Dealings With The Dead Volume I Part 23

There is not the least pretence, that he offered, or was authorized to offer, any such "_bait_." He spoke of a mere contingency; and did the best he could to mediate, between the King and the Fellows, both of whom were highly incensed.

As to the matter of t.i.thes, Penn was mediating, between men, _who had no scruples about t.i.thes_. He recognized, _pro hac vice_, the usages of the parties; and a Christian judge may, as shrewdly, be charged with infidelity, for conforming to the established law of evidence, and permitting a disciple of Mahomet to be sworn, upon the Koran.

When Hough replied, that the Papists had robbed them of University College, and Christ Church, and were now after Magdalen, and would have all the rest, "Penn," says Mr. Macaulay, "was foolish enough to answer, that he believed the Papists would now be content. 'University,' he said, 'is a pleasant college. Christ Church is a n.o.ble place. Magdalen is a fine building. The situation is convenient. The walks by the river are delightful. If the Roman Catholics are reasonable, they will be satisfied with these.'"

And now I will present Clarkson's just and sensible view of this transaction. Mr. Macaulay has said, vol. ii. page 295, that "_the agency of Penn was employed_," meaning, as the context shows, employed _by the King_. Clarkson, vol. i. chap. 23, says expressly, that, Oct. 3, 1687, Dr.

Bailey wrote to Penn, "stated the merits of the case, and solicited his mediation." Penn told the Fellows, as appears from _Dr. Hough's own letter, written the evening after their last interview_, that he "feared they had come too late. He would use, however, his endeavors; and, if they were unsuccessful, they must attribute it to want of power in him, and not of good will to serve them." The mediation came to nothing. The Fellows grew dissatisfied with Penn; falling, doubtless, into the very common error of parties, highly excited, and differing so widely, that all, who are not _for them; in toto, are against them_. They seem to have been specially offended, by the following liberal remark of Penn's--"For my part, I have always declared my opinion, that the preferments of the Church should not be put into any other hands but such as they at present are in; but I hope you would not have the two Universities such invincible bulwarks of the Church of England, that none but they must be capable of giving their children a learned education."

In the same volume and chapter, Clarkson remarks--"They (the delegates from Magdalen) thought, strange to relate, that Penn had been rambling; and because he spoke doubtfully, about the success of his intended efforts, and of the superior capacity of the established clergy, that they alone should monopolize education, that his language was not to be depended upon as sincere. How this could have come into their heads, except from the terror, into which the situation of the College had thrown them, it is not easy to conceive; for certainly William Penn was as explicit, as any man could have been, under similar circ.u.mstances. He informed them, that, after repeated efforts with the King, he feared they had come too late. This was plain language. He informed them again, that he would make another trial with the King; that he would read their papers to him, unless peremptorily commanded to forbear; but that, if he failed, they must attribute his want of success not to his want of will, but want of power."

"This, though expressive of his doubts and fears, was but a necessary caution, when his exertions had already failed; and it was still more necessary, when there was reason to suppose, that, though the King had a regard for him, and was glad to employ him, as an instrument, in forwarding his public views, yet that he would not gratify him, where his solicitations directly opposed them. That William Penn did afterwards make a trial with the King, to serve the College, there can be no doubt, because no instance can be produced, wherein he ever forfeited his word or broke his promise. But all trials with this view must of necessity have been ineffectual. The King and his ministers had already determined the point in question."

Such were the sentiments of Clarkson.

No. LXVII.

Charles I. was King, when William Penn was born; and, when he died, George I. was on the throne. Penn therefore lived in the reins of nine rulers of the realm--Charles I.--the Cromwells, Oliver and Richard--Charles II.--James II.--William and Mary as joint sovereigns--William alone--Anne--and George I.

He was the son of Admiral, Sir William Penn, and was born on Tower Hill, London, Oct. 4, 1644. The spirit and the flesh strove hard for the mastery, before young William came forth a Quaker, fully developed. He was remarkable at Oxford, for his fine scholarship, and athletic performances.

