Memoirs of the Private and Public life of William Penn. By Thomas Clarkson, M. A. 8vo. 2 vol. pp. 1020. [From the Edinburgh Review.] IT is impossible to look into any of Mr. Clarkson's books, with out feeling that he is an excellent man-and a very bad writer. Many of the defects of his composition, indeed, seem to be directly referrible to the amiableness of his disposition. An earnestness for truth and virtue, that does not allow him to waste any thought upon the ornaments by which they may be recommended—and a simplicity of character which is not aware that what is substantially respectable may be made dull or ridiculous by the manner in which it is presented-are virtues which we suspect not to have been very favourable to his reputation as an author. Feeling in himself not only an entire toleration of honest tediousness, but a decided preference for it upon all occasions over mere elegance or ingenuity, he seems to have transferred a VOL. II. New Series. 56 little too hastily to books those principles of judgment which are admirable when applied to men; and to have forgotten, that though dulness may be a very venial fault in a good man, it is such a fault in a book as to render its goodness of no avail whatsoever. Unfortunately for Mr. Clarkson, moral qualities alone will not make a good writer; nor are they even of the first importance on such an occasion: and accordingly, with all his philanthropy, piety, and inflexible honesty, he has not escaped the sin of tediousness and that to a degree that must render him almost illegible to any but quakers, reviewers, and others, who make public profession of patience insurmountable. He has no taste, and no spark of vivacity-not the vestige of an ear for harmony-and a prolixity of which modern times have scarcely preserved any other example. He seems to have a sufficiently sound and clear judgment, but no great acuteness of understanding; and, though visibly tasking himself to judge charitably and speak candidly of all men, is evidently beset with such an antipathy to all who persecute quakers, or maltreat negroes, as to make him very unwilling to report any thing in their favour. On the other hand, he has great industry-scrupulous veracity-and that serious and sober enthusiasm for his subject, which is sure in the long run to disarm ridicule, and win upon inattention-and is frequently able to render vulgarity impressive, and simplicity sublime. More. over, and above all, he is perfectly free from affectation; so that, though we may be wearied, we are never disturbed or offendedand read on, in tranquillity, till we find it impossible to read any more. It will be guessed, however, that it is not on account of its literary merits that we are induced to take notice of the work before WILLIAM PENN, to whose honour it is wholly devoted, was, beyond all doubt, a personage of no ordinary standard-and ought, before this time, to have met with a biographer capable of doing, him justice. He is most known, and most deserving of being known, as the settler of Pennsylvania; but his private character also is interesting, and full of those peculiarities which distin guished the temper and manners of a great part of the English nation at the period in which he lived. His theological and polemical exploits are no less characteristic of the man and of the times; though all that is really edifying in this part of his history might have been given in about one twentieth part of the space which is allotted to it in the volumes of Mr. Clarkson. William Penn was born in 1644, the only son of Admiral Sir W. Penn, the representative of an ancient and honourable family in Buckingham and Gloucestershire. He was regularly educated; and entered a gentleman commoner at Christ's church, Oxford, where he distinguished himself very early for his proficiency both in classical learning and athletic exercises. When he was only about sixteen, however, he was roused to a sense of the corrup tions of the established faith by the preaching of one Thomas Loe, a quaker and immediately discontinued his attendance at chapel; and, with some other youths of his own way of thinking, began to hold prayer meetings in their private apartments. This, of course, gave great scandal to his academical superiors; and a large fine, with suitable admonitions, were imposed on the young nonconformist. Just at this critical period, an order was unluckily received from court to resume the use of the surplice, which it seems had been discontinued almost ever since the period of the reformation; and the sight of this unfortunate vestment "operated," as Mr. Clarkson expresses it," so disagreeably on William Penn, that he could not bear it; and, joining himself with some other young gentlemen, he fell upon those students who appeared in surplices, and tore them everywhere over their heads.' This, we conceive, was not quite correct, even as a quaker proceeding; and was but an unpromising beginning for the future champion of religious liberty. Its natural consequence, however, was, that he and his associates were, without further ceremony, expelled from the university; and when he went home to his father, and attempted to justify by argument the measures he had adopted, it was no less natural that the good admiral should give him a box on the ear, and turn him out at the door. This course of discipline, however, not proving immediately effectual, he was sent upon his travels, along with some other young gentlemen, and resided for two years in France, and the Low Countries; but without any change either in those serious views of religion, or those austere notions of morality, by which his youth had been so prematurely distinguished. On his return, his father again endeavoured to subdue him to a more worldly frame of mind; first, by setting him to study law at Lincoln's Inn; and afterwards, by sending him to the Duke of Ormond's court at Dublin, and giving him the charge of his large possessions in that kingdom. These expedients might have been attended with success, had he not accidentally fallen in at Cork with his old friend Thomas Loe, the quaker-who set before him such a view of the dangers of his situation, that he seems from that day forward to have renounced all