Mr Penrose, page 3
How manyfold are the Wonders of our Divine Creator when our Eyes behold these things. Should we not say: “In the Majesty of Thy Wisdom, O Lord, hast Thou created them to the improvement of our understanding and to lead us step by step to a proper Idea of Thy Omnipotence”? … Step by step may they bring me and all mankind to a proper sense of my own state and their own, so that in the End we may all become worthy members of that divine abode through the Merits of Him who descended from whence Eternal happiness flows.
That this attitude was Williams’ own as well as that of his persona Penrose is shown in a telling phrase from his last will: “Previous to that day [of death] & on that day I beseech my Glorious Redeemer’s intercession to his Divine Father for the Remission of all my Sins.”
Finally, one may find passages of a deeply sensitive and natural poetic expression. Williams/Penrose may have been only an “illiterate Sailor,” as he himself asserted, but he was indeed a perceptive and evocative poietes, a maker and shaper of the language. At the time of the death of the Dutchman Somer, who had married a native girl, her relatives come not only to mourn but also to urge a rapid remarriage in the custom of their people:
“You far water stranger, Your Skin is whiter than ours, White like the Moon shining in the night. Can you expect our actions to be whiter than your own? What is the things I know, I hear and see? Has not the Wind of voices gone through the trees and by the side of the shore That my Brothers and Sisters have given their Flesh and their Blood for a mixture with yours? Show me more friendship than this as we shall then own it is whiter than ours. Now we hear the voice of the wind saying, ‘Oh, the blackness is coming of the Bird which devours the dead.’ Must we not all go to sleep? Are you not picking off the flesh from the bones? Our Sister here must return without a covering of love because her love is gone to sleep. Could she keep him awake any longer? Or tell us, did she put him to sleep? You will say, ‘No, no!’ Awaken his Spirit again, as it is in your power, that she may find joy and laughing hours, Least the Winds carry the sound of Black sorrow among our People and they should forget the way to this place.”
In spite of the apparent simplicity of its unassuming style and straight-line or chronological first-person account, which is broken only by two major flashback sections, considerable subtlety and suspense are evident in the story’s total development. Williams not only employs a carefully patterned alternation of descriptive scenes, action, and philosophical commentary, as illustrated by the foregoing passages, but he also uses the modern “dramatic” technique in characterization. Instead of offering descriptions and analyses of his characters, as was so frequently done in the novel of the eighteenth century, the author presents them directly through speech and deed, with minimal explication of his own, thus allowing each reader to formulate his own impressions.
Even the minor personages such as the voluble Captain Horgan, old Quammino, or the ancient Spaniard “Daddy Nunez” emerge three-dimensionally in the author’s persuasive accounts (although he is less successful with the characters of the Indian girls.) Penrose’s beloved companions, the Dutchman Somer and the Scottish adventurer and mountebank Norman Bell, in particular assume a solid reality as the events unroll. Most memorably of all, Penrose after a picaresque and unrestrained youth (he was, he says, “accustom’d to all Vice except Murder and Theft”) discloses himself in maturity to be a perceptive, gentle soul altruistically concerned with the welfare of his little community. But he also responds hedonistically to his lush tropical environment, which he describes with color and penetrating insight, showing himself to be at the same time a romantic adventurer and idealistic new-world philosopher as well as a practical man of affairs.
Edward Bird, R.A.: Penrose’s First Sight of the Indians
(From Second English Edition)
Williams was his own man, a self-taught, self-sufficient individual with talent in both art and literature. As a painter he produced over two hundred canvases; but Mr. Penrose is his one novel, uniquely based on his own real and imagined experience.
V
With Williams’ holograph manuscript as his source the present editor has retained the author’s exact terminology (with some annotation of archaic or technical forms), his spellings (and misspellings), and his random capitalization, as evidenced in the several preceding quotations. Since Williams’ pages were innocent of paragraph units and quotation marks it has seemed desirable to employ these convenient devices, and to supply normal punctuation to eliminate the author’s typical terminal commas and run-on constructions of incredible length. Since Williams divided his narration only by the numbered years of his residence, further chapter headings have been inserted. But for the first time Mr. Penrose is here made available in the author’s own style and idiom, a much more muscular and dynamic tale than the “doctored” version of 1815.18
NOTES
1. The Journal of Llewellin Penrose, a Seaman [edited by John Eagles], 4 vols., London: John Murray, and Edinburgh: William Blackwood, 1815.
