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 assaults, 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 assembly, 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 God’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 compass 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 Noble’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 assistance 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 compass 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 noble, 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 space only, for some brief disconnected extracts, from William Penn’s reply.
“Worthy Friend; it is now above twenty years, I thank God, 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 God 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, gratitude, 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 pass 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.