Memoirs of the Public and Private Life of William Penn. By Thomas Clarkson, M. A. With a Preface, by W. E. Forster. London: C. Gilpin. 1849. CLARKSON'S "Memoirs of William Penn" is a work now so familiar to all readers of biography, and the life of Penn is so much a matter of history, that but little could be found for the critic of to-day to notice in this volume, were it not for the copious Preface from the pen of Mr. Forster. This gentleman appears to refute, in a neat and masterly manner, the aspersions cast on the character of Penn by that most amusing, most pungent, most romantic of historians, Thomas Babington Macaulay. Novelists and essayists are, as a rule, bad historians. The admirable limner of Edward Waverley proved himself but a sorry historian of Napoleon Bonaparte. The reason is obvious. The brilliant fancy which could depict in glowing colors an imaginary hero, absolutely distorted the figure of a short, thick-set, hard-headed, self-willed, far-sighted, and energetic piece of mortality like the Emperor Napoleon; whose deeds, whether viewed with approbation or censure, are so many stern, dry, registered facts, engraved on adamant for the teaching of all posterity. VOL XXI. NO. IV. It is scarcely within our province to trace. the circumstances of the early association of the Macaulays-father and son-with the Society of Friends; to enter into the details of a contested election for Edinburgh, in which the said "Friends" took an unusually active part; in which Thomas Babington Macaulay suffered an ignominious defeat, as it was said, mainly in consequence of the exertions of the said "Friends:" still less shall we attempt to trace any connection between this defeat and the curiously elaborate and most painfully caustic attack which Thomas. Babington Macaulay now makes on the So-ciety of Friends, through one of their members, whose memory has ever been cherished by that Society with the fondest marks of approbation and esteem. We shall deal only with the details before us, and that as briefly as the subject will permit. Mr. Macaulay's attack on William Penn does not consist simply of a few heavy accusations and an accompanying censure. Penn's supposed infamy is introduced to the notice of the reader with a show of great reluctance; 28 and after the preliminary flourish-which we the palace, and who was known to have free access to majesty, should be frequently importuned to use his influence for purposes which a rigid morality must condemn. The integrity of Penn had stood firm against obloquy and persecution; but now, attacked by royal smiles, by female blandishments, by the insinuating eloquence and delicate flattery of veteran diplomatists and courtiers, his resolution began to give way. Titles and phrases, against which he had often borne his testimony, dropped occasionally from his lips and his pen. It would be well if he had been guilty of nothing worse than such compliances with the fashions of the world. Unhappily, it cannot be concealed that he bore a chief part in some transactions condemned not merely by the rigid code of the society to which he belonged, but by the general sense of all honest men. "To speak the whole truth concerning him [William Penn], is a task which requires some courage; for he is rather a mythical than a historical person. Rival nations and hostile sects have agreed in canonizing him. England is proud of his name. A great commonwealth beyond the Atlantic regards him with a reverence similar to that which the Athenians felt for The-Macaulay's History of England, vol. i. p. 507. seus, and the Romans for Quirinus. The respectable society of which he was a member, honors him as an apostle. By pious men of other persuasions, he is generally regarded as a bright pattern of Christian virtue. Meanwhile, admirers of a very different sort have sounded his praises. The French philosophers of the eighteenth century pardoned what they regarded as his superstitious fancies, in consideration of his contempt for priests, and of his cosmopolitan benevolence, impartially extended to all races and to all creeds. His name has thus become, throughout all civilized countries, a synonyme for probity and philanthropy. Nor is this reputation altogether unmerited. Penn was, without doubt, a man of eminent virtues. He had a strong sense of religious duty, and a fervent desire to promote the happiness of mankind. On one or two points of high importance, he had notions more correct than were in his day common, even among men of enlarged minds; and as the proprietor and legislator of a province, which, being almost uninhabited when it came into his possession, afforded a clear field for moral experiments, he had the rare good fortune of being able to carry his theories into practice without any compromise, and yet without any shock to existing institutions. He will always be mentioned with honor as the founder of a colony, who did not, in his dealings with a savage people, abuse the strength derived from civilization, and as a law-giver, who, in an age of persecution, made religious liberty the corner-stone of a polity. But his writings and his life furnish abundant proofs that he was not a man of strong sense. He had no skill in reading the characters of others. His confidence in persons less virtuous than himself led him into great errors and misfortunes. His enthusiasm for one great principle sometimes impelled him to violate other great principles which he ought to have held sacred. Nor was his integrity altogether proof against the temptations to which it was exposed in that splendid and polite, but deeply corrupted society, with which he now mingled. The whole court was in a ferment with intrigues of gallantry and intrigues of ambition. The traffic in honors, places, and pardons, was incessant. It was natural that a man who was daily seen at In order to substantiate this eloquent and somewhat rhapsodical condemnation of a man whom the world has been, it seems, ignorantly regarding with admiration almost approaching to reverence, the author was bound to afford something like proof. And he has attempted to do this; but the proof bears no more just proportion to the preliminary announcement, than did the ridiculus mus," in the fable of "The Mountain in Labor," to the premonitory throes. However, our