It was not long, however, before the admiral relented, owing chiefly to her efforts in his behalf, and allowed him to return home, though still refusing to see or hold any communication with him. It must indeed have been a crushing blow to the proud and ambitious man of the world to have his son and heir travelling about the country as a poor preacher, for it was about this time, 1668, that William first began to preach. He also utilized his learning and talents by writing in defence of the new doctrines he had embraced. One of these publications, entitled “The Sandy Foundation Shaken,” attracted much attention. In it he cleverly attempted to prove that certain fundamental doctrines of the established church were contrary to Scripture—a heresy for which the Bishop of London had him imprisoned. Indeed his malicious enemies went so far as to claim that Penn had dropped a letter at the time of his arrest, written by himself and containing treasonable matter, but although his innocence on this point was soon established, he was forced, nevertheless, to remain for nine months in the Tower. Even the King, to whom Sir William appealed on his son’s behalf, did not dare to intervene for fear of increasing the suspicion, in which he already stood, of being an enemy to the church. All he could do was to send the court chaplain to visit Penn and urge him to make amends to the irate Bishop, who was determined he should publicly retract his published statements or end his days in prison. But this the young enthusiast refused to do, replying with the spirit of a martyr that his prison should be his grave before he would renounce his just opinions; that for his conscience he was responsible to no man.
This period of enforced idleness was by no means wasted, however. While at the Tower he wrote “No Cross, No Crown,” perhaps the best known and most popular of all his works, wherein for his own consolation as well as that of his persecuted brethren he explained the need for all true Christians to bear the cross. Another, called “Innocence with her Open Face,” further expounded certain disputed passages in the Holy Book that had shared his imprisonment. The manly firmness and courage with which Penn bore his long confinement without allowing his newly adopted beliefs to be shaken forced universal respect and sympathy and even softened his father’s wrath at last. The admiral himself had been having troubles. False accusations made against him by his enemies had so preyed on his mind that his health had given way, and he had been forced to resign his post in the admiralty and retire to private life. He visited his son several times in prison, and his appeals to the Duke of York finally secured William’s release, without the recantation demanded by the Bishop. Further residence in London at that time being undesirable, however, he went back to his father’s estate in Ireland. Here he labored unceasingly for the liberation of his friends in Cork, who were still languishing in prison, and at last had the joy of seeing his efforts crowned with success by securing their pardon from the Duke of Ormond.
At the end of eight months he returned again to England at the wish of his father, whose rapidly failing health made him long for his eldest son. He had fully relented toward him by this time and a complete reconciliation now took place, greatly to the joy of all parties. But the year 1670, which brought this happiness to Penn, was also one of trial for him, owing to the revival of the law against dissenters, as all who differed from the doctrines of the established church were called, declaring assemblies of more than five persons for religious purposes unlawful and making offenders punishable by heavy fines or even banishment. Among the thousands thus deprived of liberty and property, being at the mercy of the meanest informer, one of the first to suffer was William Penn.
On the fourteenth of August, 1670, the Quakers found their usual place of meeting in London closed and occupied by soldiery. When Penn arrived on the scene with his friend William Mead he attempted to address the assembled crowd, urging them to disperse quietly and offer no resistance, which would be quite useless. But as soon as he began to speak both he and Mead were arrested and taken to prison by warrants from the mayor of London for having attended a proscribed meeting and furthermore caused a disturbance of the peace. The prisoners were tried before a jury on September third. Although the three witnesses brought against them could produce no testimony to confirm the charge, Penn voluntarily confessed that he had intended to preach and claimed it as a sacred right. In spite of all the indignities and abuse permitted by the court, he pleaded his cause so stoutly and so eloquently that the jury pronounced a verdict of not guilty. This was far from pleasing to the judges, who were bent on having Penn punished, so the jury were sent back to reconsider, and when they persisted were locked up for two days without food or water and threatened with starvation unless a verdict were reached which could be accepted by the court. Even this proving ineffectual they were fined for their obstinacy, and refusing to pay these fines were sent to prison, while Penn and his friend Mead, instead of being released, were still kept in confinement for refusing to pay a fine which had been arbitrarily imposed on them for contempt of court.
