Part 7

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 for the 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 Pennsylvania had 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 he had 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 Quaker ministers, 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 of Edinbro' 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, (writing Mar. 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.

ROBERT BARCLAY,

THE

APOLOGIST OF QUAKERISM.

PREFACE.

This sketch was outlined as a companion sketch to those of Fox and Penn. But the opportunity of embodying in it extracts from unpublished letters in the keeping of members of the Barclay family, (for which the author cannot be too grateful,) led to its being enlarged to a disproportionate size. But the reader will not regret this, when he finds himself furnished with new materials throwing light on a character so little understood. To most readers, Barclay is merely a name; the author has attempted to realise the man and his work, as far as the still very imperfect information will allow.

ROBERT BARCLAY,

THE

APOLOGIST OF QUAKERISM.

George Fox, that fervid evangelist who anticipated Wesley in claiming the whole world as his parish, visited Scotland only once. This was in 1657. But some years previously, several Quaker ministers, including two lady-evangelists, Catherine Evans and Sarah Cheevers, had preached "the truth" there, and meetings had been gathered, says Sewel the Quaker historian, in Edinburgh, Aberdeen, and other places. James Nayler preached in Scotland as early as 1651, with his usual fervour and success. But no church of professed "Friends" was formed in Aberdeen until 1662, when Alexander Jaffray sometime provost of Aberdeen, one of the Scottish Commissioners to King Charles, and a member of Cromwell's Parliament, was led along with others to a full and open acceptance of Quakerism by William Dewsbury. The number of the names was small, but they were men and women whose energy and sterling worth made them noteworthy. Their decision may be measured by their daring the contempt so profusely accorded the "Friends" by the orthodox; "possessed with the devil, demented, blasphemous deniers of the true Christ" being some of the expressions hurled at them by the neighbouring pulpits. In 1666, they were strengthened by the accession of Colonel David Barclay, and a little later by that of his son, Robert Barclay, the future Apologist of Quakerism. Fully then was the expectation of George Fox realised, of which he afterwards told Robert Barclay, in 1675, "As soon as ever my horse set his foot upon the land of the Scottish nation, the infinite sparkles of life sparkled about me; and so as I rid with divers friends, I saw the seed of the seedsman Christ that was sown; but abundance of clods--foul and filthy earth--was above it; and a great winter and storms and tempests of work." "Thick cloddy earth of hypocrisy and falseness atop," says the corresponding passage of his journal, "and a briary brambly nature, which is to be turned up with God's Word, and ploughed up with his spiritual plough, before God's seed brings forth heavenly and spiritual fruit to his glory. But the husbandman is to wait in patience."

David Barclay represented an ancient and honourable family, supposed to be a branch of the Berkeleys in Gloucestershire. He was a lineal descendant of Theobald de Berkeley, born about 1110, who held a large estate in Kincardine, and was conspicuous in the court of David I. In the 15th century, Alexander Berkeley began to spell the name Barclay, and his descendants followed his example.[13] They were a powerful, sometimes a turbulent race, with an occasional instance of a literary or scholarly scion. David Barclay's father having wrecked his fortune by spendthrift and easygoing habits, his sons had to shift for themselves. Three of them died before their father, two in infancy, the third, James, falling at the battle of Philiphaugh, whilst fighting under his brother David. Of the two survivors, the younger, Robert, became a Catholic priest, and flourished in Paris, becoming Rector of the Scottish College there. Of David, the elder and the father of the subject of this sketch, we must speak more at length.

[13] Of the father of this Alexander de Barclay, whose name was David, we read that he was the "ringleader of the savage barons who exaggerated the atrocities of a reckless age by actually boiling an obnoxious sheriff of the Mearns in a cauldron, and then 'suppin' the broo'." Yet the son was something of a poet, and some lines full of good advice, said to be from his pen, are given in the "Short Account of R. Barclay."

