Dealings With The Dead Volume I Part 24

No. LXIX.

It is remarkable, that such a genuine Quaker, as William Penn, should have sprung from such a belligerent stock. His father, as I have stated, was a British admiral; and his grandfather, Giles, was a captain in the navy.

William Penn may, nevertheless, have derived, from this origin, and from his Dutch mother, Margaret Jasper, of Rotterdam--a certain quality, eminently characteristic of the Quaker--that resolute determination, which the coa.r.s.er man of the world calls _pluck_, and the Quaker, _constancy_.

This constancy of purpose, in William Penn, seems never to have been shaken. It appeared, in his refusal to doff his brim, before his father, the Duke of York, and the King. It was manifested, when, being imprisoned in the Tower, for printing his _Sandy Foundation Shaken_, and hearing, that the Bishop of London had declared the offender should publicly recant, or remain there, for life; he replied, "_he would weary out the malice of his enemies by his patience, and that his prison should be his grave, before he would renounce his just opinions, for he owed his conscience to no man_."

This same constancy was signally exhibited, during the disputation, between himself and George Whitehead, for the Quakers, and Thomas Vincent and others, for the Presbyterians. Vincent had a parish, in Spitalfields.

Two of his parishioners went to listen, perhaps to laugh, at the Quakers.

Like Goldsmith's scoffers, who came to laugh, and remained to pray--they went in, Presbyterians, and came out, Quakers. They were converted. At this, Vincent lost his patience; and seems to have become a persecutor of the _cursed Quakers_; and, as Clarkson states, said all manner of "_unhandsome_" things of them, and their _d.a.m.nable_ doctrines. Penn and Whitehead invited Vincent to a public discussion. After much delay and evasion, Vincent consented. As every fowl is bravest on his own _stercorium_, Vincent selected his own Presbyterian meeting-house, as the place for the discussion; and, before the appointed hour, filled it with his own people, so completely, that the disputants themselves, Penn and Whitehead, could scarcely gain admittance. They were instantly insulted, by a charge, suddenly made, that the Quakers held "_d.a.m.nable doctrines_."

Whitehead began a reply; Vincent interrupted him, and proposed, as the proper course, that he should put questions to the Quakers. He put the motion, and, as almost all present were of his party, it was agreed to, of course. He then put a question concerning the G.o.dhead, which he knew the Quakers would answer in the negative. Whitehead and Penn attempted to explain. Several rose on the other side. Whitehead desired to put a question to Vincent. This the Presbyterians refused. They proceeded to laugh, hiss and stigmatize. Penn they called a Jesuit. Upon an answer from Whitehead, to a question from Vincent, uproar ensued, and Vincent "went instantly to prayer," that the Lord would _come short_ with heretics and blasphemers.

When he had, by this manoeuvre, discharged his battery upon the Quakers, effectually securing himself from interruption--for no one would presume to interrupt a minister at prayer--he cut off all power of reply, by telling the people to go home immediately, at the same moment setting them the example.

The closing part, which especially exhibits that constancy, for which the Quakers have ever been remarkable, cannot be more happily related, than in the language of Mr. Clarkson himself.

"The congregation was leaving the meeting-house, and they had not yet been heard. Finding they would soon be left to themselves, some of them, at length, ventured to speak; but they were pulled down, and the candles, for the controversy had lasted till midnight, were put out. They were not, however, prevented by this usage, from going on: for, rising up, they continued their defence in the dark; and what was extraordinary, many staid to hear it. This brought Vincent among them with a candle.

Addressing himself to the Quakers, he desired them to disperse. To this, at length, they consented, but only, on the promise, that another meeting should be granted them, for the same purpose, in the same place."

Vincent did not keep his promise. He was, doubtless, fearful that more of his parishioners would be converted. Penn and Whitehead, at last, went to Vincent's meeting-house, on a lecture day; and, when the lecture was finished, rose and begged an audience: but Vincent went off, as fast as possible; and the congregation, as speedily, followed. Finding no other mode before him, Penn wrote and published his celebrated _Sandy Foundation Shaken_, which caused his imprisonment in the Tower, as already related.

