| By Author | [ A B C D E F G H I J K L M N O P Q R S T U V W X Y Z | Other Symbols ] |
| By Title | [ A B C D E F G H I J K L M N O P Q R S T U V W X Y Z | Other Symbols ] |
| By Language |
|
Download this book: [ ASCII ] Look for this book on Amazon Tweet |
Title: The History of the Rise, Increase, and Progress of the Christian People Called Quakers Intermixed with Several Remarkable Occurrencs.
Author: Sewel, William
Language: English
As this book started as an ASCII text book there are no pictures available.
*** Start of this LibraryBlog Digital Book "The History of the Rise, Increase, and Progress of the Christian People Called Quakers Intermixed with Several Remarkable Occurrencs." ***
produced from images generously made available by The
Internet Archive)
THE
HISTORY
OF THE
RISE, INCREASE, AND PROGRESS,
OF THE
CHRISTIAN PEOPLE CALLED QUAKERS.
INTERMIXED WITH
SEVERAL REMARKABLE OCCURRENCES.
WRITTEN ORIGINALLY IN LOW DUTCH,
AND ALSO TRANSLATED BY HIMSELF INTO ENGLISH.
BY WILLIAM SEWEL.
A NEW EDITION.
TO WHICH IS APPENDED,
AN INTERESTING NARRATIVE OF THE SUFFERINGS OF WILLIAM
MOORE, JOHN PHILLY, AND RICHARD SELLER.
IN TWO VOLUMES.
VOL. I.
PHILADELPHIA:
URIAH HUNT, No. 19 NORTH THIRD STREET.
1832.
TABLE OF CONTENTS.
VOLUME I. 1
TABLE OF CONTENTS. 2
DEDICATION. 3
THE PREFACE. 5
THE FIRST BOOK. 1415-1650. 13
1415-1623. 13
1624-1641. 19
1642-1645. 20
1646. 23
1647. 24
1648. 28
1649. 34
1650. 37
THE SECOND BOOK. 1651-1653. 52
1651. 52
1652. 62
1653. 82
THE THIRD BOOK. 1654-1655. 97
1654. 97
1655. 124
THE FOURTH BOOK. 1656-1658. 146
1656. 146
1657. 184
1658. 198
THE FIFTH BOOK. 1659-1660. 224
1659. 224
1660. 258
THE SIXTH BOOK. 1661-1664. 296
1661. 296
1662. 337
1664. 367
THE SEVENTH BOOK. 1662-1663. 374
1662. 374
1663. 409
APPENDIX to VOL. I. 435
VOLUME II. 1
THE EIGHTH BOOK. 1664-1667. 3
1664. 3
1665. 46
1666. 61
1667. 69
THE NINTH BOOK. 1668-1676. 77
1668. 77
1669. 85
1670. 92
1671. 114
1672. 116
1673. 117
1674. 120
1675. 133
1676. 137
THE TENTH BOOK. 1677-1688. 161
1677. 161
1678. 173
1679. 174
1680. 178
1681. 180
1682. 182
1683. 186
1684. 193
1685. 193
1686. 202
1687. 210
1688. 216
THE ELEVENTH BOOK. 1689-1702. 232
1689. 232
1690. 235
1691. 244
1692. 247
1693. 249
1694. 259
1695. 263
1696. 265
1697. 276
1698. 277
1699. 279
1700. 282
1701. 282
1702. 283
THE TWELFTH BOOK. 1702-1717. 297
1702-1704. 297
1705-1707. 309
1708-1709. 311
1710-1712. 320
1713. 321
1714. 322
1715. 325
1716. 326
1717. 328
ADDENDA. 331
THE LIGHT UPON THE CANDLESTICK. 331
APPENDIX. 339
INDEX. 363
TRANSCRIBER’S NOTE
TO
GEORGE,
KING OF GREAT BRITAIN, IRELAND, &c.
PRINCE ELECTOR OF BRUNSWICK, LUNENBURG, &c.
GREAT AND MIGHTY PRINCE,
As there is a great variety in the inclinations of men in general,
so it is particularly remarkable in those who addict themselves to
the studies of nature and human literature: for some with great
eagerness inquire into the operations of nature; and the natural
causes of things: some endeavour to dig up antiquities from the dark,
by searching out the signification of statues, the inscriptions of
antique stones, and old and almost worn out medals; and others peruse
with unwearied diligence, the histories both of modern and ancient
times; and not without good cause; for history is not unjustly called
the looking-glass of human life; not only because it showeth unto us
matters of fact, which are either commendable or reproveable, and we
behold therein that which is past, as if it were present; but also
because from things which have already happened we may learn what is
best for us to do, and what we ought to avoid. And, therefore, great
benefit may be reaped from the reading of histories, besides the
pleasure which the variety of transactions affords to our senses, when
matters are accompanied with singular circumstances, and unexpected
events.
Now, since the reading of historical treatises was one of the most
pleasant diversions of my youth, this drew me when I attained to some
maturity of age, to inquire after many things that had happened in thy
kingdoms and dominions, which by many were almost forgotten. And having
gathered great store of very remarkable cases, which I thought worthy
to be kept upon record, and not buried in oblivion, I was induced to
compose an history, which contains such rare occurrences, and unusual
matters as I believe are not easily paralleled.
And after a long and difficult labour, having at length finished the
work, so far as to expose it to public view; and then thinking to whom
I should dedicate it, it presently came into my mind, that this could
not be done more suitably to any, than to the king of these countries,
which are the chief theatre of this history; and the rather, because
therein is described the rise of a people, who are no small part of
his faithful subjects, (for so I may safely call them,) since they
never, how much soever wronged and oppressed, offered any resistance
to the government; and when for conscience-sake they could not comply
with what was required of them, by patient suffering they showed their
subjection and obedience to the higher power. Nay, when opportunity
was offered to revenge themselves of their enemies, even then they
would not, but left it to the Lord: and thus at all times they behaved
themselves like a peaceable people.
And since I have also had occasion in this history to mention some
illustrious branches of thy royal family, to whom could I with more
justice offer this work, than to thee, O King of Great Britain,
who, having already made thyself gloriously renowned by thy eminent
clemency, bestowed even upon such who by their unnatural rebellion had
forfeited it, didst rather choose to establish thy throne thereby,
than by severity, and thus effectually to observe this lesson of the
wisest of kings, “Mercy and truth preserve the king, and his throne is
upholden by mercy.”
All this hath emboldened me, great king, to dedicate this work to thee,
with due regard, and in a way of humble address to approach thy royal
presence. Be pleased, therefore, according to thy wonted goodness to
excuse this modest freedom; and to know, that though it be offered by
a foreigner, yet it proceeds from him who heartily wisheth that God
may vouchsafe thee long to reign in peace and tranquillity over thy
subjects; and when removed hence from an earthly and perishing diadem,
to grant thee an heavenly and incorruptible crown of glory: which is
the unfeigned desire of,
Great and mighty Prince,
Thy affectionate and sincere well-wisher,
WILLIAM SEWEL.
THE PREFACE.
After a labour of more than five and twenty years, this history at
length appears in public view; to the compiling of which I was induced
from the consideration that the rise and increase of that religious
society, which in this work I have given a circumstantial account of,
is indeed so rare and wonderful a thing, that I think few will be met
with in modern histories, which in the like respect may be compared
therewith; because the Quakers, so called, are become a great people,
under such heavy oppression as is herein after mentioned: and that not
by any human power, or making resistance, but merely by an harmless
deportment, and the exercising of patience; for bearing arms and
resisting the wicked by fighting, they always have counted unlawful,
and contrary to the doctrine of our Saviour. Thus they who had no king,
prince, nor potentate to protect them; and who in the beginning had
not among themselves any man of renown or literature, but relying on
their integrity, and trusting to God alone; have at length triumphed
over the malice of their opposers, by suffering, (which rose to that
degree that it was at the expense of the lives of many of them,) under
violent oppression from high and low, and the opposition of learned and
unlearned.
All this after much search, being found out by assiduous diligence,
appeared so wonderful to me, that I resolved to give a relation
thereof, notwithstanding the great labour I soon perceived this work
required. To this may be added, that when I considered that several
authors, both Germans and others, had published books and accounts of
this people stuffed with gross untruths, I was the more spurred on
thereby to set down in due order, for my countrymen’s sake, what I
knew of the matter; for it seems indeed to be of small advantage that
when any thing is well known to us, we keep that knowledge only to
ourselves,[1] without imparting it to others.
[1] Scire tuum nihil est, nisi te scire hoc sciat alter.--_Pers.
Sat._ 1.
Now how difficult soever I found it, yet having made a beginning,
I resolved to go on; and so I did, though often stopped by several
accidents, and also other work: for during this labour I have not only
translated several bulky books into Dutch, besides Rennet’s Antiquities
of Rome, but also composed several treatises of moment, and among these
my great dictionary, English and Low Dutch. And notwithstanding all
these impediments, I continually resumed this work by intervals so
often, that I have written it almost thrice to make it complete; for
doubting of somethings, and finding others defective, it made me write
to England for better information; which having gotten at length, after
much pains and long writing, I was several times obliged to lay aside
part of my former description and make a new one; which happened so
often, that had I not been supported by an unwearied application, the
difficulty of the labour, which had been much greater in Holland, than
if I had composed the work in England, would have made me give it over.
But I went on, and so finished this history in that form as it now
appears.
And I am not without thoughts, that I was prepared to be instrumental
for such a work as this: for several remarkable things I have made use
of, I had noted down before ever I thought of composing such a history;
and even in my young years, when I was in England, I copied out from
manuscripts several pieces and letters, which are inserted in this
history: it may be hardly to be found elsewhere.
At the first sight perhaps some will be ready to think that I might
have superseded this labour, since the learned world hath long ago seen
a book written by Gerard Croese, with the title of Historia Quakeriana.
But be it known to the reader, that though the author got the chief
contents thereof from me, yet that relation which he gives of the rise
and progress of the Quakers, is very imperfect and defective; and that
he presumed to relate things of which he had no true knowledge. I gave
him indeed many things in writing, but not all I had collected; besides
having since that time written to my acquaintance in England, I got
narratives of many remarkable occurrences given forth in print there,
and many authentic pieces in manuscript. Now though this collection
was, as Ovid calls the chaos, ‘_Rudis indigestaque moles_,’ ‘a rude
undigested heap;’ yet from thence, and from my own collection of
matters known to me, I have compiled the greatest part of this history:
but as to the life and transactions of G. Fox, who is largely treated
in this work, I took them chiefly from his journal; and the greatest
part of other occurrences, or the lives and transactions of others, I
have taken from the works of deceased authors; and out of abundance of
small books published in print not long after the things happened, and
not contradicted by whatever I could learn.
Thus I have endeavoured to assert nothing but what I had good authority
for; which in regard of some circumstances, would have been yet far
more difficult after the expiration of some years: for now time gave
opportunity to be informed of many things, which some ancient people
had yet remembrance of, and which after their decease perhaps would
have been buried in oblivion.
I cannot well omit here publicly to acknowledge the signal kindness
and diligence of my well-beloved and much esteemed friend Theodore
Ecclestone, of London, who hath furnished me with abundance of
materials, not only very useful, but also absolutely necessary for
the compiling of this work: from him I had intelligence on that
account, and have exchanged a multitude of letters. And thus by a long
continued correspondence I came to be acquainted with many things and
circumstances, which after some years might have been more difficult to
obtain.
Add to this, that I have described several things well known to me,
which few besides myself within these thirty or forty years had better
knowledge of. I have also mentioned several remarkable cases, which
I noted down from the mouths of credible persons who have been dead
many years, and thought not that at any time I should have published
them in print. In the meanwhile I took account of what seemed to me
worthy to be left upon record, and collected a great quantity of books,
wherein many occurrences mentioned in this history were related. Of
such kind of relations and accounts I have made use of, without taking
from thence all that was remarkable; for it hath not been for want of
matter that this history hath not run out further, since I could have
made it thrice as big, if I had been minded so to do. But as I was
unwilling to extend my work any further than my strength and health
in all probability should permit, so I would not glut my reader with
many things of one and the same nature: but have endeavoured by variety
of matter, to quicken his appetite; and therefore have intermixed the
serious part sometimes with a facetious accident.
Yet I have not thought myself bound to take notice of every odd case
that may have happened among the Quakers, so called: for there have
conversed among them such who acted some particular things that were
not approved of by those of that society. And if any one, swayed by
human passion, commits any excess which is disapproved of by his
fellow members of the church, such an act may not be duly imputed to
the people he makes profession with. Among such particulars may be
reckoned the case of one Hester Biddle, which Croese makes mention
of about the end of his history. For though it was told him from the
relation she gave of it at Amsterdam, not with any intention that he
should publish it, yet this was a particular case which she herself
must be responsible for; since experience hath taught that imagination
sometimes works so powerfully on the mind, that one thinks himself
obliged to do a thing which were better left undone.
Yet for all that, it is true, that men fearing God, may mistake, and
through ignorance do something, which others not without reason might
judge not commendable. Also it may happen that some again, from a godly
fear, have omitted what others, no less pious, would not have scrupled.
And though some among the Quakers, in the beginning of their rise, for
fear of transgressing Christ’s command, “Be not ye called Rabbi, for
one is your Master, even Christ,” speaking to persons in authority,
called them by the name of Friend; yet others of the same persuasion
have not therefore thought themselves bound to refuse to magistrates
their distinguishing titles of magistracy. Nay, if any, for some
special reason, may not have given a full or direct answer to a query,
yet others of the same society have not looked upon this as a pattern
to imitate. For the most eminent valiants among this people in the
beginning, were not men of note or learning, though of great courage:
insomuch that their immoveable steadfastness sometimes so exasperated
their enemies, that their fear of doing or omitting any thing which
they judged would displease God, often hath been stamped with the
odious denomination of stubbornness and stiffneckedness; but they have
borne this patiently, believing that it was their duty to persevere
immoveably in minding their Christian profession, and in frequenting
their religious assemblies. And that such a steadfastness was the duty
of a Christian, seems also to have been the judgment of the authors of
the confession of faith of the reformed churches in the Netherlands,
Art. xxviii. where it is said, that it is the office or duty of all
believers, to separate themselves according to the word of God, from
those that are not of the church; and to join to this congregation,
in what place soever God hath placed them, though the magistrates and
edicts of princes were against it; and that death or any corporeal
punishment was annexed to it.
It is true, there have been such among the Quakers, who were exceeding
bold in representing to their enemies their evil behaviour and
deportment; but this hath been a peculiar talent of pious men, of
whom examples are extant in the book of martyrs, viz. that some of
them in very plain terms told their persecutors of their wickedness.
Very remarkable in that respect is the speech of John Molleus, who
about the year 1653, being prisoner at Rome, without any dissimulation
exposed to public view the wicked lives of the cardinals and bishops,
who were ordered by the pope to examine him. The like boldness appears
also in the letter of Hans van Ovendam, to the magistrates of Ghent in
Flanders, as may be seen in the Mirror of Martyrs of the Baptists; from
whence it appears, that the Quakers have not been the only people who
have told their persecutors very boldly of their wicked deportment and
cruelty.
It cannot be denied that there have been at times among this society
some people of an odd behaviour, who in process of time embraced
strange opinions and perverse notions; but that is no new thing, since
this hath happened also among those of other persuasions, though none
of these would allow that this was the consequence or effect of their
doctrine. We find in Sacred Writ, that even in the primitive Christian
church there were apostates; either such as maintained strange
doctrine, as the Nicholatians; or such who finding the straight way too
narrow for them, left it, and like Demas, falling in love again with
the world, entered into the broad way. And therefore it can now, no
more than then, be argued from thence, that the exorbitancies to which
some launched out, were the effects of the doctrine they forsook.
Since in this history some predictions are also mentioned, and some
biassed by prejudice will perhaps look upon them as frivolous,
imagining that the Quakers pretend to have the spirit of prophecy; I
will answer to this, that though among thousands of them there may have
been one that prophetically foretold a thing, which afterwards truly,
happened; yet others of that society presumed to have that gift no
more than to have that of being a preacher; and are not called to that
work. There must be antecessors and leaders in the religious economy,
as well as in the politic state; for if every one not qualified should
assume the office of governing, things would soon run into confusion.
Now though some have had this false conceit, that to be able to predict
future things was a quality the Quakers attributed to themselves; as
proceeding from their doctrine, that Christians ought to be led by the
Spirit of God; yet this is a very sinister and preposterous conceit;
for what they say concerning the leading and guiding of the Spirit of
God, is agreeable with the doctrine of the apostle, who saith, “As many
as are led by the Spirit of God, they are the sons of God.” And this
was also the doctrine of the first reformers. What must we think then
of those who will not be led by this spirit, but call this doctrine by
the odious denomination of enthusiasm? The same apostle tells us also,
“If any have not the Spirit of Christ he is none of his.” And he saith
also, “The manifestation of the Spirit is given to every man to profit
withal.” But from thence it doth in no wise follow that the spirit
of prophecy is given to every one; neither that although it might
please God to reveal to one a thing which yet was to come, such an one
therefore was endued with such a prophetical spirit, that he was able
at any time to predict future things.
If this position be true, then those of other persuasions might also
lay claim to that prerogative; because among them sometimes there have
been pious men who predicted remarkable things, which afterwards really
happened; as among the rest, James Usher, archbishop of Armagh, and
primate of Ireland, who foretold the rebellion in Ireland forty years
before it came to pass; besides the intestine war and miseries that
befel England, and other things that were fulfilled: which leads us not
to reject as frivolous his prediction of the dreadful persecution that
would fall upon all the Protestant churches by the Papists; for though
one of his friends once objected to him, that since Great Britain and
Ireland had already suffered so deeply, there was reason to hope that
the judgments of God in respect of these kingdoms might have been past;
yet he replied to it, ‘Fool not yourselves with such hopes, for I tell
you all you have yet seen hath been but the beginning of sorrows, to
what is yet to come upon the Protestant churches of Christ, who will
ere long fall under a sharper persecution than ever yet hath been upon
them. And therefore look you be not found in the outward court, but
a worshipper in the temple before the altar: for Christ will measure
all those that profess his name, and call themselves his people; and
the outward worshippers he will leave out, to be trodden down by the
Gentiles. The outward court is the formal Christian, whose religion
lies in performing the outside duties of Christianity, without having
an inward life and power of faith and love, uniting them to Christ:
and these God will leave to be trodden down and swept away by the
Gentiles. But the worshippers within the temple and before the altar,
are those who indeed worship God in spirit and in truth: whose souls
are made his temples, and he is honoured and adored in the most inward
thoughts of their hearts; and they sacrifice their lusts and vile
affections, yea, and their own wills to him; and these God will hide
in the hollow of his hand, and under the shadow of his wings. And
this shall be the great difference between this last, and all the
other preceding persecutions; for in the former the most eminent and
spiritual ministers and Christians did generally suffer most, and were
most violently fallen upon; but in this last persecution these shall
be preserved by God as a seed to partake of that glory which shall
immediately follow and come upon the church, as soon as ever this storm
shall be over; for as it shall be the sharpest, so it shall be the
shortest persecution of them all, and shall only take away the gross
hypocrites and formal professors; but the true spiritual believers
shall be preserved till the calamity be over past.’
If any now-a-days should speak at this rate, it is credible that many
who think themselves to be good Christians, would decry this as mere
enthusiasm. But the said bishop is still in such great repute with the
learned, and hath obtained such an high esteem by his writings, that
his words are likely to be of more weight with many, than those of
other pious men. And therefore I was willing to renew them, and revive
his memory, if perhaps this might make some impression upon the minds
of any: for this is a certain truth, that no outward performances will
avail any, if they do not worship God in spirit and in truth; for such
worshippers God seeks, according to what our Saviour himself said;
besides, that “not every one that saith to him, Lord, Lord, shall enter
into the kingdom of heaven:” nay, when many in that day will say to
him, “Lord, have we not prophesied in thy name?” He will say to them,
“I never knew you; depart from me ye that work iniquity.”
As the many singular cases related in this history will afford no
unpleasing entertainment to curious readers, so they will be found also
instructive; for we shall not only meet with instances of true piety
and love to one’s neighbour, and of saints triumphing on their death
beds, and also with remarkable examples of sinners truly penitent at
the hour of death; but we may also find here abundance of proofs of
a peaceable behaviour: for the Quakers, so called, have not plotted
against the government, nor meddled with treasonable practices or
rebellions; and how much soever they were oppressed, yet they always
were quiet, and never made any resistance; but with an harmless
patience they have borne their most heavy oppressions and injuries, and
so at length overcame: for to be subject to magistracy hath always been
one of their principles; and that they were really dutiful subjects,
they have showed at all times, by paying obedience to the higher power,
in all they could do with a good conscience. And when any thing was
required of them, which from a reverential respect to God they durst
not do, or omit; they have showed their obedience by suffering, without
making any resistance, or joining with others who were inclined thereto.
Now though many have made it their business to represent them in odious
colours, and to write great untruths concerning them; nay, to fasten
doctrines upon them which they never approved, and that not a few of
the learned have contended against them with their pens; yet among
these there have also been such, who though they never joined with, yet
gave a good account and favourable testimony concerning them, as may
be seen in Richard Claridge’s answer to a book of Edward Cockson, page
266, and seq. And at Amsterdam in Holland, many years ago, a learned
man published a book called, Lucerna super Candelabrum, wherein he
very eminently defended the doctrine of the inward light; and this
book was published in Dutch, and afterwards also into English, with
the title of The Light upon the Candlestick: and since the name of
William Ames, a zealous preacher among the Quakers, was placed upon the
title, many have believed him to be the author of that book, because
his doctrine of the divine and inward light was so effectually asserted
therein. That he approved the contents of the book I know; but I know
also that it never proceeded from his pen. And many years afterwards
it was published under the name of one Peter Balling as the author,
though there were those who fathered it upon Adam Boreel, because it
is found printed in Latin among his Scripta Postuma. And this opinion
is not altogether improbable, for among his works are found also some
other writings that contain several positions asserted by the Quakers;
besides, he and some other of the collegians, and among these also
Dr. Galenus Abrahamson, were so effectually convinced of the doctrine
preached by William Ames when he first came to Amsterdam, that they
approved of it; though afterwards from a misapprehension they opposed
it. Now if we presuppose that Adam Boreel was the author of the said
Latin book, Peter Balling might be the translator thereof into Dutch;
for that it was originally written in Latin seems to me very probable.
But however this be, it appears plainly, that the author would not
publicly be known; for the title seemed designedly composed so that the
readers should believe W. Ames to be the author of it, viz. The Light
on the Candlestick, serving for Illustration of the principal matters
in the Book called, The Mysteries of the Kingdom of God, &c. against
Galenus Abrahamson and his Assenters, treated of, and written by W.
Ames. And this name stood in capital letters underneath, in such a
manner as the name of an author is usually placed upon a title; though
the publisher meant no more but that W. Ames was the author of the book
called, The Mysteries of the Kingdom of God. And there was no printer’s
name added to it, but only, Printed for the author, 1662.
Now though I cannot tell certainly who was the author, yet I have
thought fit, since the said book is not easily to be got in Latin, to
insert it in the appendix of this history; from whence it may appear,
as well as from the writings of some others, that there have been such
as either commended the Quakers, or defended their doctrine, though
they themselves never could resolve to join with them publicly.
But notwithstanding all this, there have been others, who, to render
the deportment and carriage of the Quakers suspected and odious, have
been ready to represent their honest behaviour and religious life as
Pharisaical righteousness; although Christ and his apostles earnestly
recommended such a life. Pray, what mean these words of our Saviour,
“Be ye perfect, even as your Father which is in heaven is perfect;”
but that we ought to endeavour, to the utmost of our power, to lead
a virtuous and godly life? when those that heard the apostle Peter
preach, were thereby pricked in their hearts, and said, “Men and
Brethren, what shall we do?” he answered, “Repent.” And at another
time, “Repent, ye, and be converted, that your sins may be blotted
out.” The apostle Paul saith, “Be not conformed to this world, but
be ye transformed by the renewing of your mind.” And the apostle
Peter, agreeable to this, saith, “As obedient children, not fashioning
yourselves according to the former lusts in your ignorance; but as
he which hath called you is holy, so be ye holy in all manner of
conversation;” all which clearly implieth, that a Christian ought to
be very strict and careful in his conversation; and of this judgment
were also the first reformers: and that Archbishop Tillotson was also
of the same mind appears from many passages that are to be found in his
sermons.
