where it had stood a simple monument of granite was afterward placed in
memory of that invaluable covenant to which Pennsylvania was so largely
indebted for its quick and prosperous development.
The original constitution drawn up by Penn proving in some respects no
longer adapted to existing conditions in the colony, it was subjected to
some changes, though the fundamental principles were retained unaltered.
The government was now placed entirely in the hands of the people, to be
exercised through their deputies, and a council also chosen by them,
Penn resigning all share in the administration. “My aim,” he wrote one
of his friends, “is to leave no power to my successors by which any
single individual may work harm to or interfere with the welfare of the
whole country.” How much this was appreciated is shown by the passage of
a resolution by the government to impose a tax on certain articles for
Penn’s benefit. He refused to accept it, however, although he might have
done so with a clear conscience, as it was well known that he had spent
over twenty thousand pounds at various times in paying the Indians for
the land they had given up, but in which they still retained the right
to hunt and fish. On the thirtieth of March, 1683, the newly revised
constitution was accepted, signed by Penn, and then submitted to the
English government for approval.
At this time Penn was much interested in the progress of a house which
was being built for him under Markham’s supervision at a place afterward
known as Pennsburg, which was to be his family mansion when he brought
his wife and children out from England. Anxious as he was, however, that
all about it should be according to his wishes, the troublesome boundary
dispute called him away to Newcastle, where it was hoped the matter
might be finally settled. But no agreement was reached and Lord
Baltimore soon afterward sailed for England to lay his claims before the
King. Reluctant as he was to leave America, and necessary as his
presence was there at that time, Penn realized, therefore, that in order
to protect his own rights he would be forced to follow the same course
and carry his case to England likewise. This decision was hastened by
the arrival of letters from home informing him not only of the dangerous
illness of his wife, but also of the outbreak of fresh persecutions
against all dissenters, and especially the Quakers. The Friends wrote
urging his return and beseeching him to use his influence at court once
more in their favor, as he had so often done in the past. Moreover, his
enemies had circulated various calumnies against him which could only be
refuted by himself in person.
There seemed no choice left him. He must put the Atlantic Ocean between
him and his province, for which he had labored so zealously and so
successfully for more than a year and a half. But before he sailed he
once more summoned the Indian chiefs to bid them farewell and urge them
even more strongly than before to keep faith with him and observe their
treaty with his “children.” During his absence the business of
government was entrusted to a few chosen citizens on whom he could
depend to carry out his ideas and principles. How hard it was for him to
leave in spite of his anxiety to be at the bedside of his sick wife, and
how much at heart he had the welfare of his province, is shown by the
fact that even after he had boarded the ship he took time before it
sailed to write a parting letter of instructions to his deputies, urging
them to maintain the peace he had striven so hard to establish and
invoking the blessing of God on the new settlement.
The return voyage was a more prosperous one than the last, and in June,
1684, Penn landed safely on his native shores again. The anxiety he had
suffered during the voyage as to his wife’s illness fortunately proved
groundless, for he found her quite restored to health, thus leaving
nothing to mar the joy of reunion with his family. He did not long enjoy
this happiness, however, for his first care was to secure some
settlement of his dispute with Lord Baltimore. He hastened to London,
therefore, after a few days, to present himself at court, where he was
most graciously received both by the King and the Duke of York, who
assured him that the matter should be promptly adjusted in all fairness.
The King falling ill soon after this, however, the subject was again
deferred and Lord Baltimore determined to take advantage of the
situation by possessing himself of the disputed territory. He sent word,
therefore, to his agents in America to seize it by force, ejecting all
settlers who refused to acknowledge his sovereignty or to pay the tax
imposed by him. Nothing but the threat made by the government of
Pennsylvania of an immediate complaint to the King prevented the
execution of this order, the result of which interference was that in
addition to the malicious charges already heaped upon Penn by his
enemies it was said that this apostle of peace had done his best to
kindle a civil war in America.
