A Concise Biographical Sketch of William Penn

by Charles Evans

Notwithstanding William Penn is thus clear and explicit in correcting the misunderstanding of his Christian faith, to which some of his expressions in "The Sandy Foundation Shaken" had given rise, and in his full avowal of his belief in the Deity of Christ, and the atonement made by Him for the sins of mankind; as also in the doctrine of justification by faith in Him; yet those who are anxious to represent Friends as Socinians, or as denying the atonement of Christ, are still so unjust to his unequivocal and widely-published opinions on these points, and so ungenerous to his character and memory, as well as untruthful in their representation of Friends, as to claim him as authority for their disbelief in these fundamental doctrines.

Though he had addressed a communication to Lord Arlington, Secretary of State, on whose warrant he was committed to the Tower, in which he denied the charges brought against him, so far as he had been able to ascertain them; declaring they were the result of ignorance and malice, and requesting that he might have an audience with the King, in order to hear the accusation of his enemies, and have an opportunity to defend himself; or if he could not have access to the King, then to be brought, with his accusers, face to face before him, the Secretary of State, it was disregarded, nor was the rigor of his confinement abated. "Innocency with her Open Face" had, however, produced a change of public feeling towards him; and his father, who could not but respect the consistent firmness and Christian endurance of his son, and who had himself been passing through a severe ordeal from the machinations of his enemies in the House of Commons, visited him in his dungeon, and began to use the influence he continued to hold with the Duke of York and the King, on his behalf. Whether at his instance or not is not known, but Arlington, though declining to give audience to William Penn himself, sent the King's Chaplain, Stillingfleet, to have an interview with him, and ascertain what concessions he would be willing to make to the offended hierarchy. Their conversation appears to have been conducted in a friendly spirit and manner: the Chaplain holding up the brilliant future that would be realized by Penn if he would recant some of his opinions, and dwelling on the favorable disposition of the Duke of York and King towards him. William told him, "The Tower is the worst argument in the world," and that nothing could induce him to violate his conscientious convictions, so there seemed nothing gained. But suddenly and unexpectedly an order came from the King for his release, and he left the gloomy confines of his prison-house without making any concession or accepting a pardon. The discharge was believed to have been the work of the Duke of York, and William ever cherished a grateful feeling towards him for this generous act.

In the year 1670, Friends in England underwent great persecution and suffering on account of their religious principles. The law against Dissenters, that had just expired, had failed in its object, and it was therefore determined to try another method, which enlisted the cupidity of the depraved class as informers, and used the almost unrestrained functions of officials clothed with absolute power to impoverish and harass those who met together for Divine worship in a way differing from the "Church of England," in the hope of rendering such unable to live in their native country. Accordingly a third "Act to prevent and suppress seditious conventicles" was passed by Parliament, and received the royal assent in the Fourth month, 1670.

Persecution now ran riot; and the power being by design placed in the hands of the most profligate and debased, rapine, havoc, and impoverishment were spread over the nation by the graceless informers, abetted by a venal magistracy, eager to share in the plunder.

But the storm, biting and incessant as it was, was no more effective in deterring Friends from assembling for the purpose of worshipping their Almighty Father in Heaven, than that which had been raised under the former "Conventicle Act." Grievously spoiled and cruelly abused as they were, they knew their enemies could truthfully allege nothing against them but that which concerned the law of their God; and in the sincerity of their hearts they made their appeal unto Him, with full confidence that He would extend his fatherly, protecting care over them; would cause the wrath of man to bring Him praise, and when He saw it was enough, would restrain the remainder of wrath, and limit the rage and cruelty of their merciless tormentors. Deprived of the use of their meeting-houses, they assembled as near to them as they could get; and beaten, bruised, imprisoned, and fined, as many of each company were almost sure to be, the next meeting-day found others at the same place, engaged in the performance of the same indispensable duty; ready to encounter, with meekness and patience, the wrath of their persecutors, and to suffer for the maintenance of their rights as men and their obligation as Christians.

Their treatment in London, bad as it was, was thought to be less severe than in many other parts of the Kingdom. Yet in that city, it was a common occurrence for those who attended their meetings for worship, to be beaten with the muskets of the foot-soldiers, and the sabres of the dragoons, until the blood ran down upon the ground; women, sometimes young maidens, were maltreated in the most shameful manner.