David Barclay was born at Kirtounhill, in 1610. The only patrimony he got from his father was a good education: for in 1633, the old family estates were sold to pay off his father's debts. Finding that he had to make his own way in the world, with all the energy of his race he "flung himself into the saddle of opportunity as a soldier of fortune," and rose to the rank of major in the army of Gustavus Adolphus, specially distinguishing himself at Lutzen. Returning home with substantial gains as well as honours, when the civil war broke out he became a colonel in the Royal Army. He fought under Leslie at Philiphaugh, and effectively assisted Middleton in holding the north, until Cromwell removed him from command, after his victory at Preston-pans. Then he retired from military service, bought the Ury estate, and with his wife and son Robert settled there. He had contracted an advantageous marriage in the spring of 1648, with Catherine, daughter of Sir Robert Gordon, of Gordonstown. The father was the second son of the Earl of Sutherland and second cousin to James I. He was a man of great parts, and held various high offices under the Crown. After his marriage, David Barclay sat in Parliament for Sutherland, and then for Angus and Kincardine. He used his influence to regain possession of his Ury estate which had been seized by General Monk, and to befriend other gentlemen who were in similar trouble, and his success in these efforts made him very popular. Then he retired into private life. In 1663, he lost his excellent wife when Robert was not fifteen. But before her death, she took one step of the greatest moment to Robert. He had been sent to Paris, to finish his education under his uncle's eye. But though his progress must have satisfied even a mother's pride, she, herself a staunch Protestant, felt a great anxiety lest he should adopt the Romish faith. So, when dying of consumption, she obtained from his father the promise that he should be recalled home. This step was farther urged by her mother, good old lady Gordon, in an earnest letter which still exists. Accordingly Col. Barclay visited his brother in Paris in 1664, and after vigorous opposition from him, brought his son home.

But the time had come for a complete change in the tone and tenour of David Barclay's life. He had gained renown and position, and had allied himself with a branch of the Royal family, but these had brought him neither peace nor satisfaction. Royal blood is no guarantee against disease and death, and he had had to see his beloved wife fade away and die at the early age of forty-three. He had risked limb and life, and had striven with hand and brain to win renown, and position, and wealth, only to find that these things expose their possessor to special trials and dangers. He had found out by hard experience how uncertain was his tenure of earthly good. His sorrows and disappointments prepared his heart for more earnestness about spiritual truth than he had hitherto manifested, and Quakerism was to present that truth in a form which would satisfy his mind and heart.

Perhaps it was whilst on the journey to fetch home his son, that he became closely acquainted with the Quakers. He tells us how he had heard of their simple and conscientious living, and "he considered within himself that if they were really such as even their enemies were forced to acknowledge, there must be something extraordinary about them." Whether or not this knowledge was gained in Aberdeen, where a meeting had been gathered now more than a year, we do not know. But, "being in London" on some errand or other, he had opportunities to enquire into the Quaker principles and practises, which he did to such purpose, that his mind became convinced that their tenets were according to the Scriptures. Still, the cautious Scotchman did not immediately join them.

Immediately afterwards we find David Barclay in prison in Edinbro' Castle. Although he had suffered for the king, he was accused of having held office under Cromwell, and it might have gone hardly with him had he not been befriended by his old chief, the Earl of Middleton. Through the influence of that nobleman the proceedings were quashed, and he was liberated.

This imprisonment, in the ordering of God's providence, brought to the right issue the great crisis of his life. In the same room with him in Edinbro' Castle was imprisoned Sir John Swintoune, who from a soldier and a Presbyterian had become a thorough Quaker. He was so zealous in propagating his opinions that the only way to silence him was to keep him in solitary confinement, which was at one time done for several weeks. No wonder, then, that he urged on David Barclay the full acceptance of the truth.

On leaving the Castle, the colonel seems to have remained in Edinbro' even after he had sent his son, in company with a Quaker, David Falconer, to Ury. In Edinbro' he came out as an acknowledged Friend.

He tells us what points satisfied his sober and careful judgment that the Quakers were right. He was struck with the correspondence between their peace principles and Isaiah's prophecy, that in Gospel times they would beat their swords into ploughshares, and their spears into pruning-hooks. Then again, they were all as brothers, loving and standing by each other, and had not Christ said, that his disciples should be known by their mutual love? The courageous soldier was in sympathy with those who, whilst others worshipped God by stealth, bravely dared all persecution by openly assembling to worship God as their consciences dictated. So he thought within himself, that "if the Lord Jesus Christ had a visible Church on earth these must be they." But all this merely cleared the ground for the final and decisive proof, without which he would never have made a Friend. Feeling his judgment satisfied by these tests, he yielded his heart to the influence of the truth, and he experienced a peace which insults and sufferings could not disturb, and gained an experimental acquaintance with God that satisfied the cravings of his soul.