But though the Quakers have endeavoured to make their life and
conversation agree with their Christian profession, yet this hath
raised envy, grudge, and malice against them: and among the clergy
there have been such, who, to render them odious, did not stick to
represent them as disguised Papists, notwithstanding these were none of
their meanest enemies. For, after a due reflection and consideration,
it hath seemed to me, that when king Charles the second was on the
throne, the Romanists, and such among the church of England as favoured
them, were the chief promoters of persecution. And these, to pursue
their wicked ends, would not proceed according to law, in the trials
of the imprisoned Quakers; but they continually strove to introduce
an arbitrary power, and so, from time to time, they did not omit to
prosecute the Quakers severely: thinking that, when they were once
suppressed, the other dissenters must fall of necessity, though they
were not for non-resistance. But Providence acted very remarkably; for,
when a popish prince afterwards would introduce liberty of conscience,
the eyes of the most moderate maintainers of the church of England came
to be so opened, that, in the reign of King William III. they promoted
a general liberty of conscience, by which the people called Quakers
at length obtained liberty to perform their public worship without
molestation.
Thus far the limits of this history are extended; and being arrived
there, I did not think myself bound to enlarge any further; what
follows being no more than an overplus.
I have related nothing in this work but what I believed to be
unquestionably true: for what seemed doubtful to me, I rather chose to
pass by; having never been of so credulous a temper, as easily to take
things on trust, without due examination: for we often see that high
soaring imaginations make people believe things that are far from being
true. But for all that, we ought not to reject as untrue every thing
that appears strange or unusual; since experience convinceth us of the
contrary, viz. that sometimes we have seen a thing which, if we had
not beheld with our own eyes, we could hardly have believed. Wherefore
I would not reject as untrue what was extraordinary or unusual, when
it was told me by credible persons, or confirmed by eye-witnesses.
And therefore, though my reader may meet with some very singular
occurrences, yet this is true, that I have endeavoured to the utmost to
relate nothing but what, after a nice inquiry, seemed to me to be true,
or at least very probable. And yet I have silently passed over some
cases which I did not question to be true, lest any might think me too
credulous.
As to the transactions of state affairs, I have taken them mostly from
the history of the rebellion and the civil wars in England, written by
Edward Earl of Clarendon, and from the memoirs of Edward Ludlow. Yet
some few things relating to state affairs, that have not been mentioned
by them, nor in any other public history that I know of, I thought
worthy to be delivered to posterity by my pen.
For my style, I know it is but indifferent: I do not pretend to
elegancy in the English tongue; for, being a foreigner, and never
having been in England but about the space of ten months, and that
near fifty years ago, it ought not to be expected that I should write
English so well as Dutch, my native language. If therefore my pen
hath sometimes been guilty of a Belgicism, I beg excuse of my reader.
And since my absence hath hindered me from correcting the printer’s
mistakes, either in omissions or other errors, such faults I do not
think myself responsible for, because I have been fain to trust the
oversight and correction of my work to others, who may have been more
liable to let errors escape than myself should have been. This I hope
will suffice to excuse me with discreet persons.
What the envious may judge of this work I little care for, well
knowing that the most eminent authors have been exposed to envy, and
been obnoxious to the censures of pedantic critics. Whatever any may
think, this I am well assured of, that my chief scope hath been by the
relation of many unusual occurrences, not only to delight my reader but
also to lead him to virtue. If I may be so happy as to have contributed
thereto, I shall think my pains well rewarded; and if not, I shall
have at least this satisfaction, that according to my ability, I have
endeavoured to be beneficial to others, and to edify my fellow-mortals
in that which is good; which I cannot but think to be well pleasing to
God. And if I have performed any thing that is good, the honour and
glory thereof belongs to him, who is the Giver of all good gifts; and
it is from Him alone I have received all my ability to do any good
thing. Thus concluding, I wish the reader discretion, and an impartial
judgment.
THE FIRST BOOK. 1415-1650.
1415-1623.
That the wonderful Work of Reformation was small and of very little
account in its beginning, and yet hath been advanced with remarkable
progress, will, I believe be denied by none, that have with attention
and due consideration read the history of its first rise; since God
the beginner and author of this glorious work, proceeding by steps and
degrees, used therein such singular wisdom and prudence, that every
circumstance duly considered, instead of censuring any part thereof,
we shall be obliged to cry out, Thou, O Lord, alone knowest the right
times and seasons to open the eyes of the people, and to make them
capable of thy truth!
If we look to the first beginnings, to go back no further than John
Huss, we shall find, that though in many things he was considerably
enlightened, yet he remained still in several gross errors; for
although he had a clear sight of the vain doctrines of purgatory,
praying to, and worshipping of images, &c. nevertheless it is reported
of him that he favoured the invocation of saints, the seven sacraments,
auricular confession, and other tenets of the church of Rome; and yet
Christian charity constrains us to believe, (though we find Protestant
writers who deny him the name of a martyr,) that by his death, which he
suffered in the flames at Constance in Germany, on the 6th of the month
called July, in the year 1415, he was an acceptable sacrifice unto God:
and with what a sedate and well composed mind he suffered death, may
be concluded from this, that seeing a country fellow very zealously
carrying wood to burn him, he said, with a smiling countenance, O
holy simplicity! And after the fire was kindled, he sang with joy in
the flames, his mind being firmly established on God; for he had been
faithful according to his knowledge, and had not hid his talent in the
earth, but improved it, having shown himself a zealous promoter of
that small illumination which God was pleased to grant him; it being
without question great enough in that grievous night of darkness, when
idolatry had so universally blinded mankind, that, morally speaking, it
would have been impossible for them to have understood the declaration
of an entirely reformed religion; whereas it is evident that the most
sober and discreet people of that age were capable to understand the
doctrine and sermons of that honest man.
To give a clearer prospect into this matter, let it be considered, that
if a man had been kept shut up a long time in a dark prison, where he
could neither behold the light of the sun nor moon, and should have
been let out on a sudden at clear noon day, he would not only not be
able to endure the bright day light, but would also, if he strove
to open his eyes by force, be endangered of losing his sight, and
falling into a worse condition than he was in before; whereas if he had
been brought into the open air at the time of twilight, he would by
degrees, have learned to discern the objects, and come to an ability of
beholding every thing in a clear day aright.
Agreeably to this, in the reigns of Kings Henry the VIIIth, and the
bloody Queen Mary, the principal test in England was, whether a man
owned the corporal presence of Christ in the sacrament; and he who
denied this, was to be burnt as an heretic. Also in the Netherlands,
it was enough to bring a man to the stake, if he confessed he had been
re-baptized. In so much that it seems the Lord did raise in those days
zealous men chiefly to testify against the idolatry of the host, and
the error of infant baptism, and that so gradually he might break down
the great structure of human inventions.
Now, how small soever the beginnings of this great work of Reformation
were, yet it increased from time to time; and oftentimes singular
instances were seen of the workings of the power and Spirit of God.
In the year 1513, I find that one John Le Clerc, of Meaux in France,
being at Metz in Lorrain, was filled with such zeal against idolatry,
that he broke to pieces the images in a chapel, which the next day
were to have been worshipped in a very solemn manner. And being taken
prisoner for this fact, and cruelly tortured to death, he was so
eminently strengthened, even to the amazement of the beholders, that
in the height of the torments, being torn with red hot pincers, he
said, from Ps. cxv. “Their idols are silver and gold, the work of men’s
hands.”
Not less was the zeal of one Aymond à Vie, imprisoned in France about
the year 1541, because he had preached the gospel undauntedly; and
though he had been advised to fly, yet he would not be persuaded
thereto, but said with an heroic mind, ‘I would rather never have
been born, than commit such a base act; for it is the duty of a good
pastor not to fly from danger, but to stay in it, lest the sheep be
scattered.’ He was tortured cruelly to betray his fellow believers; but
no torment how great soever, could extort the name of any from him;
and he suffered death valiantly for the testimony of Jesus, feeling
himself very powerfully strengthened by the Spirit of God, which worked
so gloriously in the martyrs of those times, that those of Merindol
in Provence said, ‘The Holy Ghost is an infallible teacher, by whose
inspiration all Christians receive the knowledge of truth: this spirit
dwells in them, he regenerates them to a new life, he slayeth the old
man in them, and he makes them alive to every good work, consoling
them in tribulations, and strengthening them in adversities,’ &c.
And the pious professors at Meaux, I find mentioned in the year 1546,
that though a great number of men and women were led prisoners by but a
few, they yet made no resistance, but showed themselves harmless, not
sad with grief, but singing with joy.
Nay, so powerfully did God work in Gabriel Beraudin, who was executed
at Chambery in Savoy, in the year 1550, that after his tongue was cut
off by the hangman, he spoke intelligibly to the people, and celebrated
God’s praise in a miraculous manner.
Claude Morier being burnt very cruelly at Lyons in France, wrote whilst
in his prison, ‘Let us pray our heavenly Father continually, that he
create in us a clean heart, that he give us a new heart, that he guide
our will by the leadings of his Spirit.’
Very remarkable it is also, that Godfried de Hammelle, a year after
that, being imprisoned at Tournay in the Netherlands, and being told
that the Apostle in his Epistle to the Ephesians, had called marriage
a sacrament, said in a letter, ‘That though at first this had puzzled
him, yet the Lord had not long left him in this difficulty, but put
him in mind by his Spirit, that the word there was not sacrament, but
mystery.’ For the martyrs of those times did not stick to profess, with
the primitive Christians, that the children of God must be led by his
Spirit.
Peter Schryver, burnt at Lyons about the year 1552, wrote from prison,
‘That he having heard God’s pure word preached, believed it, because
the Spirit of God gave him a testimony [or evidence] of it in his
heart: and did so confirm it to him, and he could not question it in
the least.’ He also says in his letter, ‘That once having prayed to
God, he had been so refreshed by the virtue of his Spirit, and so
strengthened, that though he sat in a dark nasty place, yet he felt
such consolation and joy, that overcame all sorrow and anguish. Nay,
said he, the least comfort and joy I feel now in my bonds, surpasseth
all the joys that ever I had in my life; for now the Holy Ghost puts
me in mind of those gracious promises that are made to those who
suffer for his name’s sake.’ And being asked how he knew that which
he asserted to be the pure word of God, he answered, ‘Because it did
agree with the doctrine of the prophets and apostles, and that of Jesus
Christ; and that the Holy Ghost gave him a certain evidence thereof.’
Concerning the indwelling of God’s Spirit in man, he also speaks very
notably in his letter to John Chambon, (whose wonderful conversion in
prison, was an eminent proof of the truth of his sayings,) telling him,
‘That his heavenly Father was near him, and by his Spirit dwelt in his
heart.’
That this was also the doctrine of John Calvin, appears from his
letters to the said man and his fellow-prisoners, where he saith,
‘Do not doubt but God will, in those things wherein he will use your
service, give you that power, by which the work in you being begun
will be perfected, for that he hath promised to do: and we have many
examples and instances of that excellent faith, by which we clearly
know, that God never in any thing hath failed those who have been led
and guided by his Spirit. Trust firmly, brethren, that when it is
needful, you will become so strong and steadfast, that you shall not
faint under any burden of temptations, how great and heavy soever. The
fight is now at hand, to which the Holy Ghost exhorts us, not only
that we should go, but even that with all alacrity of mind, we should
run.’ Many other excellent testimonies of eminent men of those times
might be produced: and it also is very remarkable that Peter Bergier,
being prisoner at Lyons, in the year 1553, and afterwards suffering
death, cried in the midst of the flames, ‘I see the heavens opened.’
Now that the doctrine of being taught by the Spirit of God, was
generally received by the martyrs of those times, we learn from many
of their writings. Denis Peloquin, burnt in the said year at Vile
Franche, said in his confession, That it was the Holy Ghost that gave
him witness in his conscience, that the books of the Old and New
Testament were the Holy Scripture. Lewis de Marsac being about the
same time put to death by fire at Lyons, when he was asked how he knew
the Holy Scriptures to be the gospel, said, ‘God hath taught me so by
his Spirit:’ and being also asked whether it was his incumbent duty to
read the Holy Scriptures, and who had instructed him concerning them;
he answered, ‘That God by his Spirit had effected it, that he got some
knowledge thereof; and that without his grace and the enlightening
of his Spirit, he could not comprehend and understand any thing in
the gospel.’ John Calvin did also write to the aforesaid Peloquin
and Marsac; ‘God will cause that the confession which you will make
according to the measure of the Spirit he has given you, will produce
a greater fruit of edification, than all others that might be sent
you.’ And to Matthew Dymonet, prisoner at Lyons, he wrote thus: ‘Submit
modestly to the guidings of God’s Spirit; answer with all moderation
and discretion, keeping to the rule of the Scriptures. I have believed,
and therefore I will speak; but let not this hinder thee to speak
freely and sincerely, being persuaded that he who promised to give us a
mouth, and such wisdom as the gainsayers cannot withstand, will never
forsake thee.’
More of the like instances of the operations of the Spirit of God in
his witnesses I could allege, if I had so intended; but I give here
only a slender draught of the sincerity and the principle of those that
were come but to the dawnings of the Reformation; for higher I cannot
esteem that time, because the eyes of the most zealous men of those
days, were yet so much covered with the fogs which then were, and the
prejudice of the old leaven, that they did not discern all things in
a full clearness; for one saw the error of one thing, and others of
another, but human affection did work too strong, and thereby they
judged one another, as is abundantly mentioned in history.
If we rightly look into this, it seems very absurd to think that the
Reformation, (which in former times had been pretty much advanced by
some eminent men; as Luther, Melancthon, Œcolompadius, Calvin, Menno,
and others,) then was brought to perfection: for we perceive that even
those reformers themselves at first had not such a clear sight into
many things, as afterwards they got, which to demonstrate at large, I
count unnecessary. Since England being the chief stage on which the
things I intend to describe have been transacted, I will turn my face
thitherward, to take a view cursorily of the beginning and progress of
the Reformation there.
Passing by Wickliff and others, I begin with Thomas Cranmer, who,
because of his sincere and good life, being advanced by King Henry the
VIIIth to the Archbishop’s see of Canterbury, did all that was in his
power to reform the errors crept into the Church of Rome; and therefore
in the year 1536, he exhorted the King, who much loved him, to proceed
to a reformation, and that nothing in religion should be determined
without clear proofs from Scripture; and therefore he proposed that
these points, ‘Whether there was a purgatory? Whether deceased saints
ought to be invocated? and how images were to be regarded?’ well needed
to be inquired into; since it began to appear that several things were
errors, for which some people not long before had suffered death.
Some time after, Thomas Cromwel a chief minister of the kingdom, and
a great friend of Cranmer, published some injunctions in the king’s
name, wherein all churchmen were required, no more to recommend to
people, images, relics, or pilgrimages, but to teach them the Lord’s
Prayer, the Creed, and the Ten Commandments in English. This was a
great step towards the translation of the Bible into English, which
being also furthered by Cranmer, the next year came out in print;
and by the king’s warrant, the clergy were required to set up Bibles
in their churches; so that now all that could, might read the holy
Scripture in their native tongue. Cranmer not content with this,
obtained in the year 1539, a permission for all people to have the
Bible in their houses; yet for all that, he still was an asserter of
the corporal presence of Christ in the host, until in the year 1549,
in the reign of King Edward VI. when the times were more free, he
was induced by Nicholas Ridley, a zealous reformer, and afterwards
a martyr under Queen Mary, to inquire better into the thing, and to
discover the absurdity of it; from whence he did not only oppose and
suppress that superstition, but also many others; and it is likely,
that if opportunity had been given him, he would have reformed more.
Nevertheless it cannot but be wondered at, that he who seems to have
been a man of a meek temper, could give his vote to the burning of
those whom he looked upon to be heretics; as John Nicholson _alias_
Lambert, in the reign of Henry VIII. for denying the corporal presence
of Christ in the sacrament; and Joan Bocher and George Parr, under
Edward VI. the first for denying that Christ had taken flesh from the
Virgin Mary, and the latter for not believing the deity of Christ: from
whence we may see, what a strong zeal for religion is able to effect:
but without question, he was come to be of another mind, when in the
year 1556, under the bloody reign of Queen Mary, this was not only laid
in his dish, but he was also forced to undergo the same lot of being
burnt alive.
Now, though after his death, the bishops under Queen Elizabeth were
content with the reformation made by Cranmer, yet it pleased God in
the year 1568, to raise other persons that testified publicly against
many of the remaining superstitions; and although Coleman, Burton,
Hallingham and Benson were imprisoned by the Queen’s order, yet they
got many followers, and also the name of Puritans. And notwithstanding
the Archbishop, to prevent this, drew up some articles of faith, to
be signed by all clergymen, yet he met with great opposition in the
undertaking: for one Robert Brown, a young student of Cambridge, (from
whom the name of Brownists was afterwards borrowed,) and Richard
Harrison, a schoolmaster, published in the year 1583, some books,
wherein they showed how much the Church of England was still infected
with Romish errors; which was of such effect, that the eyes of many
people came thereby to be opened, who so valiantly maintained that
doctrine which they believed to be the truth, that some of the most
zealous among them, viz. Henry Barrow, John Greenwood, and John Penry,
about the year 1593, were put to death because of their testimony,
more, (as may very well be believed,) by the instigation of the clergy,
than by the desire of the Queen: for some time after it happened, that
she asked Dr. Reynolds his opinion of those men, especially Barrow and
Greenwood: To which he answered, ‘That it would not avail any thing to
show his judgment concerning them, seeing they were put to death.’ But
the Queen yet pressing him further, he said, ‘That he was persuaded if
they had lived, they would have been two as worthy instruments for the
Church of God, as had been raised up in that age.’ At which the Queen
sighed, and said no more. But afterwards riding by the place where they
were executed, and calling to mind their death, she demanded of the
Earl of Cumberland, who was present when they suffered, what end they
made; he answered, ‘A very godly end, and they prayed for your Majesty
and the State.’ Moreover one Philips, a famous preacher, having seen
Barrow’s preparation for death, said, ‘Barrow, Barrow, my soul be with
thine.’
After the death of Queen Elizabeth, when James I. had ascended the
throne, the followers of those men suffered much for their separation
from the Church of England: but very remarkable it is, that even those
of that persuasion, of which many in the reign of King Charles I. went
to New England, to avoid the persecution of the bishops, afterwards
themselves turned cruel persecutors of pious people, by inhuman
whippings, &c. and lastly by putting some to death by the hands of a
hangman: a clear proof indeed, that those in whom such a ground of
bitterness was left still, though it had not always brought forth the
like abominable fruits, were not come yet to a perfect reformation; for
though the stem of human traditions and institutions sometimes had been
shaken strongly, yet much of the root was left. Therefore it pleased
God, who is used to enlighten men gradually, to make yet a clearer
discovery of his truth, which in some places already darted forth its
beams to mankind, in a time when many godly people were zealously
seeking after a further manifestation of the will of God, from a sense
that, notwithstanding all their outward observations of religious
performances, there still stood a partition wall whereby the soul was
hindered from living in perfect peace with its Creator.
For in that time there were in England many separate societies, and
amongst the rest also, such as were called Seekers, who at first seemed
to promise great matters; but the sequel showed that their foundation
was not the Rock of Ages, and so divers of them soon lost their
first integrity. Now those people who began to take heed to a divine
conviction in the conscience, and accordingly preached to others the
doctrine of an inward light, wherewith Christ had enlightened men, in
the latter end of the time of King Charles I. began to increase in
number, and they became a separate society among men, and in process
of time the name of QUAKERS, was in scorn imposed on them; and in
most countries in Europe, they have been accused of many exorbitant
absurdities, both in life and doctrine. I have designed to describe
impartially, and according to truth, the first beginnings and rise, and
also the progress of that people, and to stretch out the relation of
their increase and transactions, so far as my time of life and leisure
will permit.
I enter upon a work, which consisting of many very singular instances,
in its beginning appears hard and difficult, and in the process
often sad and dreadful. For among manifold adversities, we shall not
only meet with bitter revilings, scornful mockings, rude abuses, and
bloody blows from the fool-hardy rabble; but also severe persecutions,
hard imprisonments, grievous banishments, unmerciful spoil of goods,
cruel whippings, cutting off of ears, smotherings in prisons, and
also putting to death by the hands of the hangman, by order of the
magistrates; afterwards some quiet and rest; then again severe
persecution, until the furious promoters of it, at last wearied,
desisted from their mischievous labour for a time, more by being at
their wits end, than out of mercy. And among all these vicissitudes,
notable instances have been seen of unfeigned godliness, sincere love,
much true-heartedness, extraordinary meekness, singular patience,
ardent zeal, undaunted courage, and unshaken steadfastness, even among
the female sex, which though the weakest, yet in the hardest attacks,
showed a more than manly spirit; insomuch, that seldom any age hath
afforded matter where more powerful examples to virtue have been seen.
1624-1641.
The first I find that was thus immediately reached in his mind, was a
young man called George Fox, born at Drayton in Leicestershire, in the
month called July, in the year 1624, from parents that were members
of the public church, or church of England, as appeareth to me from
a paper, in his life-time drawn up by his order, at my request, and
sent me. His father was Christopher Fox, a weaver by trade, an honest
man, and of such a virtuous life, that his neighbours were used to
call him Righteous Christer. His mother was Mary Lago, an upright
woman, and of the stock of the martyrs. This George Fox was even in his
minority endued with a gravity and staidness of mind, that is seldom
seen in children; so that he seeing how old people carried themselves
lightly and wantonly, had such an aversion to it, that he would say
within himself, ‘If ever I come to be a man, surely I will not be so
wanton.’ His parents in the meanwhile endeavoured to train him up,
as they did their other children, in the common way of worship, his
mother especially contributing thereto, as being eminent for piety:
but even from a child he was seen to be of another frame of mind than
his brethren; for he was more religious, retired, still, and solid,
and was also observing beyond his age, as appeared from the answers
he gave, and the questions he asked, concerning religious matters,
to the astonishment of those that heard him. His mother seeing this
extraordinary temper and godliness, which so early did shine through
him, so that he would not meddle with childish plays, did not think fit
to trouble him about the way of worship, but carried herself indulgent
towards him. Meanwhile he learned to read pretty well, and to write so
much as would serve him afterwards to signify his meaning to others.
When he was come to eleven years of age, he endeavoured to live a pure
and righteous life, and to be faithful in all things, viz. inwardly to
God, and outwardly to man; since the Lord by his good spirit had showed
him, that he was to keep his word always, and that he ought not to
commit excess in eating or drinking. Thus growing up in virtue, some of
his relations were for having him trained up in the schools, to make a
priest of him; but others persuaded to the contrary, and so he was put
to a shoemaker, that dealt also in wool, and in cattle. In his master’s
employment he took most delight in sheep, and was very skilful in what
belonged thereto, for it was an employment that very well suited his
mind; and his thus being a shepherd, was, as an eminent author saith,
‘A just emblem of his after ministry and service.’ He acquitted himself
so diligently in his business, and minded it so well, that his master
was successful in his trade whilst George was with him. He often used
in his dealings the word Verily, and then he kept so strict to it, that
people that knew him, would say, ‘If George says Verily, there is no
altering him.’
1642-1645.
Now, though my design is not to give a description of state affairs,
yet I find it necessary to mention something of the chief temporal
occurrences in England, in as much as they may have relation to the
affairs of the church, lest my history might seem an incomplete work.
