WILLIAM PENN,THEFOUNDER OF PENNSYLVANIA.PREFACE.The story of William Penn has been told so often and so well that it is impossible to introduce novelty into it without introducing falsehood. This Macaulay found out to his cost, his representations doing more to expose his liability to prejudice than to damage the stable reputation of Penn. No wonder such a beautiful and eventful life has attracted many biographers. If Clarkson did not possess all the information that is now in existence, he is accurate and sympathetic. Hepworth Dixon is brilliant but not always accurate, and he fails altogether in the religious portion of his story from utter want of sympathy and insight. In Dr. Stoughton both these qualities are joined to that broad acquaintance with the religious history of the age which is so essential to the just portraiture of such a man. He has added to the biography many interesting details. Dixon complained that the memoirs of Quakers are transcendental and lacking in human interest. No book can deserve the censure less than Dr. Stoughton's life of Penn.WILLIAM PENN,THEFOUNDER OF PENNSYLVANIA.William Penn was born in London, in 1644. His father was the famous but time-serving admiral Sir William Penn; his mother, Margaret Jasper, the beautiful and intelligent daughter of a Rotterdam merchant. His father's ambition was high. He had gained wealth and the royal favour by his daring and ability; his son should work out a grand career, and should be a peer, Viscount Weymouth. But man proposes, God disposes. The stout Admiral lived to find the strong, handsome, quick-witted child, on whom he built so much, a very sword in his soul, the last stroke that brought down his proud self-willed nature to the very dust before God, and made him at last think seriously of that religion which he had despised when in health and gaiety.The child of such hopes received a careful training. First, he was sent to Chigwell School in Essex, which was near the home of his childhood at Wanstead. After that, he entered Christchurch College, Oxford, where he met some of the friends of his after years, including Robert Spencer, afterwards Earl of Sunderland, and John Locke. Already, signs of strong religious feeling had manifested themselves in the boy. When a child at Shangarry Castle, a Quaker preacher—Thomas Loe, destined to play such a prominent part in his history—came to Cork. His father, little suspecting the results that would follow, invited him to the Castle, and gathered the neighbours to hear him. His preaching deeply impressed the whole gathering; it made Sir William weep freely, and left an impression on the mind of his child-hearer which was never effaced. That impression was deepened by a singular vision which he had at Chigwell School. "Alone in his chamber, being then eleven years old, he was suddenly surprised with an inward comfort, and, as he thought, an external glory in the room, which gave rise to religious emotions, during which he had the strongest convictions of the being of a God, and that the soul of man was capable of communication with Him. He believed also, that the seal of Divinity had been placed upon him at this moment, or that he had been awakened, or called upon to a holy life." Again at Oxford, he was greatly influenced by Dr. Owen, with whom Penn corresponded when he was removed from his position as Dean, to make way for a more pliable instrument of the schemes of the court.Penn's attainments were already considerable for his years, yet his College course was doomed to be a failure. The most noteworthy occurrences in it were, his again hearing the Quaker preacher, Thomas Loe, and his vigorous opposition to the Ritualistic innovations of the Stuarts. The authorities insisted on the gown being worn by all under-graduates. Penn and others, recognising this as the thin end of the Popish wedge, not only would not wear it themselves, but tore it from the backs of those who did. This led to his expulsion for rioting.[7]His father was most annoyed at the disgrace attending the punishment, until he found that his son's conduct resulted from settled convictions, already firmly rooted. Then the Admiral at once understood the serious issues involved. He must vanquish these conscientious scruples or his ambitious plans would be ruined.He never planned a sea-fight more carefully. In the first moment of anger he had soundly whipped his son, and turned him out of doors; now he tried gentler and more insinuating means. Like a true man of the world, he had full confidence in the power of a gay life to cast out such thoughts, and he sent his son to Paris. The most interesting incident of the trip is his treatment of a French gallant, who insisted on fighting him over some supposed insult. In vain did Penn politely explain that no insult had been offered. They must fight. Penn not only excelled in athletics, but was a skillful fencer. He soon disarmed the man, but instead of then punishing him for his quarrelsomeness, he only returned him his sword with a polite bow.[7]He tells us that his expulsion resulted from his writing a book, which "the priests and masters did not like." Probably both reasons were combined.Sir William Penn, delighted with what he heard of the success of this expedient, determined that his son should finish his education in France, after which he destined him for the army. But in God's providence, the chosen tutor, the learned divine Moses Amyrault, if he did not deepen the gracious impressions already received, grounded him thoroughly in theological studies, which were very useful to him afterwards. Leaving him, Penn travelled for some time, and returned home, says Pepys, "a fine gentleman." He then studied law awhile in Lincoln's Inn, and to good purpose, as we shall see.The great plague of 1665 drove him from London, and probably revived his serious thoughts, which were further strengthened by intercourse with serious people and the reading of serious books. His father again remarked the dreaded relapse, and again tried what change would do. This time he sent his son to Ireland, to the sprightly court of the Lord Lieutenant, the Duke of Ormond. Again, he reckoned without his host. There were Quakers in Ireland, and the very plan to which the astute Admiral trusted to get his son out of danger, led to his joining their Society. At first, indeed,nothing seemed less likely than such a result. He was beginning to despair of finding "the Primitive Spirit and Church upon Earth," and was ready recklessly to give himself up to the glory of the world. He was so flattered by the cordial recognition of the spirit and the success with which he assisted in quelling a petty insurrection, that he was inclined to fall in with his father's plan, and adopt the profession of arms. He even went so far as to apply for a captaincy. But God had other things in store for him. Happening to hear that Thomas Loe, the Quaker by whom he had been so impressed in Oxford, was visiting in Cork, he went to hear him. His ministry is said to have been singularly lively and convincing. The sermon was wonderfully suited to Penn's case, and made him weep much. The opening sentence cut him to the quick: "There is a faith that overcomes the world, and there is a faith that is overcome by the world." From that night he determined that, by God's grace, his faith should not be overcome by the world. He began to attend Quaker meetings regularly. At one of these, in November 1667, a soldier came in, and made a great disturbance. Penn, like Phineas in "Uncle Tom's Cabin," not having yet thoroughly subdued the old nature, took him by the collar, and would have thrown him down stairs, had not Friends interfered. The soldier went away, and gave information to the authorities, who came and broke up the meeting, haling several, including Penn, before the magistrates.His cavalier dress, so unlike that of his companions,[8]led the mayor, before whom the party was taken, to offer to release him upon bond for his good behaviour. Penn denied his right to demand such bond, and challenged the legality of the arrest. When committed, he appealed to his friend the Earl of Orrery, Lord President of Munster, by whom he was speedily set at liberty. But that gentleman wrote the news to his father, who at once summoned him home. He reasoned, he stormed, then, proud and haughty as he was, he condescended to plead. Finally, finding his son still unyielding, and hearing complaints of his preaching at different meetings in town and country, he turned him out of doors, telling him also that he should leave his estates to those that pleased him better. He was then twenty-three years of age.[8]He did not at once adopt the Quaker dress, and continued for some time to wear a sword. When this non-compliance with Quaker customs was reported to George Fox, it is said that he simply replied, "let him wear it as long as he can." He mentioned years afterwards how the peculiar garb was a stumbling-block to some, "It telleth tales, it is blowing a trumpet and visibly crossing the world; and this the fear of man cannot abide" (Travels, p. 121). Probably this very fact commended the peculiarity to his bold and decided spirit.Henceforth William Penn's time and strength were given to Quakerism. There was neither hesitation nor half-heartedness. The welfare, work, and sufferings of Friends he made his own. He wrote and preached with untiring energy, and suffered, counting it joy.Though turned out of doors by his father, he was not allowed to want. His mother privately supplied his needs to the utmost of her ability, and what she could not do was made up by several kind friends. The situation was painful in the extreme; separated from home and parents, his father grieved and mortified at his conduct. He tells pathetically afterwards of "the bitter mockings and scornings that fell upon me, the displeasure of my parents, the invectiveness and cruelty of the priests, the strangeness of all my companions, what a sign and wonder they made of me." But his conscience approved of the line he had adopted, and his resolute nature was troubled by no waverings. He set himself earnestly to do his duty. He united himself closely to the Friends, and took up his pen on their behalf. His first work was entitled "Truth exalted.""The Guide Mistaken," soon followed. It was areply to "A Guide to the true Religion," in which the Quakers were treated with great severity.Shortly afterwards he was drawn into a public discussion with the Rev. Thomas Vincent, a Presbyterian minister in Spitalfields. Some of his congregation having become converts to Quakerism, Vincent said some slanderous things about the Friends. So George Whitehead and Wm. Penn waited upon him, and insisted that as he had publicly misrepresented them, he was bound in fairness to give them an opportunity publicly to set themselves right. After some demur, Vincent agreed to meet them in his own chapel on a certain day. The discussion lasted until midnight, and turned principally upon the question of the Trinity. Friends have always asserted that the doctrine, as taught by the orthodox, is an attempt to explain the inexplicable, and goes beyond what is revealed in the Scriptures. This contention in their early days cost them much reproach; now the chief remnant of it is the annoyance of having their authors, especially Penn, quoted as believers in the Unitarianism of to-day.The debate was one-sided and bitter, and the Friends only retired at last on condition of having another opportunity to vindicate themselves. But as Vincent plainly showed that he had no intention of redeeming his promise, the only satisfaction left was the press. In "The Sandy Foundation Shaken," Penn gave the public his view of the matter. But he did not stop with the doctrine of the Trinity, he went on to the Atonement. He advanced such arguments against "Imputed Righteousness" as Barclay has elaborated in his Apology. He also produced arguments against the method in which in those days the necessity of a satisfaction to the Divine justice was taught. His expressions unfortunately resemble those of modern Unitarians, but his position is vitally different. Penn believed the death of Our Saviour on the cross a real Sacrifice, that "JesusChrist was our holy sacrifice, atonement and propitiation, that he bore our iniquities," but that Christ is not the cause but the effect of God's love. (See his "Primitive Christianity revived.")This book brought down on Penn the anger of Dr. Sanderson, Bishop of London, and led to his being sent to the Tower. But that only "added one more glorious book to the literature of the Tower," "No Cross, No Crown," of which Hepworth Dixon, more trustworthy in literature than in religion, says, "Had the style been more condensed, it would have been well entitled to claim a high place in literature." Whilst there he also replied in a treatise entitled "Innocency with her open face," to many strictures on the "Sandy Foundation Shaken."This imprisonment revealed in two ways the stuff of which William Penn was made. First severity was tried, and one day his servant brought him the report that the bishop was determined he should recant or die in prison. He only smiled and said, "They are mistaken in me; I value not their threats. I will weary out their malice. Neither great nor good things were ever attained without loss and hardship." Then they sent Stillingfleet, the future bishop, to try his powers of persuasion, but they, too, utterly failed. "Tell my father, who I know will ask thee, that my prison shall be my grave before I will budge a jot, for I owe my conscience to no mortal man." Such spirit, combined with the ability his books were revealing, revived the admiral's pride in his son. The court, too, began to take interest in him, and shortly after Stillingfleet's visit he was released, having been in the Tower more than eight months.He at once resumed his preaching, and having been partially reconciled to his father, was employed by him to attend to his Irish estates. On his return home, his father received him fully into his favour, to the great delight of his mother's heart.But soon trouble again overtook him, though only again to place him on a pedestal where his virtues and power would be more manifest, and where his voice would reach a larger audience. Going to the meeting-house in Gracechurch Street, London, he found it closed and guarded by soldiers. However the Friends held their service in the street, and for this W. Penn and W. Meade were indicted under the Conventicle Act. Hepworth Dixon regards this as "perhaps the most important trial that ever took place in England," and speaks of Penn as the great vindicator of the old charters and of trial by jury. He met the browbeating of the city magistrates with spirit and dignity, and encouraged the jury to do the right manfully. After twice returning an evasive verdict, and being locked up for forty-eight hours, the jury finally acquitted the prisoners. The court was greatly annoyed, and vindictively fined the jury for contempt. They refused to pay the fine and were sent to prison. Penn encouraged them to test the legality of this imprisonment, and the highest legal authority in the land decided against it and released the gallant jury.[9]A full account of the whole proceedings was published, and helped materially to encourage resistance to illegal interference with liberty.[9]In his second trial "Lord Chief Justice Vaughan pronounced his noble vindication of the right of jurors to deliver a free verdict, which by giving independence to juries, made the institution so effectual a protection to the liberty of the subject."—W. E. Forster.But important as this trial undoubtedly was, the full benefit of it was only secured by long years of bitter sufferings endured by the whole Quaker community. (Seesketch of Fox.) Let us who enjoy the spoils remember gratefully those who fought the battle.We have spoken of the marked individuality in William Penn's character which led him to continue to wear the court costume after he became a Friend, until his own conscience demanded that he should adopt theQuaker garb. The same individuality led him to diverge from the ordinary type of Friend in another and more important matter. They were bent on fighting out the battle of religious liberty by religious, rather than by political weapons. They might, when on trial, quote a statute or plead a precedent as a sort of argumentum ad hominem, but in political and constitutional affairs, as such, they as a class took no delight. Penn was an exception. He felt a keen interest in the political affairs of his country. He saw that it was a mistake to lose the benefit of the old charters and statutes which secured the liberty of the subject, and he appealed to them on all occasions. This appeal served two purposes. It acknowledged the civil duties of Christians, which some Christians are slow to recognise. It also secured the sympathies of many in their struggles to whom the religious aim was incomprehensible. Both these objects seemed to Penn of the highest importance; they influenced his whole career. In the words of W. E. Forster, "the form of his religion, his feelings as a Quaker, did not seem to him to interfere with the fulfilment of his duties as a citizen. Had it done so, that form would have been changed rather than the work left undone, for he was not a man to make one duty an excuse for shirking another; within his conscience there was no conflict between religion and patriotism; he did not fly from the world, but faced it with true words and true deeds."Admiral Penn was lying on his death-bed whilst this trial was in progress, and it added greatly to the sufferings of his son, that he could not be with his father at such a time. But on his release he hastened home, and very touching was the final converse between father and son. The high spirit was humbled; the worldly heart had learnt the emptiness of earthly honours. "Son William," he said only a day or two before his death, "I am weary of the world. I would not live my daysover again if I could command them with a wish, for the snares of life are more than the fears of death. This troubles me that I have offended a gracious God. The thought of this has followed me to this day. Oh, have a care of sin! It is that which is the sting both of life and death." We can imagine with what feelings the Christian son would hear this tardy confession, and would endeavour to point such a father to the source of his own hopes and consolation. The old sailor was buried with due honours in the fine old church of St. Mary's, Redcliff, Bristol. He left the bulk of his property, some £1500 a year—a great sum in those days—to his eldest