ivy Council, in 1690, confronted
Penn with an intercepted letter to him from James, asking for help. But,
as Penn said, he could not hinder the king from writing to him. He
added, however, with characteristic boldness, that since he had loved
King James in his prosperity he should not hate him in his adversity. He
was again discharged.

In that same year, however, James invaded Ireland, and the situation of
his friends in England was thereby made increasingly difficult. Penn was
arrested with others, and in prison awaited trial for several months.
The result was as before,--he was found in no offense. But before a
month had passed, he learned that another warrant was out against his
liberty. Officers went to take him at the funeral of George Fox, but
arrived too late. By this time he had concluded that the path of
prudence was that which led into a wise retirement. He hid himself for
the space of three years. He was publicly proclaimed a traitor, and was
deprived of the government of his colony. He was "hunted up and down,"
he says, "and could never be allowed to live quietly in city or
country."

Finally, the government were persuaded either that Penn was innocent, or
that no further danger was to be apprehended from him, and several
noblemen, interceding with the king, procured his pardon. They
represented his case, he says, as not only hard, but oppressive, there
being no evidence but what "impostors, or those that fled, or that have
since their pardon refused to verify (and asked me pardon for saying
what they did) alleged against me." The king announced that Penn was his
old acquaintance, and that he might follow his business as freely as
ever, and that for his part he had nothing to say to him.

Thus again, and at last, the political accusations against William Penn
came to nothing. He had been in a hard position as the faithful friend
of a dethroned monarch in a day when conspiracies were being made on
every hand. That he should have been suspected of treason was
inevitable. That in his unconcealed affection for James and disapproval
of William he said imprudent things is likely enough. Prudence was not
one of his virtues. He was never calculatingly careful of his own
welfare. But that he was ever untrue to William, or did any act, or
consented to any, which could reasonably be called treacherous, is not
only quite unproved, but is out of accord with the true William Penn as
he is revealed in his writings and