Transiently therefore I will say, that in England about this time,
appeared the beginnings of a civil war, in which religion had some
share; for the bishops began to introduce several innovations, and
caused not only rails to be made about the communion table, which now
was called the high altar; but those that approached it, bowed thrice,
and a bow was made at the pronouncing of the name of Jesus. Thus
ceremonies increased from time to time; and those preachers that were
really religious, and spoke most to edification, were slighted and set
by; the bishops, in their visitations, minding chiefly to promote such
rites as favoured popery: and this was not only done in England, but in
Scotland also endeavours were made to bring in episcopacy. This caused
a ferment among the people, which when it came to an insurrection, they
generally believed that it was for religion’s sake, which made some
cry in the open streets, where there was any confluence of people, ‘To
your tents, O Israel.’ And because the Parliament was of opinion that
King Charles I. encroached upon their privileges, which they would not
suffer, this so exasperated that prince, that he brought together an
army, and set up his standard, first on the castle of Nottingham, where
it was blown down the same evening, on the 25th of the month called
August, in the year 1642. But before that time the king had taken
possession of some fortified places, and the Parliament on the other
hand, had also got some in their power. Some time after, a battle was
fought between the Royalists and the Parliament, near Edge Hill, in
Warwickshire, where neither party prevailed much.
About this time George Fox, who more and more endeavoured to lead a
godly life, being come to the nineteenth year of his age, it happened
at a fair, that a cousin of his and another coming to him, asked
whether he would drink a jug of beer with them; he being thirsty, said
yes, and went with them to an inn; but after each had drank a glass,
they began to drink healths, and said, that he that would not drink
should pay for all. This grieved George much, seeing that people who
professed to be religious, behaved themselves thus, and therefore he
rose up to be gone, and putting his hand into his pocket, he took a
groat, and laid it down upon the table, saying, ‘If it be so I’ll
leave you;’ and so he went away; and when his business was done, he
returned home; but did not go to bed that night, but prayed and cried
earnestly to the Lord; and it seemed to him that his supplications were
answered after this manner, ‘Thou seest how young people go together
into vanity, and old people into the earth; therefore thou must forsake
all, both young and old and be as a stranger to them.’ This, which he
took to be a divine admonition, made such a powerful impression on
his mind, that he resolved to break off all familiar fellowship and
conversation with young and old, and even to leave his relations, and
live a separate and retired life. On the 9th of September, in the year
1643, he departed to Lutterworth, where he staid some time, and from
thence went to Northampton, where he also made some stay, and then
passed to Newport-Pagnel, in Buckinghamshire; and after having staid
a while there, he went to Barnet, whither he came in the month called
June, in the year 1644.
Whilst he thus led a solitary life, he fasted often, and read the holy
Scriptures diligently, so that some professors took notice of him, and
sought to be acquainted with him. But he soon perceiving they did not
possess what they professed, grew afraid of them, and shunned their
company. In this time he fell into a strong temptation, almost to
despair, and was in mighty trouble, sometimes keeping himself retired
in his chamber, and often walking solitary to wait upon the Lord. In
this state he saw how Christ had been tempted; but when he looked to
his own condition, he wondered, and said, ‘Was I ever so before?’ He
began to think also that he had done amiss against his relations,
because he had forsaken them; and he called to mind all his former
time, to consider whether he had wronged any. Thus temptations grew
more and more; and when Satan could not effect his design upon him that
way, he laid snares for him to draw him to commit some sin, thereby
to bring him to despair. He was then about twenty years of age, and
continued a long while in this condition, and would fain have put it
from him; which made him go to many a priest to look for comfort,
but he did not find it from them. In this miserable state he went to
London, in hopes of finding some relief among the great professors of
that city; but being come there, he saw them much darkened in their
understandings. He had an uncle there, one Pickering, a baptist, and
those of that persuasion were tender then; yet he could not resolve to
impart his mind to them, or join with them, because he saw all, young
and old, where they were. And though some of the best would have had
him staid there, yet he was fearful, and so returned homewards; for
having understood that his parents and relations were troubled at his
absence, he would rather go to them again lest he should grieve them.
Now when he was come into Leicestershire, his relations would have had
him married; but he prudently told them he was but a lad, and must
get wisdom. Others would have had him in the auxiliary band among the
forces of the Parliament, which being entered now into an intestine
war with the king, had, with their forces this year, beaten not only
the king’s army under Prince Rupert, but also had conquered the city
of York. But to persuade George to list himself a soldier, was so
against his mind, that he refused it, and went to Coventry, where he
took a chamber for a while at a professor’s house, where he staid some
time, there being many people in that town who endeavoured to live
religiously. After some time he went into his own country again, and
was there about a year, in great sorrows and troubles, walking many
nights by himself.
Nathaniel Stevens, the priest of Drayton, (the town of George’s birth,)
would often come to him, and George to the priest; and when Stevens
visited him, he would sometimes bring another priest along with him,
and then George would ask them questions, and reason with them. Once
Stevens asked him why Christ cried out upon the cross, ‘My God, my
God, why hast thou forsaken me:’--and why he said, ‘If it be possible,
let this cup pass from me; yet not my will but thine be done.’ To this
George answered thus: ‘At that time the sins of all mankind were upon
Christ, and their iniquities and transgressions with which he was
wounded, which he was to bear, and to be an offering for them, as he
was man; but died not, as he was God: and so, in that he died for all
men, and tasted death for every man, he was an offering for the sins of
the whole world.’ When George Fox spoke this, he was in some measure
sensible of Christ’s sufferings, and what he went through. And his
saying did so please the priest, that he said it was a very good full
answer, and such a one as he had not heard. He would also applaud and
speak highly of George Fox to others, and what George said in discourse
to him, that he would preach of on the First-days of the week: for
which George did not like him.
After some time he went to an ancient priest at Mansetter, in
Warwickshire, and reasoned with him about the ground of despair and
temptations; but he being altogether ignorant of George’s condition,
bid him take tobacco, and sing psalms. But George signified that he was
no lover of tobacco, and as for psalms, he was not in a state to sing.
Then the priest bid him come again, and that then he would tell him
many things. But when George came, the priest was angry and pettish,
for George’s former words had displeased him; and he was so indiscreet,
that what George had told him of his sorrows and griefs, he told again
to his servants, so that it got among the milklasses; and grieved
him to have opened his mind to such an one; and he saw they were all
miserable comforters. Then he heard of a priest living about Tamworth,
who was accounted an experienced man, and therefore he went to him, but
found him like an empty hollow cask.
Hearing afterwards of one Dr. Cradock of Coventry, he went to him
also, and asked him whence temptations and despair did arise, and how
troubles came to be wrought in man. The priest, instead of answering,
asked him who was Christ’s father and mother. George told him Mary was
his mother; and he was supposed to be the son of Joseph; but he was
the Son of God. Now as they were walking together in Dr. Cradock’s
garden, it happened that George, in turning, set his foot on the side
of a bed, which so disturbed that teacher, as if his house had been on
fire, and thus all their discourse was lost; and George went away in
sorrow, worse than he was when he came, seeing he found none that could
reach his condition, after this he went to one Macham, a priest of
high account; and he, no more skilful than the others, was for giving
George some physic, and for bleeding him; but they could not get one
drop of blood from him, either in the arms or the head; his body being,
as it were, dried up with sorrows, grief, and trouble, which were so
great upon him, that he could have wished never to have been born,
to behold the vanity and wickedness of men; or that he had been born
blind, and so he might never have seen it; and deaf, that he had never
heard vain and wicked words, or the Lord’s name blasphemed. And when
the time called Christmas came, while others were feasting and sporting
themselves, he went from house to house, looking for poor widows, and
giving them some money. And when he was invited to marriages, (as
sometimes he was,) he would go to none at all; but the next day, or
soon after, he went and visited those that were newly married; and if
they were poor, he gave them some money; for he had wherewith both
to keep himself from being chargeable to others, and to administer
something to the needful.
Whilst the mind of George Fox was thus in trouble, the state of England
was also in a great stir; for the Parliament was for turning out of
bishops, and introducing the Presbyterian Directory; which, however, as
yet could not be well affected, although William Laud, Archbishop of
Canterbury, had been made to stoop to the block; and the power of the
king by this time was much weakened; for his army was this summer near
Naseby, not far from Leicester, overcome by an army of untrained bands,
and about six thousand men, among whom many great officers were taken
prisoners, and his cabinet, with abundance of letters of great moment,
was seized; insomuch, that though they had some skirmishes, yet no
decisive battle was fought afterwards.
1646.
But since a circumstantial description of these state affairs is
not within my design, I will return again to George Fox, who in the
beginning of the year 1646, as he was going to Coventry, and entering
towards the gate, a consideration arose in him how it was said that
all Christians are believers, both Protestants and Papists: and it
was opened to him, that if all were believers, then they were all
born of God, and passed from death to life; and that none were true
believers but such: and though others said they were believers, yet
they were not. At another time as he was walking in a field on a
First-day morning, it was discovered unto his understanding, that to
be bred at Oxford or Cambridge was not enough to make a man to be a
minister of Christ. At this he wondered, because it was the common
belief of people; but for all that, he took this to be a divine
revelation, and he admired the goodness of the Lord, believing now
the ordinary ministers not to be such as they pretended to be. This
made him unwilling to go any more to church, as it was called, to hear
the priest Stevens, believing that he could not profit thereby: and
therefore instead of going thither, he would get into the orchard,
or the fields, by himself, with his Bible, which he esteemed above
all books, seeking thus to be edified in solitariness. At this his
relations were much troubled; but he told them, did not John the
Apostle say to the believers, “that they needed no man to teach them,
but as the anointing teacheth them;” and though they knew this to be
Scripture, and that it was true, yet it grieved them, because he would
not go to hear the priest with them, but separated himself from their
way of worship: for he saw now that a true believer was another thing
than they looked upon it to be; and that being bred at the universities
did not qualify a man to be a minister of Christ. Thus he lived by
himself, not joining with any, nay, not of the dissenting people, but
became a stranger to all, relying wholly upon the Lord Jesus Christ.
Some time after, it was opened in him, that God, who made the world,
did not dwell in temples made with hands. And though this seemed at
first strange to him, because both priests and people used to call
their churches dreadful places, holy ground, and temples of God; yet
it was immediately showed him, that the Lord did not dwell in these
temples which man had erected, but in people’s hearts, and that his
people were the temple he dwelt in. This was discovered to him when he
was walking in the fields to the house of one of his relations. And
when he came there, it was told him, that Nathaniel Stevens the priest
had been there, and told them he was afraid of Fox, for going after
new lights. This made him smile, because now he saw the true state
of the priests. But he said nothing of this to his relations, who,
though they saw that something more was required than the vulgar way of
worship, yet they continued therein, being grieved because he would not
also go to hear the priests. Only he told them there was an anointing
in man, to teach him; and that the Lord would teach his people
himself. He had great openings now concerning the things written in
the Revelations; and when he spake of them, the priests and professors
would say, that was ‘a sealed up book.’ But to this he said, ‘Christ
could open the seals, and that the things contained in that book, very
nearly concerned us; since the Epistles of the Apostles were written to
the saints of those times, but the Revelations point at things to come.’
In England, in those days, were people of very odd notions, and among
the rest such as held, ‘that women have no souls.’ He lighting on some
of these, could not forbear reproving them, since the Scripture, as
he told them plainly, held forth the contrary; for the blessed Virgin
Mary said, “My soul doth magnify the Lord; and my spirit hath rejoiced
in God my Saviour.” He also came among a people that relied much on
dreams; but he told them, ‘Except they could distinguish between
dream and dream, their observations would be nothing but confusion,
since there were three sorts of dreams; for multiplicity of business
sometimes caused dreams; and there were whisperings of Satan in the
night seasons; and there were also speakings of God to man in dreams.’
But because these people were more in want of a clear discerning,
than of good will, they at length came out of those imaginations, and
at last became fellow-believers with him; who, though he had great
openings in his understanding, yet great trouble and temptations many
times came upon him; so that when it was day, he wished for night, and
when it was night, he wished for day. Nevertheless among all those
troubles, his understanding was so opened, that he could say with
David, “Day unto day uttereth speech, and night unto night showeth
knowledge;” for even in these troubles he had great openings of many
places in scripture.
As to state affairs, things continued in a distracted condition; for
the King, who after his army had been beaten, was gone to the Scots,
was by them delivered up to the English; to whom now he could no more
prescribe laws, but was fain to receive them. And the Churchmen were
also at variance; for the Independents, (several of which sat also in
Parliament,) began to say, that between Episcopacy, (against which they
had fought conjunctly,) and Presbytery, the difference was only in the
name, and some few outward circumstances; since people of a tender
conscience might apprehend no less oppression from the Presbyterians,
than from the Episcopalians: and that this fear was not vain or idle,
time afterwards hath shown abundantly.
1647.
But let us return to George Fox, who in the beginning of the year
1647, feeling some drawings to go into Derbyshire, went thither, and
meeting there with some friendly people, had many discourses with them.
Then passing further into the Peak-Country, he met with more such
people, and also some that were swayed by empty and high notions. And
travelling into Nottinghamshire, there he met with a tender people,
and among these one Elizabeth Hooton, of which woman more will be said
in the sequel: with these he had some meetings and discourses. But
his troubles and temptations still continued; and he fasted much, and
walked often abroad in solitary places, taking his Bible with him; and
then sat in hollow trees, and lonesome places till night came on; and
frequently in the night he walked mournfully about, being surrounded
with many sorrows in the times of these first workings of the Lord in
him.
During all this time, he never joined in profession of religion with
any, but gave up himself to the disposing of the Lord; having forsaken
not only all evil company, but also taken leave of father and mother,
and all other relations; and so he travelled up and down as a stranger
on the earth, which way he felt his heart inclined: and when he came
into a town, he took a chamber to himself there, and tarried sometimes
a month, sometimes more, sometimes less, in a place; for he was afraid
of staying long in any place, lest, being a tender young man, he should
be hurt by too familiar a conversation with men.
Now, though it might seem not very agreeable with the gravity of my
work, to mention what kind of clothes he wore in these first years of
his peregrination; yet I do not count it absurd to say here, that it
is indeed true what a certain author, viz. Gerard Croes, relates of
him, that he was clothed with leather; but not, as the said author
adds, because he could not, nor would not, forget his former leather
work; but it was partly for the simplicity of that dress, and also
because such a cloathing was strong, and needed but little mending or
repairing; which was commodious for him who had no steady dwelling
place, and every where in his travelling about sought to live in
a lonely state: for keeping himself thus as a stranger, he sought
heavenly wisdom, and endeavoured to get knowledge of the Lord, and
to be weaned from outward things, to rely wholly on the Lord alone.
Although his troubles were great, yet they were not so continual, but
that he had some intermissions, and was sometimes brought into such
a heavenly joy, that admiring the love of God to his soul, he would
say with the Psalmist, “Thou, Lord, makest a fruitful field a barren
wilderness, and a barren wilderness a fruitful field.” Now he regarded
the priests but little, because he clearly saw that to be trained up in
the universities, and to be instructed in languages, liberal arts, and
the like sciences, was not sufficient to make any one a minister of the
gospel; but he looked more after the dissenting people; yet as he had
forsaken the priests, so he left the separate preachers also, because
he saw there was none among them all that could speak to his condition.
And when all his hopes in them, and in all men were gone, then he
heard, according to what he relates himself, a voice which said, ‘There
is one, even Christ Jesus, that can speak to thy condition.’ Having
heard this, his heart leapt for joy, and it was showed him why there
was none upon the earth that could speak to his condition; namely, that
he might give the Lord alone all the glory, and that Jesus Christ might
have the pre-eminence.
He then experimentally knowing that Christ enlightens man, and gives
him grace, faith, and power, his desires after the Lord, and his zeal
in the pure knowledge of God grew stronger; so that he wished to
increase therein without the help of any man, book, or writing. Yet
he was a diligent reader of the holy Scriptures, that speak at large
of God and Christ, though he knew him not but by revelation, as he,
who had the key, did open. Thus he entered into no fellowship with any
society of people, because he saw nothing but corruptions every where;
which made him endeavour to keep fellowship only with Christ: since
in the greatest temptations, when he almost despaired, it was showed
him, that Christ had been tempted by the same devil; but that he had
overcome him, and bruised his head, and that therefore through the
power, light, grace, and Spirit of God, he himself might also overcome.
Thus the Lord assisted him in the deepest miseries and sorrows, and he
found his grace to be sufficient: insomuch, that though he had yet some
desires after the help of men, his thirst was chiefly after the Lord,
the Creator of all, and his Son Jesus Christ; because nothing could
give him any comfort but the Lord by his power; and he clearly saw that
all the world, though he had possessed a king’s state, would not have
profited him.
In this condition his understanding came more and more to be opened,
so that he saw how death in Adam had passed upon all men; but that
by Christ, who tasted death for all men, a deliverance from it, and
an entrance into God’s kingdom, might be obtained. Nevertheless his
temptations continued, so that he began to question whether he might
have sinned against the Holy Ghost. This brought great perplexity and
trouble over him for many days; yet he still gave up himself to the
Lord: and one day, when he had been walking solitarily abroad, and was
come home, he became exceeding sensible of the love of God to him,
so that he could not but admire it. Here it was showed him, that all
was to be done in and by Christ; that he conquers and destroys the
tempter, the devil, and all his works; and that all these troubles and
temptations were good for him, for the trial of his faith. The effect
of this was, that though at times his mind was much exercised, yet he
was stayed by a secret belief; and his soul, by a firm hope, which was
to him as an anchor, was kept unhurt in the dissolute world, swimming
above the raging waves of temptations. After this, (as he relates
himself,) there did a pure fire appear in him; and he saw that the
appearance of Christ in the heart was as a refiner’s fire, and as the
fuller’s soap; and that a spiritual discerning was given to him, by
which he saw what it was that veiled his mind, and what it was that
did open it: and that which could not abide in patience, he found to
be of the flesh, that could not give up to the will of God, nor yield
up itself to die by the cross, to wit, the power of God. On the other
hand, he perceived it was the groans of the Spirit which did open his
understanding, and that in that Spirit there must be a waiting upon God
to obtain redemption.
About this time he heard of a woman in Lancashire that had fasted
twenty-two days, and he went to see her: but coming there he saw that
she was under a temptation: and after he had spoken to her what he
felt on his mind, he left her, and went to Duckenfield and Manchester,
where he staid awhile among the professors he found there, and declared
to them that doctrine which now he firmly believed to be truth; and
some were convinced, so as to receive the inward divine teaching of
the Lord, and take that for their rule. This, by what I can find, was
the first beginning of George Fox’s preaching; which as I have been
credibly informed, in those early years, chiefly consisted of some few,
but powerful and piercing words, to those whose hearts were already in
some measure prepared to be capable of receiving this doctrine. And
it seems to me that these people, and also Elizabeth Hooton, (already
mentioned,) have been the first who by such a mean or weak preaching
came to be his fellow believers: though there were also some others
who, by the like immediate way, as George Fox himself, were convinced
in their minds, and came to see that they ought diligently to take heed
to the teachings of the grace of God, that had appeared to them. And
thus it happened that these unexpectedly and unawares came to meet with
fellow-believers, which they were not acquainted with before, as will
be more circumstantially related hereafter.
But to return again to George Fox; it set the professors of those times
in a rage, that some of their adherents hearkened to his preaching;
for they could not endure to hear perfection spoken of, and a holy and
sinless life, as a state that could be obtained here. Not long after
he travelled to Broughton in Leicestershire, and there went into a
meeting of the Baptists, where some people of other nations also came.
This gave him occasion to preach the doctrine of truth among them, and
that not in vain; for since he had great openings in the scriptures,
and that a special power of the Lord’s workings began to spring in
those parts, several were so reached in their minds, that they came to
be convinced, and were turning from darkness to light, partly by his
preaching, and partly by reasoning with some. Yet he himself was still
sometimes under great temptations, without finding any to open his
condition to, but the Lord alone, unto whom he cried night and day for
help.
Some time after he went back into Nottinghamshire, and there it pleased
the Lord to show him, that the natures of those things which were
hurtful without, were also within, in the minds of wicked men; and
that the natures of dogs, swine, vipers, and those of Cain, Ishmael,
Esau, Pharoah, &c. were in the hearts of many people. But since this
did grieve him, he cried to the Lord, saying, ‘Why should I be thus,
seeing I was never addicted to commit those evils?’ And inwardly it
was answered him, ‘That it was needful he should have a sense of all
conditions; how else should he speak to all conditions?’ He also saw
there was an ocean of darkness and death; but withal an infinite
ocean of light and love, which flowed over the ocean of darkness; in
all which he perceived the infinite love of God. About that time it
happened that walking in the town of Mansfield, by the steeple-house
side, it was inwardly told him, ‘That which people trample upon must
be thy food;’ and at the saying of this, it was opened to him, that it
was the life of Christ people did trample upon; and that they fed one
another with words, without minding that thereby the blood of the Son
of God was trampled under foot. And though it seemed at first strange
to him, that he should feed on that which the high professors trample
upon, yet it was clearly opened to him how this could be.
Then many people came far and near to see him; and though he spoke
sometimes to open religious matters to them, yet he was fearful of
being drawn out by them. Now the reason of people thus flocking to
him might proceed partly from this: there was one Brown, who upon his
death-bed spoke by way of prophecy many notable things concerning
George Fox, and among the rest, ‘that he should be made instrumental
by the Lord to the conversion of people.’ And of others that then were
something in show, he said, ‘That they should come to nothing; which
was fulfilled in time, though this man did not live to see it, for he
was not raised from his sickness. But after he was buried, George Fox
fell into such a condition, that he not only looked like a dead body,
but unto many that came to see him he seemed as if he had been really
dead; and many visited him for about fourteen days time, who wondered
to see him so much altered in countenance.
At length his sorrows and troubles began to wear off, and tears of joy
dropped from him, so that he could have wept night and day with tears
of joy, in brokenness of heart. And to give an account of his condition
to those that are able to comprehend it, I will use his own words: ’I
saw,‘ saith he, ‘into that which was without end, and things which
cannot be uttered; and of the greatness and infiniteness of the love of
God, which cannot be expressed by words: for I had been brought through
the very ocean of darkness and death, and through and over the power
of Satan, by the eternal glorious power of Christ: even through that
darkness was I brought which covered all the world, and which chained
down all, and shut up all in the death. And the same eternal power of
God, which brought me through those things, was that which afterwards
shook the nation, priests, professors, and people. Then could I say, I
had been in spiritual Babylon, Sodom, Egypt, and the grave; but by the
Eternal power of God I was come out of it, and was brought over it, and
the power of it, into the power of Christ. And I saw the harvest white,
and the seed of God lying thick in the ground, as ever did wheat, that
was sown outwardly, and none to gather it; and for this I mourned with
tears.’ Thus far George Fox’s own words, of whom now a report went
abroad, that he was a young man that had a discerning spirit: whereupon
many professors, priests, and people came to him, and his ministry
increased; for he having received great openings, spoke to them of the
things of God, and was heard with attention by many, who going away,
spread the fame thereof. Then came the tempter, and set upon him again,
charging him that he had sinned against the Holy Ghost; but he could
not tell in what; and then Paul’s condition came before him, how after
he had been taken up into the third heavens, and seen things not lawful
to be uttered, a messenger of Satan was sent to buffet him, that he
might not exalt himself. Thus George Fox, by the assistance of the
Lord, got also over that temptation.
Now the 47th year of that century drew to an end, and state affairs
in England grew more and more clouded and intricate; for the King not
thinking himself any longer safe at Hampton Court, whither he had been
brought from the army; he withdrew to the Isle of Wight, whilst the
Parliament still insisted on the abrogation of Episcopacy, and would
be master of the military forces: which the King not being willing to
yield to, was now kept in closer custody, and no more regarded as a
Sovereign, to whom obedience was due from the Parliament.
1648.
Under these intestine troubles, the minds of many people came to be
fitted to receive a nearer way and doctrine of godliness, and it was
in the year 1648, that several persons, seeking the Lord, were become
fellow-believers, and entered into society with George Fox; insomuch
that they began to have great meetings in Nottinghamshire, which were
visited by many. About that time there was a meeting of priests and
professors at a justice’s house, and George Fox went among them and
heard them discourse concerning what the Apostle Paul said, He had not
known sin, but by the law, which said, thou shalt not lust. And since
they held that to be spoken of the outward law, George Fox told them,
Paul spoke that after he was convinced; for he had the outward law
before, and was bred up in it, when he was in the lust of persecution:
but it was the law of God in his mind, which he served, and which the
law in his members warred against. This saying found so much entrance,
that those of the priests and professors, that were most moderate,
yielded, and consented that it was not the outward law, but the inward,
that showed the inward lust, which the Apostle spoke of. After this,
he went again to Mansfield, where was a great meeting of professors
and other people; and being among them, and moved to pray, such an
extraordinary power appeared, and seized on the hearts of some in so
eminent a manner, that even the house seemed to be shaken: and after
prayer, some of the auditory began to say, ‘That this resembled that in
the days of the Apostles, when on the day of Pentecost, the house where
they were met was shaken.’
