growth of piety; and I reverence the virtue that seeks and uses it, wishing there were more

The whole

solitude.

of it in the world; but then it should someness of be free, not constrained. What benefit to the mind to have it for a punishment, not for a pleasure? Nay, I have long thought it an error among all sorts that use not monastic lives, that they have no retreats for the afflicted, the tempted, the solitary, and the devout; 1 where they might undisturbedly wait upon God, pass through their religious exercises, and being thereby strengthened may with more power over their own spirits enter into the business of the world again; though the less the better, to be sure. For divine pleasures are to be found in a free solitude." 2

From such sweet reflections we come now and then upon quaint arguments in justification of sundry peculiarities of the Friends, as for example their plainness of attire: "Were it possible that any one could bring us father Adam's girdle and mother Eve's apron, what laughing, what fleering, what mocking of their homely fashion would there be surely their tailor would find but little custom, although we read it was God himself that made them coats of skins. . . . How many pieces of ribband, and what feathers, lace-bands, and the like, did Adam and Eve wear in Paradise or out of it? What rich embroideries, silks, points, etc. had Abel, Enoch, Noah, and good old Abraham?

1 It was such a want that the noble and saintlike Nicholas Ferrar sought to satisfy in his Protestant monastery of Little Gidding. See my Old Virginia and Her Neighbours, i. 205. 2 Penn's Select Works, i. 368–371.

Did Eve, Sarah, Susannah, Elizabeth, and the Virgin Mary use to curl, powder, patch,

The follies of fashion.

paint, wear false locks of strange colours, rich points, trimmings, laced gowns, embroidered petticoats, shoes with slipslaps laced with silk or silver lace and ruffled like pigeons' feet, with several yards of ribbands? How many plays did Jesus Christ and the apostles recreate themselves at? What poets, romances, comedies, and the like did the apostles and saints use to pass away their time withal? ... But if I were asked, whence came them [these follies]; I would quickly answer, from the Gentiles that knew not God, .

an effeminate Sardanapalus, . . . a comical Aristophanes, a prodigal Charaxus, a luxurious Aristippus . . . [from] such women as the infamous Clytemnestra, the painted Jezebel, the lascivious Campaspe, the most immodest Posthumia, the costly Corinthian Lais, the impudent Flora, the wanton Egyptian Cleopatra, and most insatiable Messalina; persons whose memories have stunk through all ages and carry with them a perpetual rot. These and not the holy self-denying men and women in ancient times were devoted to the like recreations and vain delights." 1

Or, as concerns the use of "thou" and "thee" for "you," the modern reader needs to be reminded of the English usage in Penn's time, which made the Quaker innovation seem especially heinous. The usage in English was like that in French today, and analogous to the German, Italian, and Spanish usage. The singular pronoun was re

1 Penn's Select Works, i. 482.

served for solemn invocations to the Deity, or for familiar intercourse with the members of one's

family, including the servants; for ad- "Thee" and dressing parents, however (especially the "thou." father), or social superiors or equals outside the circle of familiarity, the plural was necessary. The rule was much like that which governs the use of the Christian name to-day; you may call your wife, or sister, or brother, or children, or the housemaid, by the forename; but to address father or mother in that way is felt to be disrespectful, and to address a lady so, unless she is an intimate acquaintance, is an unwarrantable liberty. In the seventeenth century, to "thou" (French tutoyer) a lady was as rude as to call her Lizzie or Jane; to "thou" one's father was much like addressing him as Tom or Jack. Probably few things did so much to make the Quakers shock people's sense of the proprieties as their use of the pronouns, which was in later days imitated by the Jacobins of the French Revolution. "There is another piece of our non-conformity to the world, that renders us [i. e. makes us seem] very clownish to the breeding of it, and that is, Thou for You, and that without difference or respect to persons; a thing that to some looks so rude, it cannot well go down without derision or wrath." Nevertheless, says Penn, we Friends have good reasons and high authorities on our side. "Luther, the great reformer, was so far from condemning our plain speech that in his 'Ludus' he sports himself with You to a single person as an incongruous and ridiculous speech, viz. Magister, vos estis iratus? Master, are You

6

angry?' as absurd with him in Latin as 'My masters, art Thou angry?' is in English. Erasmus, a learned man and an exact critic in speech, not only derides it, but bestows a whole discourse upon rendering it absurd; plainly manifesting . . . that the original of this corruption was the corruption of flattery. Lipsius affirms of the ancient Romans, that the manner of greeting now in vogue was not in use among them. Is it not as proper to 'Thou lovest,' to ten men, as to say, say, 6 You love,' to one man? Is it reasonable that chil

dren should be whipt at school for putting You for Thou, as having made false Latin; and yet that we must be (though not whipt) reproached, and often abused, when we use the contrary propriety of speech? . . . It cannot be denied that the most famous poems, dedicated to love or majesty, are written in this style [i. e. with Thou]. Read of each in Chaucer, Spenser, Waller, Cowley, Dryden, etc. Why then should it be so homely, illbred, and insufferable in us? This, I conceive, can never be answered. [The other style] was first ascribed in way of flattery to proud popes and emperors, imitating the heathen's vain hom age to their gods; . . . for which reason, You, only to be used to many, became first spoken to one. It seems the word Thou looked like

The use of 66 you "' in place of

"thou" is undemocratic.

too lean and thin a respect; and therefore some, bigger than they should be,

would have a style suitable to their own ambition. . . . It is a most extravagant piece of pride in a mortal man to require or expect from his fellow-creature a more civil speech . . . than he is

...

wont to give the immortal God his Creator, in all his worship to him. . . . Say not, I am serious about slight things; but beware you of levity and rashness in serious things. ... . . But I would not have thee think it is a mere Thou or Title, simply or nakedly in themselves, we boggle at, or that we would beget or set up any form inconsistent with severity or true civility; but the esteem and value the vain minds of men do put upon them constrains us to testify so steadily against them.” 1

Memorable scene in the Lord May

1670.

Other things in Penn's career beside the free circulation of his heretical books occur to remind us that in the England of Charles II., in spite of grave shortcomings, we are in a free country. Attacks upon liberty are made in courts of justice, but are apt to fail of success. Such a damnable iniquity as the Dreyfus case, which has made every true lover of France put on mourning, shows us that the Paris or's court, of Zola still has lessons of vital importance to learn from the London of Congreve and Aphra Behn. In 1670 Penn was arraigned before the Lord Mayor's court for infringing the Conventicle Act and provoking a riot by speaking in Gracechurch Street to an unlawful assembly. He argued his own case, and proved much more than a match for the recorder. The twelve jurors failed to agree, and were sent out again and again after a scolding from the Court. At length they brought in the verdict, "Guilty of speaking in Gracechurch Street," but this was not enough. So they were locked up for the night "without 1 Penn's Select Works, i. 421-428.

VOL. II.