Another remarkable example of the constancy of Penn is recorded, in the history of his trial, before the Lord Mayor, for a breach of the conventicle act, in 1670. Mr. Macaulay is pleased to say, Penn had never been "_a strong-headed man_." This is one of those sliding phrases, that may mean anything, or nothing. It may mean, that not being a _strong-headed man_, he necessarily belonged to the other category, and was a _weak-headed man_. Or, it may mean, that he was not as strong-headed as Lord Verulam, or Mr. Macaulay. I wish the reader would decide this question for himself; and, for that end, read the history of this interesting trial, as given by Clarkson, in the first volume, and sixth chapter of his Memoirs of Penn. If the evidences of a strong head and a strong heart were not abundantly exhibited, by the accused, upon that occasion, I know not where to look for them.

The jury returned a verdict of _guilty of speaking in Grace Street Church_. Sir Samuel Starling, the Mayor, and the whole court abused the jurors, after the example of Jeffreys, and sent them back to their room.

After half an hour, they returned the same verdict, in writing, signed with their names. The court were more enraged than before; and, Mr.

Clarkson says, the Recorder addressed them thus--"You shall not be dismissed, till we have a verdict, such as the court will accept; and you shall be locked up without meat, drink, fire, and tobacco; you shall not think thus to abuse the court; we will have a verdict, by the help of G.o.d, or you shall starve for it." After being out all night, the jury returned the same verdict, for the third time. They were severely abused by the court, after the fashion of that day, and sent to their room, once more. A fourth time, they returned the same verdict. Penn addressed the jury, and the court ordered the jailor to stop his mouth, and bring fetters, and stake him to the ground. Friend William, for an instant, merged the Quaker in the Englishman, and exclaimed--"Do your pleasure, I matter not your fetters."

On the fifth of September, the jury, who had received no refreshment, for two days and two nights, returned a verdict of _not guilty_. Such was the condition of things, at that day, that, for the rendition of that verdict, the jury were fined forty marks apiece, and imprisoned in Newgate. Penn was, at this time, five-and-twenty years of age.

The peculiar position of William Penn, at the court of Charles and James the Second, may be explained, without laying, at his door, the imputation of being a time-server, and a man of the world. Between the latter monarch and the Quaker, there existed a relation, akin to friendship. Penn, in keeping with his Quaker principles, was forgetful of injuries, and mindful of benefits. It is impossible to say, how long he would have remained in the tower, when imprisoned there, through the agency of the Bishop of London, had he not been released, upon the unsolicited importunity of James II., when Duke of York. When the Admiral, his father, was near his end, "he sent one of his friends," says Mr. Clarkson, "to the Duke of York, to desire of him, as a death-bed request, that he would endeavor to protect his son, as far as he consistently could, and to ask the King to do the same, in case of future persecution. The answer was gratifying, both of them promising their services, upon a fit occasion."

Perhaps it would not be going too far--with Mr. Macaulay's permission, of course--to ascribe that personal consideration, which Penn exhibited, for Charles and James--a part of it, at least--to a grateful recollection of their favors, to his father and himself.

"_t.i.tles and phrases_," says Mr. Macaulay, "_against which he had often borne his testimony, dropped occasionally from his lips and his pen_." I rather doubt, if the recording angel, who will never "_set down aught in malice_," has noted the unquakerish sins of William Penn, in doing grammatical justice to personal p.r.o.nouns. This, truly, is a mighty small matter. If Penn was not so particular, in these little things, as some others of his brotherhood, his birth and education may be well considered.

He was not a Quaker born. His residence in France may also be taken into the account. "He had contracted," says Clarkson, "a sort of polished or courtly demeanor, which he had insensibly taken from the customs of the people, among whom he had lately lived."