Not long after this, there was another great meeting of professors,
where G. Fox came also, who hearing them discourse about the blood of
Christ, he cried out among them: ‘Do ye not see the blood of Christ?
Ye must see it in your hearts, to sprinkle your hearts and consciences
from dead works, to serve the living God.’ This was a doctrine which
startled these professors, who would have the blood of Christ only
without them, not thinking that it was to be felt inwardly. But a
certain captain, whose name was Amos Stoddard, was so reached, that
seeing how they endeavoured to bear G. Fox down with many words,
he said, ‘Let the youth speak, hear the youth speak;’ and coming
afterwards to be more acquainted with G. Fox, he had an opportunity to
be further instructed in the way of godliness, of which he came to be a
faithful follower.
Some time after, G. Fox returned to Leicestershire, his own country,
where several tender people came to be convinced by his preaching.
Passing thence into Warwickshire, he met with a great company of
professors, who being come together in the field, were praying and
expounding the Scriptures. Here the Bible was given him, which he
opened on the 5th of Matthew, where Christ expounded some parts of the
law; from whence G. Fox took occasion to open to them the inward and
outward state of man: and that which he held forth getting some ground,
they fell into a fierce contention among themselves, and so parted.
Then he heard of a great meeting to be at Leicester, for a dispute,
wherein those of several persuasions, as Presbyterians, Independents,
Baptists, and Episcopalians, were said to be all concerned. This
meeting being appointed to be in the steeple-house, he went thither,
where abundance of people were met, some of those that spoke being in
pews, and the priest in the pulpit. At last, after several reasonings,
a woman started a question, and asked, ‘What that birth was the Apostle
Peter spoke of, viz. “a being born again of incorruptible seed, by the
word of God, that liveth and abideth for ever.”’ The priest, instead of
answering this question, said to her, ‘I permit not a woman to speak
in the church;’ though he had before given liberty for any to speak.
This kindled G. Fox’s zeal, so that he stept up, and asked the priest,
Dost thou call this place, (the steeple-house,) a church? Or dost thou
call this mixt multitude a church? But the priest not answering to
this, asked, what a church was: and G. Fox told him, The church was the
pillar and ground of truth, made up of living stones, living members, a
spiritual household, which Christ was the head of: but he was not the
head of a mixt multitude, or of an old house made up of lime, stones,
and wood. This caused such a stir, that the priest came down out of his
pulpit, and others out of their pews, whereby the dispute was marred.
But G. Fox went to a great inn, and there disputed with the priests and
professors of all sorts, maintaining what he had said, till they all
went away; yet several were convinced that day, and among these, the
woman who asked the question aforesaid.
After this, G. Fox returned again into Nottinghamshire, and went into
the vale of Beaver, where he preached repentance to the people: and
he staying some weeks there, and passing through several towns, many
were convinced of the truth of his doctrine. About that time, as he
was sitting by the fire one morning, a cloud came over him, and a
temptation beset him, and he sitting still, it was suggested, All
things come by nature; and he was in a manner quite clouded: but he
continuing to sit still, the people of the house perceived nothing:
at length a living hope arose in him, and also a voice, that said,
There is a living God, who made all things; and immediately the cloud
and temptation vanished away, whereby his heart was made glad, and he
praised the Lord.
Not long after, he met with some people that had a mischievous notion,
that there was no God, but that all things came by nature. But he,
reasoning with them, so confounded them, that some were fain to
confess, that there was a living God. Then he saw that it was good
for him to have been tried under such a cloud. Now in those parts he
had great meetings, and a divine power working in that country, and
thereabouts, many were gathered. Then coming into Derbyshire, there was
a great meeting of his friends at Eaton, where many of them began to
preach the doctrine of truth, who afterwards were moved to declare the
truth in other places also.
George Fox coming about this time to Mansfield, heard, that in a
town about eight miles off, there was to be a sitting of justices,
to deliberate about hiring of servants; and he, feeling a constraint
upon his mind, went thither, and exhorted them, not to oppress the
servants in their wages, but to do that which was right and just to
them; and the servants, many of whom were come thither, he admonished,
to do their duty, and serve honestly; and they all received his
exhortation kindly. He felt himself also moved, to go to several
courts and steeple-houses at Mansfield, and other places, warning them
to leave off oppression, deceit, and other evils. And having heard
at Mansfield of one in the country, who was a common drunkard, and a
noted whoremaster, and a poet also, he went to him, and reproved him
in an awful manner for his evil courses; which so struck him, that
coming afterwards to G. Fox, he told him, that he was so smitten when
he spoke to him, that he had scarce any strength left in him. And this
man was so thoroughly convinced, that he turned from his wickedness and
became an honest, sober man, to the astonishment of those that knew
him before. Thus the work of G. Fox’s ministry went forward, and many
were thereby turned from darkness to light; and divers meetings of his
friends, who were much increased in number since the year 1646, were
now set up in several places.
George Fox was now come up to quite another state than formerly he
had lived in; for he knew not only a renewing of the heart, and a
restoration of the mind, but the virtues of the creatures were also
opened to him; so that he began to deliberate whether he should
practise physic for the good of mankind. But God had another service
for him; and it was showed him, that he was to enter into a spiritual
labour; and also that those who continued faithful to the Lord,
might attain to a state in which the sinful inclination was subdued.
Moreover, the three great professions in the world, viz. physic,
divinity, (so called,) and law, were opened to him, whereby he saw that
the physicians wanting the wisdom of God, by which the creatures were
made, knew not their virtues: that the lawyers generally were void of
equity and justice, and so out of the law of God, which went over the
first transgression, and over all sin, and answered the Spirit of God
that was oppressed in man: and that the priests, for the most part,
were out of the true faith, which Christ is the author of, and which
purifies the heart, and brings man to have access to God. So that these
physicians, lawyers, and priests, who pretended to cure the body, to
establish the property of the people, and to cure the soul, were all
without the true knowledge and wisdom they ought to possess. Yet he
felt there was a divine power, by which all might be reformed, if
they would receive, and bow unto it. And he saw also, that though the
priests did err, yet they were not the greatest deceivers spoken of in
the Scriptures; but that these great deceivers were such, who, as Cain,
had heard the voice of God, and who, as Corah, Dathan, and Abiram, and
their company, were come out of Egypt, and through the Red Sea, and had
praised God on the banks of the sea shore; and who being come as far as
Balaam, could speak the word of the Lord, as having heard his voice,
and known his Spirit, so that they could see the star of Jacob, and
the goodliness of Israel’s tents, which no enchantment could prevail
against: these that could speak so much of their divine experience,
and yet turned from the Spirit of God, and went into the gainsaying,
these he saw would be the great deceivers, far beyond the priests. He
saw also that people generally did read the Scriptures, without having
a true sense of them; for some cried out much against Cain, Ishmael,
Esau, Corah, Balaam, Judas, &c. not regarding that the nature of these
was yet alive in themselves; whereby they always applied to others that
nature, in which they themselves lived.
The Lord had also opened to him now, that every man was enlightened by
the divine light of Christ; and he saw that they that believed in it,
came out of condemnation, and became the children of the light: but
they that hated it, and did not believe in it, were condemned by it,
though they made a profession of Christ. All this he saw in the pure
openings of the light. He also saw that God had afforded a measure
of his Spirit to all men, and that thereby they could truly come to
serve the Lord, and to worship him; and that his grace, which brings
salvation, and had appeared to all men, was able to bring them into the
favour of God.
And on a certain time, as he was walking in the fields, he understood
that it was said to him: ‘Thy name is written in the Lamb’s Book of
Life, which was before the foundation of the world.’ This he took to
be the voice of the Lord, and believed it to be true. Then he felt
himself powerfully moved to go abroad into the world, which was like
a briery thorny wilderness; and he found then that the world swelled
against him, and made a noise like the great raging waves of the sea:
for when he came to proclaim the day of the Lord amongst the priests,
professors, magistrates, and people, they were all like a disturbed
sea. Now he was sent to turn people from darkness to the light, that
they might receive Christ Jesus; for he saw, that to as many as should
receive him in his light, he would give power to become the sons of
God: and that therefore he was to turn people to the grace of God,
and to the truth in the heart; and that by this grace they might be
taught, and thereby obtain salvation; since Christ had died for all
men, and was a propitiation for all, having enlightened all men with
his divine saving light, and the manifestation of the Spirit of God
being given to every man to profit withal. He now being sent thus to
preach the everlasting gospel, did it with gladness, and endeavoured
to bring people off from their own ways, to Christ, the new and living
way; and from their churches, which men had made and gathered, to the
church in God, the general assembly written in heaven, which Christ is
the head of; and from the world’s teacher’s, made by men, to learn of
Christ, who is the way, the truth, and the life; and of whom the Father
said, “This is my beloved Son, hear ye him;” and off from the world’s
worship, to the Spirit of God in the inward parts, that in it they
might worship the Father, who seeks such to worship him.
Now he found also that the Lord forbade him to put off his hat to
any man, high or low; and he was required to Thou and Thee every man
and woman without distinction, and not to bid people Good Morrow or
Good Evening; neither might he bow or scrape with his leg to any
one. This was such an unusual thing with people, that it made many
of all persuasions and professions rage against him; but by the
assistance of the Lord, he was carried over all, and many came to be
his fellow-believers, and turned to God in a little time; although it
is almost unspeakable what rage and fury arose, what blows, pinchings,
beatings and imprisonments they underwent, besides the danger they were
sometimes in of losing their lives for these matters: so indiscreet
is man in his natural state. For here it did not avail to say, That
the hat-honour was an honour from below, which the Lord would lay
in the dust, and stain it; that it was an honour which the proud
looked for, without seeking the honour which came from God alone;
that it was an honour invented by men in the fall, who therefore were
offended if it were not given them; though they would be looked upon
as church members, and good Christians; whereas Christ himself said,
“How can ye believe, who receive honour of one another, and seek not
the honour that cometh from God only?” That it was an honour, which
in relation to the outward ceremony, viz. the putting off the hat,
was the same which was given to God; so that in the outward sign of
reverence, no distinction, or difference was made betwixt the Creator
and the creature; nay, that the saying of you to a single person,
went yet a degree further; for not only kings and princes formerly
among the Heathens and Jews, had not been offended at it when they
were Thee’d and Thou’d, but experience showed that this still was
the language wherewith God was daily spoken to, both in religious
assemblies, and without. But all these reasons found little entrance
with priests, magistrates, and others: bitter revilings, ill usage,
and shameful abuses, were now become the lot and share of those who
for conscience-sake, could no longer follow the ordinary custom: for
though it was pretended that the putting off of the hat was but a small
thing, which none ought to scruple; yet it was a wonderful thing, to
see what great disturbance this pretended small matter caused among
people of all sorts; so that even such that would be looked upon as
those that practised humility and meekness, soon showed what spirit
they were of, when this worldly honour was denied them. But all this
served to strengthen the fellow-believers more and more in their plain
carriage, and made them live up faithfully to the convincement of their
conscience, without respect of persons.
In the meanwhile the troubles of the land continued. We left the King
in the foregoing year in the Isle of Wight, in effect unkinged. Some
time after the Duke of York, second son to the King, being then past
fourteen years of age, fled to Holland, disguised in woman’s apparel;
and his eldest brother the Prince of Wales, who two years before fled
to France, came now to Helvoet-Sluys in Holland, and went from thence
with some English men of war, whose commanders were for the King, to
the Downs in England, with intention to take the ships coming from
London. He also published, by the spreading of a declaration, that he
came to release his father. Now there was also a negociation on foot
between the King and the Parliament, and there seemed some hopes of an
accommodation; had not the army, the chief instrument in breaking down
the royal power, opposed it, by calling for justice against all those
who had wronged the country, none excepted. This broke off the treaty,
several suspected members were turned out of the Parliament, and the
King was carried to Windsor about the time called Christmas; and it was
resolved henceforth to send no more deputations to him, nor receive
any from him, who now was no more named King, but only Charles Stuart:
a very strange turn of mundane affairs, and a mighty evidence of the
fluctuating inconstancy thereof. But things made no stand here, for it
was concluded to bring him to a trial; and the Parliament appointed
General Thomas Fairfax, and Oliver Cromwell, Lieutenant General, with
more than an hundred other persons, to be his judges. These being
formed into a court of justice, the King was conducted from Windsor
to St. James’s, and from thence brought before them in Westminster
Hall, where he was arraigned as guilty of high treason, for having
levied war against the Parliament and people of England. But he not
owning that court to be lawful, nor acknowledging their authority,
said ‘I am not intrusted by the people, they are mine by inheritance:’
and being unwilling to answer to the charge, he was on the 27th of
the month, called January, sentenced to death, as a tyrant, traitor,
murderer, and a public enemy to the Commonwealth. But before this
sentence was pronounced, the King desired that he might be permitted
to make a proposition to both Houses of Parliament in the painted
Chamber, designing as was since said to propose his own resignation,
and the admission of his son, the Prince of Wales, to the throne. But
this request was denied by the Court. Now though the said Prince of
Wales, considering his father’s danger, had applied himself to the
States-General of the United Provinces at the Hague for assistance;
and that these sent two Ambassadors to the Parliament, who coming to
London on the same day the fatal sentence was pronounced, could not
obtain admission till next day to the Speakers of both Houses, and
were afterwards with Fairfax and Cromwell, and other commanders; and
one of them had also his audience in the Parliament to intercede with
them for the King’s life; yet all proved in vain: for on the 30th of
the aforesaid month, the King was brought on a scaffold erected before
the banqueting house, and his head severed from his body. The same day
the Parliament ordered a declaration to be published, whereby it was
declared treason to endeavour to promote the Prince of Wales, Charles
Stuart, to be King of England, or any other single person to be the
chief governor thereof. And then, after having abolished the House of
Peers, they assumed to themselves the chief government of the nation,
with the title of, The Parliament of the Commonwealth of England.
The news of the King’s death was no sooner come into Scotland, but
Charles, Prince of Wales, was proclaimed, at Edinburgh, King of Great
Britain, provided he should, before assuming the royal authority, give
satisfaction about some matters concerning religion. And though this
displeased the English, yet the Scots asserted that they might as well
do so, as the English, who had done the same at the death of the late
King’s father, in the year 1625.
1649.
Leaving state affairs, let us return to G. Fox, who in the year 1649,
was much exercised to declare openly against all sorts of sins: and
therefore he went not only to the courts, crying for justice, and
exhorting the judges and justices to do justice, but he warned also
those that kept public houses for entertainment, not to let people
have more drink than what would do them good. He also testified
against wakes, may-games, plays, and shows, by which people were led
into vanity, and drawn off from the fear of God; the days that were
set forth for holidays, being usually the times wherein God was most
dishonoured. When he came into markets, he also declared against
deceitful merchandising, and warned all to deal justly, and to speak
the truth; and he testified against the mountebanks playing tricks on
their stages: and when occasion offered, he warned schoolmasters and
schoolmistresses to teach their children to mind the fear of the Lord;
saying, that they themselves ought to be examples and patterns of
virtue to them. But very burdensome it was to him, when he heard the
bell ring to call people together to the steeple-house; for it seemed
to him just like a market bell, to gather the people, that the priest
might set forth his ware to sale.
Going once on a First-day of the week, in the morning, with some of
his friends to Nottingham, to have a meeting there; and having seen
from the top of a hill the great steeple-house of the town, he felt it
required of him to cry against that idol temple, and the worshippers
therein: yet he said nothing of this to those that were with him,
but went on with them to the meeting, where after some stay he left
them, and went away to the steeple-house, where the priest took for
his text these words of the Apostle, 2 Pet. i. 19. “We have also a
most sure word of prophecy, whereunto ye do well that ye take heed,
as unto a light that shineth in a dark place, until the day dawn, and
the day-star arise in your hearts.” And he told the people that this
was the Scripture, by which they were to try all doctrines, religions,
and opinions. G. Fox hearing this, felt such mighty power, and godly
zeal working in him, that he was made to cry out, ‘O no, it is not the
Scripture, but it is the Holy Spirit, by which the holy men of God
gave forth the Scriptures, whereby opinions, religions, and judgments
are to be tried. That was it which led into all truth, and gave the
knowledge thereof. For the Jews had the Scriptures, and yet resisted
the Holy Ghost, and rejected Christ, the bright morning star, and
persecuted him and his Apostles; though they took upon them to try
their doctrine by the Scriptures; but they erred in judgment, and did
not try them aright, because they did it without the Holy Ghost.’ Thus
speaking, the officers came and took him away, and put him into a nasty
stinking prison. At night he was brought before the mayor, aldermen,
and sheriffs of the town; and they examining him, he told them, that
the Lord had moved him to come there into the steeple-house: and though
the mayor at first appeared peevish and fretful, yet he was allayed:
however, after some discourse, G. Fox was sent back to prison. But some
time after, the head sheriff John Reckless sent for him to his house,
and when G. Fox came in, the sheriff’s wife met him in the hall, and
taking him by the hand said, ‘Salvation is come to our house;’ for his
speech in the steeple-house had so amazed many, that they could not get
the sound of it out of their ears; and not only this woman was wrought
upon, but also her husband, children, and servants were much changed by
the power of the Lord.
George Fox thus coming to lodge at this sheriff’s house, had great
meetings there, and some persons of quality in the world came to them;
and they were reached very eminently in their minds by an invisible
power. Reckless being of this number, sent for the other sheriff,
and for a woman they traded with; and he told her in the presence of
the other sheriff, that they had wronged her in their dealings with
her, and that therefore they ought to make her restitution; to which
Reckless exhorted the other sheriff, being himself made sensible, that
this was an indispensable duty: for a mighty change was now wrought
in him, and his understanding came to be opened; so that on the next
market day, as he was walking with G. Fox in the chamber, in his
slippers, he said, ‘I must go into the market and preach repentance to
the people;’ and accordingly he went in his slippers into the market,
and into several streets, preaching repentance. Some others also in
the town were moved to speak to the mayor and magistrates, and to the
people, exhorting them to repent. But this the magistrates could not
endure; and to vent their passion on G. Fox, they sent for him from
the sheriff’s house, and committed him to the common prison, where
he was kept till the assizes came on, and then he was to have been
brought before the judge, but that the sheriff’s man being somewhat
long in fetching him, the judge was risen before G. Fox came to the
session-house; however, the judge was a little displeased, having said,
‘He would have admonished the youth, (meaning G. Fox,) if he had been
brought before him.’ So he was carried back again to prison. In the
meanwhile such a wonderful power broke forth among his friends, that
many were astonished at it, so that even several of the priests were
made tender, and some did confess to the power of the Lord. Now though
the people began to be very rude, yet the governor of the castle was so
moderate, that he sent down soldiers to disperse them. G. Fox having
been kept prisoner a pretty long time, was at length set at liberty,
and then travelled as before in the work of the Lord.
Coming to Mansfield-Woodhouse, he found there a distracted woman under
a doctor’s hand, being bound, and with her hair loose; and the doctor
being about to let her blood, could get no blood from her; which made
G. Fox desire to unbind her; and after this was done, he spoke to her,
and bade her in the name of the Lord, to be quiet and still. This
proved of such effect that she became still; and her mind coming to be
settled, she mended, and afterwards received the doctrine of truth, and
continued in it to her death.
Whilst G. Fox was in this place, he was moved to go to the
steeple-house, and declare there the truth to the priest and the
people; which doing, the people fell upon him, and struck him down,
almost smothering him, for he was cruelly beaten and bruised with their
hands, bibles, and sticks. Then they hauled him out, though hardly able
to stand, and put him in the stocks, where he sat some hours: and they
brought horsewhips, threatening to whip him. After some time they had
him before the magistrates, at a knight’s house; who seeing how ill
he had been used, set him at liberty, after much threatening. But the
rude multitude stoned him out of town; and though he was scarce able
to go, yet with much ado he got about a mile from the town, where he
met with some people that gave him something to comfort him, because he
was inwardly bruised. But it pleased the Lord soon to heal him again;
and some people were that day convinced of the truth, which had been
declared by him in the steeple-house, at which he rejoiced.
Out of Nottinghamshire he went to Leicestershire, accompanied by
several of his friends; and coming to Barrow, discoursed with some
Baptists; and one of them saying, What was not of faith was sin; he
asked, What faith was, and how it was wrought in man: but they turning
off from that, spoke of their water-baptism; which gave occasion to
G. Fox, and his friends, to ask who baptized John the Baptist, and
who baptized Peter, John, and the rest of the Apostles. But they were
silent at those questions. After some other discourse they parted. On
the next First-day of the week, G. Fox, and those that were with him,
came to Bagworth, and went to a steeple-house; and after the priest had
done, they had some service there by speaking to the people.
Passing from thence, he heard of a people that were in prison in
Coventry for religion; and as he was walking towards the jail, the
word of the Lord, (as he relates,) came to him, saying, ‘My love was
always to thee, and thou art in my love.’ By this he was overcome with
a sense of the love of God, and much strengthened in his inward man.
But coming into the jail, a great power of darkness struck at him; for
instead of meeting such as were imprisoned for religion, he found them
to be blasphemers, who were come to that degree, that they said they
were gods; and this their wicked opinion they endeavoured to maintain
by Scripture, misapplying what was said to the Apostle Peter, when the
sheet was let down to him, viz. ‘What was sanctified he should not
call common or unclean:’ and the words of the Apostle Paul, concerning
‘God’s reconciling all things to himself, things in heaven, and things
on earth.’ G. Fox was greatly grieved at this profaneness, told them
that these Scriptures were nothing to their purpose; and seeing they
said they were gods, he asked them, if they knew whether it would rain
to-morrow; and they saying, they could not tell; he told them God could
tell. He asked them also, if they thought they should always be in that
condition, or should change: and they answering, that they could not
tell; G. Fox told them, that God could tell it, and that he did not
change. This confounded them and brought them down for that time: so
after having reproved them for their blasphemous expressions he went
away. Not long after this, one of these ranters, whose name was John
Salmon, gave forth a book of recantation, upon which they were set at
liberty. From Coventry, G. Fox went to Atherstone, where, going into
the chapel, he declared to the priests and the people, that God was
come to teach his people himself, and to bring them off from all their
man-made teachers, to hear his Son. And though some few raged, yet they
were generally pretty quiet, and some were convinced.
After this service, he went to Market-Bosworth, and coming into the
public place of worship, he found Nathaniel Stevens preaching, who as
hath been said already, was priest of the town where G. Fox was born;
here G. Fox taking occasion to speak, Stevens told the people, he was
mad, and that they should not hear him; though he had said before to
one Colonel Purfoy concerning him, that there was never such a plant
bred in England. The people now being stirred up by this priest,
fell upon G. Fox and his friends, and stoned them out of the town.
Nevertheless this wrought on the minds of some others, so that they
were made loving.
G. Fox now travelling on, came to Twy-Cross, where he spoke to the
excisemen, and warned them to take heed of oppressing the poor. There
being in that town a great man, that had long lain sick, and was given
over by the physicians, he went to visit him in his chamber; and after
having spoken some words to him, he was moved to pray by his bed-side;
and the Lord was entreated, so that the sick man was restored to
health. But G. Fox being come down, and speaking to some that were
in a room there, a servant came with a naked rapier in his hand, and
threatened to stab him; but he looking steadfastly on the man, said,
‘Alack for thee, poor creature! What wilt thou do with thy carnal
weapon? It is no more to me than a straw.’ He being stopped thus, went
away in a rage, and his master hearing of it turned him out of his
service, and was afterwards very loving to Friends; and when G. Fox
came to that town again, both he and his wife came to see him.
After this he went into Derbyshire, where his fellow-believers
increased in godly strength; and coming to Chesterfield, he found one
Britland to be priest there, who having been partly convinced of the
doctrine of truth, had spoken much in behalf of it, and saw beyond the
common sort of priests. But when the priest of that town died, he got
the parsonage. G. Fox now speaking to him and the people, endeavoured
to bring them off from man’s teaching, unto God’s teaching; and though
the priest was not able to gainsay, yet they had him before the mayor,
and threatened, to send him to the house of correction: but when it was
late in the night the officers and the watchmen led him out of the town.