Penn believed, that the Lord appeared to him, when he was very young. The devil seems to have made him a short visit afterwards, if we may rely upon the testimony of Penn's biographers. Wood, in his Athenae, iv. 645, gives this brief account of the Lord's visit--Penn was "educated in puerile learning, at Chigwell in Ess.e.x, where, at eleven years of age, being retired in a chamber alone, he was so suddenly surprised with an inward comfort, and, as he thought, an external glory in the room, that he has, many times, said that, from that time, he had the seal of divinity and immortality, that there was also a G.o.d, and that the soul of man was capable of enjoying his divine communications."

His biographer, Clarkson, says, that Penn, at the age of sixteen, was led to a sense of the corruptions of the established faith, by the preaching of Thomas Loe, a Quaker; and broke off at the chapel, and began to hold prayer meetings. For this he was fined and admonished. It is remarkable, that Wood, though he states, that Penn, after he became a Quaker, in good earnest, was imprisoned, once in Ireland, once in the Tower, and three times in Newgate, does not even allude, in his Athenae, to the expulsion from Oxford, which is related, by Chalmers, Clarkson, and others.

It seems, that, after he had become impressed, by Loe's preaching, an order came down from court, that the students should wear surplices. This so irritated Penn, that, instead of letting his yea be yea, and his nay nay--in company with others, says Clarkson, "he fell upon those students, who appeared in surplices, and tore them everywhere over their heads." On the subject of his conversion, Wood says--"If you'll believe a satirical pamphlet--'_The history of Will Penn's conversion from a gentleman to a Quaker_,' printed at London, in 1682--you'll find, that the reason of his turning Quaker was the loss of his mistress, a delicate young lady, that then lived in Dublin; or, as others say, because he refused to fight a duel."

For two, good and sufficient reasons, this statement, contained in the "_satirical pamphlet_," and referred to by Wood, is unworthy of the slightest credit. In the first place, though Penn met Loe, in Dublin, after the expulsion from Oxford, and became more fully impressed, yet his first meeting with Loe was at Oxford, before the expulsion, and the serious impression, produced by his preaching, led, albeit rather oddly, to the affair of the surplices.

In the second place, the notion, that Penn would put on Quakerism, to avoid a duel, is still more incredible. Nothing could be more unfortunate, than any imputation upon Penn's courage, moral or physical. We have seen, that he was famous for his athletic exercises. Strange, though it may seem, to such as have contemplated Penn, as the quiet non-combatant, he was an accomplished swordsman, and, upon one occasion, was actually engaged in an affair, which had all the aspect, and all the peril, of the _duellium_, however it may have lacked the preliminary forms and ceremonies. "During his residence in Paris," says Chalmers, "he was a.s.saulted in the street, one evening, by a person with a drawn sword, on account of a supposed affront; but among other accomplishments of a gay man, he had become so good a swordsman, as to disarm his antagonist."

After his expulsion from Oxford, in 1662, he returned home. His father, the Admiral, was greatly provoked, to see his son resorting to the company of religious people, who were, of all, the least likely, in the licentious reign of Charles II., to advance his worldly interest. The old gentleman tried severity, and finally, as Penn himself relates, gave the Quaker neophyte a thrashing, and turned him out of doors.

Ere long, the father got the better of the admiral. He relented: and, probably, supposing there was as little vitality in Paris, for a Quaker, as some of the old philosophers fancied there might be, in a vacuum, for an angel, he sent young William thither, as one of a fashionable travelling party.

After his return, he was admitted of Lincoln's Inn, and continued there, till the year of the plague, 1665. The following year, his father sent him to Ireland, to take charge of an estate. At Cork, he met Loe once more--attended his meetings, became an unalterable Quaker, preached in conventicles--was committed to prison--released upon application to the Earl of Orrery--and summoned home, by his indignant father. The old Admiral loved his accomplished son, then twenty-three years old--but abhorred his Quakerish airs and manners. In all points, save one--the point of conscience--William was unexceptionably dutiful. At length, the Admiral agreed to compound, on conditions, which seem not to have been very oppressive: in short, he consented to waive all objections, and let William do as he pleased, in regard to his religion, provided he would yield, in one particular--doff his broad brim--take off his hat--in presence of the King, the Duke of York, and his own father, the Admiral.

