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 buttonless behind. He was a writer and a preacher, and a powerful defender of the “cursed and depised” Quakers. The titles of his various works may be found in Clarkson, and in Wood’s Athenæ. They conformed to the fashion of the age, and were, necessarily, quaint and extended. I have room for one only, as a specimen,—the title 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 assumed 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 bastard 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 pass, 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, pronounced 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 Cox 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 petitioning 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.