1650.
Concerning state affairs it hath been said already, that Charles II.
had been proclaimed king by the Scots; but he being still in Holland,
they sent to him there, that he would subscribe the Covenant, and so
abrogate Episcopacy in Scotland: it was also desired that he would
put some lords from him. But those that were sent, received only an
answer from the young king in general terms, which made them return
home again, where we will leave them, to see in the meanwhile how it
went with G. Fox, who had been sent away, as hath been said, from
Chesterfield, came to Derby in the year 1650, and lay at a doctor’s
house, whose wife was convinced of the truth he preached. Now it
happened, as he was walking there in his chamber, he heard the bell
ring, and asked the woman of the house what the bell rung for. She
told him, there had been a great lecture that day; so that many of the
officers of the army, and priests and preachers were to be there, as
also a colonel that was a preacher. Then he felt himself moved to go
to that congregation; and when the service was done, he spoke to them
what he believed the Lord required of him; and they were pretty quiet.
But there came an officer, who took him by the hand, and said, that he,
and the other two that were with him, must go before the magistrates.
Coming then about the first hour in the afternoon before them, they
asked him, why he came thither; to which having answered, that God had
moved him to it; he further said, that God did not dwell in temples
made with hands; and that all their preaching, baptism, and sacrifices,
would never sanctify them; but that they ought to look unto Christ in
them, and not unto men; because it is Christ that Sanctifies. They then
running into many words, he told them, they were not to dispute of God
and Christ, but to obey him. But this doctrine did so displease them,
that they often put him in and out of the room, and sometimes told them
scoffingly, that he was taken up in raptures. At length they asked him,
whether he was sanctified; and he answering, yes; they then asked, if
he had no sin; to which he said, ‘Christ my Saviour has taken away my
sin, and in him there is no sin.’ Then he and his friends were asked,
how they knew that Christ did abide in them; G. Fox said, ‘By his
Spirit, that he has given us.’ Then they temptingly asked, if any of
them was Christ; but he answered, ‘Nay, we are nothing, Christ is all.’
At length they also asked, if a man steal, is it no sin; to which he
answered with the words of scripture, ‘All unrighteousness is sin.’ So
when they had wearied themselves in examining him, they committed him
and another man to the house of correction in Derby, for six months, as
blasphemers, as appears by the following mittimus.
_To the Master of the House of Correction in Derby, Greeting._
We have sent you herewithal the bodies of George Fox, late of
Mansfield in the county of Nottingham; and John Fretwell, late
of Staniesby in the county of Derby, husbandman, brought before
us this present day, and charged with the avowed uttering and
broaching of divers blasphemous opinions contrary to a late act
of Parliament, which, upon their examination before us, they
have confessed. These are therefore to require you, forthwith
upon sight hereof, to receive them, the said George Fox and
John Fretwell into your custody, and them therein safely to
keep during the space of six months, without bail or mainprize,
or until they shall find sufficient security to be of good
behaviour, or be thence delivered by order from ourselves. Hereof
you are not to fail. Given under our hands and seals this 30th
day of October, 1650.
GER. BENNET,
NATH. BARTON.
George Fox being thus, as hath been said, locked up, the priests
bestirred themselves in their pulpits to preach up sin for term of
life; and they endeavoured to persuade people that it was an erroneous
doctrine, to assert a possibility of being freed from sin in this life,
as was held forth by the Quakers; for this began now to be the name
whereby G. Fox’s fellow-believers were called, in a reviling way: and
since that denomination hath continued to them from that time downward,
we cannot therefore pass by the first rise of it with silence. Until
this time those who professed the light of Christ as shining in man’s
heart, and reproving for sin, were not improperly called Professors
of the Light, or Children of the Light: but Gervas Bennet, one of
the justices of the peace who signed the aforesaid mittimus, and an
Independent, hearing that G. Fox bade him, and those about him, tremble
at the word of the Lord! took hold of this weighty saying with such
an airy mind, that from thence he took occasion to call him, and his
friends, scornfully, QUAKERS. This new and unusual denomination was
taken up so eagerly, and spread so among the people, that not only
the priests there from that time gave no other name to the Professors
of the Light, but sounded it so gladly abroad, that it soon run over
all England; and making no stand there, it quickly reached to the
neighbouring countries, and adjacent kingdoms, insomuch, that the said
Professors of the Light, for distinction sake from other religious
societies, have been called every where by that English name, which
sounding very odd in the ears of some foreign nations, hath also given
occasion to many silly stories.
Now because in those early times, among the many adherents of this
persuasion, there were some that having been people of a rude and
dissolute life, came so to be pricked to the heart, that they grew
true penitents, with real sorrow for their former transgressions; it
happened that they at meetings did not only burst out into tears, but
also were affected with such a singular commotion of the mind, that
some shakings of their bodies were perceived; some people naturally
being more affected with passions of the mind than others; for even
anger doth transport some men so violently, that it makes them tremble;
whereas others will quake with fear: and what wonder then, if some
being struck with the terrors of God did tremble? But this being seen
by envious men, they took occasion from thence to tell, that these
Professors of the Light performed their worship with shaking; yet they
themselves never asserted that trembling of the body was an essential
part of their religion, but have occasionally said the contrary; though
they did not deny themselves to be such as tremble before God; and
they also did not stick to say that all people ought to do so; however
thereby not enjoining a bodily shaking.
We have seen just now, how one Fretwell was committed with G. Fox to
the house of correction; but he not standing faithful in his testimony,
obtained, by intercession of the jailer, leave of the justice to go see
his mother, and so got his liberty: and then a report was spread, that
he had said, that G. Fox had bewitched and deceived him.
G. Fox was now become the object of many people’s hatred; magistrates,
priests and professors were all in a rage against him; and the
jailer, to find something where with to ensnare him, would sometimes
ask him such silly questions, as, whether the door were latched or
not; thinking thereby to draw some sudden unadvised answer from him,
whereby he might charge sin upon him: but he was kept so watchful
and circumspect, that they could get no advantage of him. Not long
after his commitment, he was moved to write both to the priests and
magistrates of Derby.
Now since G. Croese in the beginning of history, represents G. Fox as
one altogether unfit, not only to write legibly, but also to express
his mind clearly in writing, and that therefore he always was obliged
to employ others that could set down his meaning intelligibly, it will
not be beside the purpose to say, that this is more than any will be
able to prove. For though it cannot be denied that he was no elegant
writer, nor good speller, yet it is true, that his characters being
tolerable, his writing was legible, and the matter he treated of was
intelligible, though his style was not like that of a skilful linguist.
And albeit he employed others, because himself was no quick writer, yet
generally they were young lads, who as they durst not have attempted
to alter his words and phrases, so they would not have been skilful
enough to refine his style. This I do not write from hearsay; but have
seen it at sundry times. And how true it is what the same author says,
that mostly all G. Fox did write, was scarce any thing besides a rough
collection of several scripture places, may be seen by the sequel of
this history, wherein will be found many of his writings. The first of
his letters I meet with is the following, which he writ to the priests
of Derby, from the house of correction, where certainly he had not the
convenience of a writing clerk.
‘O Friends, I was sent unto you to tell you, that if you had
received the gospel freely, you would minister it freely without
money or price; but you make a trade and sale of what the
prophets and apostles have spoken; and so you corrupt the truth.
And you are the men that lead silly women captive, who are ever
learning, and never able to come to the knowledge of the truth:
you have a form of godliness; but you deny the power. Now as
Jannes and Jambres withstood Moses, so do you resist the truth;
being men of corrupt minds, reprobate concerning the faith.
But you shall proceed no further; for your folly shall be made
manifest to all men, as theirs was. Moreover the Lord sent me
to tell you, that he doth look for fruits. You asked me, if the
Scripture was my rule; but it is not your rule, to rule your
lives by; but to talk of in words. You are the men that live
in pleasures, pride, and wantonness, in fullness of bread and
abundance of idleness: see if this be not the sin of Sodom. Lot
received the angels: but Sodom was envious. You show forth the
vain nature: you stand in the steps of them that crucified my
Saviour, and mocked him: you are their children; you show forth
their fruit. They had the chief place in the assemblies; and so
have you: they loved to be called Rabbi; and so do you.
G. F.’
That which he writ to the magistrates who committed him to prison, was
to this effect:
‘Friends,
‘I am forced, in tender love unto your souls, to write unto you,
and to beseech you to consider what you do, and what the commands
of God call for. He doth require justice and mercy to break
every yoke, and to let the oppressed go free. But who calleth
for justice or loveth mercy, or contendeth for the truth? Is not
judgment turned backward, and doth not justice stand afar off?
Is not truth silenced in the streets, or can equity enter? And
do not they that depart from evil, make themselves a prey? Oh!
consider what ye do in time, and take heed whom ye do imprison:
for the magistrate is set for the punishment of evil doers, and
for the praise of them that do well. Now, I entreat you, in time,
take heed what you do, for surely the Lord will come, and will
make manifest both the builders and the work: and if it be of
man, it will fail; but if it be of God, nothing will overthrow
it. Therefore I desire and pray, that you would take heed, and
beware what you do, lest ye be found fighters against God.
G. F.’
George Fox having thus cleared his conscience, continued waiting in
patience, leaving the event to God. And after some time he felt himself
constrained to write to the justices that had committed him to prison,
to lay their doings before them, that so they might come to a due
consideration thereof; one of them, (already mentioned,) was justice
Bennet, the other Nathaniel Barton, both a justice and a colonel, as
also a preacher: to these he wrote as follows:
‘Friends,
‘You did speak of the good old way, which the prophet spake of;
but the prophets cried against the abominations which you hold
up. Had you the power of God, ye would not persecute the good
way. He that spake of the good way was set in the stocks: the
people cried, ‘Away with him to the stocks,’ for speaking the
truth. Ah! foolish people, which have eyes and see not, ears
and hear not, without understanding! ‘Fear not me,’ saith the
Lord, ‘and will ye not tremble at my presence?’ O your pride
and abominations are odious in the eyes of God: you, (that are
preachers,) have the chiefest place in the assemblies, and are
called of men Master; and such were and are against my Saviour
and Maker: and they shut up the kingdom of heaven from men,
neither go in themselves, nor suffer others. Therefore ye shall
receive the greater damnation, who have their places, and walk
in their steps. You may say, if you had been in the days of the
prophets, or Christ, ye would not have persecuted them; wherefore
be ye witnesses against yourselves, that ye are the children of
them, seeing, ye now persecute the way of truth. O consider,
there is a true judge, that will give every one of you a reward
according to your works. O mind where you are, you that hold up
the abominations which the true prophet cried against! O come
down, and sit in the dust! The Lord is coming with power; and he
will throw down every one that is exalted, that he alone may be
exalted.’
Having thus written to them jointly, he after some time, wrote to each
of them apart. That to justice Bennet was thus:
‘Friend,
‘Thou that dost profess God and Christ in words, see how thou
dost follow him. To take off burdens, and to visit them that be
in prison, and show mercy, and clothe thy own flesh, and deal thy
bread to the hungry; these are God’s commandments: to relieve the
fatherless, and to visit the widows in their afflictions, and to
keep thyself unspotted of the world; this is pure religion before
God. But if thou dost profess Christ, and followest covetousness
and greediness, and earthly mindedness, thou deniest him in life,
and deceivest thyself and others, and takest him for a cloak.
Wo be to you greedy men, and rich men, weep and howl for your
misery that shall come. Take heed of covetousness, and extortion;
God doth forbid that. Wo be to the man that coveteth an evil
covetousness, that he may set his nest on high, and cover himself
with thick clay. O do not love that which God forbids: his
servant thou art whom thou dost obey, whether it be of sin unto
death, or of obedience unto righteousness. Think upon Lazarus
and Dives: the one fared sumptuously every day; the other was
a beggar. See, if thou be not Dives. Be not deceived; God is
not mocked with vain words: evil communication corrupteth good
manners. Awake to righteousness and sin not.
G. F.’
And that to justice Barton was thus worded:
‘Friend,
‘Thou that preachest Christ, and the Scriptures in words, when
any come to follow that, which thou hast spoken of, and to live
the life of the Scriptures, then they that speak the Scriptures,
but do not lead their lives according thereunto, persecute them
that do. Mind the prophets, and Jesus Christ, and his apostles,
and all the holy men of God; what they spake, was from the
life; but they that had not the life, but the words, persecuted
and imprisoned them that lived in the life, which they had
backslidden from.
G. F.’
Now, though the Mayor of Derby did not sign the mittimus, yet having
had a hand with the rest in sending G. Fox to prison, he also writ to
him after this manner:
‘Friend,
‘Thou art set in place to do justice; but in imprisoning my body,
thou hast done contrary to justice, according to your own law.
O take heed of pleasing men more than God, for that is the way
of the Scribes and Pharisees; they sought the praise of men more
than God. Remember who said, ‘I was a stranger and ye took me not
in; was in prison, and ye visited me not.’ O friend, thy envy is
not against me, but against the power of truth. I had no envy to
you, but love. O take heed of oppression, ‘for the day of the
Lord is coming, that shall burn as an oven; and all the proud,
and all that do wickedly, shall be as stubble; and the day that
cometh, shall burn them up,’ saith the Lord of Hosts: ‘it shall
leave them neither root nor branch.’ O friend, if the love of God
were in thee, thou wouldst love the truth, and hear the truth
spoken, and not imprison unjustly: the love of God beareth, and
suffereth, and envieth no man. If the love of God had broken your
hearts, you would show mercy; but you do show forth what ruleth
you. Every tree doth show forth its fruit: you do show forth your
fruits openly. For drunkenness, swearing, pride, and vanity,
rule among you, from the teacher to the people. O friend! mercy
and true judgment, and justice, are cried for in your streets.
Oppression, unmercifulness, cruelty, hatred, pride, pleasures,
wantonness, and fullness, is in your streets; but the poor is not
regarded. O take heed of the wo: wo be to the crown of pride! wo
be to them that drink wine in bowls, and the poor is ready to
perish. O remember Lazarus and Dives: one fared deliciously every
day; and the other was a beggar. O friend, mind these things, for
they are near, and see, whether thou be not the man, that is in
Dives’s state.’
To those of the Court at Derby, he also writ the following exhortation.
‘I am moved to write unto you, to take heed of oppressing
the poor in your courts, or laying burdens upon poor people,
which they cannot bear: and of false oaths, or making them
to take oaths, which they cannot perform. The Lord saith, ‘I
will come near to judgment, and I will be a swift witness
against the sorcerers, against the false swearers, and against
the idolaters, and against those that do oppress widows and
fatherless.’ Therefore take heed of all these things betimes. The
Lord’s judgments are all true and righteous, and he delighteth in
mercy: so love mercy, dear people, and consider in time.’
And because the ringing of bells for joy, is a thing generally tending
to stir up vanity and immorality, he also writ a few lines to the
bell-ringers of the steeple-house, called St. Peter’s, in Derby.
‘Friends,
‘Take heed of pleasures, and prize your time now, while you have
it; and do not spend it in pleasures, nor earthliness. The time
may come, that you will say, you had time, when it is past:
therefore look at the love of God now, while you have time: for
it bringeth to loathe all vanities, and worldly pleasures. O
consider! time is precious: fear God and rejoice in him, who hath
made heaven and earth.’
Whilst G. Fox was in prison there, several of the professors came to
discourse with him, and he perceiving that they came to plead for sin
and imperfection, asked them, Whether they were believers, and had
faith? and they saying Yes, he further asked them, In whom? to which
they answering, In Christ; he replied, If ye are true believers in
Christ, you are passed from death to life; and if passed from death,
then from sin that bringeth death. And if your faith be true, it will
give you victory over sin and the devil, and purify your hearts and
consciences, (for the true faith is held in a pure conscience,) it
will bring you to please God, and give you access to him again. But
such language as this they could not endure; for they said, they could
not believe that any could be free from sin on this side the grave.
To which he answered, That then they might give over their talking
concerning the Scriptures, which were the words of holy men; whilst
they themselves pleaded for unholiness. At another time, another
company of such professors came, and they also pleading for sin, he
asked them, Whether they had hope? to which they answered, Yes, God
forbid but we should have hope. Then he asked, What hope is it you
have? Is Christ in you, the hope of your glory? Doth it purify you, as
he is pure? But they could not abide to hear of being made pure here,
and therefore he bade them forbear talking of the Scriptures, which
were the holy men’s words; for the holy men that writ the Scriptures,
(said he,) pleaded for holiness in heart, life, and conversation here;
but since you plead for impurity and sin, which is of the devil, what
have you to do with the holy men’s words?
Now the keeper of the prison, who was also an high professor, was much
enraged against G. Fox, and spoke wickedly of him. But it pleased the
Lord one day to strike him so, that he was under great anguish of mind:
and G. Fox walking in his chamber, heard a doleful noise, and standing
still to hearken, he heard him say to his wife, Wife, I have seen the
day of judgment, and I saw George there, and was afraid of him, because
I had done him so much wrong, and spoken so much against him to the
ministers, and professors, and to the justices, and in taverns and
ale-houses. After this, towards the evening, the keeper came up into
his chamber, and said to him, I have been as a lion against you; but
now I come like a lamb, and like the jailer that came to Paul and Silas
trembling. And he desired that he might lie with him; to which G. Fox
answered, That he was in his power, he might do what he would. But said
the other, Nay, I will have your leave; and I could desire to be always
with you, but not to have you as a prisoner. G. Fox, unwilling to deny
his desire, complied with it, and suffered him to lie with him. Then
the keeper told him all his heart, and said, he believed what he had
said of the true faith and hope, to be true: and he wondered that the
other man that was put into prison with him, did not stand to it: for,
said he, That man was not right, but you are an honest man. He also
confessed, that at those times when G. Fox had asked him to let him go
and speak the word of the Lord to the people, and at his refusal had
laid the weight thereof upon him, that then he used to be under great
trouble, amazed, and almost distracted for some time. The next morning
the keeper went to the justices, and told them, that he and his house
had been plagued for G. Fox’s sake. To which one of the justices, viz.
Bennet, said, That the plagues were on them too for keeping him. The
justices now to be rid of him, gave leave that he should have liberty
to walk a mile. But he perceiving their end, told the jailer, if they
would set down to him how far a mile was, he might take the liberty of
walking it sometimes: for he believed they thought he would go away;
and the jailer also told him afterwards, that this was their intent.
But he signified to him, that he had no mind to get his liberty that
way. And so he remained prisoner, and was visited by the jailer’s
sister, who was so affected with what he spoke to her, that she coming
down, told her brother they were an innocent people, that did no hurt
to any, but good to all; and she desired that he might be treated
civilly.
Now, since by reason of his restraint, he had not the opportunity of
travelling about to declare the doctrine of truth, he, to discharge
himself, wrote the following paper, and sent it forth for the opening
of people’s understandings in the way of truth, and directing them to
the true teacher in themselves.
‘The Lord doth show unto man his thoughts, and discovereth all
the secret workings in man. A man may be brought to see his
evil thoughts, and running mind, and vain imaginations, and may
strive to keep them down, and to keep his mind in; but cannot
overcome them, nor keep his mind within to the Lord. Now, in this
state and condition, submit to the Spirit of the Lord that shows
them, and that will bring to wait upon the Lord; and he that
hath discovered them, will destroy them. Therefore stand in the
faith of the Lord Jesus Christ, (who is the author of the true
faith,) and mind him; for he will discover the root of lusts, and
evil thoughts, and vain imaginations, and how they are begotten,
conceived, and bred; and then how they are brought forth, and how
every evil member doth work. He will discover every principle
from its own nature and root.
‘So mind the faith of Christ, and the anointing which is in you,
to be taught by it, which will discover all workings in you:
and as he teacheth you, so obey and forsake; else you will not
grow up in the faith, nor in the life of Christ, where the love
of God is received. Now love begetteth love, its own nature and
image: and when mercy and truth do meet, what joy there is! and
mercy doth triumph in judgment and love and mercy doth bear the
judgment of the world in patience. That which cannot bear the
world’s judgment, is not the love of God; for love beareth all
things, and is above the world’s judgment; for the world’s
judgment is foolishness. And though it be the world’s judgment
and practice, to cast all the world’s filthiness, that is among
themselves, upon the saints; yet their judgment is false. Now the
chaste virgins follow Christ the Lamb that takes away the sins of
the world: but they that are of that spirit, which is not chaste,
will not follow Christ the Lamb in his steps; but are disobedient
to him in his commands. So the fleshly mind doth mind the flesh,
and talketh fleshly, and its knowledge is fleshly, and not
spiritual; but savours of death, and not of the spirit of life.
Now some men have the nature of swine, wallowing in the mire: and
some men have the nature of dogs, to bite both the sheep and one
another; and some men have the nature of lions, to tear, devour,
and destroy: and some men have the nature of wolves, to tear
and devour the lambs and sheep of Christ: and some men have the
nature of the serpent, (that old adversary,) to sting, envenom
and poison. He that hath an ear to hear, let him hear, and learn
these things within himself. And some men have the natures of
other beasts and creatures, minding nothing, but earthly and
visible things, and feeding without the fear of God. Some men
have the nature of an horse, to prance and vapour in their
strength, and to be swift in doing evil. And some men have the
nature of tall sturdy oaks, to flourish and spread in wisdom and
strength, who are strong in evil, which must perish, and come to
the fire. Thus the evil is but one in all, but worketh many ways;
and whatsoever a man’s or woman’s nature is addicted to, that is
outward, the evil one will fit him with that, and will please
his nature and appetite, to keep his mind in his inventions,
and in the creatures, from the Creator. O therefore let not the
mind go forth from God; for if it do, it will be stained, and
venomed and corrupted: and if the mind go forth from the Lord, it
is hard to bring it in again. Therefore take heed of the enemy,
and keep in the faith of Christ. O! therefore mind that which is
eternal and invisible, and him who is the Creator and Mover of
all things; for the things that are made, are not made of things
that do appear; for the visible covereth the invisible sight in
you. But as the Lord, who is invisible, doth open you, by his
invisible Power and Spirit, and brings down the carnal mind in
you; so the invisible and immortal things are brought to light
in you. O therefore you that know the light, walk in the light!
for there are children of darkness that will talk of the light,
and of the truth, and not walk in it; but the children of the
light love the light, and walk in the light. But the children
of darkness walk in darkness, and hate the light; and in them
the earthly lusts, and the carnal mind choak the seed of faith,
and that bringeth oppression on the seed, and death over them. O
therefore mind the pure spirit of the everlasting God, which will
teach you to use the creatures in their right place; and which
judgeth the evil. To thee, O God, be all glory and honour, who
art Lord of all visibles and invisibles! to thee be all praise,
who bringest out of the deep to thyself; O powerful God, who art
worthy of all glory! for the Lord who created all, and gives
life and strength to all, is over all, and merciful to all. So
thou who hast made all, and art over all, to thee be all glory;
in thee is my strength, refreshments, and life, my joy and my
gladness, my rejoicing and glorying for evermore! So to live and
walk in the Spirit of God, is joy, and peace, and life; but the
mind going forth into the creatures, or into any visible things
from the Lord, this bringeth death. Now when the mind is got into
the flesh, and into death, then the accuser gets within, and
the law of sin and death, that gets into the flesh; and then the
life suffers under the law of sin and death; and then there is
straitness and failings. For then the good is shut up, and then
the self-righteousness is set atop; and then man doth work in
the outward law, and he cannot justify himself by the law; but
is condemned by the light; for he cannot get out of that state,
but by abiding in the light, and resting in the mercy of God, and
believing in him, from whom all mercy doth flow: for there is
peace in resting in the Lord Jesus. This is the narrow way that
leads to him, the life; but few will abide in it: therefore keep
in the innocency, and be obedient to the faith in him. And take
heed of conforming to the world, and of reasoning with flesh and
blood, for that bringeth disobedience; and then imaginations and
questionings do arise, to draw from disobedience to the truth
of Christ. But the obedience of faith destroyeth imaginations,
and questionings, and reasonings, and all the temptations in
the flesh, and buffetings, and lookings forth, and fetching up
things that are past. But not keeping in the life and light,
and not crossing the corrupt will by the power of God, the evil
nature grows up in man: and then burdens will come, and man will
be stained with that nature. But Esau’s mountain shall be laid
waste, and become a wilderness, where the dragons lie: but Jacob,
the second birth, shall be fruitful, and shall arise; for Esau is
hated, and must not be lord; but Jacob, the second birth, which
is perfect and plain, shall be lord: for he is beloved of God.