2. St. Augustine Parish Records, Bristol City Archives, by courtesy of the Reverend Canon Gay.
3. Thomas Eagles’ copy of a letter to him from Benjamin West, dated October 10, 1810, now in the Lilly Library, Indiana University. This twenty-page letter is the source of the several following quotations.
4. Electic Review, New Series V: 395–98 (April, 1816).
5. Quoted in Alfred Coxe Prime, The Arts and Crafts in Philadelphia, Maryland, and South Carolina, 1721–1785, Walpole Society, 1929, p. 13.
6. Quotations from Williams’ two wills by courtesy of Major Philip Graham-Clarke of Abergavenny, Wales.
7. Marriage Records of the First Presbyterian Church, New York, by courtesy of Colonel John F. Williams, San Diego, California, who supplied a photostat. See also his William Joseph Williams, Portrait Painter and His Descendants, Buffalo, N.Y., 1933.
8. This was inserted as a starred note in West’s letter of 1810 under the comment: “X in the Vol of his copying of the Lives of the Painters—at the end is a list of his Paintings—”.
9. Quoted in Rita Susswein Gottesman, The Arts and Crafts in New York 1727–1776, New York, 1938, p. 7.
10. The Newark Museum owns the Imaginary Landscape; the Brooklyn Museum, Deborah Hall; the Winterthur Museum, William Hall, David Hall, Jr., Portrait of a Gentleman and His Wife, and Williams’ Self-Portrait, recently acquired from a descendant of John Eagles. Colonial Williamsburg holds Jacob Fox; and various dealers and private owners share some half dozen other works among those thus far identified as by Williams.
11. Felix Farley’s Bristol Journal, November 13, 1784, by courtesy of the Bristol Reference Library.
12. Hotwells and Rownham Ferry, a scene on the local Avon River, is in the City Art Gallery, Bristol. John Eagles discussed the Self-Portrait among other data on Williams in his “The Beggar’s Legacy,” Blackwood’s Edinburgh Magazine, 77:251–72 (March, 1855).
13. Letter from John Eagles to John Murray, Esq., August 18, 1814, and other correspondence, by courtesy of John Murray, Publishers.
14. Stanley Hutton, Bristol and Its Famous Associations, Bristol and London, 1907, p. 190.
15. A. Schmidt und Co., Jena, 1817. Copy in New York Public Library.
16. Edited by John Eagles, London. Illustrations by Edward Bird, R.A.
17. James Stanier Clarke, Naufragia, or Historical Memoirs of Shipwrecks and of the Providential Deliverance of Vessels, 2 vols., London, 1805–1806, preface, n.p.
18. A fuller study of Williams’ career and contributions is currently in press and will shortly appear: David Howard Dickason, William Williams, Novelist and Painter of Colonial America, 1727–1791, Indiana University Press (Humanities Series), Bloomington. Mr. James Thomas Flexner’s several books and articles on early American art first set me on the trail of William Williams as a novelist. To Mr. Flexner I am therefore greatly beholden, although he may not agree with all my conclusions.
Mr. Penrose
The Journal of
Penrose, Seaman
Chapter 1
If ever the following lines should reach my dear country the Reader is not to expect to meet with any persuasive Arguments to enforce belief or language to adorn the story, as the Author never recived more learning than what a common country school affords. In the first place I shall give the reader a faithful Narrative of every occurrence within my memory, from the day of my birth unto the time I first left my native shore to cross the Atlantic.
