Home > Authors Index > William H. G. Kingston > True Hero: A Story of the Days of William Penn > This page
A True Hero: A Story of the Days of William Penn, a fiction by William H. G. Kingston |
||
Chapter 12 |
||
| < Previous |
Table of content |
Next > |
|
________________________________________________
_ CHAPTER TWELVE. The beams of the evening sun were streaming through a deep bay window of the country house of Worminghurst, in Sussex, on the heads of two men seated at a large oak writing table in a room which, lined as it was with bookcases, showed that it was devoted to study. The heads of both of them betokened high intellect, traces of care and thought being especially discernible on the countenance of the elder,-- that lofty intellect to be quenched, ere a few short years were over, by the executioner's axe,--a deed as cruel and unjust as any caused by the cowardice and tyranny of a monarch. The table was covered with parchments, papers, books, and writing materials. Both were holding pens in their hands, now and then making note from the documents before them, at other times stopping and addressing each other. The younger man was William Penn, who, lately having obtained a grant of a large tract of country on the American continent, was now engaged in drawing up a constitution for its government, assisted by the elder,--the enlightened patriot and philosopher, Sidney. "See! such a constitution as this for Carolina will not suit a free people such as will be our colonists!" said the former, pointing to a document before him, "albeit it emanated from the brain of John Locke. Here we have a king, though with the title of palatine, with a whole court and two orders of nobility. Laws to prevent estates accumulating or diminishing. The children of leet men to be leet men for ever, while every free man is to have power over his negro slaves. Truly, society will thus be bound hand and foot. All political rights to be taken from the cultivators of the soil. Trial by jury virtually set aside. The Church of England to be alone the true and orthodox, and to be supported out of the coffers of the State." "In truth, no," said Sidney. "John Locke has not emancipated himself from his admiration of the feudal system. Let this be our principle,-- that those whose lives, properties, and liberties are most concerned in the administration of the laws shall be the people to form them. Let there be two bodies to be elected by the people,--a council and an assembly. Let the council consist of seventy-two persons, to be chosen by universal suffrage, for three years, twenty-four of them retiring every year, their places to be supplied by new election. Let the members of the assembly be elected annually, and all votes taken by ballot. The suffrage to be universal. Let it have the privilege of making out the list of persons to be named as justices and sheriffs, and let the governor be bound to select one half of those thus recommended. Now we must consider numerous provisional laws relating to liberty of conscience, provision for the poor, choice of civil officers, and so on, which can be in force until accepted by the council. We shall thus, dear friend, I trust, have secured freedom of thought, the sacredness of person and property, popular control over all powers of the state; and we will leave our new democracy to develop itself in accordance with its own genius, unencumbered with useless formalities and laws." "Yes; I trust that the simplicity of our constitution will secure its permanence," said Sidney. "I will take the papers home with me to Penshurst, and there maturely consider over all the points." Left alone, William Penn might have been seen lifting up his hands in earnest prayer to heaven that his noble scheme might prosper. He was interrupted by a knock at the door, and a servant announced a visitor. In another minute a young man entered the room with modest air and in sober costume. "Who art thou?" said Penn, looking up. "Wenlock Christison," answered the visitor. "I came at the desire of Friend Mead." "Yea; I wish to see thee, young friend," said Penn; "but when thou earnest into the room I did not at first recognise thee. Thou art somewhat changed, I may say, for the better. Sit down, and I will tell thee what I require. Look at this map of the American continent. See this magnificent river,--the Delaware, entering the Atlantic between Cape Henlopen and Cape May. See those other fine rivers,--the Susquehannah, the Ohio, and the Alleghany. Here is a country but a little less than the size of England; its surface covered with a rich vegetable loam capable of the highest cultivation, and of producing wheat, barley, rye, Indian corn, hemp, oats, flax. Here too are mighty forests supplying woods of every kind, abounding too in wild game and venison, equal to any in England. The rivers are full of fish, oysters, and crabs in abundance. On the coast the most luscious fruits grow wild, while