On the fourteenth of the Eighth month, 1670, William Penn and William Mead were taken from the meeting held in the street, as near to Grace-church meeting-house as they could get; the former being engaged in ministry at the time. They were brought to trial on the first of the Ninth month, before the Mayor, Samuel Starling; the Recorder, John Howell; several Aldermen, and the Sheriffs. William Mead had formerly been a captain in the Commonwealth's army, but having embraced the truths of the Gospel as held by Friends, he of course gave up all connection with military life, and is mentioned in the indictment as a linen-draper, in London; though it is probable he resided most of his time in Essex, where he had a considerable landed estate. He afterwards married a daughter of Margaret Fell.

The indictment charged that they, with other persons, to the number of three hundred, with force and arms, unlawfully and tumultuously assembled together, on the fifteenth day of August, 1670, and the said William Penn, by agreement made beforehand with William Mead, preached and spoke to the assembly; by reason whereof, a great concourse and tumult of people continued a long time in the street, in contempt of the King and his law, to the great disturbance of his peace, and to the terror of many of his liege people and subjects.

The character of the trial might be judged by the first incident that occurred. Being brought before the Court on the third of the Ninth month, an officer took off their hats on their entrance; whereupon the Mayor angrily ordered him to put them on again; which being done, the Recorder fined them forty marks apiece, for alleged contempt of Court, by appearing before it with their hats on. This trial has become celebrated, not only on account of the ability with which William Penn—then in his twenty-sixth year—defended his cause, and sustained the inalienable rights of Englishmen, but for the inflexible firmness of the jury in maintaining their own rights, and adhering to their conscientious convictions; notwithstanding the iniquitous determination of the Court, to enforce its own will, to convict and punish the prisoners at the bar, and to oblige the jury to become their tools for that purpose.

The indictment was incorrect, even in the statement of the time when the offence was said to have taken place; as it was on the fourteenth of the month, and not on the fifteenth, and therefore it ought to have been quashed by the Court, and the prisoners discharged. The evidence of the three witnesses examined was altogether inconclusive, but William Penn boldly said to the Court, "We confess ourselves to be so far from recanting or declining to vindicate the assembling of ourselves, to preach, pray, or worship the eternal, holy, just God, that we declare to all the world, that we do believe it to be our indispensable duty to meet incessantly on so good an account; nor shall all the powers upon earth be able to divert us from reverencing and adoring the God who made us." He then asked the Court to tell him upon what law the indictment and proceedings were founded. The Recorder answering, the common law, Penn requested him to tell him what law that was; for if it was common, it must be easy to define it. But the Recorder refused to tell him, saying it was lex non scripta, and it was not to be expected that he could say at once what it was, for some had been thirty or forty years studying it. Penn observed that Lord Coke had declared that common law was common right, and common right the great chartered privileges confirmed by former Kings. The Recorder, greatly excited, told him he was a troublesome fellow, and it was not to the honor of the Court to suffer him to go on; but Penn calmly insisted that the Court was bound to explain to the prisoners at their bar the law they had violated, and upon which they were being tried; and he told them plainly that, unless they did so, they were violating the chartered rights of Englishmen, and acting upon an arbitrary determination to sacrifice those rights to their own illegal designs. Whereupon the Mayor and Recorder ordered him to be turned into the bail-dock. William Penn,—"These are but so many vain exclamations; is this justice or true judgment? Must I, therefore, be taken away because I plead for the fundamental laws of England?" Then, addressing himself to the jury, he said: "However, this I leave upon your consciences who are of the jury, and my sole judges, that if these ancient fundamental laws which relate to liberty and property, and are not limited to particular persuasions in matters of religion, must not be indispensably maintained and observed, who can say he hath a right to the coat upon his back. Certainly our liberties are openly to be invaded, our children enslaved, our families ruined, and our estates led away in triumph, by every sturdy beggar and malicious informer, as their trophies, but our pretended forfeits for conscience' sake. The Lord of heaven and earth will be judge between us in this matter." The hearing of this emphatic speech was so troublesome to the Recorder, that he cried, "Be silent there!" At which William Penn returned, "I am not to be silent in a cause wherein I am so much concerned, and not only myself, but many ten thousand families besides."