On the sixth of February, 1685, King Charles the Second died and his
brother the Duke of York succeeded to the throne as James the Second.
The time now seemed ripe for Penn to pave the way for the establishment
in England of that liberty of conscience for which he had already made
so many sacrifices and secured so successful a home across the sea. The
new King had always been opposed to the religious persecutions that had
existed during his brother’s reign and Penn looked with confidence for
some manifestation of these sentiments now that James was on the throne.
Nor was he disappointed. In response to a petition addressed to the new
sovereign by Penn, an order was immediately issued suspending all
penalties against religious offenders and releasing those who were
imprisoned for such reasons, among whom were more than twelve hundred
Quakers alone. But the mere exercise of the royal right of pardon by no
means satisfied Penn. His aim was to secure universal liberty of
conscience in England by the passage of a law which should guarantee
this, and through the favor he enjoyed with the King he still hoped to
bring it about. In order to be near at hand, therefore, he removed his
residence from Worminghurst to London, that he might lose no opportunity
of exerting his influence with James, nor did the fact of his being
accused of having secretly joined the Catholic religion to please the
King deter him in the least, accustomed as he was to all sorts of
calumny.
The political intrigues in which James the Second was continually
involved, and which finally led to another revolution, Penn was careful
to avoid, and he would gladly have exchanged the turmoil of court life
for his peaceful transatlantic colony had not a feeling of duty to the
cause he had undertaken urged him to remain where he might be of some
use. He spent much time at court and was held in high regard by the
King, who permitted him to say many things that no other could have
ventured with impunity. This was well known and Penn’s house was
constantly besieged with petitioners seeking to profit by his influence
with the King. Yet firm as was Penn’s confidence in James’ good faith,
he could not blind himself to the ever-increasing distrust and
dissatisfaction with which his subjects regarded him. Not only did he
openly practise the rites of his religion, having a magnificent chapel
built near the palace for the observance of Catholic worship, but he
also instituted several monastic orders, while the Jesuits were
permitted such influence at court that it was generally feared an
attempt would be made to introduce that religion as the state form of
worship. This suspicion was still further increased when in March, 1687,
the King summarily abolished all penal laws against dissenters,
including the so-called Test Act, which permitted none but members of
the established church to hold public office of any kind. As this act
had been originally framed for the express purpose of excluding
Catholics from the government, its abolition naturally was regarded with
alarm.
Rejoiced as Penn was at the repeal of the hated laws against dissenters,
he felt it his duty to warn the King against showing such open favor
toward Catholicism, urging him at the same time to secure the authority
of Parliament for these reforms. But James heeded neither the warning
nor the appeal and insisted on the exercise of absolute power without
reference to Parliament. Fearing lest the abolition of some of the
fundamental national laws might follow in the same arbitrary manner, a
storm of protest followed and a general revolt seemed imminent. Many
eyes had already been turned toward the King’s son-in-law, Prince
William of Orange, as a possible successor to the English throne, and at
this crisis the Prince, being even then in communication with the
malcontents in England, was approached with offers as to the
dethronement of James, offers which he had no scruples in accepting.
On the fifth of November, 1688, he accordingly landed on the English
coast with a well-armed force and was hailed with general acclamations,
the troops hastily collected by the King for his own defence also
deserting to his standard. On hearing this news James fled from London,
thinking to escape to France, but being discovered on his way to the
coast he was advised by his friends to return to London. At the approach
of the Prince of Orange, however, he again fled, and this time succeeded
in reaching the shores of France in safety, where he was willingly given
shelter by his friend Louis the Fourteenth.
On the twenty-second of January, 1689, the throne of England was
declared vacant by Parliament and the Prince of Orange proclaimed King,
as William the Third, on subscribing to a law regulating the
prerogatives of the crown as well as the State and depriving the
sovereign of those rights which James had so arbitrarily exercised of
abolishing laws on his own absolute authority or of interfering with
their execution.