son, who thus found himself in spite of the risks he had run for conscience sake, a wealthy man, able to devote money as well as time and strength to the cause of his adoption. The king and his brother, the Duke of York, afterwards James II., had promised the dying man to be guardians to his son—a promise sought by him because he foresaw the many troubles into which that son's conscientious scruples would lead him in such an age. This fact is the key to the relations in which William Penn and the royal brothers often stood to each other—relations otherwise puzzling, but creditable to both sides when thus explained. The Stuarts were faithful to this promise when interest pointed another way. Penn was true to James especially, in spite of faults which greatly tried him; true, even when his throne tottered, and finally fell.The Penns had an ancient family seat in Buckinghamshire. Not far away at Chalfont lived William Penn's friend, Isaac Pennington, and his wife, and his step-daughter, Gulielma Maria Springett. There also lived Thomas Ellwood, quaintest of Quaker rhymesters, and his great master, Milton. No wonder Penn found the place attractive. But the great attraction soon came to be Guli Springett, beautiful and spirited and accomplished, and yet a true Quakeress. He had met herfirst at a friend's house where he called when returning to his father's house, to the interview which ended in his expulsion from home. Her father was Sir William Springett, who was killed at the early age of twenty-three, after a chivalrous defence of Arundel Castle for the Parliament. Guli was born a few weeks after his death. After losing her husband, who like most of the best officers of the Parliament was a staunch Puritan as well as a good soldier, Lady Springett passed through a time of great spiritual unrest. At last she found a home amongst the Friends. She afterwards married Isaac Pennington, attracted to him by the spiritual ties of a similar religious experience. They were both examples of the numerous class of those who were almost Quakers before they were aware that such a Society existed. In 1672, William Penn made Guli Springett his wife. The interval after his father's death had been filled up by writing several books, preaching, holding a public discussion with one Jeremy Ives on the universality of the Divine Light, a short visit to Holland, and of course the inevitable imprisonment, six months in Newgate for attending Wheeler Street Meeting.In his wife he found a true help-meet, both in piety, zeal for Quakerism, and large-minded sympathy with all Christian and patriotic causes. He loved her deeply and tenderly, and found in her love the brightest feature of his chequered life. After his marriage he had a long, sweet rest, and then plunged deep into work again.He visited the Court, for the first time since his father's death, to plead for George Fox's liberty. It was an errand on which for the next fifteen years he was often to go. He seems to have had a wonderful power of drawing out the best side of the royal brothers; and no nobler sight can be pictured than the courtly Friend, hating the court for its worldliness and sin, but frequenting it to speak bold words of truth or gentle pleas for mercy; feeling that his influence there was atrust not to be neglected, but wielding it with constant watchfulness and wonderful self-control. Meanwhile, writing and preaching were not forgotten. Amongst other engagements, he had, in 1675, a public discussion with good Robert Baxter, of which, unfortunately, very few details are preserved. Perhaps, the most competent and charitable opponent of Friends at this time was Dr. Henry More. The combined wit and seriousness of Penn's pamphlets overcame his dislike to controversy, and led him to go carefully through the discussion which he had had with John Faldo. He was also at this time in communication with George Keith, then, perhaps, the most learned defender of the doctrine of Immediate Revelation. The intercourse led to mutual regard and respect. "If thou happen to see Henry More," writes George Keith to Robert Barclay, when the latter was in London, "remember my dear love to him. Notwithstanding of his mistakes, I would have Friends be very loving and tender to him, as indeed I find a great love to him in my heart. But as for his paper I see no difficulties in it at all to weaken in me anything I have written to him."Before proceeding to speak of the great work of Penn's life, the founding of Pennsylvania, we must anticipate a little to refer to his manifold labours for his own religious Society. His well-balanced nature found no difficulty in rightly blending the sacred and the secular. Whilst electioneering for Sidney, whilst gathering facts and making business arrangements for New Jersey, or taking interest in the Royal Society, his religious life was still full and fervent. At the time that he was living at Worminghurst, almost overwhelmed with business, we are told that his spirit was so warm and eager, that when the Friends assembled for worship, he could hardly wait to reach his seat before beginning to pour forth the fulness of his soul.He watched with lively interest the work of organisation which Fox was carrying on in so masterly a fashion. When John Perrott caused a disturbance, by refusing to remove his hat whilst praying in public, or William Rodgers obstructed Fox's path, mistaking discipline for tyranny, none were more ready than he to rally round the trusted leader. In 1677, he joined Fox, Barclay, and others, in a visit to Holland, to organise and consolidate the Society there, and to visit such promising enquirers as the Princess Elizabeth, the Countess de Hornes, and the courtly Van Helmont. He published a full and glowing account of the religious services in which they were engaged, which gives us a vivid picture of the "times of refreshing" which the brotherhood enjoyed in its early days.The next year, 1678, when reports of Popish plots kept the nation in a constant alarm, he was twice heard before a committee of the House of Commons, in support of a petition which he presented on behalf of the Society of Friends. Their inability to take an oath, led to their being caught in the meshes of an Act intended for Catholics. William Penn explained their position with dignity and great candour. With characteristic boldness, though asking for a favour, he did not flinch from pleading for full liberty of conscience even for the hated Papists. The committee listened respectfully, and adopted his suggestions for the relief of Friends; but the sudden prorogation of Parliament prevented the bill from being carried.It shows the perfect independence of Penn's mind that though he was on good terms with the King, he risked giving offence by his open and hearty sympathy with Algernon Sidney. That patriot, after long years of banishment was allowed to return home in 1677. Soon after, he yielded to the representations of his republican friends, and sought a seat in Parliament. First he tried Guildford, and then Bramber; but was not only hotly opposed by the court, but dishonourablyand illegally tricked out of the seat. All through the struggle he had the enthusiastic and vigorous support of Penn, although at the time the affairs of Pennsylvania were far from settled, and he had so much reason to wish to keep the royal favour. Usually Penn kept clear of party politics, but on this occasion he canvassed and spoke for his friend with great zeal; so that the French Ambassador speaks of him and Sidney as the two trusted leaders of the republican party. But though Penn's action proves that he did not share the scruples of most of his brethren against participating in political affairs, yet it was probably the man and his principles that won his confidence, rather than the party with which he acted. Probably, Penn would have endorsed the early opinion of his father-in-law, Isaac Pennington, who wrote, (1651) "Whoever they are, whom I saw fitted for it (Government) and called to it, they should have my vote on their behalf." In the midst of politics and schemes of emigration, the stream of his polemical works still continued to flow, and every year saw one or more pamphlets from his pen.Turning to his private life, in 1680, he lost his beloved father-in-law, Isaac Pennington. Though gifted with a refined mind and a loving heart, he had a nature far less robust and vigorous than his son-in-law, who shortly after his death edited his collected works. But a heavier blow followed. In 1682, Lady Penn died, and her death seems to have made him seriously ill for some time. She had clung to him when his adoption of Quakerism turned his father against him, and she took care of him when he was turned out of doors. She never accepted Quakerism, yet probably her gentle and loving nature had an influence with her son that the stern father never had.Now begins the story of Pennsylvania. As boy and youth it had been his favourite dream that in America might be planted a new England, without the faults ofthe old—a home of civil and religious freedom. Events now ripened the scheme. On the one hand, fierce persecution urged him on; England and Germany seemed to be bent on driving out their most energetic and high-souled children. On the other, the way opened gradually and safely. In 1675, he was induced to become a manager of West New Jersey. After five years experience he bought East New Jersey in 1681, and in the same year the King granted him, by charter, the fine tract adjoining, now called Pennsylvania. This was in lieu of £16,000 due to his father for pay, and for money advanced in desperate times to strengthen the navy. We are told that the Admiral obtained the promise of this tract, having heard from a relative glowing accounts of its richness. From the first, the "holy experiment," as Penn called it, was popular. Algernon Sidney, with whom he kept up constant correspondence, and whom he loved as a brother, helped him tosketcha constitution for it. The Quakers, who had long been discussing (especially since George Fox's visit to America in 1672) some scheme of colonisation, were ready to supply emigrants of the right class in large numbers. He had but to publish a sketch of the intended constitution, and a statement of the resources and attractions of the colony, and the response was immediate.The constitution which he gave to Pennsylvania, and which he spent many of the best years of his life in reducing to practice, has been universally admired. Hepworth Dixon has sought for the genius of it in the experiences of ancient Greece, and in the dreams of More and Sir Philip Sidney. Penn was, indeed, acquainted with these, but his inspiration was found in the instincts and aims of Quakerism. Plato and Sir Thomas More, and even Algernon Sidney, had less to do with his constitution than had George Fox. He found in the Society to which he belonged a body combining a rareamount of freedom with admirable organisation—a Society with abundant elasticity yet with excellent discipline and cohesion. Quakerism not only acknowledges that methods and governments exist for the sake of men, it believes that manhood, especially sanctified manhood, is the great security of liberty and justice. Its aim is to give scope to the individual to live out the dictates of his own conscience, and to contribute his utmost share to the general well-being. We are greatly mistaken if this was not also the aim of Penn in the constitution which he gave Pennsylvania.[10][10]"In the constitution of the colony he was assisted by Algernon Sidney, and at Worminghurst and Penshurst the two friends drew up its several articles. That it established perfect freedom of conscience, it is needless to remark. It established also a no less absolute freedom of trade; Penn sacrificing to this desire the sums which he might have received from the sale of monopolies. The constitution was democratic; a council of seventy-two, elected for three years, formed the Senate, which Penn intended to be the deliberative body; an assembly, elected by ballot and universal suffrage, and paid [they received threepence per mile for travelling expenses, six shillings a day while in the assembly, and the Speaker ten shillings a day] confirmed or rejected the Acts of the Council. Trial by jury gave scope to public opinion, but the provision that the judges were chosen only for two years, and could then be removed by the Assembly, impaired the administration of justice. Religion was left to voluntary efforts. [State] education was carefully provided for. The Indians were treated on principles of such manifest justice, that they became the friends of the new Colony, and no Quaker blood was shed by them." Short Sketches, pp. 151-2.Unfortunately for the perfect realisation of his hopes, such a scheme, like Quakerism, needs grand men to work it. The maxims of Heaven cannot be worked out by the instincts of earth. Had the other Friends in Pennsylvania shared his spirit of lofty self-sacrifice, the story of this State might have been more noble and stimulating even than it is. But from the first, Quakers shrank from the turmoil and cares of official life. But this shrinking only makes more striking the unconquerable spirit that animated Penn. He could suffer and be strong. He could "scorn delights and live laborious days." To the end, he retained the reins of Pennsylvania affairs in his own hands as proprietor, though he might have got rid at once of his burden of growing debt and of the corroding care, by selling out. But one thing restrained him; says his noble wife, "My husband might have finished it [the deed of surrender] long since had he notinsisted so much on gaining privileges for the people." (Logan's Life, p. 56). And so even when the load was crushing him he continued to bear it rather than mar the "holy experiment," the great ambition of his life. This power of resolute and skilful persistence until his ends were gained, had won for his father wealth and honours. He, recognising it as his noblest gift, chose it as the fittest offering which he could place on God's altar. His life thus stands as a rare instance of thankless toil for the honour of God and the welfare of man, persisted in through weariness, suffering, and loss, and resulting in unsurpassed usefulness.The first band of emigrants left England in 1682, under the charge of Penn's cousin, Colonel Markham, who was appointed Deputy-Governor. Penn himself followed on the 1st of September, landing at Newcastle, on the 27th of October. He left behind him a farewell letter to his wife, full of tender assurances of love, and of wise and highly characteristic advice as to the training of their children. He at once summoned the General Assembly to adopt the constitution he had prepared. "There was little talk and much work in the first Pennsylvanian Parliament. On the third day their session was completed, and Penn prorogued them in person. They had left their ploughs for half-a-week, and had met together and founded a State."Penn soon won the hearts of the Red Indians. "A lady who lived to be a hundred, used to speak of the Governor as being rather of a short stature, but the handsomest, best looking, lively gentleman she had ever seen." "He endeared himself to the Indian by hismarked condescension and acquiescence in their wishes. He walked with them, sat with them on the ground, and ate with them of their roasted acorns and hominy. At this they expressed their great delight, and soon began to show how they could hop and jump; at which exhibition, William Penn, to cap the climax, sprang up and beat them all." No wonder that some of the very staid Quakers thought him "too prone to cheerfulness for a grave 'public Friend,'" that is, a minister of the Gospel. But without that elasticity that led to the ready jest and the hearty enjoyment of simple pleasures, the burdened brain must have collapsed before it did. His was an intense nature, keen both in suffering and in enjoyment, doing with its might whatsoever it found to do.Shortly after this he concluded his memorable treaty with the Indians—"the only treaty," says Voltaire, "between those people and the Christians that was not ratified by an oath, and that was never broken." "The treaty," says Dr. Stoughton, "was probably made with the Delaware tribes as 'a treaty of amity and friendship,' and not for the purchase of territory." But the details of the story seem wrapped in impenetrable mystery. "The speeches made, the dresses worn, and the surrounding scene, appear now to be altogether fictitious."A society had been formed in Bristol, called the "Free Society of Traders of Pennsylvania." To them William Penn wrote an account of his province that is now full of interest. Says Dr. Stoughton, "It indicates great power of observation, a wide range of knowledge, much skill in grouping facts, and an unaffected yet vigorous style of description on the part of its author." Besides facts about the natives of the country, he speculates about their origin, and thinks they may be the descendants of the lost ten tribes.After spending some two years in Pennsylvania andseeing Philadelphia grow until it had 2,500 inhabitants, William Penn returned home in 1684. He had two special reasons for doing so. He had had many disputes with Lord Baltimore, the Roman Catholic proprietor of Maryland, respecting boundaries, and having failed to come to terms, he was applying to the Lords of Plantations to decide the case. Then again the persecution of the Quakers was very bitter, and he hoped he might be able by means of the royal favour to check its severity. He reached home early in October. As to the persecution nothing was done to purpose until James II. ascended the throne, when 1200 Quakers were liberated from prison. But the credit of inclining the royal mind to clemency must not be given to Penn alone. Barclay and George Whitehead had much to do with it (seesketch of Barclay).James at once showed Penn marked favour. He would converse with him whilst peers were kept waiting. He told him frankly "he would deal openly with his subjects. He himself was a Catholic, and he desired no peaceable person to be disturbed on account of his opinions; but ... with the new parliament would rest the power legally to establish liberty of conscience." No way of gaining the king's ear would compare with securing the Friend as advocate. So greatly was he sought that we are told by Gerard Crœse (certainly not a very trustworthy authority) that two hundred applicants sometimes thronged his house at once to secure his interest. We must remember however that Barclay's influence was almost as great. The king was bent on securing the good will of the Quaker leaders. They alone amongst Protestants demanded religious liberty for Catholics; they alone showed them charity. Besides, to shew kindness to the Quakers gave a colour to the king's profession that he was for general toleration, not merely for favour to the Catholics. Whilst James II. was king, therefore, Penn exerted great influence at court. Rightly orwrongly he believed that James and some of his friends, notably the duke of Buckingham, were disposed to labour heartily for liberty of conscience. His friend Barclay had the same confidence as regards the king. It is easy for us to be wise after the event, and to believe that in all this James was scheming for Catholic ascendancy; but that must not prevent our giving Penn credit for good faith. Penn used his utmost influence to strengthen this disposition. In 1686, when on a "religious visit" to Holland, he undertook a commission from the king to the Prince of Orange to induce him to favour a general toleration of religious opinions in England, and the removal of all tests. This commission brought him into collision with Burnett, who was at the same court pleading for toleration but for retaining tests. Their intercourse left such a bitterness in the mind of Burnett that he can never mention Penn but with acrimony.For this attendance at court he had to pay the penalty of being suspected a Papist. At his very first public discussion with Vincent, the nickname Jesuit had been given him and had stuck to him ever after. The Quakers were many of them branded with the same opprobrious name. In the case of Barclay, there was his early training and boyish conversion to Romanism, and the fact that many of his family were Catholics, to give plausibility to the charge. As to the body at large, "it was believed that the doctrine of the inner light was taught by Jesuit, and that a Franciscan friar had said no churches came so near his own as the Quakers."