G. F.’
About the same time he writ to his friends the following paper:
‘The Lord is King over all the earth! therefore all people,
praise and glorify your King in the true obedience, in the
uprightness, and in the beauty of holiness. O consider, in the
true obedience the Lord is known, and an understanding from him
is received. Mark and consider in silence, in the lowliness of
mind, and thou wilt hear the Lord speak unto thee in thy mind:
his voice is sweet and pleasant; his sheep hear his voice, and
they will not hearken to another: and when they hear his voice,
they rejoice and are obedient; they also sing for joy. Oh, their
hearts are filled with everlasting triumph! they sing and praise
the eternal God in Sion: their joy shall never man take from
them. Glory be to the Lord God for evermore!’
And since many, that had been convinced of the truth, turned aside,
because of the persecution that arose, he writ for the encouragement of
the faithful, these lines:
‘Come ye blessed of the Lord, and rejoice together; keep in unity
and oneness of spirit; triumph above the world; be joyful in the
Lord; reigning above the world, and above all things that draw
from the Lord; that in clearness, righteousness, pureness, and
joy, you may be preserved to the Lord. O hear, O hearken to the
call of the Lord, and come out of the world, and keep out of it
for evermore! and come, sing together, ye righteous ones, the
song of the Lord, the song of the Lamb; which none can learn, but
they who are redeemed from the earth, and from the world.’
Now while G. Fox was at Derby in the house of correction, his relations
came to see him, and being sorry for his imprisonment, they went to
the justices, by whose order he was put there, and desired that he
might be released, offering to be bound in one hundred pounds, and
others in Derby in fifty pounds apiece with them, that he should no
more come thither to declare against the priests. But he being brought
before the justices, would not consent that any should be bound for
him, because he believed himself to be innocent from any ill behaviour.
Then justice Bennet rose up in a rage, and as G. Fox was kneeling down
to pray to the Lord to forgive him, Bennet ran upon him, and struck
him with both his hands, crying, Away with him, jailer; take him away,
jailer. Whereupon he was carried back again to prison, and there kept,
until the time of his commitment for six months was expired. But now
he had liberty of walking a mile; which he had made use of, in his own
freedom: and sometimes he went into the market and streets, and warned
the people to repentance. And on the First-days he now and then visited
the prisoners in their religious meetings. But the justices having
required sureties for his good behaviour, it came upon him to write to
them again, as followeth.
‘Friends,
‘See what it is in you that doth imprison; and see, who is head
in you; and see, if something do not accuse you? Consider, you
must be brought to judgment. Think upon Lazarus and Dives; the
one fared sumptuously every day; the other a beggar; and now you
have time, prize it, while you have it. Would you have me to be
bound to my good behaviour? I am bound to my good behaviour,
and do cry for good behaviour of all people, to turn from the
vanities, pleasures, and oppression, and from the deceits of
this world: and there will come a time, that you shall know it.
Therefore take heed of pleasures, and deceits, and pride: and
look not at man, but at the Lord; for look unto me, all ye ends
of the earth, and be ye saved, saith the Lord.’
Not long after he wrote to them again, thus:
‘Friends,
‘Would you have me to be bound to my good behaviour from
drunkenness, or swearing, or fighting, or adultery, and the like?
The Lord hath redeemed me from all these things; and the love
of God hath brought me to loathe all wantonness, blessed be his
name. They who are drunkards, and fighters, and swearers, have
their liberty without bonds: and you lay your law upon me, whom
neither you, nor any other can justly accuse of these things,
praised be the Lord! I can look at no man for my liberty, but at
the Lord alone; who hath all men’s hearts in his hand.’
And after some time, not finding his spirit clear of them, he writ
again, as followeth:
‘Friends,
‘Had you known who sent me to you, ye would have received me; for
the Lord sent me to you, to warn you of the woes that are coming
upon you; and to bid you, look at the Lord, and not at man. But
when I had told you my experience, what the Lord had done for
me, then your hearts were hardened, and you sent me to prison;
where you have kept me many weeks. If the love of God had broken
your hearts, then would ye see what ye have done. Ye would not
have imprisoned me, had not my Father suffered you; and by his
power I shall be loosed; for he openeth and shutteth, to him be
all glory! In what have I misbehaved myself, that any should
be bound for me? All men’s words will do me no good, nor their
bonds neither, to keep my heart, if I have not a guide within,
to keep me in the upright life to God. But I believe in the
Lord, that through his strength and power, I shall be preserved
from ungodliness and worldly lusts. The Scripture saith, Receive
strangers; but you imprison such. As you are in authority,
take heed of oppression and oaths, and injustice and gifts, or
rewards, for God doth loathe all such: but love mercy, and true
judgment, and justice, for that the Lord delights in. I do not
write with hatred to you, but to keep my conscience clear: take
heed how you spend your time.’
To the priests of Derby he also writ again in this manner:
‘Friends,
‘You do profess to be the ministers of Jesus Christ in words,
but you show forth by your fruits, what your ministry is. Every
tree doth show forth its fruit; the ministry of Jesus Christ
is in mercy and love, to unloose them that be bound, and to
bring out of bondage, and to let them that are captivated go
free. Now, friends, where is your example, (if the Scriptures
be your rule,) to imprison for religion? Have you any command
for it from Christ? If that were in you, which you do profess,
you would walk in their steps, who spake forth those words, the
Scriptures which you do profess. But he is not a Jew, who is one
outward, whose praise is of men; but he is a Jew, who is one
inward, whose praise is of God. But if you do build upon the
prophets and apostles in words, and pervert their life, remember
the woes which Jesus Christ spake against such. They that spake
the prophets’ words, but denied Christ, they professed a Christ
to come; but had they known him they would not have crucified
him. The saints, which the love of God did change, were brought
thereby to walk in love and mercy; for he that dwelleth in love,
dwelleth in God. But where envy, pride, and hatred doth rule,
the nature of the world doth rule, and not the nature of Jesus
Christ. I write with no hatred to you, but that you may weigh
yourselves, and see how you pass on your time.’
Having thus cleared his conscience to the priests, it was not long
before a concern came upon him to write again to the justices, which he
did as followeth.
‘I am moved to warn you to take heed of giving way to your own
wills. Love the cross, and satisfy not your minds in the flesh;
but prize your time while you have it, and walk up to that you
know, in obedience to God; and then you shall not be condemned
for that you know not, but for that you do know, and do not obey.
Consider betimes, and weigh yourselves, and see where you are,
and whom you serve. For if you blaspheme God, and take his name
in vain; if ye swear and lie; if ye give way to envy, hatred,
covetousness, and greediness, pleasures, and wantonness, or any
other vices, be assured then, that ye do serve the devil; but if
ye fear the Lord, and serve him, ye will loathe all these things.
He that loveth God, will not blaspheme his name; but where there
is opposing of God, and serving the devil, that profession is sad
and miserable. O prize your time, and do not love that which
God doth forbid; lying, wrath, malice, envy, hatred, greediness,
covetousness, oppression, gluttony, drunkenness, whoredom, and
all unrighteousness, God doth forbid. So consider, and be not
deceived, evil communication corrupts good manners. Be not
deceived, God will not be mocked with vain words; the wrath of
God is revealed from heaven against all ungodliness. Therefore
obey that which doth convince you of all evil, and telleth you,
that you should do no evil. It will lead to repentance, and keep
you in the fear of the Lord! O look at the mercies of God, and
prize them, and do not turn them into wantonness. O eye the Lord,
and not earthly things!’
Besides this, he writ the following to Nathaniel Barton, who, as was
hinted before, was both a justice, and a preacher.
‘Friend,
‘Do not cloak and cover thyself: there is a God who knoweth thy
heart, and will uncover thee; he seeth thy way. Wo be to him that
covereth, and not with my Spirit, saith the Lord. Dost thou do
contrary to the law, and then put it from thee? Mercy, and true
judgment thou neglectest: look what was spoken against such. My
Saviour said to such, “I was sick and in prison, and ye visited
me not; I was hungry and ye fed me not; I was a stranger and ye
took me not in.” And when they said, When saw we thee in prison,
and did not come to thee, &c. He replied, “Inasmuch as ye did it
not to one of these little ones, ye did it not to me.” Friend,
thou hath imprisoned me for bearing witness to the life and power
of truth; and yet professest to be a minister of Christ: but
if Christ had sent thee, thou wouldst bring out of prison, and
out of bondage, and wouldst receive strangers. Thou hast been
wanton upon earth; thou hast lived plenteously, and nourished thy
heart, as in a day of slaughter: thou hast killed the just. O
look where thou art, and how thou hast spent thy time! O remember
thyself, and now, while thou hast time, prize it, and do not
slight the free mercy of God, and despise the long suffering
of God, which is great salvation; but mind that in thee, which
doth convince thee, and would not let thee swear, nor lie, nor
take God’s name in vain. Thou knowest thou shouldst do none of
these things: thou hast learned that which will condemn thee;
therefore obey the light, which doth convince thee, and forsake
thy sins, and look at the mercies of God, and prize his love
in sparing thee till now. The Lord saith, “Look unto me all ye
ends of the earth, and be ye saved:” and, “Cease from man, whose
breath is in his nostrils.” And friend, prize thy time, and see
whom thou servest; for his servant thou art, whom thou dost obey,
“Whether of sin unto death, or obedience unto righteousness.”
If thou servest God, and fearest him, thou wilt not blaspheme
his name, nor curse, nor swear, nor take his name in vain; nor
follow pleasures and wantonness, whoredom, and drunkenness, or
wrath, or malice, or revenge, or rashness, or headiness, pride
or gluttony, greediness, oppression or covetousness, or foolish
jesting, or vain songs; God doth forbid these things, and all
unrighteousness. If thou professest God, and acteth any of these
things, thou takest him for a cloak, and servest the devil:
consider with thyself, and do not love that which God doth hate.
He that loveth God, keepeth his commandments. The devil will tell
thee, it is an hard thing to keep God’s commandments; but it is
an easy thing to keep the devil’s commandments, and to live in
all unrighteousness and ungodliness, turning the grace of God
into wantonness. “But let the unrighteous man forsake his ways,
and turn unto me,” saith the Lord, “and I will have mercy. Turn
ye, why will ye die?” saith the Lord.
‘Howl ye great ones, for the plagues are pouring out upon you!
Howl ye oppressors, for recompence and vengeance is coming, upon
you! Wo unto them that covetously join one house to another, and
bring one field so nigh unto another, that the poor can get no
more ground, and that ye may dwell upon the earth alone: these
things are in the ears of the Lord of Hosts. Wo unto him that
covetously getteth ill-gotten goods into his house, that he may
set his nest on high, to escape from the power of evil.’
It has been said already, that some of G. Fox’s friends were moved,
as well as he, to preach the doctrine of truth; and in this year it
also happened, that Elizabeth Hooton, of whom mention hath been made
before, from a true experience of the Lord’s work in man, also felt
herself moved publicly to preach the way of salvation to others, being
the first woman preacher, by what I am informed, among those that
began now generally to be called by the name of Quakers. Yet I have
found in a Dutch book, printed at Dordt, in the year 1647, and called,
History of the Troubles in England, concerning the various Sects risen
there, that among other persuasions at London, there were also women
that did preach in large meetings, and were heard by many with great
satisfaction; so that the preaching of a woman was not such a novelty
as otherwise it might have been.
In the foregoing year it hath been said, that some Scotch Commissioners
having been with Charles II. in Holland, were returned to Scotland; and
though the King at first seemed backward to consent to the Presbyterian
Covenant, yet seeing no other way open to the Scottish throne, he came
to other thoughts, and so went over to Scotland, and made his entry
into Edinburgh, through the gate on which were placed the quarters of
the Earl of Montrose, who having endeavoured not long before to subdue
the Scots, had been beaten with his forces, and, being taken prisoner,
was executed. The young King being now come into Scotland, seemed
willing to comply as much as he could, thereby to ingratiate himself,
not only with the Scots, but also with the English, if possible;
and in order thereunto, he gave forth a declaration at his Court at
Dumfermling, dated the 16th day of August, 1650, and in the second year
of his reign, as it is there said, in which declaration, I meet with
the following words:--
‘Though his Majesty, as a dutiful son, be obliged to honour the
memory of his royal father, and have in estimation the person of
his mother, yet doth he desire to be deeply humbled and afflicted
in spirit before God, because of his father’s hearkening to evil
counsels, and his opposition to the Work of Reformation, and to
the Solemn League and Covenant, (by which so much of the blood of
the Lord’s people hath been shed in these kingdoms,) and for the
idolatry of his mother.’
Here the King confessed openly, that his father’s house was guilty of
great crimes, and plainly signified, that the nation indeed had been
wronged by his father’s behaviour; and he seemed to promise amendment,
if he came to be restored. In the meanwhile, they began to see in
England, that the Scots were like to make head against them: and
therefore they ordered to send General Fairfax with an army thither;
but he showed himself unwilling to go, chiefly, as it was believed,
by the advice of his wife, who hearkened to the counsel of the
Presbyterian preachers; and these thought it would contribute to their
own settlement, if those of their own persuasion in Scotland were not
resisted. But the Parliament, many of whose members were independents,
did not matter that; but resolved, since Fairfax resigned voluntarily,
to create Oliver Cromwell general of the national forces, in the
room of Fairfax. Which being done, Cromwell was sent with an army to
Scotland, and beat the Scots not far from Edinburgh, whereby that city
not long after yielded to him.
In this year was born in Holland, on the 14th of the month called
November, N. S. William the Third, Prince of Orange, whose mother was
daughter of the late King Charles the First. And this prince, by a
strange revolution of human affairs, has since been advanced to the
English throne; and is at present, whilst I write this, King of Great
Britain, &c.
THE SECOND BOOK. 1651-1653.
1651.
The year 1651 had scarce begun, when the Scots resolved,
notwithstanding their overthrow, to crown their new King, which, after
he had sworn to maintain the Covenant, they did in the beginning of the
month called January. But leaving this,
We return again to George Fox, whom we left at Derby, in the house of
correction; where about this time a trooper came to him, who said,
that having been in the steeple-house, hearing the priest, exceeding
great trouble came upon him, and that a voice, (which he took to be
that of the Lord,) said to him, ‘Dost thou not know that my servant is
in prison? Go to him for direction.’ G. Fox speaking to his condition,
told him, ‘That which showed him his sins and troubled him for them,
would also show him his salvation; because He that shows a man his
sin, is the same that takes it away.’ Whilst he was thus speaking, the
trooper’s understanding began to be opened concerning the truth, and
he was sensible of God’s mercies, which made him speak boldly in his
quarters among the soldiers, and others, alleging the Scriptures for
what he believed to be truth. He also said, his colonel, (which I take
to be Barton,) was as blind as Nebuchadnezzar, to cast the servant
of the Lord into prison. This so incensed his colonel, that, when at
Worcester fight, the two armies lying near one another, two from the
King’s army challenged any two of the Parliament’s army to fight with
them, the said colonel made choice of him and another to answer the
challenge: and when in the encounter his companion was slain, he drove
both his enemies within a musket-shot of the town, without firing a
pistol at them. Thus he returned victorious; but then he saw the deceit
of the officers, and how wonderfully the Lord had preserved him; and in
process of time becoming sensible that fighting was unlawful for a true
Christian, he laid down his arms, henceforth to fight under the banner
of the Prince of Peace, by entering into the spiritual warfare.
Now the time of G. Fox’s commitment to the house of correction
being very near out, and there being many new soldiers raised, the
commissioners would have made him captain over them, and the soldiers
cried, ‘They would have none but him.’ So the keeper of the house of
correction was commanded to bring him up before the commissioners
and soldiers in the market place; and there they proffered him that
preferment, (as they called it,) asking him if he would not take up
arms for the Commonwealth, against Charles Stuart. G. Fox, never having
been a fighter, though it has appeared he was bold and valiant, told
them, ‘That he could not do so, as well knowing from whence all wars do
arise, (viz. from the lusts, according to the doctrine of the apostle
James,) and that he lived in the virtue of that life and power, that
took away the occasion of all wars.’ The commissioners, to fawn upon
him, said, ‘They offered him the office in love and kindness, because
of his virtue.’ But he not mattering those flattering words, replied,
‘If this be your love and kindness, I trample it under my feet.’ This
bold answer presently showed how shallow their pretended kindness was:
for it so enraged them, that they said, ‘Take him away, jailer, and put
him into the dungeon amongst the rogues and felons.’ Thus G. Fox was
put into a lousy stinking place amongst thirty felons, where he had
no bed, and was kept almost half a year, unless that at times he was
suffered to walk in the garden, for they believed of him that he would
not run away. Being in this nasty prison, it was said among the people,
that he never should come out: but he, trusting in God, believed the
contrary, it being showed him from the Lord, (according to what he
relates,) that he was not yet to be removed from that place, there
being a service for him to do.
In the meanwhile it was noised abroad, that he was in Derby dungeon,
and his relations came again to see him, they being much troubled about
it; for they thought it a great shame to them, that he should lie thus
in jail: besides, it was a strange thing then to be imprisoned for
religion. But some judged him to be mad, because he maintained the
doctrine of purity, righteousness, and perfection. Among others that
came to see him, there was also a soldier from Nottingham, who said
to him, ‘Your faith stands in a man that died at Jerusalem; and there
was never any such thing.’ This so grieved G. Fox, that he said to
him, ‘How! did not Christ suffer without the gates of Jerusalem, by
the professing Jews, the chief priests, and Pilate?’ ‘No,’ said the
other, ‘he did not suffer there outwardly.’ Then G. Fox asked him,
‘Whether there were not Jews, chief priests, and Pilate outwardly?’
This puzzled the soldier a little, so that he could not deny it. Then
he told him, ‘As certainly as there was a chief priest, and Jews, and
Pilate, so certainly Christ did suffer there outwardly under them.’ Yet
this inconsiderate person said also, ‘That never any of the prophets
or apostles, or holy men of God, suffered any thing outwardly; but
that all their sufferings were inward.’ Then G. Fox instanced to him
many of the prophets and apostles, how they suffered, and by whom they
suffered, thereby to confound his silly imaginations. Yet such was
the malice of some, that a slander was raised among the people, that
the Quakers denied Christ that suffered and died at Jerusalem. This,
indeed, is a singular evidence of the credulity of people, taking upon
trust any story, how false soever, when it relates to those that are
become the object of vulgar odium. Now as G. Fox was often visited
by those that came out of curiosity, it is not to be wondered that
sometimes he was contradicted by presumptuous and self-conceited
persons. Once there came to him some that pretended they were triers of
spirits; and these he asked, ‘What was the first step to peace: and
what it was by which a man might see his salvation.’ But they, being of
an airy mind, took this to be such a strange question, that they did
not stick to say he was mad. Thus it appeared that these who pretended
to try spirits, did not know what spirit they themselves were of, and
that they had not sufficient knowledge to make a good judgment of the
corporal constitution, saying he was mad, who was in no wise out of his
senses.
In the time of his imprisonment, he was much exercised in mind about
the proceedings of the magistrates, because men were put to death for
stealing of cattle, money, &c. and he was the more troubled about it,
because this practice was contrary to the law of God in old time.
Wherefore he writ the following two letters to the judges.
‘I am moved to write unto you to take heed of putting men to
death for stealing cattle, or money, &c. for the thieves in
the old time were to make restitution; and if they had not
wherewithal, they were to be sold for their theft. Mind the laws
of God in the Scriptures, and the Spirit that gave them forth;
and let them be your rule in executing judgment: and show mercy,
that you may receive mercy from God, the Judge of all. And take
heed of gifts and rewards, and of pride; for God doth forbid
them, and they do blind the eyes of the wise. I do not write to
give liberty to sin; God hath forbidden it: but that you should
judge according to his laws, and show mercy: for he delighteth in
true judgment, and in mercy. I beseech you to mind these things,
and prize your time, now you have it; and fear God, and serve
him; for he is a consuming fire.’
The other letter was thus.
‘I am moved to write unto you, that ye do true justice to every
man, and see that none be oppressed, nor wronged: nor no oaths
imposed; for the land mourneth because of oaths, and adulteries,
and sorceries, and drunkenness, and profaneness. O consider,
ye that be men set in authority: be moderate, and in lowliness
consider these things. Show mercy to the fatherless, and to the
widows, and to the poor: and take heed of rewards or gifts, for
they do blind the eyes of the wise: the Lord doth loath all such.
Love mercy and true judgment, justice, and righteousness, for the
Lord delighteth in such. Consider these things in time, and take
heed how ye do spend your time: now ye have time, prize it, and
show mercy, that ye may receive mercy from the Lord: for he is
coming to try all things, and will plead with all flesh, as by
fire.’
Whilst G. Fox was in prison among the felons, it grieved him to hear
their foul language; and he often reproved them for their wicked words,
and evil carriage towards each other: and people did admire that he was
so preserved among this bad company, without being defiled by their
conversation: but the fear of God so prevailed in his heart, that he
could not be charged with any evil word or action all the time he was
there: yet he perceived that it was dangerous to converse with such a
naughty crew, and therefore he laid before the judges what an hurtful
thing it was, that prisoners should lie long in a jail, because they
learned wickedness one of another, in talking of their bad deeds; and
that therefore speedy justice ought to be done.
Now whilst he was confined here, there was a young woman in the jail
for robbing her master of some money; and she being to be tried for
her life, he wrote concerning her to the judge and jury, showing
them, how contrary it was to the law of God of old, to put people to
death for stealing; and that it was an incumbent duty to show mercy.
But notwithstanding his writing so, she was condemned to die, and a
grave was made for her. G. Fox having heard this, writ a few words,
containing, ‘A warning for all people to beware of covetousness, and to
fear the Lord, and prize their time, while they have it; that so they
might avoid wickedness;’ and when the woman, at the time appointed,
was carried forth to execution, he gave this writing to be read at
the gallows; but when she was upon the ladder, with a cloth over her
face, and ready to be turned off, she was reprieved, and was brought
back again to prison, where afterwards she came to be convinced of the
truth, as held forth by G. Fox and his friends.
In the jail there was also detained a wicked man, who was said to be
a conjurer; this man threatened G. Fox, and also the jailer, that he
would raise the devil, and break the house down; so that he made the
jailer afraid. But G. Fox went to him, and said, ‘Come, let us see what
thou canst do, and do thy worst: the devil is raised high enough in
thee already; but the power of God chains him down.’ At this undaunted
speech the fellow slunk away.
Now the justices to get rid of G. Fox, resolved to press him for a
soldier, seeing he would not voluntarily accept of a command; and
Bennet sent constables to give him press-money: but he told him, ‘That
he was brought off from outward war, and was dead to it.’ And though
the commissioners over and again proffered him money, yet he would
not take it; at which they grew so angry, that he was committed close
prisoner. Hereupon G. Fox wrote to the justices, and those that were
concerned in his commitment, the following lines.
‘You, who are without Christ, and yet use the words which he and
his saints have spoken, consider, neither he nor his apostles
did ever imprison any; but my Saviour is merciful even to the
unmerciful and rebellious. He doth bring out of prison and
bondage: but men, while the carnal mind doth rule, do oppress and
imprison. My Saviour saith, “Love your enemies, and do good to
them that hate you, and pray for them that despitefully use you
and persecute you:” for the love of God doth not persecute any;
but loveth all, where it dwelleth: “he that hateth his brother,
is a murderer.” You profess to be Christians, and one of you
a minister of Jesus Christ, yet you have imprisoned me who am
a servant of Jesus Christ. The apostles never imprisoned any;
but were imprisoned themselves: take heed of speaking of Christ
in words, and denying him in life and power. O friends, the
imprisoning my body is to satisfy your wills; but take heed of
giving way to your wills, for that will hurt you. If the love of
God had broken your hearts, ye would not have imprisoned me; but
my love is to you, as to all my fellow-creatures: and that you
may weigh yourselves, and see how you stand, is this written.’
