a ground-work on which his friends could help him. His father, as we have shown, had strong claims on the gratitude of the Duke of York, and the duke interceded with the king.

Penn, who never forgot a favor or a kindness, and with whom gratitude was a lifelong sentiment, ever afterwards considered himself bound to the duke by the strongest feeling of friendliness. It was by no means the last of the duke's favors, and Penn's increasing attachment to him was not altogether fortunate in later years.

It

Penn, now a free man once more, could look back with some satisfaction on his nine months' imprisonment. In the religious conflicts of that time imprisonment was a test of sincerity and fitness. had to be endured with a serene and high spirit. Religious belief had for many years been measured by its advocates' willingness to die at the stake or on the gallows; and the people had nothing but contempt for religion of any other kind. A small sect that flinched at the stake or the jail became a laughing stock and went out of existence.

Penn had done what George Fox could also so effectually do. He had not merely endured his imprisonment with a spirit that won the respect both of his followers and his enemies, but he had made the imprisonment a means of advancing the cause he had at heart, of making it known to the world in a way that would arouse enthusiasm. He had stated more fully and completely than had yet been done the fundamental doctrines of his faith in his two pamphlets, "The Sandy Foundation" and "Inno

cency with her Open Face;" and these two pamphlets, the one that imprisoned him and the one that released him, are to this day the authorities used to prove the original doctrines of the Quakers. When we add to these two pamphlets his book, "No Cross, No Crown," which has also a permanent value, we have Penn's three most important works; and it was a good deal to be accomplished within a twelvemonth by a young man of only twenty-four, who had spent most of that time locked up in the Tower.

IX

TRIAL BY JURY AND HAT HONOR

AMONG the persons whose respect Penn won by his imprisonment was his father, the admiral. But the father's relenting was slight. The little intercourse he had with his son was still formal and severe. While the son had been going through his year of controversy and imprisonment, the admiral had had troubles of his own; for it was in that year that he was impeached as already described, and prevented from going to sea in command of the fleet. addition to that annoyance and disappointment, he was now laid up with a bad attack of the gout.

In

But he relented so far as to request that Penn should go back to Ireland and again take charge of the family estate. He would not, however, condescend to make this request directly; it was made to the wayward son through his mother. "If you are ordained to be another cross to me," said the admiral, when he at last consented to write to his son, "God's will be done, and I shall arm myself the best I can against it."

Penn was in Ireland on this occasion for about a year, and in the intervals of business seems to have found ample time for very substantial service to the people of his faith. On his arrival he found nearly all the Quakers of the town of Cork in prison. “The

jail," he says, had become "a meeting-house and a workhouse, for they would not be idle anywhere." Jealousy in trade, he found, had combined with religious hatred to accomplish this persecution. He prepared a general statement of their case, and with the assistance of his friends laid the matter before the lord lieutenant at Dublin, and soon he had the satisfaction of obtaining an order of council for the release of his people. This was the first time he had succeeded in effecting a release of this kind, and it was a sort of business of which he did a good deal in after years.

It is curious to find him, in a public letter he prepared, "To the young convinced," arguing for that quietude and silent contemplation which was one of the foundation principles of his sect. Let us not, he says, "enter into many reasonings with opposers." He certainly had not been living up to this standard himself, and he was soon to be thrown into still fiercer controversy.

The leaders of the Quakers do not, as we read about their doings, have the appearance of quietists. They hit as hard and used as violent language as their opponents; and it would have been difficult for them to have maintained themselves in any other way. Doubtless, however, they enjoyed many intervals when they could cultivate the inner light by serene contemplation. A few months in prison would give abundant opportunities; and the rank and file who were not called upon to write or preach could live closer to the ideal standard.

In 1670 Penn returned to London, where, either

because he had conducted the Irish business well or because his father saw no use in holding out longer, a complete reconciliation took place between them.

In this same year, because the infection of Quaker doctrine seemed to be growing worse, it was decided to use against them more strenuously the famous Conventicle Act which had been passed in 1664. This act made unlawful any meetings for worship other than those of the Church of England; the magistrates were allowed to fine and imprison without trial by jury, and informers were given one-third of the fines. It was an arbitrary, despotic law, in clear violation of the principles of English liberty. The punishment of the Quakers was always in progress at this period. Every month proceedings were begun in the various counties as the magistrates and officials obtained evidence, or thought that they had a jury that would convict, and fines and imprisonments were inflicted. But in this year, 1670, the work of suppression was particularly active, and it was inevitable that Penn, in spite of the importance of his family, must sooner or later be brought within its sweep.

He had gone, it seems, one day in August, to the meeting-house in Gracechurch Street or Gracious Street, as it was sometimes called, in London, and, finding the doors guarded by soldiers, he and some other Quakers held a silent meeting standing before the door. He was soon moved to speak, and immediately the constables who were on the watch seized him.