Part 5

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. (See sketch 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 the Quaker 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 days over 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 her first 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 a trust 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 dishonourably and 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 of the 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 to sketch a 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 rare amount 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 not _insisted 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 his marked 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.