[11]The Friends could not accept the ordinary teaching of thesupremacy of the Bible as a rule of faith, and sometimes on this point their destructive criticism was welcome to Catholics but galling to Protestants. Then they could not take the oath of allegiance and supremacy. So the popular charge was not without some plausible though utterly delusive pretexts.[11]Penn himself writes "There is a people called 'the silent' or 'people of rest' in Italy, at Naples and at Rome itself, that come near Friends; an inward people from all ceremonies and self-worship, [he means worship unprompted and unaided by the Holy Spirit,] seekers, the Pope and two cardinals favour them. A poor Spanish Friar, called Molino, is the first of them. A thousand in Naples it is thought."—Dr. Stoughton's Life, p. 228.Now the impression that Penn was a Jesuit at heart, in spite of his Quaker dress and profession, gained ground fast. Tillotson had his fears that the charge was true, and said so; but on Penn assuring him that there was no truth in the charge, he fully and honourably apologised. But for long the suspicion clung to Penn and would not be cast off. That he was determined in all things to keep a clear conscience at all costs is manifest from his conduct in connection with James' efforts to secure Magdalen College, Oxford, for one of his tools. Penn had several times before strained his favour with the king to the last point of endurance, until in one instance the king threatened to turn him out of the room. In this case he wrote a letter so bold and uncompromising as to fill us with amazement. He calls the act one which could not in justice be defended. Such mandates as the king addressed to the fellows he calls a force to conscience and not very agreeable to his other gracious indulgences. Yet because in this matter Penn at first, before he fully understood the case, thought some concessions might be made by the College, Macaulay charges him with simony of the very worst kind. The only other ground for such a charge is the jesting remark of Penn to the deputation that waited on him at Windsor. "If the Bishop of Oxford die, Dr. Hough may be made bishop. What think you of that, gentlemen?" This might have been understood as a hint that, if Dr. Hough would withdraw his opposition, it might be better for him,if it had not been for Dr. Hough's own words. But whatever Penn may have said in jest (possibly not wisely) we should remember thatDr. Hough after the interview thanked God thathe did not hint at a compromise.Penn had already used his influence with the king in favour of John Locke. On his return from Holland, he obtained a pardon for "such exiled Presbyterians as were not guilty of treason." One of these was Sir Robert Stuart, of Coltness, who on returning home found his estates in the hands of James, Earl of Arran. The two friends met in London, and Penn congratulated the restored exile. "Ah! Mr. Penn, Arran has got my estate, and I fear my situation is about to be now worse than ever." "What dost thou say?" exclaimed Penn, "thou surprises and grievest me exceedingly. Come to my house to-morrow, and I will set matters right." Penn at once sought the Earl of Arran. "What is this, friend James, that I hear of thee? Thou hast taken possession of Coltness' estate. Thou knowestthat it is not thine." The Earl replied, "That estate I paid a great price for. I received no other reward for my expensive and troublesome embassy to France except this estate, and I am certainly much out of pocket by the bargain." "All very well, friend James, but of this assure thyself, that if thou dost not give this moment an order on thy chamberlain for £100 to Coltness, to carry him down to his native country, and £100 to subsist on till matters are adjusted, I will make it as many thousands out of thy way with the king." The earl complied, and after the Revolution Coltness recovered his estate. The earl had to refund all the rents he had received, less by the £300 he had advanced. This may be justice, but it was carried out in rather high-handed fashion.At the Yearly Meeting in May, 1687, the Quakers at Penn's instance expressed their gratitude to the king for the declaration of liberty of conscience for England which he had issued in the previous month. Mindful however of the strain of royal power by which the relief was obtained, they inserted in the address this significant clause:—"We hope the good effects thereof for the peace, trade, and prosperity of the Kingdom will producesuch a concurrence from the Parliamentas may secure it to our posterity in after times." The King in his reply to the deputation who presented the address, said he hoped before he died to settle it so that after ages shall have no reason to alter it.Events now rapidly developed the Revolution of 1688. Penn had enjoyed the favour of James, and had felt for him some real regard in spite of his faults. So when William became King, his position was difficult in the extreme. He met the danger with characteristic truthfulness and openness. In his maxims, he says, "Nothing needs a trick, but a trick, sincerity loathes one." So he now acted. He avowed his past relations to the dethroned Monarch. He did not pretend to have changed, but he should accept the result of events, and certainly could not conscientiously plot against the Government. He was several times arrested and examined, but his perfect innocence was always clearly established. It might be proved by an intercepted letter that James had written to him, but he answered that he could not prevent that; it did not prove that he had treasonable designs. William, who had been favourably impressed by him at the Hague, believed his assertions.In 1689, he had the joy of seeing his labours crowned by the passing of the Act of Toleration. For this he had toiled and suffered, written books and held conferences. Now the end was gained, and his friends and other Dissenters might worship God in peace. Yet strange to say, from this time the number of Quakers so far from increasing, diminished. They had thriven in adversity, in prosperity they declined. But probably one great reason was that quietism overspread the Society, and its aggressive efforts languished. Its members continued faithful to their "testimonies," but became sadly careless about the unconverted around them.Their grandest evangelist, Fox, was their strongest bulwark against the quietistic spirit. He not only worked indefatigably himself, but was very successful in stirring up and directing others. In 1690, he was called to his rest. Penn hovered around his dying bed, and when all over, he sent the news to Fox's widow in a letter full of warm sympathy and generous appreciation of his leader, or "honourable elder," as Friends preferred to call him. In spite of Fox's very noticeable imperfections, none could appreciate better than Penn his many excellencies and his energetic and noble-spirited labours. Only a few weeks before, Robert Barclay was laid to rest in his own grounds at Ury. As a gentleman and a scholar, no doubt there were points of sympathy between him and Penn which did not link Fox and Penn. But in aggressive energy, in evangelistic labours, and in entire freedom from the taint of quietism, Fox was much more after Penn's own heart than was Barclay. He edited Fox's journal and Barclay's works, supplying each with an elaborate preface.During the next four years, he was mostly "in retirement" in private lodgings, in London, to avoid the warrants issued against him at the instance of an infamous informer, named Fuller. This man was afterwards denounced by Parliament as a notorious cheat and impostor. Yet, it is evident that he was really dangerous, for one of his victims was actually executed. So Penn deemed it wisest to live in privacy till the storm blew over. But he was far from idle. Besides the work already mentioned, he wrote his famous "Maxims" and other books. Other calamities befel him one after another, until his condition was indeed forlorn. The King deprived him of the government of Pennsylvania. Roguish agents robbed and defrauded him, until neither his colony nor his Irish estates yielded him anything. He was reduced to such straits, that when once he thought of going to Pennsylvania he had not themeans. Friends looked coldly on him, in spite of his pathetic appeal to them not to forsake him in his hour of need. To fill up the bitter cup, in 1693 he lost his wife, the joy and consolation of his days of trial, the constant, indefatigable, and undaunted sharer of his labours. He had the melancholy knowledge that her end was hastened by her taking to heart her husband's crushing cares and unmerited ill-usage.The coolness of the Quakers needs explanation. There was then, as now, a strong feeling amongst some religious people against Christian men taking an active part in public affairs. Penn was too strong a man to yield to it, but it caused him much trouble and suffering. And now that William reigned, and that Penn's position, instead of being a help and a protection to Friends, caused them to be suspected of disloyalty, this feeling was intensified. George Fox's son-in-law, Thomas Lower, even sketched a form of apology, which Penn was to sign to satisfy the weaker brethren. Penn once joined some Friends in Pennsylvania when they had given him up, supposing that opposing winds and tide made his coming impossible. When they expressed their astonishment at seeing him under the circumstances, he answered with that ready pleasantry which ever characterised him, "I have been sailing against wind and tide all my life."But, with sublime Christian heroism, he accepted his lot. He strengthened himself by much waiting on God, and by such intercourse with the best spirits around him as circumstances permitted. In his Maxims we have not only whatever of his own prudence could be crystallised; we have also clear evidence of his own habit of looking at earthly things in heavenly light, and of endeavouring to discover their spiritual meaning and use.At last, in God's mercy, the tide turned. The night had been very dark, but the tardy dawn came at length, and ushered in a bright though not a cloudless day.Cruelly deserted by the colonists, for whom he had done and suffered so much, he found gratitude amongst "worldly" statesmen and courtiers. The Earl of Rochester, Lord Somers, and others took the case in hand. He asked them to gain him a full and public hearing before the King and Council. His defence was completely successful. The charges against him were quashed. It was proved that he had done nothing to forfeit his patent, and was restored to his government and proprietary. This consolation came to him at a time when it was greatly needed. He had lost his wife, and now his favorite son, Springett, was slowly dying of consumption.We must not pass by the death of his wife so briefly. No doubt, the sad event was hastened by her wifely sympathy with her husband in his great troubles. Yet she had the happiness of seeing the bulk of them removed before she died. "She quietly expired," says Penn, "in my arms, her head upon my bosom, with a sensible and devout resignation of her soul to Almighty God. I hope I may say she was a public as well as private loss, for she was not only an excellent wife and mother, but an entire and constant friend, of a more than common capacity, and greater modesty and humility, yet most equal and undaunted in danger." Their wedded life had been a beautiful blending of romantic passion with sober Christian usefulness. Religion, and culture, and practical philanthropy had gone hand-in-hand in their social life.Whilst speaking of this bitter cross, it will be well to anticipate a little, and record the death of his favorite son, Springett. This noble and gifted youth died of consumption. Penn did all that a father's love could suggest, all that personal attention could do to lengthen his days. But the end, though slow in its approach, was yet too sure, and the darling boy expired in his father's arms early in 1696.The younger son, William, was of a very different stamp. Cavalier grace, and sensuousness which degenerated into sensuality, marked his character. Martial and generous in disposition, with no mean capacity for business, he early shewed a tendency to idle frivolousness and then to gross indulgence, which caused his father the keenest pain. The refined enjoyments of his home were not to his taste, so he sought in foreign cities the worst indulgences they could afford. And when his father was far away in Pennsylvania, he launched out into riot and excesses which filled that father's heart with shame and dismay.Early in 1696, William Penn married as his second wife Hannah Callowhill of Bristol, a woman of great energy and ability. She was an admirable helper in all good works.For six years after his restoration to his rights, Penn was content to leave Pennsylvania in the hands of his cousin, Colonel Markham. His principal employments then were literary and ministerial.In 1694, we find him using his new-found liberty to preach in the West of England. His standing in the Society of Friends had been re-assured; the usual certificate given by the brethren to all their preachers who travel, stating that he was a "minister in unity and good esteem among us," could be freely given, and he visited his brethren with comfort and acceptance. He travelled, therefore, in the Western counties, "having meetings almost daily in the most considerable towns and other places in those counties, to which the people flocked abundantly; and his testimony to the truth answering to that of God in their consciences was assented to by many." We are told that the Mayors of these towns generally consented to their having the Town Halls for their meetings, "for the respect they had for him, few places else being sufficient to hold the meetings." Returning to London, he had a morepainful duty to perform, which the following extract from a contemporary letter describes.HenryGouldney, of London, to Robert Barclay, junr.,28th of 12th mo., 1694."Being now a writing, I think it not unfit to acquaint thee in a brief hint what passed at Ratcliff meeting, last First-day (Sunday) week, where was William Penn, John Vaughton, and George Keith. The latter having had no time till the breaking up of the meeting, he then desired to be heard. Friends all stayed. After a short appologie, he fell a reflecting on the manner of John Vaughton's going to prayer, calling it a hasty sacrifice, comparing to Saul's. Then he fell upon doctrinall points, reflecting on our unsoundness, particularly the epistle of John i. 7; saying that the blood there mentioned was by us preacht only misticall, whereas, he affirmed, it had no such signification, neither did any there say to the contrary. In short, the tendency of all he said was to expose Friends as unsound. 'Twas a great and mixt meeting. William Penn grew uneasy; after about a quarter-of-an-hour, he stood up, saying to this purpose, 'In the name of the Lord, he was concerned to sound the truth over the head of this apostate and common opposer.' After a few words, George Keith was silent. William Penn opened to the people our belief of the virtue and efficacy of the blessed blood shed on the Cross; and also shewed the people the reason why we did not so frequently press Christ's death and sufferings as in the Apostles' days, they being concerned among such as believed not his outward coming, but among Christiandom was the notion generally held, but that of the inward denied and opposed. When he had done, George Keith would be speaking, but Friends went away, and left him in a great anger and quarrell."In Barclay's "Inner Life, &c.," it is rightly said that Keith's expulsion was not for unsound doctrine, though he charged the brethren with being unsound, but forcontempt of authority. He tried to gather a congregation in London, but his following seems to have very soon dwindled, for a letter to Robert Barclay, junr., dated London, 22nd of December, 1696, after speaking of the fierce counterfires of pamphlets concerning his controversy, says "Last Fifth-day (Thursday) George Keith had but 10 or 12 at his meeting. His show is much over. But his enmity remains. Oh, that he might see his declension, and repent of the evil he hath done, if it be the Lord's will."George Keith had been Penn's fellow-labourer and fellow-sufferer. To see him now attacking his old friends, and manifesting such a bitter and factious spirit, was most painful. In 1696, after Keith was disowned by the Society Penn endeavoured to neutralize the effect of his misrepresentations by a work entitled "More work for George Keith." In this, he reproduces from Keith's former publications abundant replies to his present statements. There is ample proof that, as inNayler'scase, Friends clung lovingly to the misguided man to the very last.