Lewellin Penrose is my name. I was born near Caerphilly in Glamorganshire,1 in the month of May anno dom. 1725. My father, who was a Sailor, was cast away in a Ship belonging to the city of Bristol called the Union Frigate,2 commanded by a certain Capt. Williams (who was his own countryman), in the great January storm at the Texel in Holland, where every soul perished of a fleet consisting of near 60 sail of Vessels, only one Dutch Dogger which lay without riding it safe the whole time.3
My mother, being left a Widow with two children, (Viz) myself and a sister five years younger, after a time married a Schoolmaster and removed with him into Worcestershire, thence into Monmouthshire, and after that into Wales. This man, I may justly remark at least in my own opinion, proved the innocent or rather obstinate cause of many hardships I have since his days undergone, as I learnt a few years after of his death.
And pity it is that parents take such notice of their own Children’s budding genius, speaking of them with such Adulation in their infancy; yet when a Youth becomes of an age capable of recieving an Education suitable to the talent the Almighty has bestowed upon him, Every delight shall be snatch’d from him at once, Because perhaps an Uncle, Cousin, or neighbour has acquired some little welth by this, that, or other calling. Now Jack must be placed under such a Master at once; as to the natural bent of the boy, such a thing becomes intirely out of the question as being by no means a competent judge of the matter.
This was truly my case. In short, nothing would suit but that I must be placed with a Lawyer, and that without the least inclination on my side.
My poor Mother always sided with her Husband, and thinking his advice the best gave me so many lectures day after day that I grew quite wearied out as I detested the Profession. And now I determined to follow the seas.
When they found me so averse they took another method with me, as thus. They came to a conscent that I should go a voyage, but this as I found afterward was only in view of weaning me. Now when I had been three or four small trips they again renewed their dissuasions. This only aggravated my mind, and as it was now War-time4 I entered into a new Scheem with a companion of mine. This young lad’s name was Howell Gwynn, and to run away we were resolved. We conducted our affair so artfully that no soul knew or had the least dream of our elopement.
And here let me beg the kind Reader’s permission to let fall a few tears, as it brings to remembrance a kind and tenderhearted Mother. Alas! to think now on the Wickedness of that act chills my blood. Notwithstanding it may be reasonably judged, the Ocean seldom softens the passions. I observe this here as a caution to any young Fellow who, if God so please, may come to read my singular story.
I say, then, having found means to convey our cloaths and other trifles away, with no more than four shillings in money, we very erly in the morning in the month of September in the year 1744 quitted the houses of our parents without the least remorse of conscience, to make the best of our way for Bristol. We took care to evade all enquiries, sleept in Barns and Stables, now and then asking for a piece of Bread and Cheese on the road saying that we had been cast away and to make our money hold out the longer. I shall observe one thing here. As we went through a Village called Pile5 a young fellow met us who was then returning from a Cruise, and advised us by all means to return back to our parents, he having been unsuccessful. But the reflections we thought to meet with should we so do determined us to proceed untill we got the whole length of the journey with three halfpence in store.
The first thing we did was to march to the Quay, where by chance we met with a young Fellow who was a kind of relation to me, and a Sailor also. He no doubt was pleased to find I had taken such a turn, and undertook to get us births. The City then swarmed with numbers of Privateers’ men. My cousin took us to a Rendezvous on the Quay, the Sign of the White Lion and Horseshoe. We had not been long in the house before my companion Howell was persuaded to Enter,6 but as I had a greater mind to become a good Seaman than to commence Hero all at once I evaded all their temptations. This I was advised to by my kinsman, who observed that it would be better for me to take a trip with him to Ireland. Now as I was in a strange place without money I took my friend’s advice. My companion Gwynn took his leave of me to go down to Hungroad,7 and from that day to this hour we never met more. I remain’d all the evening with my cousine, who I found to be a hearty cock and never flinched the Can of Grogg. Now I being in no way inclined to liquor left him in company and went upstairs to sleep on a rush-bottomed couch in the foreroom.
