His cavalier dress, so unlike that of his companions,[8] led the mayor, before whom the party was taken, to offer to release him upon bond for his good behaviour. Penn denied his right to demand such bond, and challenged the legality of the arrest. When committed, he appealed to his friend the Earl of Orrery, Lord President of Munster, by whom he was speedily set at liberty. But that gentleman wrote the news to his father, who at once summoned him home. He reasoned, he stormed, then, proud and haughty as he was, he condescended to plead. Finally, finding his son still unyielding, and hearing complaints of his preaching at different meetings in town and country, he turned him out of doors, telling him also that he should leave his estates to those that pleased him better. He was then twenty-three years of age.
[8] He did not at once adopt the Quaker dress, and continued for some time to wear a sword. When this non-compliance with Quaker customs was reported to George Fox, it is said that he simply replied, "let him wear it as long as he can." He mentioned years afterwards how the peculiar garb was a stumbling-block to some, "It telleth tales, it is blowing a trumpet and visibly crossing the world; and this the fear of man cannot abide" (_Travels_, p. 121). Probably this very fact commended the peculiarity to his bold and decided spirit.
Henceforth William Penn's time and strength were given to Quakerism. There was neither hesitation nor half-heartedness. The welfare, work, and sufferings of Friends he made his own. He wrote and preached with untiring energy, and suffered, counting it joy.
Though turned out of doors by his father, he was not allowed to want. His mother privately supplied his needs to the utmost of her ability, and what she could not do was made up by several kind friends. The situation was painful in the extreme; separated from home and parents, his father grieved and mortified at his conduct. He tells pathetically afterwards of "the bitter mockings and scornings that fell upon me, the displeasure of my parents, the invectiveness and cruelty of the priests, the strangeness of all my companions, what a sign and wonder they made of me." But his conscience approved of the line he had adopted, and his resolute nature was troubled by no waverings. He set himself earnestly to do his duty. He united himself closely to the Friends, and took up his pen on their behalf. His first work was entitled "Truth exalted."