[12][For his after confession of his fault seesketch of Barclay.][12]To this period belongs also the following letter, inserted as a specimen of Penn's familiar correspondence with his brethren. The three or four months service, to which he refers, is the journey in the West, already spoken of.W. Penn to R. B., junr.London, the 7th of the 12th mo., 1694.Dear and well-beloved Friend,My heart is much affected with the Lord's goodness to thee and thy dear relations, that he has remembered you, among the many in Israel, whom this day he is visiting with his loving power and spring of life, so that they had have sitten dry and barren, are now blossoming as a rose and bringing forth to the praises of Him that has called them. Wherefore, dear Robert, let thine eye be above the world and the comforts that fade, to the unfading glory, and keep close to the Lord, that thou mayest come through openings and visions to possessions, and like a good souldier encounter the enemy in his appearances as well to ensnare by the lawful as the unlawful things; and approve thy heart to the Lord in the way of the Cross and daily dying and living. O! great is the mystery of godliness, but the grace is sufficient! I rejoice at Peter Gardiner's good service; the Lord will work when, how, and by whom He will. I have had three or four months sore travel with blessed success; blessed be His Name.... Dear Robert, in the love of the precious truth, in which I desire thou maist grow up to fill thy dear and honorable father's place, I bid thee farewell. I am,Thy reall and affectionate friend,William Penn.P. S.—My journey for Ireland will not be soon, as I hoped, but shall inform thee. Vale.It has ever been a custom of the Quakers to seek the presence of the great and the powerful, not for personal advantages, but in order to urge on them the claims of religion, and the opportunities and responsibilities of their position. In many instances, the results of these interviews speak for themselves, but as they justly hold, duty does not depend on results. In such a spirit, William Penn sought Peter the Great, in 1696, when he was working as a shipwright, at Greenwich. The young Czar asked many questions about the Friends and their views. It is amusing to find him asking Thomas Story of what use would they be to any kingdom if they would not fight. That he was more than amused by the peculiar views and manners of the Friends, is evident from his remark after a sermon preached by a Friend in Denmark, that whoever could live according to such doctrines, would be happy.Penn made a second, and as it proved, a final voyage to America, in 1699. He intended to settle there with his wife and family, and made his arrangements accordingly. But events were too strong for him, and he returned in about two years, and never again crossed the Atlantic. It is certain, however, that even after this, he intended to return and spend the rest of his days in the colony. In a letter written three years afterwards, he said, "Had you settled a reasonable revenue, I would have returned and laid my bones among you, and my wife's, too, after her mother's death."Yet, in this short time, he had done much for Pennsylvania. Bills against piracy and smuggling, and forthe just treatment of negroes, had been passed; better arrangements for the health and improvement of Philadelphia had been made, and a new Charter or frame of Government, and a just system of taxation had been introduced, the expense of governing the Province having, hitherto, fallen on the Governor. Even now, no provision was made for his claims as proprietor. Treaties were made with the Susquehannah and other tribes of Indians; and finally, just on the eve of the Governor's departure, Philadelphia was incorporated. Many minor acts were passed, some of them curiously illustrating the colonists' ideas of a paternal and religious government. Not only were sins against purity and honesty to be punished, but, amongst others, bills were passed on the following matters: the spreading of false news, the names of the days and months of the year, to prevent cursing and swearing, against scolding, for the dimensions of casks, and true packing of meat, against drunkenness and drinking healths, and against selling rum to the Indians. This much was accomplished by the Assembly; probably, more would have been done, but for abounding jealousies. The Province and the other Territories (the districts purchased from the Duke of York) were jealous of each other, and both were jealous of the Governor.In July, 1701, Penn received a communication from the king, which sorely puzzled him. It demanded that the American proprietaries should unite for the defence of the Colonies, and that Pennsylvania should contribute £350 for the defence of the New York frontier. Apostle of peace though he was, he could do no otherwise than lay the letter before the Assembly. That body delayed and finessed, and finally, saying nothing of peace principles, pleaded their poverty as a reason for postponing the further consideration of the matter, until it was more urgent. Thus, this question of peace, which so long divided Pennsylvania, was for the present shelved. But it is the boast of Friends that for 70 years Pennsylvaniahad no army, and though so near both Indians and Frenchmen, suffered nothing through the lack of one. That State "subsisted in the midst of six Indian nations," says Oldmixon, "without so much as a militia for her defence. Whatever the quarrels of the Pennsylvanian Indians were with others, they uniformly respected and held as it were sacred, the territories of William Penn. The Pennsylvanians never lost man, woman, or child by them, which neither the colony of Maryland, nor that of Virginia could say, no more than the great colony of New England." To complete the argument for non-resistance, see what occurred when Pennsylvania got an army. "From that hour the Pennsylvanians transferred their confidence in Christian principles to a confidence in their arms; and from that hour to the present they have been subject to war." (Dymond's Essays, 4th edition, p. 192.)But it must not be supposed that the refusal to fight meant either unwillingness or inability to use moral means for self-protection. In 1701, Penn heard of a riot in East Jersey, and set off at once with some friends to quell it. It was put down before he reached the spot, but gave him occasion fully to state his views. "If lenitives would not do, coercives should be tried. The leaders should be eyed, and some should be forced to declare them by the rigour of the law; and those who were found to be such should bear the burden of such sedition, which would be the best way to behead the body without danger."Amidst all this care and work, Penn found time to make preaching tours in Pennsylvania, New Jersey and Maryland. He and his family won a warm place in the hearts of the Friends here, as well as elsewhere. He might have a large and handsome house at Pennsbury, and his style of living might be superior to that of his neighbours; but he could pick up a bare-legged Quaker girl and give her a ride behind him to "meeting," and hehad a kindly word and pleasantry for the poor as much as for the rich. "The Governor is our pater patriæ," writes one of the Colonists, "and his worth is no new thing to us. His excellent wife is beloved of all."As Pennsylvania was the birthplace of Abolition, the German Friends at Germantown first raising the question, it is interesting to see what Penn did in the matter. He passed a Bill for regulating the trial and punishment of negro wrong-doers. But he wished to go further, and proposed that negro marriages should be legal, and that the rights of negro-women should be secured by law; but the Assembly threw out these Bills. In 1696 the Philadelphia Yearly Meeting had resolved that buying, selling, and holding slaves was contrary to the teachings of Christianity. Penn followed up this resolution by urging on the Society of Friends in Pennsylvania the recognition of the spiritual claims of negroes. Henceforth, until the Society insisted on its members liberating their slaves, they were taught the Scriptures, and encouraged to attend divine worship.Penn arrived at Portsmouth, in the middle of December, 1701, after a voyage of about six weeks. The chief business that called him home, was the scheme of William III. for amalgamating all the American provinces as regal Governments. To his intense relief, that scheme was dropped. Soon after this, the king died, and Queen Anne, the daughter of Penn's friend and guardian, James II., ascended the throne. He once more enjoyed royal favour in a marked degree. He was chosen to present to the Queen the Quaker address, thanking her for promising to maintain the Act of Toleration. After the address was read, "Mr. Penn," said the Queen, "I am so well pleased that what I have said is to your satisfaction, that you and your Friends may be assured of my protection."Of the remaining years of Penn's life, we have very imperfect accounts. He edited the works of two Quakerministers, those of John Whitehead in 1704; those of John Banks, in 1711. In 1709, he wrote "Some account of the Life and Writings of Bulstrode Whitlocke, Esq.," the famous lawyer and stout Puritan, whom he had known and greatly esteemed. He also travelled repeatedly as a minister, and took an active interest in the affairs of the Quakers. Thus, in 1710, Sir D. Dalrymple writes to R. Barclay, junr., who had written to him about the sufferings ofEdinbro'Friends:—"I have written fully to Mr. Penn by this post, who had written to me upon the same subject, to whom I refer you." Again, in 1711, he with others waited on the Duke of Ormond (whom he had known before he became a Friend) to thank him for the kindness which he had shewn to Friends in Ireland during his Lord Lieutenancy.Meantime had occurred the sad troubles with his late agent Philip Ford, which crippled his resources, broke down his health, and even at one time made him a prisoner in the Fleet for debt. Oldmixon states the fact thus:—"The troubles that befel Mr. Penn in the latter part of his life are of a nature too private to have a place in a public history. He trusted an ungrateful, unjust agent too much with the management of it; and when he expected to have been thousands of pounds the better, found himself thousands of pounds in debt: insomuch that he was restrained in his liberty within the privilege of the Fleet by a tedious and unsuccessful law suit, which together with age, broke his spirits, not easy to be broken, and rendered himself incapable of business and society, as he was wont to have been in the days of his health and vigour both of body and mind." The story is a very sad one. Ford was a Quaker lawyer, and undoubtedly Penn had been far too trustful and careless with him. He had even borrowed money from him on the security of his colony. Ford repaid his kindness and trust by cheating him out of thousands,and his widow and son went farther, and tried to snatch the colony from Penn's grasp. But it was ruled that "it would not be decent to make Government ambulatory," and their claim was not allowed.The trouble thus caused resulted in Penn having several apoplectic fits, which left him thoroughly shattered. For six years he lingered in second childhood, lovingly nursed by his wife. The best account of his last days occurs in the Journal of Thomas Story, a distinguished Quaker minister, a scholar and a naturalist, whom he had made the first recorder of Philadelphia.The end came very gently and peacefully. After the long and stormy voyage, the vessel came into harbour through unwonted calms and waters almost without a ripple. He was laid in his grave in Jordan's meeting-house beside his dearly loved Guli, and not far from his mother and Isaac Pennington. Many gathered there to pay the last honours. And since that day, the spot hallowed by his dust has been a well-visited shrine, where many have not only thought admiringly of his deeds, but have also thanked God for the grace that was in him.If Macaulay was prejudiced against Penn, his testimony to his world-wide fame is the more reliable. We will quote it as it stands. "Rival nations and hostile sects have agreed in canonising him. England is proud of his name. A great commonwealth beyond the Atlantic regards him with a reverence similar to that which the Athenians felt for Theseus, and the Romans for Quirinus. The respected society of which he was a member honours him as an apostle. By pious men of other denominations he is usually regarded as a bright pattern of Christian virtue. Meanwhile admirers of a very different sort have sounded his praises. The French philosophers of the eighteenth century pardoned what they regarded as his superstitious fancies in consideration of his contempt for priests, and of his cosmopolitan benevolence, impartially extended to all races and to all creeds. His name has thus become, throughout all civilised countries, a synonym for probity and philanthropy.""Nor is this reputation altogether unmerited. Penn was without doubt a man of eminent virtues. He had a strong sense of religious duty, and a fervent desire to promote the happiness of mankind. On one or two points of high importance he had notions more correct than were in his day common, even among men of enlarged minds; and as the proprietor and legislator of a province, which, being almost uninhabited when it came into his possession, afforded a clear field for moral experiments, he had the rare good fortune of being able to carry his theories into practice without any compromise, and yet without any shock to existing institutions. He will always be mentioned with honour as the founder of a Colony, who did not in his dealings with a savage people abuse the strength derived from civilisation, and as a law-giver who in an age of persecution, made religious liberty the corner-stone of a polity."This testimony is bare justice, indeed it needs supplementing. Macaulay has done justice to his fame, but not to his usefulness or to his beautiful character. For to use the beautiful figure which the Rt. Hon. W. E. Forster employs, "like as the citizens of Philadelphia are even now building the streets which he planned on the unpeopled waste, so are the workmen in the temple of freedom yet labouring at the design which he sketched out." And in the work they have not only his designs to assist them, but the inspiration of his noble life to stimulate them.The story of Penn's life, so noble and yet so sad in many parts, has touched many hearts. "He reminds me of Abraham or Æneas more than any one else," says Professor Seeley. "I find him," says Tennyson, (writingMar. 3rd, 1882, to the Historical Society of Pennsylvania), "no comet of a season, but the fixed light of a dark and graceless age, shining into the present—a good man and true." In Caroline Fox's "Memories of Old Friends" we read,—"He (Ernest de Bunsen) has been translating William Penn's life into German and sent a copy to Humboldt, from whom he received two charming letters about it, in one saying that he has read every word, and that the contemplation of such a life has contributed to the peace of his old age."Such testimonies could be multiplied indefinitely. The character and life that inspire such feelings need no defence and no eulogy.
The story of William Penn has been told so often and so well that it is impossible to introduce novelty into it without introducing falsehood. This Macaulay found out to his cost, his representations doing more to expose his liability to prejudice than to damage the stable reputation of Penn. No wonder such a beautiful and eventful life has attracted many biographers. If Clarkson did not possess all the information that is now in existence, he is accurate and sympathetic. Hepworth Dixon is brilliant but not always accurate, and he fails altogether in the religious portion of his story from utter want of sympathy and insight. In Dr. Stoughton both these qualities are joined to that broad acquaintance with the religious history of the age which is so essential to the just portraiture of such a man. He has added to the biography many interesting details. Dixon complained that the memoirs of Quakers are transcendental and lacking in human interest. No book can deserve the censure less than Dr. Stoughton's life of Penn.
William Penn was born in London, in 1644. His father was the famous but time-serving admiral Sir William Penn; his mother, Margaret Jasper, the beautiful and intelligent daughter of a Rotterdam merchant. His father's ambition was high. He had gained wealth and the royal favour by his daring and ability; his son should work out a grand career, and should be a peer, Viscount Weymouth. But man proposes, God disposes. The stout Admiral lived to find the strong, handsome, quick-witted child, on whom he built so much, a very sword in his soul, the last stroke that brought down his proud self-willed nature to the very dust before God, and made him at last think seriously of that religion which he had despised when in health and gaiety.
The child of such hopes received a careful training. First, he was sent to Chigwell School in Essex, which was near the home of his childhood at Wanstead. After that, he entered Christchurch College, Oxford, where he met some of the friends of his after years, including Robert Spencer, afterwards Earl of Sunderland, and John Locke. Already, signs of strong religious feeling had manifested themselves in the boy. When a child at Shangarry Castle, a Quaker preacher—Thomas Loe, destined to play such a prominent part in his history—came to Cork. His father, little suspecting the results that would follow, invited him to the Castle, and gathered the neighbours to hear him. His preaching deeply impressed the whole gathering; it made Sir William weep freely, and left an impression on the mind of his child-hearer which was never effaced. That impression was deepened by a singular vision which he had at Chigwell School. "Alone in his chamber, being then eleven years old, he was suddenly surprised with an inward comfort, and, as he thought, an external glory in the room, which gave rise to religious emotions, during which he had the strongest convictions of the being of a God, and that the soul of man was capable of communication with Him. He believed also, that the seal of Divinity had been placed upon him at this moment, or that he had been awakened, or called upon to a holy life." Again at Oxford, he was greatly influenced by Dr. Owen, with whom Penn corresponded when he was removed from his position as Dean, to make way for a more pliable instrument of the schemes of the court.