Young William demanded time for consideration. It was granted; and he earnestly sought the Lord, on an empty stomach, as he says himself, with prayer. He finally informed his father, that he _could not do it_; and, once again, the Admiral, in a paroxysm of wrath, turned the rebellious young Quaker out of doors, broad brim and all.

William Penn now began to figure, as a preacher, at the Quaker meetings.

The _friends_, and the fond mother, ever on hand, in such emergencies, supplied his temporal necessities. Even the old Admiral, becoming satisfied of William's perfect sincerity, although too proud to tack about, hoisted private signals, for his release, when imprisoned, for attending Quaker meetings; and evidently lay by, ready to bear down, in the event of serious difficulty.

In 1668, Penn's brim grew broader and broader, and his coat became b.u.t.tonless behind. He was a writer and a preacher, and a powerful defender of the "_cursed and depised_" Quakers. The t.i.tles of his various works may be found in Clarkson, and in Wood's Athenae. They conformed to the fashion of the age, and were, necessarily, quaint and extended. I have room for one only, as a specimen,--the t.i.tle of his first tract--"_Truth exalted, in a short but sure testimony, against all those religious faiths and worships, that have been formed and followed in the darkness of apostacy; and for that glorious light, which is now risen, and shines forth in the life and doctrine of the despised Quakers, as the alone good old way of life and salvation; presented to princes, priests, and people, that they may repent, believe, and obey. By William Penn; whom Divine love constrains, in an holy contempt, to trample on Egypt's glory, not fearing the King's wrath, having beheld the majesty of Him, who is invisible._" In this same year 1668, he was imprisoned in the Tower, for publishing his SANDY FOUNDATION SHAKEN. There he was confined seven months, doing infinitely more mischief, for the cause of lawn sleeves and white frocks, forms, ceremonies, and hat-worship, as he calls it, than if he had been loose. For, then and there, he wrote his most able pamphlets, especially, NO CROSS NO CROWN, which gained him great praise, far beyond the pale of Quakerdom. His treatise has been often reprinted, and translated into foreign tongues.

In 1670, his influence was so great, that he obtained an order in Council, for the release of the Quakers then in prison. At a later day, he again a.s.sumed the office of St. Peter's angel, and set three thousand captives free. In 1685, says Mr. Macaulay, "he strongly represented the sufferings of the Quakers to the new King," &c. "In this way, about fifteen hundred Quakers, and a still greater number of Roman Catholics regained their liberty." No wonder he was mistaken for a Papist, by those, who adopt that b.a.s.t.a.r.d principle, that charity begins at home, and ends there; whose religious circle forms the exclusive line of demarcation, for the exercise of that celestial principle; and who look, with the eye of a Chinaman, upon all beyond the holy sectarian wall, as outside barbarians. I was delighted and rather surprised, that Mr. Macaulay suffered the statement of this fact to pa.s.s, without some ill-natured expression, in regard to Penn--who, I say it reverentially, was less the TOOL of the King, than of Jesus Christ.

No. LXVIII.

In 1670, William Penn was, for the third time, committed to Newgate, for preaching. His fines were paid by his father, who died this year, entirely reconciled to his son; and, upon his bed of death, p.r.o.nounced these comforting words--"_Son William, let nothing in this world tempt you to wrong your conscience: I charge you, do nothing against your conscience.

So will you keep peace at home, which will be a feast to you in a day of trouble_."

Penn inherited from his father an estate, yielding about 1500 per annum.