About this time he gave forth a paper to those that were convinced of
the truth, to show them the deceit of the world, and how the priests
had deceived the people, viz.
‘Christ was ever hated; and the righteous, for his sake. Mind
who they were, that did ever hate them. He that was born after
the flesh, did persecute him that was born after the Spirit; and
so it is now. And mind, who were the chiefest against Christ;
even the great learned men, the heads of the people, rulers and
teachers, that did profess the law and the prophets, and looked
for Christ; they looked for an outwardly glorious Christ, to hold
up their outward glory: but Christ spake against the works of the
world; and against the priests, and scribes, and Pharisees, and
their hypocritical profession. He that is a stranger to Christ,
is an hireling: but the servants of Jesus Christ are freemen. The
false teachers always laid burdens upon the people: and the true
servants of the Lord did speak against them. Jeremiah did speak
against hirelings, and said, “It was an horrible thing;” and
said, “What will ye do in the end?” for the people and priests
were given to covetousness. Paul did speak against such as did
make gain upon the people; and exhorted the saints to turn away
from such as were covetous men and proud men, such as did love
pleasures more than God; such as had a form of godliness, but
denied the power thereof. “For of this sort, (said he,) are they
that creep into houses, and lead captive silly women, who are
ever learning, but never able to come to the knowledge of the
truth; men of corrupt minds, reprobate concerning the faith;
and as Jannes and Jambres withstood Moses, so, (saith he,) do
these resist the truth; but they shall proceed no further, for
their folly shall be made manifest unto all men.” Moses forsook
honours and pleasures, which he might have enjoyed. The apostle
in his time saw this corruption entering, which now is spread
over the world, of having a form of godliness, but denying the
power. Ask any of your teachers, whether you may ever overcome
your corruptions and sins? None of them doth believe that; but
as long as man is here, he must, (they say,) carry about with
him the body of sin. Thus pride is kept up, and that honour and
mastership, which Christ denied; and all unrighteousness: yet
multitudes of teachers; heaps of teachers; the golden cup full
of abominations! Paul did not preach for wages; but laboured
with his hands, that he might be an example to all them that
follow him. O people, see, who follow Paul! The prophet Jeremiah
said, “The prophets prophesy falsely, and the priests bear rule
by their means;” but now the “priests bear rule by the means
they get from the people:” take away their means, and they will
bear rule over you no longer. They are such as the apostle
said, intruded into those things, which they never saw, being
vainly puffed up with a fleshly mind; and, as the Scriptures
declare of some of old, “They go in the way of Cain, (who was
a murderer,) and in the way of Balaam, who coveted the wages
of unrighteousness.” The prophet Micah also cried against the
judges, that judged for reward; and the priests, that taught for
hire; and the prophets that prophesied for money; and yet leaned
on the Lord, saying, “Is not the Lord amongst us?” Gifts to blind
the eyes of the wise: and the gift of God was never purchased
with money. All the holy servants of God did ever cry against
deceit: and where the Lord hath manifested his love, they do
loathe it, and that nature which holdeth it up.’
He also wrote a serious exhortation to the magistrates of Derby, to
consider whom they imprisoned.
‘Friends,
‘I desire you to consider in time, whom ye do imprison: for the
magistrate is set for the punishment of evil-doers, and for the
praise of them that do well. But when the Lord doth send his
messengers unto you, to warn you of the woes that will come upon
you, except you repent; then you persecute them, and put them
into prison, and say, ‘We have a law, and by our law we may
do it.’ For you indeed justify yourselves before men; but God
knoweth your hearts; he will not be worshipped with your forms
and professions, and shows of religion. Therefore consider, ye
that talk of God, how ye are subject to him; for they are his
children, that do his will. What doth the Lord require of you,
but to do justice, to love and show mercy, to walk humbly with
him, and to help the widows and fatherless to their right? but
instead thereof ye oppress the poor. Do not your judges judge
for reward, and your priests teach for hire? The time is coming,
that he who seeth all things, will discover all your secrets.
And know this assuredly, the Lord will deliver his servants out
of your hands, and he will recompence all your unjust dealings
towards his people. I desire you to consider of these things,
and search the Scriptures, and see whether any of the people
of God did ever imprison any for religion; but were themselves
imprisoned. I desire you consider, how it is written, that when
the church is met together, they may all prophesy, one by one:
that all may hear, and all may learn, and all be comforted: and
then, “If any thing be revealed to him that sitteth by, let the
first hold his peace.” Thus it was in the true church; and thus
it ought to be. But it is not so in your assemblies; but he that
teaches for hire, may speak, and none may contradict him. Again,
consider the liberty that was given to the apostles, even among
the unbelieving Jews; when after the reading the law and the
prophets, the rulers of the synagogue said unto them, “Ye men
and brethren, if ye have any word of exhortation for the people,
say on.” I desire you to consider in stillness, and strive not
against the Lord; for he is stronger than you. Though he hold
his people fast for a time; yet when he cometh, he will make
known who are his: for his coming is like the refiner’s fire, and
like fuller’s soap. Then the stone that is set at nought of you
builders, shall be the headstone of the corner. O friends, lay
these things to heart, and let them not seem light things to you.
I wrote unto you in love, to mind the laws of God, and your own
souls, and do as the holy men of God did.’
During his imprisonment there, he was under a great exercise and
travail in spirit, because of the wickedness of that town; for though
some were convinced there of the doctrine of truth, yet generally they
were a hardened people: and he seeing the visitation of God’s love pass
away from them, he mourned, and wrote the following lamentation.
‘O Derby! as the waters run away when the flood gates are up, so
doth the visitation of God’s love pass away from thee, O Derby!
therefore look where thou art, and how thou art grounded; and
consider, before thou art utterly forsaken. The Lord moved me
twice, before I came to cry against the deceits and vanities that
are in thee; and to warn all to look at the Lord, and not at
man. The wo is against the crown of pride, and the wo is against
drunkenness and vain pleasures, and against them that make a
profession of religion in words, and are high and lofty in mind,
and live in oppression and envy. O Derby! thy profession and
preaching, stinks before the Lord. Ye do profess a Sabbath in
words, and meet together, dressing yourselves in fine apparel;
and you uphold pride. Thy women go with stretched forth necks,
and wanton eyes, &c. which the true prophet of old cried against.
Your assemblies are odious, and an abomination to the Lord; pride
is set up, and bowed down; covetousness abounds: and he that doth
wickedly is honoured: so deceit doth bear with deceit; and yet
they profess Christ in words. O the deceit that is within thee!
it doth even break my heart to see how God is dishonoured in
thee, O Derby!’
After he had written this, he perceived that his imprisonment there
would not continue long; for the magistrates grew uneasy about him, and
could not agree what to do with him: one while they would have sent him
up to the Parliament, and another while they would have banished him
to Ireland. At first they called him a deceiver, and a blasphemer; and
afterwards, when the judgments of God befel them, they said he was an
honest virtuous man. But their well or ill speaking was nothing to him;
for the one did not lift him up, nor did the other cast him down. At
length they turned him out of jail, about the beginning of the winter,
in the year 1651, after he had been prisoner in Derby about a year: six
months whereof in the house of correction, and the rest of the time in
the common jail and dungeon.
Being set at liberty, he went into Leicestershire, and had meetings
where he came, preaching so effectually, that several were convinced.
He went after to Nottinghamshire again, and from thence into
Derbyshire, where having visited his friends, he passed into Yorkshire,
and coming into Doncaster, and other places, he preached repentance.
Afterwards he came to Balby, where Richard Farnsworth and several
others were convinced by his preaching. And coming afterwards into the
parts about Wakefield, James Naylor came to him, and also acknowledged
the truth of that doctrine he held forth; likewise William Dewsbury,
with many more; and these three named, became in time also ministers of
the gospel. But by the way, I must say that William Dewsbury was one of
those that had already been immediately convinced, as G. Fox himself
was, who coming to him, found himself in unity with him: and of these
was also G. Fox the younger, of whom more hereafter.
But I return to the other G. Fox, who coming about Selby, passed from
thence to Beverly, where he went into the steeple-house, and after he
that preached there had done, George Fox spoke to the congregation, and
said, that ‘they ought to turn to Christ Jesus as their teacher.’ This
struck a dread amongst the people, and the mayor spoke to him; but none
meddled with him. In the afternoon he went to another steeple-house,
about two miles off, where, after the priest had done, he spoke to him,
and the people, showing them the way of life and truth, and the ground
of election and reprobation. The priest saying he could not dispute, G.
Fox told him he did not come to dispute, but to hold forth the word of
truth, that they might all know the one seed, to which the promise was,
both in the male, and in the female. Here his speaking did so please
the auditory, that he was desired to come again on another day, and to
preach there. But he directed them to their teacher Christ Jesus, and
so went away.
The next day he came to Cranswick, to Captain Pursloe’s, who
accompanied him to Justice Hotham’s, and entering into discourse with
G. Fox, told him, he had known that principle above ten years, and was
glad that the Lord did publish it abroad among the people. While G. Fox
was there, a great woman of Beverly came to speak with the said justice
about some business, who in discourse said, that the last sabbath-day,
(as she called it,) there was an angel or spirit came into the church
at Beverly, and spoke the wonderful things of God, to the astonishment
of all that were there: and that when it had done, it passed away, they
not knowing whence it came, nor whither it went; but it astonished
all, both priest and professors, and the magistrates of the town. This
relation justice Hotham gave himself afterwards; and then G. Fox told
him, that it was he who had been that day at Beverly steeple-house,
and had declared truth there. The next First-day of the week captain
Pursloe came to G. Fox, and they both went to the steeple-house, where
G. Fox, when the priest had done, spoke to both priest and people,
and directed them where they might find their teacher, the Lord Jesus
Christ, viz. inwardly, in their hearts; which was of such effect, that
some received that doctrine of truth, and continued in it. In the
afternoon he went to another steeple-house, about three miles off,
where one preached that bore the title of doctor: he took his text from
Isaiah, lv. “Every one that thirsteth, come ye to the waters, and he
that hath no money, come ye, buy and eat, yea come, buy wine and milk,
without money, and without price.” G. Fox stayed till the priest had
done, and well knowing what kind of teacher he was, he was kindled
with such a zeal, that he said, Come down thou deceiver: dost thou bid
people come freely, and to take of the water of life freely, and yet
thou takest three hundred pounds a year of them! mayest not thou blush
with shame! did the prophet Isaiah and Christ do so, who spake the
words, and gave them forth freely? did not Christ say to his ministers,
whom he sent to preach, Freely ye have received, freely give? the
priest being amazed, hastened away, and so gave G. Fox as much time as
he could desire, to speak to the people; who then directed them to the
light, and the grace of God, and to the spirit of God in their inward
parts, to be taught and instructed thereby. Having thus cleared himself
among the people, he returned to justice Hotham’s house that night, who
embracing him, said, ‘My house is your house;’ and also signified, that
he was exceedingly glad at the work of the Lord, and that his power was
revealed.
From thence G. Fox went through the country, and came at night to an
inn, where he bid the woman of the house, if she had any meat, to
bring him some. But because he said thee and thou to her, she looked
strangely on him. Then he asked her if she had any milk; and she said,
no. He believing she spoke falsely, and seeing a churn stand in the
room, would try her further, and asked her if she had any cream; but
she denied that she had any. Then a little boy playing about the churn,
put his hands into it, and pulling it down, threw all the cream on the
floor. Thus the woman appeared to be a liar, and she being amazed, took
up the child and whipt it sorely: but he reproved her for her lying,
and going out of the house, went away, and that night lay in a stack
of hay, in rain and snow. The next day he came to York, and the first
day of the week being come, he went to the cathedral; when the priest
had done, he said, he had something from the Lord God to speak to the
priest and people. Then, (said a professor,) say on quickly; for it was
very cold weather. G. Fox then told them, ‘this was the word of the
Lord God unto them, that they lived in words; but God Almighty looked
for fruits among them.’ As soon as these words were out of his mouth,
he was hurried out, and thrown down the steps. But he got up again
without hurt, and went to his lodging. Yet several of the people was so
reached, that they became convinced of the truth.
He having now done his service in York, went from thence, and came the
next day to Burraby, and going into a certain meeting, where there
was a priest also, he had occasion to declare the truth, and many
were convinced; and the priest himself confessed to the truth, though
he came not to live up to it. The following day G. Fox passed to
Cleaveland, where having a meeting, some were convinced. The first day
of the next week he went to the steeple-house, and when the priest had
done, he directed the people to their teacher within, Christ Jesus, who
had bought them. The priest then coming to him, he had little discourse
with him, and put him soon to silence.
From thence he went to Stath, where he had great meetings, and many
received the truth he preached, among whom was Philip Scarth, a priest,
that afterwards came to be a minister of the gospel among those called
Quakers, who now began thereabout to increase in number, and had great
meetings. It happened here, that a certain Scotch priest, walking with
G. Fox, asked him many questions concerning the light and the soul: to
all which he answered fully. But after they parted, this Scotch priest
met Philip Scarth, and breaking his cane against the ground, said in
anger, ‘If ever he met with G. Fox again, he would have his life, or
Fox should have his;’ adding, ‘That he would give his head, if G. Fox
was not knocked down within a month.’ Yet what is marvellous, this
same Scotch priest, after some years, came to be one of the people
called Quakers, and afterwards G. Fox visited him at his house. Not
much unlike to this, was, that a woman of note, among the independents,
being swayed by prejudice against G. Fox, said, she would willingly
have gone to have seen him hanged; but when she heard him preach, was
so reached, that, being convinced of the truth he declared, she came
to be one of his friends. Oftentimes he had opportunity to speak with
the priests, who, when they heard of his coming would hide themselves;
for it was a dreadful thing to them, when it was told them, the man in
leather breeches is come; for this was indeed his dress in those days,
not out of any superstition, but because leather clothes being strong,
it was not unsuitable for one that travelled so much as he did.
Coming to Malton he had great meetings; but it was thought such a
strange thing to preach in houses, that many durst not come there, for
fear of their relations; and therefore he was much desired to come and
preach in the churches, as the steeple-houses are commonly called:
nay, one of the priests himself, called Boyes, (who was so taken with
him, that he called him brother,) did invite him to preach in his
steeple-house: but G. Fox had little inclination to that, because both
priests and people, called that place of worship, ‘The house of God;’
whereas the apostle said to the Athenians, “God dwelleth not in temples
made with hands.” And therefore he endeavoured to draw people off from
them, and to make them sensible, that God and Christ ought to dwell
in their hearts, that so their bodies might be made the temples of
God. Yet for that time he went into the steeple-house at Malton, where
there was not above eleven hearers, to whom the priest was preaching;
but after it was known in the town that G. Fox was there, it was soon
filled with people. And when the priest had done, he sent the other
that had invited him thither, to bring him up into the pulpit. But G.
Fox sent him word, that he needed not go into the pulpit. This priest,
not satisfied with this refusal, sent again, desiring him to go up
unto it, for, said he, it is a better place to be seen of the people.
But G. Fox answered, that he could be seen and heard well enough where
he was; and that he came not there to hold up such places, nor their
maintenance and trade. This created some displeasure, and it was said,
that false prophets were to come in the last times. But this saying
grieved many of the people, and some began to murmur at it: whereupon
G. Fox stood up, and desiring all to be quiet, he stepped upon an high
seat; and since somewhat had been spoken of false prophets, he declared
to the auditory, the mark of those prophets; and he showed, that they
were already come, and were out of the steps of the true prophets, and
of Christ and his apostles. He also directed the people to their inward
teacher, Christ Jesus, who would turn them from darkness to light. And
having opened divers Scriptures to them, he directed them to the Spirit
of God in themselves, by which they might come to God, and also to know
who the false prophets were. And having thus had a large time to preach
to the people, he went away without disturbance.
After some time, he came to Pickering, where the justices held their
sessions in the steeple-house, justice Robinson being chairman. At
the same time G. Fox had a meeting in the school-house, where many
priests and professors came, and asked several questions, which were
answered to their satisfaction: so that many persons, and amongst
these, four chief constables, were convinced that day; and word was
carried to justice Robinson, that his priest, whom he loved more than
all the others, was overthrown and convinced. After the meeting was
done, they went to an inn, and the said priest was very loving, and
would have paid for G. Fox’s dinner: but this he would not suffer by
any means. Then he offered that he should have his steeple-house to
preach in; but he refused, and told him and the people, that he came
to bring them off from such things to Christ. The next morning he went
with the four chief constables to visit justice Robinson, who meeting
him at his chamber door, G. Fox told him, he could not honour him with
man’s honour: to which the justice said, he did not look for it. Then
he went into his chamber, and spoke to him concerning the state of
the false prophets, and of the true; and also concerning election and
reprobation, showing that reprobation stood in the first birth, and
election in the second; and what it was that the promise of God was to,
and what the judgment of God was against. All this so pleased the said
Robinson, that he not only confessed it to be truth, but when another
justice that was present made some little opposition, he informed him;
and at their parting, he said to G. Fox, it was very well that he did
exercise that gift which God had given him. And he took the chief
constables aside, and would have given them some money for G. Fox,
saying, he would not have him to be at any charge in this country.
But they told him, that they themselves could not get him to take any
money. G. Fox passing from thence, priest Boyes went along with him:
but the year being now come to an end, let us take a short view how it
stood with state affairs.
It hath been said already, that Charles the II. had been crowned king
by the Scots, but having been beaten, with his forces, by Cromwell, he
marched afterwards with a new army into England, and took Worcester
without opposition: yet, in the month of September, his forces were so
entirely routed by Cromwell, that king Charles, to prevent being taken
prisoner after the battle, hid himself a whole day in a hollow oak, and
afterwards, being clothed like a servant, and called by the name of
William, passed the country, and through many hazards escaped out of
England, and arrived on the coast of Normandy in France: where we will
leave him to return again to
1652.
G. Fox, who coming with priest Boyes into a town to bait, and hearing
the bells ring, asked what that was for. They told him, that it was
for him to preach in the steeple-house. Walking thither, he saw the
people were gathered together in the steeple-house yard. The priest who
accompanied him, would have had him to go into the steeple-house; but
he said, it was no matter. This seemed strange to the people, that he
would not go into that which they called the house of God. But he stood
up in the steeple-house yard, and declared to them, that he came not to
hold up their idol temples, nor their priests, nor their tithes, nor
their Jewish and heathenish ceremonies; that the ground on which their
temples stood, was no more holy than any other piece of ground; that
the apostles, going into the Jews synagogues, and temples, was to bring
people off from that temple, &c. and from the offerings and tithes, and
covetous priests of that time; that such who came to be converted, and
believed in Christ, afterwards met together in dwelling-houses; and
that all who preach Christ, the word of life, ought to preach freely,
as the apostles did, and as Christ had commanded; and that the Lord
God of heaven and earth had sent him to preach freely, and to bring
people off from the outward temples made with hands, in which God
dwelleth not; that so they might know their bodies were to become the
temples of God and Christ. Moreover, that they ought to leave all their
superstitious ceremonies, traditions, and doctrines of men; and not
regard such teachers of the world, that took tithes, and great wages,
preaching for hire, and divining for money; whom God and Christ never
sent, according to their own confession, when they say, they never
heard God’s voice. That therefore people ought to come to the Spirit
and grace of God in themselves, and to the light of Jesus in their own
hearts: that so they might come to know Christ their free teacher, to
bring them salvation, and to open the Scriptures to them. This speech
had such effect, that many of them declared they were convinced of the
truth.
From this place he went to another town, and priest Boyes went along
with him. Thither came several professors, but he sat silent for some
hours; which made them often ask the priest, ‘When will he begin? When
will he speak?’ To which the priest said, ‘Wait:’ and told them that
the people waited upon Christ a long while before he spake: now, though
G. Fox by silence was to famish people from words, yet at length he
felt himself moved to speak, which he did so effectually, that many
were reached, and there was a general convincement amongst them.
From hence he passed on, the priest continuing to go with him, as did
several others; and as they went along, some people called to the
priest, and said, ‘Mr. Boyes, we owe you some money for tithes, pray
come and take it.’ But he throwing up his hand, said, he had enough,
and would have none of it; they might keep it; and he praised the Lord
he had enough. At length they came into this priest’s steeple-house in
the moors; and the priest going before, held open the pulpit door: but
G. Fox told him, he would not go into it. And this steeple-house being
very much painted, he told him and the people, that the painted beast
had a painted house. Then he spoke to them concerning the rise of all
those houses, and their superstitious ways; and he told them that, as
the end of the apostles’ going into the temples and synagogues, was not
to hold them up, but to bring people to Christ, the substance; so the
end of his coming there, was not to hold up these temples, priests, and
tithes, but to bring them off from all these things, to Christ, the
substance. Moreover, he declared to them what the true worship was,
which Christ had set up; and he distinguished Christ, the true way,
from all the false ways; opening the parables to them, and turning them
from darkness to the true light, that by it they might see themselves
and their sins, and Christ their Saviour, that so believing in him,
they might be saved from their sins.
After this, he went to the house of one Birdet, where he had a
great meeting, and the priest Boyes accompanied him still, leaving
his steeple-house. Then he returned towards Cranswick, to Captain
Pursloe’s, and Justice Hotham’s, who received him kindly, being glad
that truth was spread, and so many had received it. And Justice Hotham
said, ‘If God had not raised up this principle of light and life, which
G. Fox preached, the nation had been overrun with Ranterism, and all
the justices in the nation could not have stopped it with all their
laws: because, (said he,) they would have said as we said, and done as
we commanded, and yet have kept their old principle still: but this
principle of truth overthrows their principle, and the root and ground
thereof.’
Now, though G. Fox found good entertainment, yet he did not settle
there, but kept in continual motion, going from one place to another,
to beget souls unto God. I do not intend to relate all his occurrences,
but will give a short hint only of some of the chief.
Coming then towards night into Patrington, he walked through the town,
and meeting the priest in the street, he warned both him and the people
to repent, and turn to the Lord. And people gathering about him, he
declared to them the word of life, directing them to the inward word,
viz. the light wherewith they are enlightened. Going afterwards to an
inn, for it was dark, he desired lodging, but it was denied him: then
he asked for a little meat, or milk, offering to pay for it; but this
also was refused him. Being thus put off, he walked out of the town,
and some rude fellows following, asked him, ‘What news?’ To which his
answer was, ‘Repent, and fear the Lord.’ After he was gone a pretty
way out of the town, he came to another house, where he desired to
have some meat, drink, and lodging, for his money, but they would not
suffer him to stay there: then he went to another house, but met with
the like refusal. By this time it was grown so dark, that he could not
see the highway, but perceiving a ditch, he found a little water, and
so refreshed himself. Then he got over the ditch, and being weary, sat
down amongst the furze bushes, till it grew day; and then he arose, and
passing on through the fields, a man came after him with a pike-staff,
and went along with him to a town, where he raised the people, with the
constable and chief constable, before the sun was up. G. Fox seeing
the multitude, warned them of the day of the Lord that was coming upon
all sin and wickedness, and exhorted them to repent. But they laying
hold on him, carried him back to Patrington, and guarded him with
halberts, pikes, staves, &c. Being come to the said town, all was in an
uproar; and the priest and constables consulting together what to do
with him, he took that opportunity to exhort the people to repentance,
and to preach the word of life to them. At last a discreet man called
him into his house, where he got some milk and bread, not having
eaten for some days before. Then he was carried about nine miles to a
justice; and when he was come near his house, there came a man riding
after, and asked him whether he was the man that was apprehended. G.
Fox asking him, why? the other said, ‘For no hurt.’ Then he told him,
he was; and so the man rode away to the justice.
