 
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. 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. |
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