About this time he wrote his "_Seasonable caveat against Popery_;" though he knew it was the faith of the Queen and his good friend, the Duke of York. Shortly after, he travelled in Holland and Germany. In 1672, he married Gulielma Maria Springett. In 1675, he held his famous dispute with Richard Baxter; and, in 1677, he again visited the continent, in company with George c.o.x and Robert Barclay, constantly preaching, and writing, and importuning, in behalf of his despised and oppressed brethren. About this period, and soon after his return to England, we find him pet.i.tioning Parliament, in their behalf. Twice, he was permitted to address the committee of the House of Commons, upon this subject.

Whoever coveted the honor of being the creditor of royalty found a willing customer, in Charles the Second. In 1681, that monarch, in consideration of 16,000 due from him to the estate of Admiral Penn, conveyed to William the district, now called Pennsylvania. He himself would have given it the name of Sylvania, but the King insisted, on prefixing the name of the grantee. Full powers of legislation and government were bestowed upon the proprietor. The only limitation was a power, reserved to the Privy Council, to rescind his laws, within six months, after they were laid before that body. The charter bears date March 4, 1681. He first designed to call his domain "New Wales," and nothing saved the Philadelphians from being Welchmen, but an objection, from the under-secretary of state, who was himself a Welchman, and was offended at the Quaker's presumption.

He encouraged emigrants, judiciously selected, to embark for his Province; and followed, himself, with about a hundred Quakers, in September, 1682.

His arrival in the Delaware, his beneficent administration, and the whole story of his negotiation, with the Indians, are full of interest, and overflowing. It is a long story withal, too long, altogether, for our narrow boundaries. I have indicated the sources of information, and this is all my limits will allow.

After two years, he returned to England, and became a greater favorite than ever, with James II.--was calumniated, of course--pursued by the unholy alliance of churchmen, and sectaries, and apostate Quakers--grossly insulted--"chastened but not killed"--and finally deprived of his government. Justice, at length, prevailed. Penn's rights were restored, by William III. Having lost his wife and son, he went again, upon his travels, and again married. In 1699, he returned to Pennsylvania, and remained there, for the term of two years. He then went home to England; and, after continuing to employ his tongue and his pen, as freely as ever, for several years, he died, July 30, 1718, at the age of seventy-two years, at Jordan, near Beaconsfield, in Buckinghamshire.

Such is the mere _skeleton_ of this good man's life; and it is my purpose to _flesh it up_, with some few of those highly interesting, and well authenticated, incidents, which may be found, on the pages of trust worthy writers.

I do not believe, that the pen of any past, present, or future historian, or biographer, however masterly the hand that holds it--however bitter and pungent the gall of bigotry or political venom, in which it may dipped--will ever be able, very grievously, or lastingly, to soil the character of William Penn. The world's opinion has settled down, upon firm convictions. If new facts can be produced, then, indeed, a writer may justly move, for a reconsideration of the public sentiment--but Mr.

Macaulay does not present _a single fact_, in relation to William Penn, not known before--he gives a _construction_ of his own, so manifestly tinctured with ill nature, as, at once, to excite the suspicion of his reader.

I wear a narrow brim, and have b.u.t.tons behind--I am no Quaker--and, indeed, have a quarrel with them all--chiefly grammatical--though I esteem and respect the principles of that moral and religious people--but I simply describe the impulse of my own heart, when I say, that Mr.

Macaulay's ill natured treatment of William Penn painfully disturbed my confidence, in his impartiality; and constrained me to "read, mark, learn and inwardly digest," the highly seasoned _provant_, which he has furnished--_c.u.m grano salis_; and with great care, not to swallow the _flummery_. Scotchmen have not always written thus of William Penn; and the sentiments of mankind, now and hereafter, if I do not strangely err, will be found, embodied in the concluding pa.s.sage of an article in the Edinburgh Review, vol. xxi. page 462.