Penn's attainments were already considerable for his years, yet his College course was doomed to be a failure. The most noteworthy occurrences in it were, his again hearing the Quaker preacher, Thomas Loe, and his vigorous opposition to the Ritualistic innovations of the Stuarts. The authorities insisted on the gown being worn by all under-graduates. Penn and others, recognising this as the thin end of the Popish wedge, not only would not wear it themselves, but tore it from the backs of those who did. This led to his expulsion for rioting.[7]His father was most annoyed at the disgrace attending the punishment, until he found that his son's conduct resulted from settled convictions, already firmly rooted. Then the Admiral at once understood the serious issues involved. He must vanquish these conscientious scruples or his ambitious plans would be ruined.He never planned a sea-fight more carefully. In the first moment of anger he had soundly whipped his son, and turned him out of doors; now he tried gentler and more insinuating means. Like a true man of the world, he had full confidence in the power of a gay life to cast out such thoughts, and he sent his son to Paris. The most interesting incident of the trip is his treatment of a French gallant, who insisted on fighting him over some supposed insult. In vain did Penn politely explain that no insult had been offered. They must fight. Penn not only excelled in athletics, but was a skillful fencer. He soon disarmed the man, but instead of then punishing him for his quarrelsomeness, he only returned him his sword with a polite bow.
[7]He tells us that his expulsion resulted from his writing a book, which "the priests and masters did not like." Probably both reasons were combined.
[7]He tells us that his expulsion resulted from his writing a book, which "the priests and masters did not like." Probably both reasons were combined.
Sir William Penn, delighted with what he heard of the success of this expedient, determined that his son should finish his education in France, after which he destined him for the army. But in God's providence, the chosen tutor, the learned divine Moses Amyrault, if he did not deepen the gracious impressions already received, grounded him thoroughly in theological studies, which were very useful to him afterwards. Leaving him, Penn travelled for some time, and returned home, says Pepys, "a fine gentleman." He then studied law awhile in Lincoln's Inn, and to good purpose, as we shall see.
The great plague of 1665 drove him from London, and probably revived his serious thoughts, which were further strengthened by intercourse with serious people and the reading of serious books. His father again remarked the dreaded relapse, and again tried what change would do. This time he sent his son to Ireland, to the sprightly court of the Lord Lieutenant, the Duke of Ormond. Again, he reckoned without his host. There were Quakers in Ireland, and the very plan to which the astute Admiral trusted to get his son out of danger, led to his joining their Society. At first, indeed,nothing seemed less likely than such a result. He was beginning to despair of finding "the Primitive Spirit and Church upon Earth," and was ready recklessly to give himself up to the glory of the world. He was so flattered by the cordial recognition of the spirit and the success with which he assisted in quelling a petty insurrection, that he was inclined to fall in with his father's plan, and adopt the profession of arms. He even went so far as to apply for a captaincy. But God had other things in store for him. Happening to hear that Thomas Loe, the Quaker by whom he had been so impressed in Oxford, was visiting in Cork, he went to hear him. His ministry is said to have been singularly lively and convincing. The sermon was wonderfully suited to Penn's case, and made him weep much. The opening sentence cut him to the quick: "There is a faith that overcomes the world, and there is a faith that is overcome by the world." From that night he determined that, by God's grace, his faith should not be overcome by the world. He began to attend Quaker meetings regularly. At one of these, in November 1667, a soldier came in, and made a great disturbance. Penn, like Phineas in "Uncle Tom's Cabin," not having yet thoroughly subdued the old nature, took him by the collar, and would have thrown him down stairs, had not Friends interfered. The soldier went away, and gave information to the authorities, who came and broke up the meeting, haling several, including Penn, before the magistrates.
His cavalier dress, so unlike that of his companions,[8]led the mayor, before whom the party was taken, to offer to release him upon bond for his good behaviour. Penn denied his right to demand such bond, and challenged the legality of the arrest. When committed, he appealed to his friend the Earl of Orrery, Lord President of Munster, by whom he was speedily set at liberty. But that gentleman wrote the news to his father, who at once summoned him home. He reasoned, he stormed, then, proud and haughty as he was, he condescended to plead. Finally, finding his son still unyielding, and hearing complaints of his preaching at different meetings in town and country, he turned him out of doors, telling him also that he should leave his estates to those that pleased him better. He was then twenty-three years of age.
[8]He did not at once adopt the Quaker dress, and continued for some time to wear a sword. When this non-compliance with Quaker customs was reported to George Fox, it is said that he simply replied, "let him wear it as long as he can." He mentioned years afterwards how the peculiar garb was a stumbling-block to some, "It telleth tales, it is blowing a trumpet and visibly crossing the world; and this the fear of man cannot abide" (Travels, p. 121). Probably this very fact commended the peculiarity to his bold and decided spirit.
[8]He did not at once adopt the Quaker dress, and continued for some time to wear a sword. When this non-compliance with Quaker customs was reported to George Fox, it is said that he simply replied, "let him wear it as long as he can." He mentioned years afterwards how the peculiar garb was a stumbling-block to some, "It telleth tales, it is blowing a trumpet and visibly crossing the world; and this the fear of man cannot abide" (Travels, p. 121). Probably this very fact commended the peculiarity to his bold and decided spirit.
Henceforth William Penn's time and strength were given to Quakerism. There was neither hesitation nor half-heartedness. The welfare, work, and sufferings of Friends he made his own. He wrote and preached with untiring energy, and suffered, counting it joy.
Though turned out of doors by his father, he was not allowed to want. His mother privately supplied his needs to the utmost of her ability, and what she could not do was made up by several kind friends. The situation was painful in the extreme; separated from home and parents, his father grieved and mortified at his conduct. He tells pathetically afterwards of "the bitter mockings and scornings that fell upon me, the displeasure of my parents, the invectiveness and cruelty of the priests, the strangeness of all my companions, what a sign and wonder they made of me." But his conscience approved of the line he had adopted, and his resolute nature was troubled by no waverings. He set himself earnestly to do his duty. He united himself closely to the Friends, and took up his pen on their behalf. His first work was entitled "Truth exalted."
"The Guide Mistaken," soon followed. It was areply to "A Guide to the true Religion," in which the Quakers were treated with great severity.
Shortly afterwards he was drawn into a public discussion with the Rev. Thomas Vincent, a Presbyterian minister in Spitalfields. Some of his congregation having become converts to Quakerism, Vincent said some slanderous things about the Friends. So George Whitehead and Wm. Penn waited upon him, and insisted that as he had publicly misrepresented them, he was bound in fairness to give them an opportunity publicly to set themselves right. After some demur, Vincent agreed to meet them in his own chapel on a certain day. The discussion lasted until midnight, and turned principally upon the question of the Trinity. Friends have always asserted that the doctrine, as taught by the orthodox, is an attempt to explain the inexplicable, and goes beyond what is revealed in the Scriptures. This contention in their early days cost them much reproach; now the chief remnant of it is the annoyance of having their authors, especially Penn, quoted as believers in the Unitarianism of to-day.
The debate was one-sided and bitter, and the Friends only retired at last on condition of having another opportunity to vindicate themselves. But as Vincent plainly showed that he had no intention of redeeming his promise, the only satisfaction left was the press. In "The Sandy Foundation Shaken," Penn gave the public his view of the matter. But he did not stop with the doctrine of the Trinity, he went on to the Atonement. He advanced such arguments against "Imputed Righteousness" as Barclay has elaborated in his Apology. He also produced arguments against the method in which in those days the necessity of a satisfaction to the Divine justice was taught. His expressions unfortunately resemble those of modern Unitarians, but his position is vitally different. Penn believed the death of Our Saviour on the cross a real Sacrifice, that "JesusChrist was our holy sacrifice, atonement and propitiation, that he bore our iniquities," but that Christ is not the cause but the effect of God's love. (See his "Primitive Christianity revived.")
This book brought down on Penn the anger of Dr. Sanderson, Bishop of London, and led to his being sent to the Tower. But that only "added one more glorious book to the literature of the Tower," "No Cross, No Crown," of which Hepworth Dixon, more trustworthy in literature than in religion, says, "Had the style been more condensed, it would have been well entitled to claim a high place in literature." Whilst there he also replied in a treatise entitled "Innocency with her open face," to many strictures on the "Sandy Foundation Shaken."
This imprisonment revealed in two ways the stuff of which William Penn was made. First severity was tried, and one day his servant brought him the report that the bishop was determined he should recant or die in prison. He only smiled and said, "They are mistaken in me; I value not their threats. I will weary out their malice. Neither great nor good things were ever attained without loss and hardship." Then they sent Stillingfleet, the future bishop, to try his powers of persuasion, but they, too, utterly failed. "Tell my father, who I know will ask thee, that my prison shall be my grave before I will budge a jot, for I owe my conscience to no mortal man." Such spirit, combined with the ability his books were revealing, revived the admiral's pride in his son. The court, too, began to take interest in him, and shortly after Stillingfleet's visit he was released, having been in the Tower more than eight months.
He at once resumed his preaching, and having been partially reconciled to his father, was employed by him to attend to his Irish estates. On his return home, his father received him fully into his favour, to the great delight of his mother's heart.
But soon trouble again overtook him, though only again to place him on a pedestal where his virtues and power would be more manifest, and where his voice would reach a larger audience. Going to the meeting-house in Gracechurch Street, London, he found it closed and guarded by soldiers. However the Friends held their service in the street, and for this W. Penn and W. Meade were indicted under the Conventicle Act. Hepworth Dixon regards this as "perhaps the most important trial that ever took place in England," and speaks of Penn as the great vindicator of the old charters and of trial by jury. He met the browbeating of the city magistrates with spirit and dignity, and encouraged the jury to do the right manfully. After twice returning an evasive verdict, and being locked up for forty-eight hours, the jury finally acquitted the prisoners. The court was greatly annoyed, and vindictively fined the jury for contempt. They refused to pay the fine and were sent to prison. Penn encouraged them to test the legality of this imprisonment, and the highest legal authority in the land decided against it and released the gallant jury.[9]A full account of the whole proceedings was published, and helped materially to encourage resistance to illegal interference with liberty.
[9]In his second trial "Lord Chief Justice Vaughan pronounced his noble vindication of the right of jurors to deliver a free verdict, which by giving independence to juries, made the institution so effectual a protection to the liberty of the subject."—W. E. Forster.
[9]In his second trial "Lord Chief Justice Vaughan pronounced his noble vindication of the right of jurors to deliver a free verdict, which by giving independence to juries, made the institution so effectual a protection to the liberty of the subject."—W. E. Forster.
But important as this trial undoubtedly was, the full benefit of it was only secured by long years of bitter sufferings endured by the whole Quaker community. (Seesketch of Fox.) Let us who enjoy the spoils remember gratefully those who fought the battle.
We have spoken of the marked individuality in William Penn's character which led him to continue to wear the court costume after he became a Friend, until his own conscience demanded that he should adopt theQuaker garb. The same individuality led him to diverge from the ordinary type of Friend in another and more important matter. They were bent on fighting out the battle of religious liberty by religious, rather than by political weapons. They might, when on trial, quote a statute or plead a precedent as a sort of argumentum ad hominem, but in political and constitutional affairs, as such, they as a class took no delight. Penn was an exception. He felt a keen interest in the political affairs of his country. He saw that it was a mistake to lose the benefit of the old charters and statutes which secured the liberty of the subject, and he appealed to them on all occasions. This appeal served two purposes. It acknowledged the civil duties of Christians, which some Christians are slow to recognise. It also secured the sympathies of many in their struggles to whom the religious aim was incomprehensible. Both these objects seemed to Penn of the highest importance; they influenced his whole career. In the words of W. E. Forster, "the form of his religion, his feelings as a Quaker, did not seem to him to interfere with the fulfilment of his duties as a citizen. Had it done so, that form would have been changed rather than the work left undone, for he was not a man to make one duty an excuse for shirking another; within his conscience there was no conflict between religion and patriotism; he did not fly from the world, but faced it with true words and true deeds."
Admiral Penn was lying on his death-bed whilst this trial was in progress, and it added greatly to the sufferings of his son, that he could not be with his father at such a time. But on his release he hastened home, and very touching was the final converse between father and son. The high spirit was humbled; the worldly heart had learnt the emptiness of earthly honours. "Son William," he said only a day or two before his death, "I am weary of the world. I would not live my daysover again if I could command them with a wish, for the snares of life are more than the fears of death. This troubles me that I have offended a gracious God. The thought of this has followed me to this day. Oh, have a care of sin! It is that which is the sting both of life and death." We can imagine with what feelings the Christian son would hear this tardy confession, and would endeavour to point such a father to the source of his own hopes and consolation. The old sailor was buried with due honours in the fine old church of St. Mary's, Redcliff, Bristol. He left the bulk of his property, some £1500 a year—a great sum in those days—to his eldest son, who thus found himself in spite of the risks he had run for conscience sake, a wealthy man, able to devote money as well as time and strength to the cause of his adoption. The king and his brother, the Duke of York, afterwards James II., had promised the dying man to be guardians to his son—a promise sought by him because he foresaw the many troubles into which that son's conscientious scruples would lead him in such an age. This fact is the key to the relations in which William Penn and the royal brothers often stood to each other—relations otherwise puzzling, but creditable to both sides when thus explained. The Stuarts were faithful to this promise when interest pointed another way. Penn was true to James especially, in spite of faults which greatly tried him; true, even when his throne tottered, and finally fell.
The Penns had an ancient family seat in Buckinghamshire. Not far away at Chalfont lived William Penn's friend, Isaac Pennington, and his wife, and his step-daughter, Gulielma Maria Springett. There also lived Thomas Ellwood, quaintest of Quaker rhymesters, and his great master, Milton. No wonder Penn found the place attractive. But the great attraction soon came to be Guli Springett, beautiful and spirited and accomplished, and yet a true Quakeress. He had met herfirst at a friend's house where he called when returning to his father's house, to the interview which ended in his expulsion from home. Her father was Sir William Springett, who was killed at the early age of twenty-three, after a chivalrous defence of Arundel Castle for the Parliament. Guli was born a few weeks after his death. After losing her husband, who like most of the best officers of the Parliament was a staunch Puritan as well as a good soldier, Lady Springett passed through a time of great spiritual unrest. At last she found a home amongst the Friends. She afterwards married Isaac Pennington, attracted to him by the spiritual ties of a similar religious experience. They were both examples of the numerous class of those who were almost Quakers before they were aware that such a Society existed. In 1672, William Penn made Guli Springett his wife. The interval after his father's death had been filled up by writing several books, preaching, holding a public discussion with one Jeremy Ives on the universality of the Divine Light, a short visit to Holland, and of course the inevitable imprisonment, six months in Newgate for attending Wheeler Street Meeting.
In his wife he found a true help-meet, both in piety, zeal for Quakerism, and large-minded sympathy with all Christian and patriotic causes. He loved her deeply and tenderly, and found in her love the brightest feature of his chequered life. After his marriage he had a long, sweet rest, and then plunged deep into work again.
