incurred his Majesty's displeasure; but while he admitted that the youth had fallen away from his Church, and so provoked the King to anger, he expressed a confident hope that God would bring him back to true religion, and a full conviction that he would do nothing to the prejudice of his Majesty's crown and government. He referred to the 'reasonable satisfaction' which his son had given and begged his Majesty to set him free.

The Admiral's appearance at the Navy Board stirred up the faction of his enemies, and when the Council met next day to read his petition, a majority of the councillors were dead against his prayer. Instead of setting Penn at liberty, the King in Council gave an order for Humphrey Henchman, Bishop of London, to proceed against him in the Consistorial Court, for an offence not hitherto asserted-namely, 'blasphemous heresies'-not alleged 'blasphemy' and alleged 'heresies,' but for these heinous crimes, now ascertained by Charles himself. 'His Majesty,' so ran the royal order, 'having taken into consideration that the book printed and published by the said William Penn, entitled, The Sandy Foundation Shaken, containeth in it several dangerous and blasphemous heresies to the scandal of the Christian religion, did this day order and require the Right Reverend Father in God, The Lord Bishop of London, to take cognizance, and to proceed to the examination and judging of the said heretical opinions, according to such rules and forms as belong to the Ecclesiastical Courts by the laws of this kingdom, and in such a manner as hath been formerly accustomed in like cases.' Henchman's officers were to have free access to the Tower; and Penn, accompanied by his keeper and a guard,

was to be brought in person to defend himself in that prelate's court.

But nothing came of these commands. No doubt the Bishop sent his chaplains to the Tower, and had reports of Penn's condition laid before him; but he took no step to bring the young offender to a public trial. Not a friend of Penn, and looking on him as a deserter, still the Bishop could not bring upon his church the odium of a persecution which she had not raised. For what was this offence of blasphemy, alike according to the Common Law and constant ruling of the Consistorial Courts? Denial of God and of His providence; contempt of Jesus Christ; scurrility and mockery of the words of Holy Writ. Could any one of these three forms of blasphemy be found in The Sandy Foundation Shaken'? No; not one; and Bishop Henchman knew it. Penn contended for the unity of God. A few extreme divines might hold that such an article of faith excludes the equal rank of Christ, and therefore is a practical denial of the Trinity. But Penn denied that such an inference was true. If he denounced, as unscriptural, the dogma of a separate existence of Father, Son, and Holy Ghost, he had not said they were not equally divine. A sober ruler of his see, the Bishop shrank from a discussion of such topics in a public court with such a man as Penn. Our creeds and articles use the words substance, essence, union, and personality, in reference to the Trinity in a way to stir up subtle and vexatious doubts; and in a court like that of Charles the Second, with men like Rochester and Buckingham for critics, with women like Barbara Palmer and Nell Gwyn for auditors, the scandal and excitement of a public trial would disturb his church. The young man would appear in sober

garb; he would refuse to swear an oath; he would decline to doff his hat; he would address the judge as 'thee' and 'thou,' instead of as 'my lord.' There would be laughter, jokes, and sneers. The young man might be trusted to defend his pamphlet with the highest spirit. He was so young in years, so pure in life, so quick in wit and eloquence, so comely in his face and person, that the sympathies of serious people would be with him. Henchman could not see his way. The King's command was not obeyed; and Penn was left a prisoner in the Tower, till Arlington could find some other means of finishing the work he had begun in too much haste and hate.

Arrested for one alleged offence, detained for another alleged offence, without a legal warrant, without a formal accusation, denied a trial, and confined in prison for the mere convenience of a Secretary of State, Penn asked himself in what respect the proceeding of a Protestant Privy Council differed from those of a Catholic Holy Office? Charles was but another name for Philip; Arlington for Torquemada. If the balance leaned to either side, it leaned to that of Spain. The Catholic persecutors of his Uncle George were moved by nobler forces than the Protestant persecutors who had lodged him in the Tower. At San Lucar, the members of the Holy Office who arrested George believed that what they did was right. But Charles and Arlington were but too well aware that what they did was wrong.

Allowed the use of pen and ink, Penn took to writing, as the prisoner's solace, and compiled the first strong outline of a book which still enjoys pre-eminent favour in the serious world. 'No Cross, no Crown,' this prison book, was written in defence of Quaker habits, such as wearing the

hat, dressing in sober tints, refusing titles of respect; but thirteen years elapsed before the work assumed that larger shape in which it was to find acceptance from the whole body of professing Christian men. The title of his book was quaint. It stood, in the original draft, 'No Cross, no Crown; or several sober reasons against hathonour, titular respects, You to a single person, with the apparel and recreations of the time; being inconsistent with scripture, reason, and the practice, as well of the best heathens as the holy men and women of all generations, and consequently fantastic, impertinent, and sinful; with sixty-eight testimonies of the most famous persons of both former and latter ages for further confirmation. In defence of the poor despised Quakers against the practice and objection of their adversaries. By W. Penn, junior, an humble disciple and patient bearer of the cross of Jesus.' Four good texts were added to the page, of which the first expressed the prisoner's mood,-'But Mordecai bowed not.' And William Penn bowed not, even though they kept him prisoner in the Tower.

CHAPTER X.

STILLINGFLEET (1669-1670).

'No Cross, no Crown is a serious cross to me,' said Admiral Penn on reading this unworldly book. 'No Cross, no Crown' arose out of the writer's own position. He was suffering for opinion he was suffering at the hands of men who professed to be the servants of God. He wished to present clearly to his own mind and to impress upon others the great Christian doctrine that every man must bear the cross who hopes to wear the crown. To this end he reviewed the character of the age. He showed how corrupt was the laity, how proud and self-willed were the priests. The second part of 'No Cross, no Crown' consists of a collection of the sayings of heroes and sages of all nations in favour of the same doctrine-namely, that to do well and to bear ill, is the only way to lasting happiness.

In prison Penn was free. No gates could close upon his fancy; no restraints could chain his thoughts. The light of heaven was on his window-panes; the peace of God was in his soul. The strength with which he bore his trial brought him back his father's heart. Surprised to see how easily his son could brave privations which had broken his own hard spirit, Admiral Penn began to think there must be something genuine in his son's principles. Of course he hated all this stuff about equality and titles of honour, but he could not help being proud of having such a son. That son was more troubled about his father and moth