In the midst of my sleep I was roused with a most sad outcry of a boy, as I thought, under severe disciplin. This alarmed me much, as it was accompanied with most horrid imprecations from some man. Being but a Stranger in the house, and finding the man went downstairs I determined to make my best way down also in order to find out my relation. There was a small light gleem’d into my room. On I pushed, but as I went along the passage I heard a soft voice call to me, beging me to come into a room on my right hand. No sooner did I enter than I saw a charming creture standing stark naked before me. I was for passing on, but she laid hold on me and made me sit on the Bedside with her. She began to tell me that her husband the landlord had beat her most cruelly through a fit of drunken jealousy. No mortal was ever much more alarmed than me in that Scituation, as dreading her husband’s return.
She shewed me the goosberry bush he had beaten her with, and indeed he had curried her to some purpose. Now it happened the candlestick fell down. This was a luckey stroke for me. I directly offered to go down and light it. To this she consented; but [I] took care not to go back with it. And well for me, perhaps, for shortly after the husband went up the stairs again and gave her the second part of the foregoing tune, and plaid it as well. I groped my way into the fore-parlour in order to rouse some of the snoring tars, but I might as well have spared the trouble; they were all so snugly moored in Sot’s Bay that it was out of my power to trip one of their anchors. At last I ran foul of a man in the Entry, standing in his shirt. “Who are you, messmate?” said I.
“Oh, cousin,” he cried, “is it you?”
“For God’s sake, let us get out of this house,” said I, “at any rate.”
Shortly after this we heard the Watchman pass, when we took courage and hailed him. “Go to sleep if you are all drunk,” he said.
We then called through the keyhole and said: “Murder! Knock at the door, man!” He then called two more and they thundered at the street door. We then drew back into Sot’s Bay when down came Mr. Bean, the furious Landlord, with the candle and opened the door. No sooner did he do it than out we pushed and insisted on their taking us off with them, as we greatly feared the fellow would murder his wife before morning light. This was about three o’clock. After this we marched the streets untill six, when we entered another house call’d the Champion of Wales. There we got breakfast and proceeded down to the Gibb where his boat lay. He took me down to Pill [Pile] next tide, where he purchased me a few articles.
The wind coming round to East, we stood down channel the next day and took in a load of coal at Neath,8 from whence we proceeded to Cork. On the passage I learnt that It was my cousin Bean had recieved the cause of his jealousy from, and that he had given him a fine basting before I awoke.
Now it happened as I was standing on the Quay on a day before the bow of the Vessell, a Man Siezed me by the hand, and clapping my thumb between his teeth threw me over his Shoulder and in this posture carried me into the next publick house, where he called for a quart of Ale on my head as a new Import. I was greatly amazed at the first, but some of our people following and laughing told me it was the custome among the porters. This man’s name I well can remember was Billy Vane.
One Evening after this my cousin would need have me go on shore with him to look out for a Brute, as he used to call the ladies of pleasure. He was then in liquor; and remembring the Bristol adventure, Upon the whole I refused. He then began to upbraid me with what he had done for me, but as I dreaded the consiquences I persisted to remain on board. He then told me I might march on shore and shift for myself. He had not been gone above two hours when I left the Vessell and repaired on board a Snow9 bound for London. There I begged my passage for my work.
After my coming to London I directly entered on board A Privateer, having not one Shilling in the world. I followed it up, playing the same game as other Sailors do when on shore with prize money. After this time I was pressed10 and shifted from one to another untill I found means to make my escape, going under different names as it best suited my purpose. Thus I spent my time untill the year 1746.
I then ship’d myself on board an old Indiaman calld the Harrington,11 bound for Jamaica and at that time laying at the Red House, Deptford,12 one Hunter commander. With what little cash I had left I purchased some few Shirts and trowsers, a Jackket, Scotch Bonnet and a pair of Shoes, and a small seaman’s Chest. After this the Ship fell down to Gravesend, from thence to the Downs, and there I experienced the first Thunder-Storm I had ever been in on the Salt water. The rain and wind was so violent off the shore that she was soon on her beem ends, as we were then getting under way. The flashes of lightning were so quick that I could scarcely keep my Eyes open, but it was of short continuance. After this we proceeded to Spithead, there to wait for the Convoy.