In the matter of the hat, even Mr. Macaulay will never charge William Penn with inconsistency. In Granger's Biographical History of England, iv. 16, I find the following anecdote--"We are credibly informed, that he sat with his hat on before Charles II., and that the King, as a gentle rebuke for his ill manners, put off his own: upon which Penn said to him--'Friend Charles, why dost thou not put on thy hat?' The King answered, "Tis the custom of this place, that never above one person should be covered at a time.'" This tale is told also, in a note to Grey's Hudibras, on canto ii.

v. 225, and elsewhere.

No. LXX.

_The pride of life_--that omnipresent frailty--that universal mark of man's congenital naughtiness--in William Penn, seemed scarcely an earthly leaven, springing, as it did, from a comforting consciousness of the purity of his own. _The pride of life_, with him, was essentially _humility_; for, when compelled to rest his defence, in any degree, upon his individual character, he vaunted not himself, but gave all the glory to the Giver.

No man, however, more keenly felt the a.s.saults, which were made upon his character, by the tongue and the pen of envy and hatred, ignorance and bigotry, because he knew, that the shaft, though aimed, ostensibly, at him, was frequently designed, for that body, whose prominent leader he was.

In the very year of his father's death, and shortly after that event, he was seized, by a file of soldiers, sent purposely, for his apprehension, while preaching, in a Quaker meeting-house, and carried before Sir John Robinson, who treated him roughly, and sent him, for six months, to Newgate. In the course of the trial, Robinson said to Penn--"_You have been as bad as other folks_"--to which Penn replied--"_When and where? I charge thee to tell the company to my face._" Robinson rejoined--"Abroad, and at home too." This was so notoriously false and absurd, that an ingenuous member of the court, Sir John Shelden, exclaimed--"_No, no, Sir John, that's too much_." Penn, turning to the a.s.sembly, and with all the chastened indignation of an insulted Christian--Quaker as he was--delivered himself, with a strength and simplicity, which would have done honor to Paul, in the presence of Agrippa; and which must forever, so long as the precious record shall remain, touch a responsive chord--even in the bosoms of those, whose practice it is, upon ordinary occasions, to let their yea be yea, and their nay--nay.

I am sure it would have cheered the old Admiral's heart, and elevated his respect for the broad brim, to have heard the manly language of his Quaker son, that day.

"I make this bold challenge to all men, women, and children upon earth, justly to accuse me, with having seen me drunk, heard me swear, utter a curse, or speak one obscene word, much less that I ever made it my practice. I speak this to G.o.d's glory, who has ever preserved me from the power of these pollutions, and who, from a child, begot an hatred in me, towards them."

"But there is nothing more common, than, when men are of a more severe life than ordinary, for loose persons to comfort themselves with the conceit, that these were once as they themselves are; as if there were no collateral or oblique line of the compa.s.s or globe, by which men might be said to come to the Arctic pole, but directly and immediately from the Antarctic. Thy words shall be thy burden, and I trample thy slanders, as dirt, under my feet."

Mr. Clarkson is quoted, as good authority, by Mr. Macaulay. Such he has ever been esteemed. A brief quotation may not be amiss, in regard to Penn's relation to James II. Having referred to the Admiral's dying request to Charles and James, to have a regard for his Quaker son, Clarkson says--"From this period a more regular acquaintance grew up between them (William Penn and James II.) and intimacy followed. During this intimacy, however William Penn might have disapproved, as he did, of the King's religious opinions, he was attached to him, from a belief, that he was a friend to liberty of conscience. Entertaining this opinion concerning him, he conceived it to be his duty, now that he had become King, to renew this intimacy with him, and that, in a stronger manner than ever, that he might forward the great object, for which he had crossed the Atlantic, namely, the relief of those unhappy persons, who were then suffering, on account of their religion. * * * * He used his influence with the King solely in doing good."

