His conver

Quakerism.

he had a mission in the world. After the Chigwell school, he studied with a private tutor on Tower Hill, until he was sixteen, when he saw the formal entry of Charles II. into the city across London Bridge. Admiral Penn was that year elected to Parliament, and William was matriculated at Christ Church, Oxford, where he remained two years. There he acquired a high reputation as a scholar and as an athlete, enthusiastic in field sports, a good oarsman, and a lover of Greek. Among the languages which he could speak fluently were Latin, Italian, French, German, and Dutch. At Oxford, along with sundry other students, he became converted to Quakerism, refused to wear surplices, forsook chapel wor- sion to ship, and got into trouble. There is a story that he was expelled from the college, but it is not well supported, and it seems more likely that his father took him away. He was then sent with some fashionable friends to Paris, in the hope of curing him of his Quaker notions. He was in his nineteenth year, tall, lithe, and strongly built, a picture of manly beauty, with great lustrous eyes under wide arching brows, a profusion of dark hair falling in curls upon his shoulders, a powerful chin, a refined and sensitive mouth. He seems to have been a skilful swordsman, for when attacked one evening on the street by a desperado who threatened his life, Penn overcame and disarmed the wretch without wounding him. He spent a year or more in hard study at the Huguenot college in Saumur, and then travelled for a year in Italy. After that he studied law at Lincoln's

Inn, and presently visited Ireland, where he was thrown into prison for attending a Quaker meeting at Cork.

Trouble at home.

Sir William Penn, who was a good churchman, was shocked and disgusted at the sort of reputation his son was earning, and we get glimpses of contention in the household. "You may thee and thou other folk as much as you like," quoth the angry father," but don't you dare to thee and thou the king, or the Duke of York, or me."1 Young William did dare, however, even so far as to wear his hat in the royal presence, which only amused the merry monarch. One day when William met him, the king took off his hat. "Why dost thou remove thy hat, friend Charles?" quoth the young man. "Because," said the king, "wherever I am, it is customary for only one to remain covered!" But the admiral did not take it so pleasantly; he threatened to turn his obstinate son out of doors without a shilling. Lady Penn implored, and one of the family friends, a nobleman of the court, insisted that Sir William ought to be proud of a son of such varied accomplishments and lofty character, in spite of a few eccentricities of demeanour. It is sad to relate that the father's threat was carried out; but it was only for a time. Admiration for dauntless courage and high principle at length prevailed with the old naval hero, and he called his son. home again and ever after held him in reverence.

In 1670 the admiral died, commending William

1 For the use of these pronouns in the seventeenth century, see below, p. 126.

Quakerism.

with his last breath to the especial care of the Duke of York. William was left in possession of an ample fortune, and devoted himself to writing and preaching in defence and explanation of Quakerism. His learning and eloquence, Penn's serwith a certain sobriety of mind that quali- vices to fied his mysticism, made many converts; nor is it unlikely that his high social position and gallant bearing were helpful to the cause in some quarters. It was largely due to Penn that current opinion gradually ceased to confound the disciples of Fox with the rabble of Antinomian fanatics with which England was then familiar, and to put them upon a plane of respectability, by the side of Presbyterians and other Dissenters. Again and again, while engaged in this work, Penn was thrown into prison and kept there for months, sometimes in the Tower, like a gentleman, but once for six months in noisome Newgate, along with common criminals. These penalties were mostly for breaking the Conventicle Act. The reports of the trials are often very interesting, by reason of the visible admiration felt by the honest judges for the brilliant prisoner. "I vow, Mr. Penn," quoth Sir John Robinson from the bench one day, "I vow, Mr. Penn, I am sorry for you. You are an ingenious gentleman, all the world must allow you. and do allow you, that; and you have a plentiful estate; why should you render yourself unhappy by associating with such a simple people?" Sometimes the prisoner's ingenuity and resourcefulness would baffle the prosecutor, and in despair of other means of catching him the magistrate would ten

der the oath of allegiance. But Penn's subtlety was matched by his boldness: once when the judge insulted him by a remark derogatory to his character, the reply came quickly and sharply, “I trample thy slander as dirt under my His courage. feet!" And this boldness was equalled by his steadfastness: once the Bishop of London sent word to him in the Tower, that he must either withdraw certain statements or die a pris"Thou mayest tell him," said Penn to the messenger, "that my prison shall be my grave before I will budge a jot, for I owe obedience of my conscience to no mortal man."

oner.

During these years Penn kept publishing books and pamphlets, controversial or expository, wherein he argues and persuades with logic and with eloquence, and is not always meek; sometimes the keen blade leaps from the scabbard and deals a mortal thrust. Mrs. Samuel Pepys read one of these treatises aloud to her husband, who calls it extremely well written and "a serious sort of book, not fit for every one to read." The titles of these books give an inkling of their savour: "Truth Exalted," "The Guide Mistaken," "A Seasonable Caveat against Popery," etc. The one writings. which Mr. Pepys would not recommend to all readers was entitled "The Sandy Foundation Shaken," which was clearly open to the charge of Socinianism. Grave accusations of heresies were brought against Penn, to which he made reply in his "Innocency with her Open Face," some quotations from which will give us an impression of his style :

Some of his

If

you will

with me,

I

not talk must write.

"It may not be unreasonable to observe, that however industrious some (and those dissenters too) have been to represent me as a person disturbing the civil peace, I have not violated any truly fundamental law which relates to external propriety and good behaviour, and not to religious apprehensions; it being the constant principle of myself and friends to maintain good works and keep our consciences void of offence, paying active or passive obedience, suitable to the meek example of our Lord Jesus Christ. Nor would I have any ignorant how forward I was by messages, letters, and visits, to have determined this debate in a sober and select assembly, notwithstanding the rude entertainment we had met with before; but contrary to their own appointments our adversaries failed us, which necessitated me to that defence; 1 and finding the truth so prest with slander, I cannot but say I saw my just call to her relief; but alas! how have those two or three extemporary sheets been tost, tumbled, and torn on all hands, yea, aggravated to a monstrous design, even the subversion of the Christian religion, than which there could be nothing more repugnant to my principle and pur

1 A discussion in a Presbyterian meeting-house in London, between Penn with some friends and the Presbyterian minister, Thomas Vincent, had ended in an attempt to silence the Quakers by uproar. Penn persisted even after the lights were put out, but then yielded to Vincent's promise to meet him again in a fair and open discussion. It proved impossible, however, to make Vincent keep his promise, and so Penn had recourse to the press, and published his The Sandy Foundation Shaken. See Stoughton's William Penn, p. 57.