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.
After spending some two years in Pennsylvania and seeing 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 (see sketch 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 Croese (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 or wrongly 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.