"We shall not stop to examine what dregs of ambition, or what hankerings after worldly prosperity may have mixed themselves with the pious and philanthropic principles, that were undoubtedly his chief guides in forming, that great settlement, which still bears his name, and profits by his example. Human virtue does not challenge nor admit of such a scrutiny: and it should be sufficient for the glory of William Penn, that he stands upon record, as the most humane, the most moderate, and most pacific of all governors." All this may be enough for his _glory_. But there are some simple, touching truths, to be told of William Penn, and some highly interesting personal details; which, though they may have little about them, in accordance with the ordinary estimate of _glory_, will long continue to envelop the memory of this extraordinary man, with a purer and a milder light.

I know no better mode of concluding the present article, than by presenting a few extracts, from the valedictory letter of William Penn to his wife and children, written on the eve of his first visit to Pennsylvania, September, 1682. If the _saints_ write such admirable love letters, it would greatly benefit the _sinners_--the men of this world--to follow the example, and surpa.s.s it, if they can.

"My dear wife and children. My love, which neither sea, nor land, nor death itself can extinguish nor lessen towards you, most endearingly visits you, with eternal embraces, and will abide with you forever. My dear wife! remember thou wast the love of my youth, and much the joy of my life; the most beloved, as well as most worthy of all my earthly comforts; and the reason of that love was more thy inward than thy outward excellencies, which yet were many. G.o.d knows, and thou knowest it, I can say it was a match of Providence's making; and G.o.d's image in us both was the first thing, and the most amiable and engaging ornament in our eyes.

Now I am to leave thee, and that, without knowing whether I shall ever see thee more in this world. Take my counsel into thy bosom, and let it dwell with thee, in my stead, while thou livest."

Here follows some domestic advice. Penn then proceeds--"And now, my dearest, let me recommend to thy care, my dear children, abundantly beloved of me, as the Lord's blessings, and the sweet pledges of our mutual and endeared affection. Above all things, endeavor to breed them up, in the knowledge and love of virtue, and that holy plain way of it, which we have lived in, that the world, in no part of it, get into my family. * * *

"For their learning, be liberal. Spare no cost. For by such parsimony all is lost, that is saved: but let it be useful knowledge, such as is consistent with truth and G.o.dliness, not cherishing a vain conversation, or idle mind. * * * I recommend the useful parts of mathematics, &c., but agriculture is especially in my eye: let my children be husbandmen and housewives: it is industrious, healthy, honest and of good example. * * *

Be sure to observe their genius, and do not cross it as to learning. * * *

I choose not they should be married to earthly, covetous kindred; and of cities and towns of concourse, beware. The world is apt to stick close to those, who have lived and got wealth there. A country life and estate, I like best for my children. I prefer a decent mansion, of an hundred pounds per annum, before ten thousand pounds, in London, or such like place, in a way of trade."

He then addresses his children, and finally his elder boys, in the following admirable strain, honorable alike to his understanding and his heart.

"And, as for you, who are likely to be concerned, in the government of Pennsylvania, I do charge you, before the Lord G.o.d and his holy angels, that you be lowly, diligent and tender, fearing G.o.d, loving the people, and hating covetousness. Let justice have its impartial course, and the law free pa.s.sage. Though to your loss, protect no man against it--for you are not above the law, but the law above you. Live therefore the lives, yourselves, you would have the people live; and then you have right and boldness to punish the transgressor. Keep upon the square, for G.o.d sees you: therefore do your duty, and be sure you see with your own eyes, and hear with your own ears. Entertain no lurchers; cherish no informers for gain or revenge; use no tricks; fly to no devices, to support or cover injustice but let your heart be upright before the Lord, trusting in him, above the contrivances of men, and none shall be able to hurt or supplant."

The letter, from which I have made these few extracts, concludes--"So farewell to my thrice dearly beloved wife and children! Yours as G.o.d pleaseth, in that, which no waters can quench, no time forget, nor distance wear away."

It is truly pleasant to get behind the curtain of form and ceremony, and look at these eminent men, in their night-gowns and slippers, and listen to them thus, while talking to their wives and their children.