He visited the Court, for the first time since his father's death, to plead for George Fox's liberty. It was an errand on which for the next fifteen years he was often to go. He seems to have had a wonderful power of drawing out the best side of the royal brothers; and no nobler sight can be pictured than the courtly Friend, hating the court for its worldliness and sin, but frequenting it to speak bold words of truth or gentle pleas for mercy; feeling that his influence there was atrust not to be neglected, but wielding it with constant watchfulness and wonderful self-control. Meanwhile, writing and preaching were not forgotten. Amongst other engagements, he had, in 1675, a public discussion with good Robert Baxter, of which, unfortunately, very few details are preserved. Perhaps, the most competent and charitable opponent of Friends at this time was Dr. Henry More. The combined wit and seriousness of Penn's pamphlets overcame his dislike to controversy, and led him to go carefully through the discussion which he had had with John Faldo. He was also at this time in communication with George Keith, then, perhaps, the most learned defender of the doctrine of Immediate Revelation. The intercourse led to mutual regard and respect. "If thou happen to see Henry More," writes George Keith to Robert Barclay, when the latter was in London, "remember my dear love to him. Notwithstanding of his mistakes, I would have Friends be very loving and tender to him, as indeed I find a great love to him in my heart. But as for his paper I see no difficulties in it at all to weaken in me anything I have written to him."
Before proceeding to speak of the great work of Penn's life, the founding of Pennsylvania, we must anticipate a little to refer to his manifold labours for his own religious Society. His well-balanced nature found no difficulty in rightly blending the sacred and the secular. Whilst electioneering for Sidney, whilst gathering facts and making business arrangements for New Jersey, or taking interest in the Royal Society, his religious life was still full and fervent. At the time that he was living at Worminghurst, almost overwhelmed with business, we are told that his spirit was so warm and eager, that when the Friends assembled for worship, he could hardly wait to reach his seat before beginning to pour forth the fulness of his soul.
He watched with lively interest the work of organisation which Fox was carrying on in so masterly a fashion. When John Perrott caused a disturbance, by refusing to remove his hat whilst praying in public, or William Rodgers obstructed Fox's path, mistaking discipline for tyranny, none were more ready than he to rally round the trusted leader. In 1677, he joined Fox, Barclay, and others, in a visit to Holland, to organise and consolidate the Society there, and to visit such promising enquirers as the Princess Elizabeth, the Countess de Hornes, and the courtly Van Helmont. He published a full and glowing account of the religious services in which they were engaged, which gives us a vivid picture of the "times of refreshing" which the brotherhood enjoyed in its early days.
The next year, 1678, when reports of Popish plots kept the nation in a constant alarm, he was twice heard before a committee of the House of Commons, in support of a petition which he presented on behalf of the Society of Friends. Their inability to take an oath, led to their being caught in the meshes of an Act intended for Catholics. William Penn explained their position with dignity and great candour. With characteristic boldness, though asking for a favour, he did not flinch from pleading for full liberty of conscience even for the hated Papists. The committee listened respectfully, and adopted his suggestions for the relief of Friends; but the sudden prorogation of Parliament prevented the bill from being carried.
It shows the perfect independence of Penn's mind that though he was on good terms with the King, he risked giving offence by his open and hearty sympathy with Algernon Sidney. That patriot, after long years of banishment was allowed to return home in 1677. Soon after, he yielded to the representations of his republican friends, and sought a seat in Parliament. First he tried Guildford, and then Bramber; but was not only hotly opposed by the court, but dishonourablyand illegally tricked out of the seat. All through the struggle he had the enthusiastic and vigorous support of Penn, although at the time the affairs of Pennsylvania were far from settled, and he had so much reason to wish to keep the royal favour. Usually Penn kept clear of party politics, but on this occasion he canvassed and spoke for his friend with great zeal; so that the French Ambassador speaks of him and Sidney as the two trusted leaders of the republican party. But though Penn's action proves that he did not share the scruples of most of his brethren against participating in political affairs, yet it was probably the man and his principles that won his confidence, rather than the party with which he acted. Probably, Penn would have endorsed the early opinion of his father-in-law, Isaac Pennington, who wrote, (1651) "Whoever they are, whom I saw fitted for it (Government) and called to it, they should have my vote on their behalf." In the midst of politics and schemes of emigration, the stream of his polemical works still continued to flow, and every year saw one or more pamphlets from his pen.
Turning to his private life, in 1680, he lost his beloved father-in-law, Isaac Pennington. Though gifted with a refined mind and a loving heart, he had a nature far less robust and vigorous than his son-in-law, who shortly after his death edited his collected works. But a heavier blow followed. In 1682, Lady Penn died, and her death seems to have made him seriously ill for some time. She had clung to him when his adoption of Quakerism turned his father against him, and she took care of him when he was turned out of doors. She never accepted Quakerism, yet probably her gentle and loving nature had an influence with her son that the stern father never had.
Now begins the story of Pennsylvania. As boy and youth it had been his favourite dream that in America might be planted a new England, without the faults ofthe old—a home of civil and religious freedom. Events now ripened the scheme. On the one hand, fierce persecution urged him on; England and Germany seemed to be bent on driving out their most energetic and high-souled children. On the other, the way opened gradually and safely. In 1675, he was induced to become a manager of West New Jersey. After five years experience he bought East New Jersey in 1681, and in the same year the King granted him, by charter, the fine tract adjoining, now called Pennsylvania. This was in lieu of £16,000 due to his father for pay, and for money advanced in desperate times to strengthen the navy. We are told that the Admiral obtained the promise of this tract, having heard from a relative glowing accounts of its richness. From the first, the "holy experiment," as Penn called it, was popular. Algernon Sidney, with whom he kept up constant correspondence, and whom he loved as a brother, helped him tosketcha constitution for it. The Quakers, who had long been discussing (especially since George Fox's visit to America in 1672) some scheme of colonisation, were ready to supply emigrants of the right class in large numbers. He had but to publish a sketch of the intended constitution, and a statement of the resources and attractions of the colony, and the response was immediate.
The constitution which he gave to Pennsylvania, and which he spent many of the best years of his life in reducing to practice, has been universally admired. Hepworth Dixon has sought for the genius of it in the experiences of ancient Greece, and in the dreams of More and Sir Philip Sidney. Penn was, indeed, acquainted with these, but his inspiration was found in the instincts and aims of Quakerism. Plato and Sir Thomas More, and even Algernon Sidney, had less to do with his constitution than had George Fox. He found in the Society to which he belonged a body combining a rareamount of freedom with admirable organisation—a Society with abundant elasticity yet with excellent discipline and cohesion. Quakerism not only acknowledges that methods and governments exist for the sake of men, it believes that manhood, especially sanctified manhood, is the great security of liberty and justice. Its aim is to give scope to the individual to live out the dictates of his own conscience, and to contribute his utmost share to the general well-being. We are greatly mistaken if this was not also the aim of Penn in the constitution which he gave Pennsylvania.[10]
[10]"In the constitution of the colony he was assisted by Algernon Sidney, and at Worminghurst and Penshurst the two friends drew up its several articles. That it established perfect freedom of conscience, it is needless to remark. It established also a no less absolute freedom of trade; Penn sacrificing to this desire the sums which he might have received from the sale of monopolies. The constitution was democratic; a council of seventy-two, elected for three years, formed the Senate, which Penn intended to be the deliberative body; an assembly, elected by ballot and universal suffrage, and paid [they received threepence per mile for travelling expenses, six shillings a day while in the assembly, and the Speaker ten shillings a day] confirmed or rejected the Acts of the Council. Trial by jury gave scope to public opinion, but the provision that the judges were chosen only for two years, and could then be removed by the Assembly, impaired the administration of justice. Religion was left to voluntary efforts. [State] education was carefully provided for. The Indians were treated on principles of such manifest justice, that they became the friends of the new Colony, and no Quaker blood was shed by them." Short Sketches, pp. 151-2.
[10]"In the constitution of the colony he was assisted by Algernon Sidney, and at Worminghurst and Penshurst the two friends drew up its several articles. That it established perfect freedom of conscience, it is needless to remark. It established also a no less absolute freedom of trade; Penn sacrificing to this desire the sums which he might have received from the sale of monopolies. The constitution was democratic; a council of seventy-two, elected for three years, formed the Senate, which Penn intended to be the deliberative body; an assembly, elected by ballot and universal suffrage, and paid [they received threepence per mile for travelling expenses, six shillings a day while in the assembly, and the Speaker ten shillings a day] confirmed or rejected the Acts of the Council. Trial by jury gave scope to public opinion, but the provision that the judges were chosen only for two years, and could then be removed by the Assembly, impaired the administration of justice. Religion was left to voluntary efforts. [State] education was carefully provided for. The Indians were treated on principles of such manifest justice, that they became the friends of the new Colony, and no Quaker blood was shed by them." Short Sketches, pp. 151-2.
Unfortunately for the perfect realisation of his hopes, such a scheme, like Quakerism, needs grand men to work it. The maxims of Heaven cannot be worked out by the instincts of earth. Had the other Friends in Pennsylvania shared his spirit of lofty self-sacrifice, the story of this State might have been more noble and stimulating even than it is. But from the first, Quakers shrank from the turmoil and cares of official life. But this shrinking only makes more striking the unconquerable spirit that animated Penn. He could suffer and be strong. He could "scorn delights and live laborious days." To the end, he retained the reins of Pennsylvania affairs in his own hands as proprietor, though he might have got rid at once of his burden of growing debt and of the corroding care, by selling out. But one thing restrained him; says his noble wife, "My husband might have finished it [the deed of surrender] long since had he notinsisted so much on gaining privileges for the people." (Logan's Life, p. 56). And so even when the load was crushing him he continued to bear it rather than mar the "holy experiment," the great ambition of his life. This power of resolute and skilful persistence until his ends were gained, had won for his father wealth and honours. He, recognising it as his noblest gift, chose it as the fittest offering which he could place on God's altar. His life thus stands as a rare instance of thankless toil for the honour of God and the welfare of man, persisted in through weariness, suffering, and loss, and resulting in unsurpassed usefulness.
The first band of emigrants left England in 1682, under the charge of Penn's cousin, Colonel Markham, who was appointed Deputy-Governor. Penn himself followed on the 1st of September, landing at Newcastle, on the 27th of October. He left behind him a farewell letter to his wife, full of tender assurances of love, and of wise and highly characteristic advice as to the training of their children. He at once summoned the General Assembly to adopt the constitution he had prepared. "There was little talk and much work in the first Pennsylvanian Parliament. On the third day their session was completed, and Penn prorogued them in person. They had left their ploughs for half-a-week, and had met together and founded a State."
Penn soon won the hearts of the Red Indians. "A lady who lived to be a hundred, used to speak of the Governor as being rather of a short stature, but the handsomest, best looking, lively gentleman she had ever seen." "He endeared himself to the Indian by hismarked condescension and acquiescence in their wishes. He walked with them, sat with them on the ground, and ate with them of their roasted acorns and hominy. At this they expressed their great delight, and soon began to show how they could hop and jump; at which exhibition, William Penn, to cap the climax, sprang up and beat them all." No wonder that some of the very staid Quakers thought him "too prone to cheerfulness for a grave 'public Friend,'" that is, a minister of the Gospel. But without that elasticity that led to the ready jest and the hearty enjoyment of simple pleasures, the burdened brain must have collapsed before it did. His was an intense nature, keen both in suffering and in enjoyment, doing with its might whatsoever it found to do.
Shortly after this he concluded his memorable treaty with the Indians—"the only treaty," says Voltaire, "between those people and the Christians that was not ratified by an oath, and that was never broken." "The treaty," says Dr. Stoughton, "was probably made with the Delaware tribes as 'a treaty of amity and friendship,' and not for the purchase of territory." But the details of the story seem wrapped in impenetrable mystery. "The speeches made, the dresses worn, and the surrounding scene, appear now to be altogether fictitious."
A society had been formed in Bristol, called the "Free Society of Traders of Pennsylvania." To them William Penn wrote an account of his province that is now full of interest. Says Dr. Stoughton, "It indicates great power of observation, a wide range of knowledge, much skill in grouping facts, and an unaffected yet vigorous style of description on the part of its author." Besides facts about the natives of the country, he speculates about their origin, and thinks they may be the descendants of the lost ten tribes.
After spending some two years in Pennsylvania andseeing Philadelphia grow until it had 2,500 inhabitants, William Penn returned home in 1684. He had two special reasons for doing so. He had had many disputes with Lord Baltimore, the Roman Catholic proprietor of Maryland, respecting boundaries, and having failed to come to terms, he was applying to the Lords of Plantations to decide the case. Then again the persecution of the Quakers was very bitter, and he hoped he might be able by means of the royal favour to check its severity. He reached home early in October. As to the persecution nothing was done to purpose until James II. ascended the throne, when 1200 Quakers were liberated from prison. But the credit of inclining the royal mind to clemency must not be given to Penn alone. Barclay and George Whitehead had much to do with it (seesketch of Barclay).
James at once showed Penn marked favour. He would converse with him whilst peers were kept waiting. He told him frankly "he would deal openly with his subjects. He himself was a Catholic, and he desired no peaceable person to be disturbed on account of his opinions; but ... with the new parliament would rest the power legally to establish liberty of conscience." No way of gaining the king's ear would compare with securing the Friend as advocate. So greatly was he sought that we are told by Gerard Crœse (certainly not a very trustworthy authority) that two hundred applicants sometimes thronged his house at once to secure his interest. We must remember however that Barclay's influence was almost as great. The king was bent on securing the good will of the Quaker leaders. They alone amongst Protestants demanded religious liberty for Catholics; they alone showed them charity. Besides, to shew kindness to the Quakers gave a colour to the king's profession that he was for general toleration, not merely for favour to the Catholics. Whilst James II. was king, therefore, Penn exerted great influence at court. Rightly orwrongly he believed that James and some of his friends, notably the duke of Buckingham, were disposed to labour heartily for liberty of conscience. His friend Barclay had the same confidence as regards the king. It is easy for us to be wise after the event, and to believe that in all this James was scheming for Catholic ascendancy; but that must not prevent our giving Penn credit for good faith. Penn used his utmost influence to strengthen this disposition. In 1686, when on a "religious visit" to Holland, he undertook a commission from the king to the Prince of Orange to induce him to favour a general toleration of religious opinions in England, and the removal of all tests. This commission brought him into collision with Burnett, who was at the same court pleading for toleration but for retaining tests. Their intercourse left such a bitterness in the mind of Burnett that he can never mention Penn but with acrimony.
For this attendance at court he had to pay the penalty of being suspected a Papist. At his very first public discussion with Vincent, the nickname Jesuit had been given him and had stuck to him ever after. The Quakers were many of them branded with the same opprobrious name. In the case of Barclay, there was his early training and boyish conversion to Romanism, and the fact that many of his family were Catholics, to give plausibility to the charge. As to the body at large, "it was believed that the doctrine of the inner light was taught by Jesuit, and that a Franciscan friar had said no churches came so near his own as the Quakers."[11]The Friends could not accept the ordinary teaching of thesupremacy of the Bible as a rule of faith, and sometimes on this point their destructive criticism was welcome to Catholics but galling to Protestants. Then they could not take the oath of allegiance and supremacy. So the popular charge was not without some plausible though utterly delusive pretexts.