The admiral, however, whose approaching end made him more and more anxious to have his son at liberty, sent privately and paid both fines, thus securing the release of both prisoners. Penn found his father greatly changed. The once proud and ambitious man had experienced the hollowness of worldly things and longed for death. “I am weary of the world,” he said to William shortly before his death. “I would not live over another day of my life even if it were possible to bring back the past. Its temptations are more terrible than death.” He charged his children, all of whom were gathered about him, “Let nothing tempt you to wrong your conscience; thus shall you find an inward peace that will prove a blessing when evil days befall.”
He talked much with William, who doubtless did not fail to impress upon his dying father the comfort of a firm religious faith, and before he died expressed his entire approval of the simple form of worship adopted by his eldest and favorite son. Sir William died on the sixteenth of September, 1670. Shortly before the end he sent messages to the King and to the Duke of York with the dying request that they would act as guardians to his son, whom he foresaw would stand greatly in need of friends and protectors in the trials to which his faith would expose him. Wealth he would not lack, for the admiral left an estate yielding an annual income of about fifteen hundred pounds, besides a claim on the royal exchequer for fifteen thousand pounds, which sum he had loaned at various times to the King and his brother.
Chapter III
Penn’s Third Imprisonment—His Happy Marriage—Fresh Persecutions—Visits to Germany—Quaker Emigration
After his father’s death Penn became more absorbed than ever in his chosen mission of spreading the gospel as interpreted by Fox, which seemed to him the only true form of religion. The restraint he had hitherto felt obliged to impose on himself in this respect, out of deference to his father’s prejudices, was now no longer necessary and he was free to follow the dictates of his soul. But he was soon to suffer the consequences of having drawn upon himself the displeasure of the court by his bold defence during the recent trial, and still more by a pamphlet issued soon after his father’s death in which he fearlessly denounced the unjust and arbitrary action of the judges not only toward the accused, but also toward the jury. Just before the new year of 1671 Penn was again arrested on the charge of having held unlawful meetings and was sentenced to six months’ imprisonment at Newgate, during which time he wrote several important works, chiefly urging the necessity of liberty of conscience in England.
After his release Penn made a journey to Holland and Germany, whither many of the Quakers had fled to escape the continual persecutions to which they were subjected in their own country. Others had crossed the ocean to seek in America an abode where they could live without hinderance according to their convictions, and the letters written by these drew large numbers to this land of promise; for in spite of the hardships of the voyage thither, the emigrants drew such glowing pictures of the beauty and fertility of the country and the happiness of enjoying religious worship undisturbed as could not fail to appeal to their unfortunate brethren so sorely in need of this blessing.
During his travels Penn had seen many of these letters and heard the subject of emigration freely discussed, and gradually he formed a plan which indeed had been the dream of his youth, although there had then seemed no prospect of its ever being realized. This plan, however, was forced into the background for a time by an event of more personal importance; namely, his betrothal to Guglielma Maria Springett, daughter of Sir William Springett of Sussex, who had greatly distinguished himself as a colonel in the parliamentary army and died during the civil wars at an early age. His widow and her three children, of whom Guli, the youngest, was born shortly after her father’s death, had retired to the village of Chalfont in Buckinghamshire, where she afterward married Isaac Pennington, one of the most prominent of the early Quakers. It was while visiting Friend Pennington at his home in Chalfont that Penn met and fell in love with the charming Guli, who willingly consented to bestow her hand on this stalwart young friend of her stepfather, whose belief she shared. The marriage took place in 1672 and proved one of lasting happiness on both sides. Conjugal bliss did not divert Penn from his sacred calling, however, for we find him soon on his travels again, with his faithful Guli, who accompanied him everywhere until the birth of their first child made it no longer possible. This was a son, to whom they gave the name of Springett, for his grandfather. But even the joys of fatherhood could not confine Penn to his home, now doubly happy. He travelled about the country constantly, either alone or with other distinguished Friends, and was so active both as a preacher and as a writer that he soon became known as the “sword” of the society.