The relation, between William Penn and the Papist King, was indeed remarkable. Gerard Croese published his Historia Quakeriana, at Amsterdam, in 1695, which was translated into English, in the following year. It was greatly disliked, by the Quakers; and, in 1696, drew forth an answer from one of the society. The testimony of Croese, in relation to Penn, may therefore be deemed impartial. He says--"The king loved him, as a singular and entire friend, and imparted to him many of his secrets and counsels.

He often honored him with his company in private, discoursing with him of various affairs, and that not for one but many hours together."

When a peer, who had been long kept waiting for Penn to come forth, ventured to complain, the King simply said--"_Penn always talked ingeniously and he heard him willingly_." Croese says, that Penn was unwearied, as the suitor on behalf of his oppressed people, making constant efforts for their liberation, and paying their legal expenses, from his private purse. The King's remark certainly does not quadrate with Burnet's statement, that Penn "_had a tedious luscious way of talking_."

With Queen Anne he was a great favorite; and Clarkson says, vol. ii. chap.

15, "she received him always in a friendly manner, and was pleased with his conversation." So was Tillotson. So was a better judge than Queen Anne, Tillotson, or Burnet. In n.o.ble's continuation of Granger, Swift is stated to have said--"_Penn talked very agreeably and with much spirit_."

Somewhat of Penn's relation to King James may be gathered, from Penn's answer, when examined, in 1690, before King William, in regard to an intercepted letter from King James to Penn. In that letter, James desired Penn to "_come to his a.s.sistance and express to him the resentments of his favor and benevolence_." When asked what _resentments_ were intended, he replied that "he did not know, but he supposed the King meant he should compa.s.s his restoration. Though, however he could not avoid the suspicion of such an attempt, he could avoid the guilt of it. He confessed he had loved King James; and, as he had loved him, in his prosperity, he could not hate him, in his adversity--yes, he loved him yet, for the many favors he had conferred on him, though he could not join with him, in what concerned the state or kingdom." This answer, says Pickart, "_was n.o.ble, generous, and wise_."

One of the most able and eloquent compositions of William Penn is his justly celebrated letter of October 24, 1688, to William Popple. Mr.

Popple was secretary to the Lords Commissioners, for the affairs of trade and plantations, and a particular friend of Penn and of his schoolfellow, John Locke. Had Mr. Macaulay flourished then, he would have had readier listeners to these cavils, than he has at present. Penn, in 1688, was excessively unpopular. He was not only _the tool of the King and the Jesuits_, but a rank _Papist_ and _Jesuit_ himself--the _friend of arbitrary power,--bred at St. Omers in the Jesuits College--he had taken orders at Rome--married under a dispensation--officiated as a priest at Whitehall_--no charge against William Penn was too absurd, to gain credit with the people, at the period of the Revolution.

Upon this occasion, Mr. Popple addressed to Penn a letter, eminently beautiful, in point of style, and containing a most forcible appeal to Penn's sense of duty to himself, to the society of Friends, to his children, and the world, to put down these atrocious calumnies, by some public written declaration. His letter will be found, in Clarkson's Memoirs, vol. ii. chap. i. I truly regret, that I have s.p.a.ce only, for some brief disconnected extracts, from William Penn's reply.

"Worthy Friend; it is now above twenty years, I thank G.o.d, that I have not been very solicitous what the world thought of me, &c. The business, chiefly insisted on, is my Popery and endeavors to promote it. I do say then, and that, with all simplicity, that I am not only no Jesuit, but no Papist; and which is more, I never had any temptation upon me to be so, either from doubts in my own mind, about the way I profess, or from the discourses or writings of any of that religion. And in the presence of Almighty G.o.d I do declare, that the King did never once directly or indirectly, attack me or tempt me upon that subject." * * * * "I say then solemnly, that so far from having been bred at St. Omers, and having received orders at Rome, I never was at either place; nor do I know anybody there, nor had I ever a correspondence with anybody in those places." After alluding to the absurdity of charging him with having officiated as a Catholic Priest, he adverts to his opinion of the views of King James, on the subject of toleration--"And in his honor, as well as in my own defence, I am obliged in conscience to say, that he has ever declared to me it was his opinion; and on all occasions, when Duke, he never refused me the repeated proof of it, as often as I had any poor sufferers for conscience' sake to solicit his help for." * * * * "To this let me add the relation my father had to this King's service; his particular favor in getting me released out of the Tower of London in 1669, my father's humble request to him, upon his death-bed, to protect me from the inconveniences and troubles my persuasion might expose me to, and his friendly promise to do it, and exact performance of it, from the moment I addressed myself to him. I say, when all this is considered, anybody, that has the least pretence to good nature, grat.i.tude, or generosity, must needs know how to interpret my access to the King."