[11]Penn himself writes "There is a people called 'the silent' or 'people of rest' in Italy, at Naples and at Rome itself, that come near Friends; an inward people from all ceremonies and self-worship, [he means worship unprompted and unaided by the Holy Spirit,] seekers, the Pope and two cardinals favour them. A poor Spanish Friar, called Molino, is the first of them. A thousand in Naples it is thought."—Dr. Stoughton's Life, p. 228.
[11]Penn himself writes "There is a people called 'the silent' or 'people of rest' in Italy, at Naples and at Rome itself, that come near Friends; an inward people from all ceremonies and self-worship, [he means worship unprompted and unaided by the Holy Spirit,] seekers, the Pope and two cardinals favour them. A poor Spanish Friar, called Molino, is the first of them. A thousand in Naples it is thought."—Dr. Stoughton's Life, p. 228.
Now the impression that Penn was a Jesuit at heart, in spite of his Quaker dress and profession, gained ground fast. Tillotson had his fears that the charge was true, and said so; but on Penn assuring him that there was no truth in the charge, he fully and honourably apologised. But for long the suspicion clung to Penn and would not be cast off. That he was determined in all things to keep a clear conscience at all costs is manifest from his conduct in connection with James' efforts to secure Magdalen College, Oxford, for one of his tools. Penn had several times before strained his favour with the king to the last point of endurance, until in one instance the king threatened to turn him out of the room. In this case he wrote a letter so bold and uncompromising as to fill us with amazement. He calls the act one which could not in justice be defended. Such mandates as the king addressed to the fellows he calls a force to conscience and not very agreeable to his other gracious indulgences. Yet because in this matter Penn at first, before he fully understood the case, thought some concessions might be made by the College, Macaulay charges him with simony of the very worst kind. The only other ground for such a charge is the jesting remark of Penn to the deputation that waited on him at Windsor. "If the Bishop of Oxford die, Dr. Hough may be made bishop. What think you of that, gentlemen?" This might have been understood as a hint that, if Dr. Hough would withdraw his opposition, it might be better for him,if it had not been for Dr. Hough's own words. But whatever Penn may have said in jest (possibly not wisely) we should remember thatDr. Hough after the interview thanked God thathe did not hint at a compromise.
Penn had already used his influence with the king in favour of John Locke. On his return from Holland, he obtained a pardon for "such exiled Presbyterians as were not guilty of treason." One of these was Sir Robert Stuart, of Coltness, who on returning home found his estates in the hands of James, Earl of Arran. The two friends met in London, and Penn congratulated the restored exile. "Ah! Mr. Penn, Arran has got my estate, and I fear my situation is about to be now worse than ever." "What dost thou say?" exclaimed Penn, "thou surprises and grievest me exceedingly. Come to my house to-morrow, and I will set matters right." Penn at once sought the Earl of Arran. "What is this, friend James, that I hear of thee? Thou hast taken possession of Coltness' estate. Thou knowestthat it is not thine." The Earl replied, "That estate I paid a great price for. I received no other reward for my expensive and troublesome embassy to France except this estate, and I am certainly much out of pocket by the bargain." "All very well, friend James, but of this assure thyself, that if thou dost not give this moment an order on thy chamberlain for £100 to Coltness, to carry him down to his native country, and £100 to subsist on till matters are adjusted, I will make it as many thousands out of thy way with the king." The earl complied, and after the Revolution Coltness recovered his estate. The earl had to refund all the rents he had received, less by the £300 he had advanced. This may be justice, but it was carried out in rather high-handed fashion.
At the Yearly Meeting in May, 1687, the Quakers at Penn's instance expressed their gratitude to the king for the declaration of liberty of conscience for England which he had issued in the previous month. Mindful however of the strain of royal power by which the relief was obtained, they inserted in the address this significant clause:—"We hope the good effects thereof for the peace, trade, and prosperity of the Kingdom will producesuch a concurrence from the Parliamentas may secure it to our posterity in after times." The King in his reply to the deputation who presented the address, said he hoped before he died to settle it so that after ages shall have no reason to alter it.
Events now rapidly developed the Revolution of 1688. Penn had enjoyed the favour of James, and had felt for him some real regard in spite of his faults. So when William became King, his position was difficult in the extreme. He met the danger with characteristic truthfulness and openness. In his maxims, he says, "Nothing needs a trick, but a trick, sincerity loathes one." So he now acted. He avowed his past relations to the dethroned Monarch. He did not pretend to have changed, but he should accept the result of events, and certainly could not conscientiously plot against the Government. He was several times arrested and examined, but his perfect innocence was always clearly established. It might be proved by an intercepted letter that James had written to him, but he answered that he could not prevent that; it did not prove that he had treasonable designs. William, who had been favourably impressed by him at the Hague, believed his assertions.
In 1689, he had the joy of seeing his labours crowned by the passing of the Act of Toleration. For this he had toiled and suffered, written books and held conferences. Now the end was gained, and his friends and other Dissenters might worship God in peace. Yet strange to say, from this time the number of Quakers so far from increasing, diminished. They had thriven in adversity, in prosperity they declined. But probably one great reason was that quietism overspread the Society, and its aggressive efforts languished. Its members continued faithful to their "testimonies," but became sadly careless about the unconverted around them.Their grandest evangelist, Fox, was their strongest bulwark against the quietistic spirit. He not only worked indefatigably himself, but was very successful in stirring up and directing others. In 1690, he was called to his rest. Penn hovered around his dying bed, and when all over, he sent the news to Fox's widow in a letter full of warm sympathy and generous appreciation of his leader, or "honourable elder," as Friends preferred to call him. In spite of Fox's very noticeable imperfections, none could appreciate better than Penn his many excellencies and his energetic and noble-spirited labours. Only a few weeks before, Robert Barclay was laid to rest in his own grounds at Ury. As a gentleman and a scholar, no doubt there were points of sympathy between him and Penn which did not link Fox and Penn. But in aggressive energy, in evangelistic labours, and in entire freedom from the taint of quietism, Fox was much more after Penn's own heart than was Barclay. He edited Fox's journal and Barclay's works, supplying each with an elaborate preface.
During the next four years, he was mostly "in retirement" in private lodgings, in London, to avoid the warrants issued against him at the instance of an infamous informer, named Fuller. This man was afterwards denounced by Parliament as a notorious cheat and impostor. Yet, it is evident that he was really dangerous, for one of his victims was actually executed. So Penn deemed it wisest to live in privacy till the storm blew over. But he was far from idle. Besides the work already mentioned, he wrote his famous "Maxims" and other books. Other calamities befel him one after another, until his condition was indeed forlorn. The King deprived him of the government of Pennsylvania. Roguish agents robbed and defrauded him, until neither his colony nor his Irish estates yielded him anything. He was reduced to such straits, that when once he thought of going to Pennsylvania he had not themeans. Friends looked coldly on him, in spite of his pathetic appeal to them not to forsake him in his hour of need. To fill up the bitter cup, in 1693 he lost his wife, the joy and consolation of his days of trial, the constant, indefatigable, and undaunted sharer of his labours. He had the melancholy knowledge that her end was hastened by her taking to heart her husband's crushing cares and unmerited ill-usage.
The coolness of the Quakers needs explanation. There was then, as now, a strong feeling amongst some religious people against Christian men taking an active part in public affairs. Penn was too strong a man to yield to it, but it caused him much trouble and suffering. And now that William reigned, and that Penn's position, instead of being a help and a protection to Friends, caused them to be suspected of disloyalty, this feeling was intensified. George Fox's son-in-law, Thomas Lower, even sketched a form of apology, which Penn was to sign to satisfy the weaker brethren. Penn once joined some Friends in Pennsylvania when they had given him up, supposing that opposing winds and tide made his coming impossible. When they expressed their astonishment at seeing him under the circumstances, he answered with that ready pleasantry which ever characterised him, "I have been sailing against wind and tide all my life."
But, with sublime Christian heroism, he accepted his lot. He strengthened himself by much waiting on God, and by such intercourse with the best spirits around him as circumstances permitted. In his Maxims we have not only whatever of his own prudence could be crystallised; we have also clear evidence of his own habit of looking at earthly things in heavenly light, and of endeavouring to discover their spiritual meaning and use.
At last, in God's mercy, the tide turned. The night had been very dark, but the tardy dawn came at length, and ushered in a bright though not a cloudless day.Cruelly deserted by the colonists, for whom he had done and suffered so much, he found gratitude amongst "worldly" statesmen and courtiers. The Earl of Rochester, Lord Somers, and others took the case in hand. He asked them to gain him a full and public hearing before the King and Council. His defence was completely successful. The charges against him were quashed. It was proved that he had done nothing to forfeit his patent, and was restored to his government and proprietary. This consolation came to him at a time when it was greatly needed. He had lost his wife, and now his favorite son, Springett, was slowly dying of consumption.
We must not pass by the death of his wife so briefly. No doubt, the sad event was hastened by her wifely sympathy with her husband in his great troubles. Yet she had the happiness of seeing the bulk of them removed before she died. "She quietly expired," says Penn, "in my arms, her head upon my bosom, with a sensible and devout resignation of her soul to Almighty God. I hope I may say she was a public as well as private loss, for she was not only an excellent wife and mother, but an entire and constant friend, of a more than common capacity, and greater modesty and humility, yet most equal and undaunted in danger." Their wedded life had been a beautiful blending of romantic passion with sober Christian usefulness. Religion, and culture, and practical philanthropy had gone hand-in-hand in their social life.
Whilst speaking of this bitter cross, it will be well to anticipate a little, and record the death of his favorite son, Springett. This noble and gifted youth died of consumption. Penn did all that a father's love could suggest, all that personal attention could do to lengthen his days. But the end, though slow in its approach, was yet too sure, and the darling boy expired in his father's arms early in 1696.
The younger son, William, was of a very different stamp. Cavalier grace, and sensuousness which degenerated into sensuality, marked his character. Martial and generous in disposition, with no mean capacity for business, he early shewed a tendency to idle frivolousness and then to gross indulgence, which caused his father the keenest pain. The refined enjoyments of his home were not to his taste, so he sought in foreign cities the worst indulgences they could afford. And when his father was far away in Pennsylvania, he launched out into riot and excesses which filled that father's heart with shame and dismay.
Early in 1696, William Penn married as his second wife Hannah Callowhill of Bristol, a woman of great energy and ability. She was an admirable helper in all good works.
For six years after his restoration to his rights, Penn was content to leave Pennsylvania in the hands of his cousin, Colonel Markham. His principal employments then were literary and ministerial.
In 1694, we find him using his new-found liberty to preach in the West of England. His standing in the Society of Friends had been re-assured; the usual certificate given by the brethren to all their preachers who travel, stating that he was a "minister in unity and good esteem among us," could be freely given, and he visited his brethren with comfort and acceptance. He travelled, therefore, in the Western counties, "having meetings almost daily in the most considerable towns and other places in those counties, to which the people flocked abundantly; and his testimony to the truth answering to that of God in their consciences was assented to by many." We are told that the Mayors of these towns generally consented to their having the Town Halls for their meetings, "for the respect they had for him, few places else being sufficient to hold the meetings." Returning to London, he had a morepainful duty to perform, which the following extract from a contemporary letter describes.
HenryGouldney, of London, to Robert Barclay, junr.,
28th of 12th mo., 1694."Being now a writing, I think it not unfit to acquaint thee in a brief hint what passed at Ratcliff meeting, last First-day (Sunday) week, where was William Penn, John Vaughton, and George Keith. The latter having had no time till the breaking up of the meeting, he then desired to be heard. Friends all stayed. After a short appologie, he fell a reflecting on the manner of John Vaughton's going to prayer, calling it a hasty sacrifice, comparing to Saul's. Then he fell upon doctrinall points, reflecting on our unsoundness, particularly the epistle of John i. 7; saying that the blood there mentioned was by us preacht only misticall, whereas, he affirmed, it had no such signification, neither did any there say to the contrary. In short, the tendency of all he said was to expose Friends as unsound. 'Twas a great and mixt meeting. William Penn grew uneasy; after about a quarter-of-an-hour, he stood up, saying to this purpose, 'In the name of the Lord, he was concerned to sound the truth over the head of this apostate and common opposer.' After a few words, George Keith was silent. William Penn opened to the people our belief of the virtue and efficacy of the blessed blood shed on the Cross; and also shewed the people the reason why we did not so frequently press Christ's death and sufferings as in the Apostles' days, they being concerned among such as believed not his outward coming, but among Christiandom was the notion generally held, but that of the inward denied and opposed. When he had done, George Keith would be speaking, but Friends went away, and left him in a great anger and quarrell."
28th of 12th mo., 1694.
"Being now a writing, I think it not unfit to acquaint thee in a brief hint what passed at Ratcliff meeting, last First-day (Sunday) week, where was William Penn, John Vaughton, and George Keith. The latter having had no time till the breaking up of the meeting, he then desired to be heard. Friends all stayed. After a short appologie, he fell a reflecting on the manner of John Vaughton's going to prayer, calling it a hasty sacrifice, comparing to Saul's. Then he fell upon doctrinall points, reflecting on our unsoundness, particularly the epistle of John i. 7; saying that the blood there mentioned was by us preacht only misticall, whereas, he affirmed, it had no such signification, neither did any there say to the contrary. In short, the tendency of all he said was to expose Friends as unsound. 'Twas a great and mixt meeting. William Penn grew uneasy; after about a quarter-of-an-hour, he stood up, saying to this purpose, 'In the name of the Lord, he was concerned to sound the truth over the head of this apostate and common opposer.' After a few words, George Keith was silent. William Penn opened to the people our belief of the virtue and efficacy of the blessed blood shed on the Cross; and also shewed the people the reason why we did not so frequently press Christ's death and sufferings as in the Apostles' days, they being concerned among such as believed not his outward coming, but among Christiandom was the notion generally held, but that of the inward denied and opposed. When he had done, George Keith would be speaking, but Friends went away, and left him in a great anger and quarrell."
In Barclay's "Inner Life, &c.," it is rightly said that Keith's expulsion was not for unsound doctrine, though he charged the brethren with being unsound, but forcontempt of authority. He tried to gather a congregation in London, but his following seems to have very soon dwindled, for a letter to Robert Barclay, junr., dated London, 22nd of December, 1696, after speaking of the fierce counterfires of pamphlets concerning his controversy, says "Last Fifth-day (Thursday) George Keith had but 10 or 12 at his meeting. His show is much over. But his enmity remains. Oh, that he might see his declension, and repent of the evil he hath done, if it be the Lord's will."
George Keith had been Penn's fellow-labourer and fellow-sufferer. To see him now attacking his old friends, and manifesting such a bitter and factious spirit, was most painful. In 1696, after Keith was disowned by the Society Penn endeavoured to neutralize the effect of his misrepresentations by a work entitled "More work for George Keith." In this, he reproduces from Keith's former publications abundant replies to his present statements. There is ample proof that, as inNayler'scase, Friends clung lovingly to the misguided man to the very last.[12][For his after confession of his fault seesketch of Barclay.]