secular occupations, and betaken himself to de votion, as the main business of his future life. The reign of Charles II. however, was not auspicious to dissenters; and in those evil days of persecution, he was speedily put in prison for attending several of the quaker meetings; but was soon liberated, and again came back to his father's house, where a long disputation took place upon the subject of his new creed. It broke up with this moderate and very loyal proposition on the : part of the viceadmiral-that the young quaker should consent to sit with his hat off, in presence of the king-the Duke of York and the admiral himself! in return for which slight compliance, it was stipulated that he should be no longer molested for any of his opinions or practices. The heroic convert, however, would listen to no terms of composition; and, after taking some days to consider of it, reported, that his conscience could not comport with any species of hat worship—and was again turned out of doors for his pains. He now took openly to preaching in the quaker meetings, and shortly after began that course of theological and controversial publications, in which he persisted to his dying day; and which has had the effect of overwhelming his memory with two vast folio volumes of puritanical pamphlets. His most considerable work seems to have been that entitled "No Cross, no Crown;" in which he not only explains and vindicates, at great length, the grounds of the peculiar doctrines and observances of the society to which he belonged-but endeavours to show, by a very large and entertaining introduction of instances from profane history, that the same general principles had been adopted and acted upon by the wise and good in every generation, and were suggested indeed to the reflecting mind by the inward voice of conscience, and the analogy of the whole visible scheme of God's providence in the government of the world. The intermixture of worldly learning, and the larger and bolder scope of this performance, render it far more legible than the pious exhortations and pertinacious polemics which fill the greater part of his subsequent publications. In his love of controversy and of printing, indeed, this worthy sectary seems to have been the very PRIESTLEY of the 17th century. He not only responded in due form to every work in which the principles of his sect were directly or indirectly attackedbut whenever he heard a sermon that he did not like-or learned that any of the Friends had been put in the stocks;-whenever he was prevented from preaching or learned any edifying particulars of the death of a quaker, or of a persecutor of quakers, he was instantly at the press with a letter, or a narrative, or an admonition and never desisted from the contest till he had reduced the adversary to silence. The members of the established church, indeed, were rarely so unwary as to make any rejoinder; and most of his disputes accordingly were with rival sectaries, in whom the spirit of prosely tism and jealous zeal is always stronger than in the members of a larger and stronger body. They were not always contented indeed with the regular and general war of the press, but frequently challenged each other to personal combat, in the form of solemn and public disputations. William Penn had the honour of being repeatedly appointed the champion of the : quakers in these theological duels and never failed, according to his partial biographer, completely to demolish his opponent ;though it appears that he did not always meet with perfectly fair play on the occasion, and that the chivalrous law of arms was by no means correctly observed in these ghostly encounters. His first set to was with one Vincent, the oracle of a neighbouring congregation of presbyterians, and affords rather a ludicrous example of the futility and indecorum which are apt to characterize all such exhibitions. After the debate had gone on for some time, Vincent made a long discourse, in which he openly accused the quakers of blasphemy; and as soon as he had done, he made off, and desired all his friends to follow him. Penn insisted upon being heard in defence; but the presbyterian troops pulled him. down by the skirts; and proceeding to blow out the candles, (for the battle had already lasted till midnight,) left the indignant orator in utter darkness. He was not to be baffled or appalled, however, by a privation of this description; and accordingly went on to argue and retort in the dark, with such force and effect, that it was thought advisable to send out for his fugitive opponent, who, after some time, appeared with a candle in his hand, and begged that the debate might be adjourned to another day. But he could never be prevailed on, Mr. Clarkson assures us, to renew the combat; and Penn, after going and defying him in his own meetinghouse, had recourse, as usual, to the press; and put forth "The Sandy Foundation Shaken," for which he had the pleasure of being committed to the tower, on the instigation of the Bishop of London; and solaced himself, during his confinement, by writing six other pamphlets. Soon after his deliverance, he was again taken up, and brought to trial before the lord mayor and recorder for preaching in a quaker meeting. He afterwards published an account of this proceeding; and it is in our opinion one of the most curious and instructive pieces that ever came from his pen. The times to which it relates, are sufficiently known indeed to have been times of gross oppression and judicial abuse; but the brutality of the court upon this occasion seems to us to exceed any thing that is recorded elsewhere; and the firmness of the jury still deserves to be remembered, for example to happier days. The prisoner came into court, according to quaker custom, with his hat on his head; but the door-keeper, with a due zeal for the dignity of the place, pulled it off as he entered. Upon this, however, the lord mayor became quite furious, and ordered the unfortunate beaver to be instantly replaced-which was no sooner done than he fined the poor culprit for appearing covered in his presence! William Penn now insisted upon knowing what law he was accused of having broken-to which simple question the recorder was reduced to |