This letter contains sentiments, on the subject of religious toleration, which would be highly ornamental, if placed in golden characters, upon the walls of all our churches--"Our fault is, we are apt to be mighty hot upon speculative errors, and break all bounds in our resentments; but we let practical ones pa.s.s without remark, if not without repentance! as if a mistake about an obscure proposition of faith were a greater evil, than the breach of an undoubted precept. Such a religion the devils themselves are not without, for they have both faith and knowledge; but their faith doth not work by love, nor their knowledge by obedience." * * * "Let us not think religion a litigious thing; nor that Christ came only to make us disputants." * * * * "It is charity that deservedly excels in the Christian religion." * * * * "He that suffers his difference with his neighbor, about the other world, to carry him beyond the line of moderation in this, is the worse for his opinion, even if it be true. It is too little considered by Christians, that men may hold the truth in unrighteousness; that they may be orthodox, and not know what spirit they are of."

Verily, this "_courtly Quaker_"--this "_tool of the King and the Jesuits_," who was "_never a strong-headed man_"--was quite a Christian gentleman after all.

No. LXXI.

In the latter days of William Penn, _the sun and the light were darkened--the clouds returned after the rain--the gra.s.shopper became a burden_--and the years had drawn nigh, when he could truly say he had _no pleasure in them_. No mortal, probably, ever enjoyed a more continual feast from the consciousness of a life, devoted to the glory of G.o.d, and the welfare of man; but many of his temporal reliances had crumbled under him; and trouble had gathered about his path, and about his bed.

He had not much more comfort in his government, I fear, than Sancho Panza enjoyed, in that of Barataria. Its commencement was marked, by a vexatious dispute with Lord Baltimore; and the Governor's absence was ever the signal for altercation, between different cliques and parties, and vexatious neglect, on the part of his tenants and agents. In his letters to Thomas Lloyd, the President of his Council, he complains of some in the government, for drinking, carousing, and official extortion.

In his letters to Lloyd and Harrison in 1686, he complains of the Council, for neglecting and slighting his letters; that he cannot get "_a penny_"

of his quit-rents; and adds--"G.o.d is my witness, I lie not. I am now above six thousand pounds out of pocket, more than ever I saw by the province; and you may throw in my pains, cares, and hazard of life, and leaving of my family and friends to serve them."

It is even stated by Clarkson, vol. i. ch. 22, that want of funds from the Province prevented his returning to America, in 1686. In the following year, he renews these complaints.

In 1688, and after the revolution, he was examined, before the Lords of Council, on the charge of being a Papist and a Jesuit; gave bonds for his attendance, on the first day of the next term; and, no witness then appearing against him, he was discharged.

In 1690, he was again arrested, and bound over as before, and, no witness appearing, was again discharged. In the same year, he was once more arrested, and committed to prison. On the day of trial, no witness appeared, and he was again discharged. He resolved to fly from such continual persecution, to America, and, while making his preparation, he was again arrested, upon the information of one Fuller, who was afterward set in the pillory, for his crime.

Penn sought safety, in privacy and retirement from the world. In 1691, a new proclamation was issued for his arrest; and his American affairs wore a gloomy aspect. In 1693, he was deprived of his government, by King William; and pursued with unrelenting rage, by his enemies. In the words of Clarkson, he was "_a poor, persecuted exile_."