[12]To this period belongs also the following letter, inserted as a specimen of Penn's familiar correspondence with his brethren. The three or four months service, to which he refers, is the journey in the West, already spoken of.W. Penn to R. B., junr.London, the 7th of the 12th mo., 1694.Dear and well-beloved Friend,My heart is much affected with the Lord's goodness to thee and thy dear relations, that he has remembered you, among the many in Israel, whom this day he is visiting with his loving power and spring of life, so that they had have sitten dry and barren, are now blossoming as a rose and bringing forth to the praises of Him that has called them. Wherefore, dear Robert, let thine eye be above the world and the comforts that fade, to the unfading glory, and keep close to the Lord, that thou mayest come through openings and visions to possessions, and like a good souldier encounter the enemy in his appearances as well to ensnare by the lawful as the unlawful things; and approve thy heart to the Lord in the way of the Cross and daily dying and living. O! great is the mystery of godliness, but the grace is sufficient! I rejoice at Peter Gardiner's good service; the Lord will work when, how, and by whom He will. I have had three or four months sore travel with blessed success; blessed be His Name.... Dear Robert, in the love of the precious truth, in which I desire thou maist grow up to fill thy dear and honorable father's place, I bid thee farewell. I am,Thy reall and affectionate friend,William Penn.P. S.—My journey for Ireland will not be soon, as I hoped, but shall inform thee. Vale.
[12]To this period belongs also the following letter, inserted as a specimen of Penn's familiar correspondence with his brethren. The three or four months service, to which he refers, is the journey in the West, already spoken of.
W. Penn to R. B., junr.
London, the 7th of the 12th mo., 1694.Dear and well-beloved Friend,My heart is much affected with the Lord's goodness to thee and thy dear relations, that he has remembered you, among the many in Israel, whom this day he is visiting with his loving power and spring of life, so that they had have sitten dry and barren, are now blossoming as a rose and bringing forth to the praises of Him that has called them. Wherefore, dear Robert, let thine eye be above the world and the comforts that fade, to the unfading glory, and keep close to the Lord, that thou mayest come through openings and visions to possessions, and like a good souldier encounter the enemy in his appearances as well to ensnare by the lawful as the unlawful things; and approve thy heart to the Lord in the way of the Cross and daily dying and living. O! great is the mystery of godliness, but the grace is sufficient! I rejoice at Peter Gardiner's good service; the Lord will work when, how, and by whom He will. I have had three or four months sore travel with blessed success; blessed be His Name.... Dear Robert, in the love of the precious truth, in which I desire thou maist grow up to fill thy dear and honorable father's place, I bid thee farewell. I am,Thy reall and affectionate friend,William Penn.P. S.—My journey for Ireland will not be soon, as I hoped, but shall inform thee. Vale.
London, the 7th of the 12th mo., 1694.
Dear and well-beloved Friend,
My heart is much affected with the Lord's goodness to thee and thy dear relations, that he has remembered you, among the many in Israel, whom this day he is visiting with his loving power and spring of life, so that they had have sitten dry and barren, are now blossoming as a rose and bringing forth to the praises of Him that has called them. Wherefore, dear Robert, let thine eye be above the world and the comforts that fade, to the unfading glory, and keep close to the Lord, that thou mayest come through openings and visions to possessions, and like a good souldier encounter the enemy in his appearances as well to ensnare by the lawful as the unlawful things; and approve thy heart to the Lord in the way of the Cross and daily dying and living. O! great is the mystery of godliness, but the grace is sufficient! I rejoice at Peter Gardiner's good service; the Lord will work when, how, and by whom He will. I have had three or four months sore travel with blessed success; blessed be His Name.... Dear Robert, in the love of the precious truth, in which I desire thou maist grow up to fill thy dear and honorable father's place, I bid thee farewell. I am,
Thy reall and affectionate friend,William Penn.
P. S.—My journey for Ireland will not be soon, as I hoped, but shall inform thee. Vale.
It has ever been a custom of the Quakers to seek the presence of the great and the powerful, not for personal advantages, but in order to urge on them the claims of religion, and the opportunities and responsibilities of their position. In many instances, the results of these interviews speak for themselves, but as they justly hold, duty does not depend on results. In such a spirit, William Penn sought Peter the Great, in 1696, when he was working as a shipwright, at Greenwich. The young Czar asked many questions about the Friends and their views. It is amusing to find him asking Thomas Story of what use would they be to any kingdom if they would not fight. That he was more than amused by the peculiar views and manners of the Friends, is evident from his remark after a sermon preached by a Friend in Denmark, that whoever could live according to such doctrines, would be happy.
Penn made a second, and as it proved, a final voyage to America, in 1699. He intended to settle there with his wife and family, and made his arrangements accordingly. But events were too strong for him, and he returned in about two years, and never again crossed the Atlantic. It is certain, however, that even after this, he intended to return and spend the rest of his days in the colony. In a letter written three years afterwards, he said, "Had you settled a reasonable revenue, I would have returned and laid my bones among you, and my wife's, too, after her mother's death."
Yet, in this short time, he had done much for Pennsylvania. Bills against piracy and smuggling, and forthe just treatment of negroes, had been passed; better arrangements for the health and improvement of Philadelphia had been made, and a new Charter or frame of Government, and a just system of taxation had been introduced, the expense of governing the Province having, hitherto, fallen on the Governor. Even now, no provision was made for his claims as proprietor. Treaties were made with the Susquehannah and other tribes of Indians; and finally, just on the eve of the Governor's departure, Philadelphia was incorporated. Many minor acts were passed, some of them curiously illustrating the colonists' ideas of a paternal and religious government. Not only were sins against purity and honesty to be punished, but, amongst others, bills were passed on the following matters: the spreading of false news, the names of the days and months of the year, to prevent cursing and swearing, against scolding, for the dimensions of casks, and true packing of meat, against drunkenness and drinking healths, and against selling rum to the Indians. This much was accomplished by the Assembly; probably, more would have been done, but for abounding jealousies. The Province and the other Territories (the districts purchased from the Duke of York) were jealous of each other, and both were jealous of the Governor.
In July, 1701, Penn received a communication from the king, which sorely puzzled him. It demanded that the American proprietaries should unite for the defence of the Colonies, and that Pennsylvania should contribute £350 for the defence of the New York frontier. Apostle of peace though he was, he could do no otherwise than lay the letter before the Assembly. That body delayed and finessed, and finally, saying nothing of peace principles, pleaded their poverty as a reason for postponing the further consideration of the matter, until it was more urgent. Thus, this question of peace, which so long divided Pennsylvania, was for the present shelved. But it is the boast of Friends that for 70 years Pennsylvaniahad no army, and though so near both Indians and Frenchmen, suffered nothing through the lack of one. That State "subsisted in the midst of six Indian nations," says Oldmixon, "without so much as a militia for her defence. Whatever the quarrels of the Pennsylvanian Indians were with others, they uniformly respected and held as it were sacred, the territories of William Penn. The Pennsylvanians never lost man, woman, or child by them, which neither the colony of Maryland, nor that of Virginia could say, no more than the great colony of New England." To complete the argument for non-resistance, see what occurred when Pennsylvania got an army. "From that hour the Pennsylvanians transferred their confidence in Christian principles to a confidence in their arms; and from that hour to the present they have been subject to war." (Dymond's Essays, 4th edition, p. 192.)
But it must not be supposed that the refusal to fight meant either unwillingness or inability to use moral means for self-protection. In 1701, Penn heard of a riot in East Jersey, and set off at once with some friends to quell it. It was put down before he reached the spot, but gave him occasion fully to state his views. "If lenitives would not do, coercives should be tried. The leaders should be eyed, and some should be forced to declare them by the rigour of the law; and those who were found to be such should bear the burden of such sedition, which would be the best way to behead the body without danger."
Amidst all this care and work, Penn found time to make preaching tours in Pennsylvania, New Jersey and Maryland. He and his family won a warm place in the hearts of the Friends here, as well as elsewhere. He might have a large and handsome house at Pennsbury, and his style of living might be superior to that of his neighbours; but he could pick up a bare-legged Quaker girl and give her a ride behind him to "meeting," and hehad a kindly word and pleasantry for the poor as much as for the rich. "The Governor is our pater patriæ," writes one of the Colonists, "and his worth is no new thing to us. His excellent wife is beloved of all."
As Pennsylvania was the birthplace of Abolition, the German Friends at Germantown first raising the question, it is interesting to see what Penn did in the matter. He passed a Bill for regulating the trial and punishment of negro wrong-doers. But he wished to go further, and proposed that negro marriages should be legal, and that the rights of negro-women should be secured by law; but the Assembly threw out these Bills. In 1696 the Philadelphia Yearly Meeting had resolved that buying, selling, and holding slaves was contrary to the teachings of Christianity. Penn followed up this resolution by urging on the Society of Friends in Pennsylvania the recognition of the spiritual claims of negroes. Henceforth, until the Society insisted on its members liberating their slaves, they were taught the Scriptures, and encouraged to attend divine worship.
Penn arrived at Portsmouth, in the middle of December, 1701, after a voyage of about six weeks. The chief business that called him home, was the scheme of William III. for amalgamating all the American provinces as regal Governments. To his intense relief, that scheme was dropped. Soon after this, the king died, and Queen Anne, the daughter of Penn's friend and guardian, James II., ascended the throne. He once more enjoyed royal favour in a marked degree. He was chosen to present to the Queen the Quaker address, thanking her for promising to maintain the Act of Toleration. After the address was read, "Mr. Penn," said the Queen, "I am so well pleased that what I have said is to your satisfaction, that you and your Friends may be assured of my protection."
Of the remaining years of Penn's life, we have very imperfect accounts. He edited the works of two Quakerministers, those of John Whitehead in 1704; those of John Banks, in 1711. In 1709, he wrote "Some account of the Life and Writings of Bulstrode Whitlocke, Esq.," the famous lawyer and stout Puritan, whom he had known and greatly esteemed. He also travelled repeatedly as a minister, and took an active interest in the affairs of the Quakers. Thus, in 1710, Sir D. Dalrymple writes to R. Barclay, junr., who had written to him about the sufferings ofEdinbro'Friends:—"I have written fully to Mr. Penn by this post, who had written to me upon the same subject, to whom I refer you." Again, in 1711, he with others waited on the Duke of Ormond (whom he had known before he became a Friend) to thank him for the kindness which he had shewn to Friends in Ireland during his Lord Lieutenancy.
Meantime had occurred the sad troubles with his late agent Philip Ford, which crippled his resources, broke down his health, and even at one time made him a prisoner in the Fleet for debt. Oldmixon states the fact thus:—"The troubles that befel Mr. Penn in the latter part of his life are of a nature too private to have a place in a public history. He trusted an ungrateful, unjust agent too much with the management of it; and when he expected to have been thousands of pounds the better, found himself thousands of pounds in debt: insomuch that he was restrained in his liberty within the privilege of the Fleet by a tedious and unsuccessful law suit, which together with age, broke his spirits, not easy to be broken, and rendered himself incapable of business and society, as he was wont to have been in the days of his health and vigour both of body and mind." The story is a very sad one. Ford was a Quaker lawyer, and undoubtedly Penn had been far too trustful and careless with him. He had even borrowed money from him on the security of his colony. Ford repaid his kindness and trust by cheating him out of thousands,and his widow and son went farther, and tried to snatch the colony from Penn's grasp. But it was ruled that "it would not be decent to make Government ambulatory," and their claim was not allowed.
The trouble thus caused resulted in Penn having several apoplectic fits, which left him thoroughly shattered. For six years he lingered in second childhood, lovingly nursed by his wife. The best account of his last days occurs in the Journal of Thomas Story, a distinguished Quaker minister, a scholar and a naturalist, whom he had made the first recorder of Philadelphia.
The end came very gently and peacefully. After the long and stormy voyage, the vessel came into harbour through unwonted calms and waters almost without a ripple. He was laid in his grave in Jordan's meeting-house beside his dearly loved Guli, and not far from his mother and Isaac Pennington. Many gathered there to pay the last honours. And since that day, the spot hallowed by his dust has been a well-visited shrine, where many have not only thought admiringly of his deeds, but have also thanked God for the grace that was in him.
If Macaulay was prejudiced against Penn, his testimony to his world-wide fame is the more reliable. We will quote it as it stands. "Rival nations and hostile sects have agreed in canonising him. England is proud of his name. A great commonwealth beyond the Atlantic regards him with a reverence similar to that which the Athenians felt for Theseus, and the Romans for Quirinus. The respected society of which he was a member honours him as an apostle. By pious men of other denominations he is usually regarded as a bright pattern of Christian virtue. Meanwhile admirers of a very different sort have sounded his praises. The French philosophers of the eighteenth century pardoned what they regarded as his superstitious fancies in consideration of his contempt for priests, and of his cosmopolitan benevolence, impartially extended to all races and to all creeds. His name has thus become, throughout all civilised countries, a synonym for probity and philanthropy."
"Nor is this reputation altogether unmerited. Penn was without doubt a man of eminent virtues. He had a strong sense of religious duty, and a fervent desire to promote the happiness of mankind. On one or two points of high importance he had notions more correct than were in his day common, even among men of enlarged minds; and as the proprietor and legislator of a province, which, being almost uninhabited when it came into his possession, afforded a clear field for moral experiments, he had the rare good fortune of being able to carry his theories into practice without any compromise, and yet without any shock to existing institutions. He will always be mentioned with honour as the founder of a Colony, who did not in his dealings with a savage people abuse the strength derived from civilisation, and as a law-giver who in an age of persecution, made religious liberty the corner-stone of a polity."
This testimony is bare justice, indeed it needs supplementing. Macaulay has done justice to his fame, but not to his usefulness or to his beautiful character. For to use the beautiful figure which the Rt. Hon. W. E. Forster employs, "like as the citizens of Philadelphia are even now building the streets which he planned on the unpeopled waste, so are the workmen in the temple of freedom yet labouring at the design which he sketched out." And in the work they have not only his designs to assist them, but the inspiration of his noble life to stimulate them.
The story of Penn's life, so noble and yet so sad in many parts, has touched many hearts. "He reminds me of Abraham or Æneas more than any one else," says Professor Seeley. "I find him," says Tennyson, (writingMar. 3rd, 1882, to the Historical Society of Pennsylvania), "no comet of a season, but the fixed light of a dark and graceless age, shining into the present—a good man and true." In Caroline Fox's "Memories of Old Friends" we read,—"He (Ernest de Bunsen) has been translating William Penn's life into German and sent a copy to Humboldt, from whom he received two charming letters about it, in one saying that he has read every word, and that the contemplation of such a life has contributed to the peace of his old age."
Such testimonies could be multiplied indefinitely. The character and life that inspire such feelings need no defence and no eulogy.