the flowers of the forest are superior in beauty to any found in our native land. A few settlers from Sweden are already there, and some Hollanders. The native red men have hitherto proved friendly; and I trust by treating them kindly, with due regard to their just rights, we may ever remain on brotherly terms with them. They are mere wanderers over the land, build no cities, nor permanently cultivate the ground. I trust before to-morrow's sun has set, unless I am deceived, to obtain a grant of this territory, in lieu of a debt owing by the government to my father of nearly 15,000 pounds. I wish forthwith to despatch a vessel with certain commissioners authorised to purchase lands from the natives; and as Friend Mead has spoken favourably of thee, it is my wish to send thee with them. Wilt thou accept my offer? I will tell thee, if thou wilt, more particularly of thy duties." Wenlock's heart somewhat sunk within him at this proposal. He had been hoping to make Mary Mead his wife; yet he was sure her father would not allow her to go forth into a new settlement, and to undergo all the incidental risks and hardships. How long a time might pass before he could return, he could not tell. Of one thing only he felt sure, that she would be faithful to him. Some time had passed since he left Rotterdam, his friend Van Erk having given him permission to go over to England to enter the employment of William Mead. He had, since then, been living in his family, enjoying an almost daily intercourse with Mary; not yet, however, having obtained a position to enable him to marry her. Her father had resolved to put his patience and constancy to the test. Here, however, was a trial he had not expected; and when Penn had sent for him, he had, with the sanguine spirit of youth, hoped that it was to receive some appointment which would enable him to realise the wishes of his heart. Still the offer was a flattering one, and he felt that it would be unwise in him to decline it. He therefore, in suitable language, accepted the offer. "Stay here then," said Penn, "as I have abundance of work for thee for some days to come, and I will then more fully explain to thee my wishes." While Penn was still speaking, a messenger arrived from London. He brought a summons for him to attend a council at Whitehall, a note from a friend at court informing him that it was to settle the matter of the colony. He hastened up to London. In the council chamber were already assembled his majesty's privy councillors, and at the farther end of the room was the king himself, hat on head. William Penn, not the least conspicuous among them for his height and manly bearing, advanced up the room in his usual dignified manner; but neither did he doff his hat nor bend his knee before the king's majesty, although he has come in the hope of obtaining an object among the dearest to his heart. "I have come at thy desire, and thank thee for the invitation," said Penn, standing before the king. "Verily thou art welcome," said the monarch, with a smile on his lips; at the same time removing his hat and placing it by his side. "Friend Charles, why dost thou not keep on thy hat?" said Penn with perfect gravity; at the same time making no attempt to remove his own. "Ha! ha! ha! knowest thou not, Friend William, that it is the custom of this place for only one person to remain covered at a time?" answered the king, laughing heartily. "To business, however, my lords," he added. "And what name hast thou fixed on for this new province, Master Penn?" "As it is a somewhat mountainous country, I would have it called New Wales," answered the Quaker. Here Master Secretary Blathwayte, who was a Welshman, interposed; in reality objecting to have the country of a sect to which he was no friend called after his native land. "Well then, as it hath many noble forests, let it be called Sylvania," said Penn. "Nay, nay; but I have a better name still," exclaimed the king. "We will call it Pennsylvania, in honour of your worthy father,--the great admiral. The forest land of Penn, that shall be it; and my word shall be as the law of the Medes and Persians." At this the courtiers laughed, not, perchance, considering the king's word of much value. However, the name was thus fixed, the patent being then and there issued under the king's inspection. With the charter in his possession, Penn returned home to make the final arrangements with Sidney for the great work he had undertaken. The document was written on a roll of parchment. At the head of the first sheet there is a well-executed portrait of Charles the Second, while the borders are handsomely emblazoned with heraldic devices. Great had been the opposition made to Penn's receiving this grant. Sidney had come back to Worminghurst. "God hath given it to me in the face of the world," exclaimed Penn, as the friends met. "He will bless and make it the seed of a nation." Truly has that prediction been fulfilled. _ |
||