readers shall not be required to take our assertion upon trust, for we invite them to try the matter for themselves. But, before we enter upon this question, it may be as well to lay before our readers a brief sketch of the previous career of William Penn, and to explain the origin of his connection with the court of James II., as much depends upon this explanation. In this summary, it will be unnecessary to do more than allude to the early religious impressions which ultimately led Penn to renounce the advantages of birth and station, and, in obedience to the dictates of conscience, to become a member of that despised and persecuted body of protestant dissenters called Quakers; of whom, at the accession of James II., there were no fewer than 1,400 incarcerated in the various prisons of England (upwards of 200 being women), and of whom Penn himself, when stating their wrongs to the Parliament of 1679, said, that they had been as the "common whipping-stock of the kingdom; all laws had been let loose upon them, as if the design had been, not to reform, but to destroy them." William Penn, as is well known, was descended from an ancient and honorable family-a family "respectable both in point of character and independence, as early as the first public records notice it." Among his ancestors, bearing the same name, were some who lived, four or five centuries ago, at the village of Penn, in Buckinghamshire; and from these Penns came the Penns of Penn's Lodge, in Gloucestershire, on the edge of Bradon Forest. William, one of this latter family, was father to Giles Penn, who was a captain in the royal navy, and for some time held the office of English consul in the Mediterranean. His son, William Penn (father of the Quaker), followed the profession of his father, and became a distinguished naval officer. At a very early age he commanded the fleet sent by Cromwell against Hispaniola; and, although the expedition failed, the cause of failure was, for once, laid upon the right shoulders, for Col. Venables was recognized as the author of the miscarriage. After the restoration, Penn commanded under the Duke of York in the memorable action against the Dutch, under Admiral Opdam, in 1665; and contributed so much to the victory, that he was knighted by Charles II., and was ever after received at court with all the marks of private friendship. And although not more than forty-nine years of age at his death, he had held, during his short career, some of the most important offices connected with his profession, as well as other appointments of high honor and trust. His only son, William, might thus be said to have been born to greatness. At the early age of eleven years, however, while still at the grammar school at Chigwell, in Essex, he is reported to have first experienced those religious impressions which exercised so marked an influence on his future life. At the age of fifteen he entered Christ's Church College, Oxford, as a gentleman commoner, and there not only paid the greatest attention to his college exercises, but excelled in manly sports, and cultivated the acquaintance of the most distinguished men of the University. The religious impressions Penn had experienced while at Chigwell school were now strengthened by the preaching of Thomas Loe, who also had belonged to the University of Oxford, but had at that time joined the Quakers. His doctrines gave a new turn to the mind of William Penn, who, finding that many of his fellow-students entertained religious opinions similar to his own, he, in conjunction with them, withdrew from the established mode of worship, and they followed their devotional exercises in their own way. This led, first, to fines for nonconformity, and eventually to expulsion from the University. We can readily conceive the admiral's véxation at this untoward turn of affairs in one whom he had no doubt looked upon as the successor to his own honors; and argument failing to reclaim the delinquent, the sailor had recourse to blows; these also proving of no avail, the young man was at length turned out of doors. The father's good feelings, acted upon, it is not improbable, by the intercession of his amiable wife, at length led him to forgive his son, who in 1662 was sent to France, in the company of certain persons of rank, probably in hope that the gayety of French manners and absence from his old connections might wean him from his increasing gravity of mind. He was, however, recalled by his father when on his way to Italy; the admiral being then about to take the command of the English fleet against the Dutch, wished his son to take charge of the family affairs during his ab sence. It is unnecessary to go into details respecting William Penn's career immediately after this period; suffice it to say, that his father sent him to Ireland, where he for a time attended the gay court of the Duke of Ormond" (then Lord Lieutenant), and afterwards managed the estates of his father in the county of Cork, to the entire satisfaction of the admiral. Here, however, he again met with his old Quaker friend Thomas Loe, and renewed his attendance upon the religious meetings of that body; in consequence of which, William Penn, and eighteen others, found at one of these meetings, were committed to prison, on the plea of their having attended a tumultuous assembly. He was, however, soon released, by order of the Earl of Orrery. The admiral, having heard that his son had turned Quaker, sent for him home, and after much expostulation, a second time expelled him from his house. Penn now became a minister of the Society he had joined; and some little time after, on the publication of a work which gave great offence to some of the prelates, and more especially to the Bishop of London, he was committed to the Tower. After an im; prisonment of seven months, during which he was treated with great severity, William Penn was suddenly discharged from the Tower by the king, who had been moved thereto by the intercession of his brother, the Duke of York, afterwards James II. The next year Admiral Penn began to think that, how much soever his son might be mistaken in his religious views, he was at least sincere; and so far relented as to allow William to be at his house, though he would not see him; he, however, gave him a com |