Now the men that guarded G. Fox, said, it would be well, if the justice
was not drunk when they came to him, because he used to be drunk early,
G. Fox being brought in before him, and not putting off his hat,
and saying thou to him, the justice asked the man that rode thither
before, whether he was not mazed or fond? But the man said, ‘No: it
is his principle so to behave himself.’ G. Fox, who was unwilling to
let any opportunity slip, without admonishing people to virtue, warned
the justice to repent, and bid him come to the light which Christ had
enlightened him with, that by it he might see all his evil words and
actions, and so return to Christ Jesus, whilst he had time, and that
he ought to prize that time. ‘Aye, aye,’ said he, ‘the light that is
spoken of in the third of John.’ G. Fox desired him that he would mind
it, and obey it; and laying his hand upon him, he was so brought down
by the Lord’s power, that all the watchmen stood amazed. Then he took
G. Fox with him into a parlour, with the other men, and desired to
see what he had in his pockets, of letters, or intelligence; for it
seems they suspected him to be an enemy to the Commonwealth. Then he
pulled out his linen, and showed that he had no letters; which made
the justice say, ‘He is not a vagrant, by his linen.’ and set him at
liberty. Then G. Fox went back to Patrington again, with that man who
had rid before to the justice, and who lived in that town. Coming to
his house, he desired G. Fox to go to bed, or to lie down upon it;
which he did, that they might say, they had seen him in a bed, or upon
a bed; for there was a report, that he would not lie on any bed, raised
doubtless, because about that time he had lain often without doors.
When the First-day of the week was come, he went to the steeple-house,
and declared the doctrine of Truth to the priest and people, without
being molested. Then presently after, he had a great meeting at that
man’s house where he lay, and many were convinced that day of the truth
he preached; and they were exceeding sorry that they had not given him
lodging when he was there before. From thence he travelled through the
country, warning people, both in towns and in country villages, to
repent, and turn to Christ Jesus their teacher.
On a First-day of the week he came to one colonel Overton’s house, and
had a great meeting of the chief of the people of that country; where
he opened many things out of the Scriptures, which they never heard
before. Coming afterwards again to Patrington, he understood that a
tailor and some wild blades in that town, had occasioned his being
carried before the justice. This tailor came to ask him forgiveness,
fearing he would complain of him; the constables also were afraid lest
he should trouble them; but he forgave them all, and exhorted them
to turn to the Lord, and to amend their lives. Now that which made
them the more afraid, was, that he having been not long before in the
steeple-house at Oram, there came a professor that gave him a push on
the breast, and bid him get out of the church. To which G. Fox said,
‘Dost thou call the steeple-house the church? The church is the people,
whom God hath purchased with his blood, and not the house.’ But justice
Hotham having heard of this man’s thus abusing G. Fox, sent a warrant,
and bound the said man over to the sessions. So zealous was this
justice to keep the peace, that he had asked G. Fox before, whether any
people had abused him: but he esteeming it his duty to forgive all,
told him nothing of that kind.
From Patrington he went to several great men’s houses, warning them to
repent. Some received him lovingly, and some slighted him. Passing thus
through the country, at night he came to another town, where he desired
lodging and meat, offering to pay for it; but they would not lodge him,
unless he went to a constable to ask leave, which they said was the
custom of strangers. But he told them, that custom was for suspected
persons, and not for such as he, who was an innocent man. So after he
had warned them to repent, and to mind the day of their visitation,
and directed them to the light of Christ, and Spirit of God, he passed
away. As it grew dark, he spied a hay-stack, and went and sat under it
till morning. The next day he came to Hull, where he admonished the
people to turn to Christ Jesus, that they might receive salvation. And
being very weary with travelling on foot so far, he got that night a
lodging there.
From thence he went to Nottinghamshire, visiting his friends there;
and so passed into Lincolnshire, where he did the like. And coming
to Gainsborough, where one of his friends had been preaching in the
market, he found the town and people all in an uproar; the more,
because a certain man had raised a false accusation, reporting, that
G. Fox had said he was Christ. Here going into the house of a friendly
man, the people rushed in after him, so that the house soon was filled;
and amongst the rest was also this false accuser, who said openly
before all the people, that G. Fox said he was Christ; and that he had
got witnesses to prove the same. G. Fox kindled with zeal, stepped upon
the table, and said to the people, that Christ was in them, except they
were reprobates; and that it was Christ, the eternal power of God, that
spoke in him at that time unto them; not that he was Christ. This gave
general satisfaction, except to the false accuser himself, to whom G.
Fox said, that he was a Judas, and that Judas’s end should be his; and
that that was the word of the Lord through him, (Fox,) to him. The
minds of the people coming thus to be quieted, they departed peaceably.
But very remarkable it was: this Judas shortly after hanged himself,
and a stake was driven into his grave. Now, though this was a well
known thing in this country, yet some priests spread a report, that
a Quaker had hanged himself in Lincolnshire, and had a stake driven
through him. And though this was taken upon trust by hearsay, yet, out
of mere malice, a certain priest gave out this falsehood in print, as
a true matter. But this wicked slander prevailed so little, that many
people in Lincolnshire were convinced of the truth preached by G. Fox.
After this he passed into Yorkshire, and coming to Warnsworth, went to
the steeple-house in the forenoon, but found no acceptance; and being
thrust out, he was sorely beaten with staves, and clods and stones were
thrown at him; yet he exhorted to repent, and turn to Christ. In the
afternoon he went to another steeple-house; but the sermon was finished
before he got thither; so he preached repentance to the people that
were not departed, and directed them to their inward teacher, Christ
Jesus. From hence he came to Doncaster, where he had formerly preached
in the market; but now on the First-day of the week he went into the
steeple-house; and after the priest had done, he began to speak, but
was hurried out, and hauled before the magistrates, who threatened him
with death, if ever he came thither again. But notwithstanding all
this, G. Fox bid them mind the light of Christ in them, saying, that
God was come to teach his people himself, whether they would hear or
not. After a while, being put out with some of his friends that were
with him, they were stoned by the rude multitude. A certain innkeeper,
that was a bailiff, seeing this, came and took them into his house,
but one of the stones that were thrown hit his head, so that the blood
ran down his face. The next First-day G. Fox went to Tickhill; where
he went into the steeple-house, and there found the priest and the
chief of the parish in the chancel, to whom he began to speak; but
they immediately fell upon him, and the clerk struck him with his
bible so violently on the face, that the blood gushed out, and he bled
exceedingly. Then the people thrust him out of the steeple-house, beat
and threw him down, and dragged him along the street, so that he was
besmeared with blood and dirt, and his hat taken away. When he was got
up again, he spoke to the people, and showed them how they dishonoured
Christianity. Some time after, the priest coming by, scoffingly called
G. Fox and his friends, Quakers. But he was spoken to, in such an
authority and dread, that he fell a trembling; which made one of the
people say, ‘Look how the priest trembles and shakes, he is turned a
Quaker also.’ Some moderate justices now, hearing how G. Fox and his
friends had been abused, came to examine the business; and the clerk
was afraid of having his hand cut off, for striking him in the church:
but G. Fox, as a true Christian, forgave him, and would not appear
against him.
Thus far G. Fox only hath been mentioned as a preacher of repentance;
but now some others of his persuasion began also to preach publicly,
viz. Thomas Aldam, Richard Farnsworth, and, not long after, William
Dewsbury. This made such a stir, that the priest of Warnsworth procured
a warrant from the justices against G. Fox, and Thomas Aldam. The
constable who came with this order which was to be executed in any
part of the West Riding of Yorkshire, took Thomas Aldam, and carried
him to York, and G. Fox went with him twenty miles; but though the
constable had a warrant for him also, yet he meddled not with G. Fox,
saying, he was loth to trouble men that were strangers; but Thomas
Aldam was his neighbour. About this time Richard Farnsworth went into
an eminent steeple-house, in or about Wakefield; where he spoke so
powerfully, that the people were amazed. The priest of that place,
whose name was Marshal, spread a slanderous report, that G. Fox carried
bottles about with him, and made people drink thereof, which made them
follow him. And that he rid upon a great black horse, and was seen in
one country upon that horse, and in the same hour in another country
three score miles off. But these horrid lies were so far from turning
to the priest’s advantage, that he preached many of his hearers away
from him; for it was well known that G. Fox had no horse at that time,
but travelled on foot. He coming now into a steeple-house not far
from Bradford; the priest took his text from Jer. v. 31. “My people
love to have it so;” leaving out the foregoing words, “The prophets
prophesy falsely, and the priests bear rule by their means.” G. Fox
unwilling to let this pass unregarded, showed the people the priest’s
unfair dealing; and, directing them to Christ, the true inward teacher,
declared, that God was come to teach his people himself, and to bring
them off from all the world’s teachers and hirelings, that they might
come to receive freely from him; concluding his speech with a warning
of the day of the Lord that was coming upon all flesh. He passed from
thence without much opposition, and travelled now for some time with
Richard Farnsworth: with whom he once passed a night in the open field,
on a bed they made of fern.
Then parting from him, he came to Wensleydale, where he went into the
steeple-house; and after the lecture, he spoke to the people much in
the same terms as he used to do on the like occasions; and had not
much opposition there. Thus he went from place to place, and often met
with strange occurrences, some of which were more jocose than serious;
others very rude, and even dangerous to his life. But he trusted in
God, really believing that he had sent him to preach repentance, and to
exhort people to a true conversion.
Thus travelling on, he came near Sedbergh; there he went to a
meeting at Justice Benson’s, where a people met that were separated
from the public worship; and, by his preaching he gave such general
satisfaction, that most of the hearers were convinced of the Truth
declared by him. Thus the number of his fellow-believers increased so,
that now they had meetings by themselves, in many places of the country.
About this time there being a fair at Sedbergh, G. Fox declared
the day of the Lord through the fair: and afterwards went into the
steeple-house yard, where abundance of people came to him: here he
preached for several hours, showing, that the Lord was come to teach
his people himself, and to bring them off from all the world’s ways
and teachers, to Christ, the true teacher, and the true way to God.
Moreover, he showed the declining state of the modern doctors and
teachers; and exhorted the people to come off from the temples made
with hands, and wait to receive the Spirit of the Lord, that they
might know themselves to be the temples of God. None of the priests,
several of whom were there, spoke against what he had declared; but a
captain said, ‘Why will ye not go into the church; for this is not a
fit place to preach in?’ G. Fox told him, ‘That he did not approve of
their church.’ Then stood up one Francis Howgill, who was a preacher,
and though he never had seen G. Fox before, yet he was so affected with
him, that he answered the captain, and soon put him to silence: for,
said Howgill, ‘This man speaks with authority, and not as the scribes.’
After this, G. Fox opened to the people, ‘That that ground and house
was not more holy than another place; and that the house was not the
church, but the people, whom Christ was the head of.’ Then the priests
coming to him he warned them to repent; upon which one of them said, he
was mad; but notwithstanding his saying so, many were convinced there
that day; and amongst these, one Captain Ward.
The next First-day G. Fox came to Firbank chapel in Westmoreland, where
the said Francis Howgill, and one John Audland, had been preaching in
the morning. The chapel at that time was so full of people, that many
could not get in: and Howgill said afterwards, he thought G. Fox looked
into the chapel, and his spirit was ready to fail. But G. Fox did not
look into it; however, Howgill had been so reached when he heard him
preach in the steeple-house yard at Sedbergh, that he was as it were,
checked, and so quickly made an end of his sermon; thinking as well
as others, that G. Fox would preach there that day, as indeed he did.
For having refreshed himself at noon, with a little water out of a
brook, he went and sat down on the top of a rock hard by the chapel,
intending to have a meeting there. At this people wondered, because
they looked upon the church, (so called,) as an holy place, requisite
for worship. But G. Fox told them afterwards, that the ground whereon
he stood, was as good as that of the steeple-house; besides, we find,
that Christ himself did preach on a mountain, and also at the sea-side.
Now in the afternoon, the people gathered about him, with several of
their preachers, and amongst these, F. Howgill, and J. Audland. To this
auditory, which was judged to consist of more than a thousand people,
G. Fox began to preach, and spoke about the space of three hours,
directing all to the Spirit of God in themselves, that so they might
be turned from darkness to light, and from the power of Satan, which
they had been under, unto God; by which they should become children of
the light, and by the Spirit of Truth, be led into all truth; and so
sensibly understand the words of the prophets of Christ, and of the
apostles, and come to know Christ to be their teacher to instruct them,
their counsellor to direct them, their shepherd to feed them, their
bishop to oversee them, and their prophet to open divine mysteries to
them; that so their bodies might be prepared, sanctified, and made
fit temples for God and Christ to dwell in. Moreover he explained
the prophets, and the figures, and shadows, and directed his hearers
to Christ the substance. He also opened the parables and sayings of
Christ, and showed the intent and scope of the apostles’ writings,
and epistles to the elect. Then he spoke also concerning the state of
apostacy, that hath been since the apostles’ days; how the priests had
gotten the Scriptures, without being in that spirit which gave them
forth; and how they were found in the steps of the false prophets,
scribes, and Pharisees of old, and were such as the true prophets,
Christ, and his apostles cried against; insomuch that none that were
guided by the Spirit of God now could own them.
While G. Fox was thus preaching, many old people went into the chapel,
and looked out at the windows, thinking it a strange thing to see a
man preach on a hill, and not in the church, (as they called it.) He
perceiving this said, That the steeple-house, and the ground whereon
it stood, was no more holy than that hill; and that those temples,
which they called the dreadful houses of God, were not set up by the
command of God and Christ; nor their priests instituted as Aaron’s
priesthood was; nor their tithes appointed by God, as those amongst the
Jews were; but that Christ was come, who ended both the temple, and
its worship, and their priests and their tithes; and that therefore
all ought to hearken unto him; for he said, “Learn of me;” and God
said of him, “This is my beloved Son, in whom I am well pleased, hear
ye him,” In conclusion, he said, ‘That the Lord God had sent him to
preach the everlasting gospel, and word of life amongst them; and to
bring them off from all these temples, tithes, priests, and rudiments
of the world, which were gotten up since the apostles’ days, and had
been set up by such as had erred from the spirit and power the apostles
were in.’ Thus preached G. Fox, and his ministry was at that time
accompanied with such a convincing power, and so reached the hearts of
the people, that many, and even all the teachers of that congregation,
who were many, were convinced of that Truth which was declared to them.
After this meeting was over, G. Fox went to John Audland’s who, as well
as Francis Howgill, and others, had been quite brought over by his
effectual preaching. And as these had been zealous preachers amongst
those of their former persuasion, so it was not long before they became
publishers of that doctrine, which now, by the ministry of G. Fox they
had embraced; and were so far from approving their former service,
that they gave back the money they received for their preaching to the
parish of Colton in Lancashire; being now resolved to give freely what
they had received freely. And here I shall make some small digression,
in saying something concerning these two excellent men.
John Audland was a young man, and of a comely countenance, and very
lovely qualities. When he was but seventeen or eighteen years old, he
was very religious, and a zealous searcher of the Holy Scriptures; and
having a good understanding, and strong memory, he thereby gathered a
large treasure of Scripture learning, became an eminent teacher among
the Independents, and had a very numerous auditory. But when he heard
G. Fox preach, he was thereby so reached to the heart, that he began in
process of time to see the emptiness of his great literal knowledge,
and that all his righteousness was but as filthy rags. This brought
him to a state of mourning, for now he saw that all his profession
and wisdom could not bring him to true happiness. But the Lord, who
doth not break the bruised reed, nor quench the smoking flax, did
pity him in this state of deep humiliation, and bore him up again by
his supporting power; whereby in time he came to be prepared for that
service he was appointed to by God.
Concerning Francis Howgill; he was also a religious man, who, having
seen the superstitions of the Episcopal church, had left it, and
applied himself to the Independents. But although he, who had been
trained up in the university to be a minister, became a teacher
amongst the Independents, and was zealous in virtue: yet he remained
dissatisfied in himself, finding that notwithstanding all his fasting,
praying, and good works, the root of sin still remained in him; and
although the common doctrine was, that Christ had taken the guilt
of sin upon himself, yet this could not satisfy him; because his
conscience told him, “His servant thou art, whom thou obeyest.” Thus
increasing in understanding, it was resolved to him that the Lord
according to what the prophets had foretold, would teach his people
himself; and it seemed also to him, that this time was near at hand.
Some while after it happened, as hath been said already, that he was
present when G. Fox preached, and when he heard him say, that the light
of Christ in man, was the way to Christ, he believed this to be the
word of truth; and he saw how he had been ignorant of the principle of
true religion. Submitting then to the reproofs of this inward light,
he saw the unfruitfulness of all his labour, and anguish and sorrow
seized on him, and judgment went over all his former actions. But he
being given up, and resigned in that state, saying within himself,
‘Thou, O God, art just in all thy judgments,’ it pleased the Lord in
due time to fill his heart with joy, and to make him a minister of his
everlasting word. But no sooner did he enter into that service, but
both priests and magistrates, of whom he formerly had been beloved,
became his enemies; and envy was so kindled against him, that he was
locked up in a nasty place at Appleby, in Westmoreland, and was kept
there prisoner for some time.
But let me now return to G. Fox, who coming to Kendal, had a meeting
there in the town hall; where declaring the word of life, he showed the
people how they might come to the saving knowledge of Christ, and to
have a right understanding of the Holy Scripture; opening to them what
it was that would lead them into the way of reconciliation with God.
This was of such effect, that several became convinced of the truth
published by him; and others were so well affected to him, that when he
went to Under-Barrow, several people accompanied him, and he had great
reasonings with them, but especially with one Edward Burrough, who,
though of extraordinary parts, and acquired knowledge, was not able to
withstand the efficacious sayings of G. Fox. And because this Burrough
became an eminent man among the Quakers, so called; being endued with
courage and understanding, fit to overcome his opposers, and to break
even stony hearts; I will mention here a little of his descent and
quality.
He was born in the barony of Kendal, in Westmoreland, of parents who
for their honest and virtuous life, were in good repute; he was well
educated and trained up in such learning as that country did afford.
His knowledge and understanding soon passed his years; for being but
a boy he had the spirit of a man, and in his youth was endued with
wisdom above his equals in years. Moreover, he was very religious,
conversing frequently with those that were in esteem for piety and
godly life. Neither was he inclined to the ordinary pleasures of youth;
but it was his delight to be exercised in reading of Holy Scripture,
wherein he was well versed. By his parents he was trained up in the
Episcopal worship; yet when but twelve years of age, he often went
to the meetings of the Presbyterians, because their doctrine in many
things seemed to him to approach nearer to truth, than that of the
public church; wherefore he became a follower of the Presbyterians,
although he was reviled for it by his acquaintance. But being come to
the age of about seventeen years, and growing more and more sensible
of his own condition, he was often struck with terror; and when he
had been praying, he heard, as it were, a voice ‘Thou art ignorant of
God; thou knowest not where he is, nor what he is; to what purpose is
thy prayer?’ This brought him under such a concern, that he began to
take diligent heed to his life, so that he abstained not only from all
vanities, but, when occasion offered, he reproved others for their vain
conversation and wickedness; but for this he was derided and looked
upon scornfully by many, yet continued to live religiously, and felt
sometimes sweet refreshments to his soul. But though he had the Truth
in his comprehension, yet he wanted the real and experimental knowledge
of it, and so became darkened again, losing what he once possessed: and
being too ready to flatter himself, would say, ‘Whom God loves once, he
loves for ever.’ Now he grew weary of hearing any of the priests; for
he saw they did not possess what they spoke of to others; and sometimes
he began to question his own experience. Being thus many times put to
a stand, he seemed almost to be at a loss. In this condition he heard
G. Fox preach, and afterwards reasoned with him; and it pleased the
Lord so to open his understanding, that he perceived, (as he relates
himself,) that he was in the prodigal state, above the cross of Christ,
and not in the pure fear of the Lord. Being thus convinced, he entered
into the society of the despised Quakers, though he was now rejected by
his relations, and, by a blind zeal, turned out of his father’s house.
This he bore patiently, and continued faithful in the doctrine he had
embraced. And in process of time he so advanced in true knowledge, that
he became a very eminent minister of the gospel. But what adversities
did he not undergo? Reviling, slandering, buffeting, and caning, were
often his lot; watching and fasting were many times his portion;
and imprisonments, great jeopardies, and danger of life, he was not
unacquainted with. But nothing could make this hero shrink: he always
was laborious, and seldom had any hours of rest. In his preaching he
was very acceptable, and eloquent in his speech, and had the tongue,
(according to what an eminent author relates, that knew him from his
youth,) of a learned orator, to declare himself to the understandings
and consciences of all men he met with. He was also a great writer, and
often would engage in disputes with those of other persuasions, sparing
no pains, where he thought he could serve the Lord and the church. Thus
much, for this time, of E. Burrough.
Let us return now to G. Fox, whom we left at Under-Barrow, where, with
the consent of the inhabitants, he had a great meeting in the chapel,
and many were convinced, and received the truth preached by him. From
thence he went to Lancashire, and having in some places spoken in the
steeple-houses, he came to Ulverstone, and so to Swarthmore, to the
house of Thomas Fell, a Judge in Wales, where many priests frequently
came. The judge was at that time abroad, employed in the exercise of
his office, and his wife Margaret was also gone abroad that day. G. Fox
in the meanwhile coming thither, met the priest William Lampitt, who
was a high notionist, and rich in words. But G. Fox soon perceiving
that he was without the possession of what he professed, opposed him
boldly. Before it was night, Margaret Fell returned home, and her
children told her, that Lampitt and Fox had disagreed, which did
somewhat trouble her, for she, making much of the priests, especially
admired Lampitt. That same night G. Fox had much reasoning there, and
declared the Truth to her and her family. The next day Lampitt came
again, and G. Fox discoursed with him in the presence of Margaret Fell,
who then began clearly to discern the priest.
The following day being appointed for an humiliation, Margaret went
with her children to the steeple-house at Ulverstone, having asked G.
Fox before to go with her: but he replying, That he must do as he was
ordered by the Lord, left her, and walked into the fields; and there
he felt a strong motion to go also to the steeple-house. When he came
there, the people were singing, but what they sung was, according to
his opinion, altogether unsuitable to their states. After they had
done, he stept up on a form, and asked leave to speak: the priest
consenting, G. Fox began thus: ‘He is not a Jew that is one outwardly;
neither is that circumcision which is outward: but he is a Jew that is
one inwardly; and that is circumcision, which is of the heart.’ And so
he went on, and said, ‘That Christ was the light of the world, and
enlightened every man that cometh into the world, and that by this
light they might be gathered to God,’ &c. Margaret Fell standing up in
her pew, wondered at this doctrine, having never heard any such before.
In the meanwhile G. Fox went on, and opening the Scriptures, said,
‘That they were the prophet’s words, and Christ’s, and the apostles’
words; and that what they spoke, they enjoyed and possessed, and had it
from the Lord. What have any to do, said he, with the Scriptures, if
they come not to the Spirit that gave them forth? You will say, Christ
saith this, and the apostles say this; but what canst thou, O man,
say thyself concerning this? Art thou a child of the light; dost thou
walk in the light; and what thou speakest, is it inwardly from God?’
He showed also, ‘That God was come to teach his people himself by his
Spirit, and to bring them off from their churches, and religions, and
their ways of worship,’ &c. These his words did so effectually reach
the aforesaid Margaret, that she sat down in her pew again, and weeping
bitterly, cried in her spirit to the Lord, ‘We are all thieves! We are
all thieves! We have taken the Scriptures in words, and know nothing of
them in ourselves.’ G. Fox still going on, declared against the false
prophets, and said, that their way of worship was but talking of other
men’s words, and that they themselves were out of the life and spirit
which those were in who gave them forth. Then cried out a justice of
peace, called John Sawrey, ‘Take him away.’ But Margaret Fell said
to the officers, ‘Let him alone. Why may not he speak as well as any
other?’ Priest Lampitt, it is like to please her, said also, ‘Let him
speak.’ G. Fox then speaking yet awhile, was at length led out by the
constable, according to the order of the said justice Sawrey; and then
he spoke to the people in the grave-yard.
In the evening he came again into the house of judge Fell, where he
took occasion to speak to the servants, and those of the family, who
most of them came so effectually to be convinced by him, that they
embraced the Truth which he preached. Among these, was also William
Caton, of whom more hereafter. Margaret Fell in the meanwhile being
come home, was so reached, that she scarce knew what to do, her husband
being from home; for she clearly perceived what she had heard G. Fox
preach, was truth.
The First-day after, he went to Aldenham steeple-house, where, when the
priest had done, he spoke to the people, and admonished them to return
to the Lord. From thence he went to Ramside, where was a chapel, in
which one Thomas Lawson, who was an eminent priest, used to preach;
who having some notice of G. Fox’s coming, preached in the morning,
and told the people that G. Fox was to come there in the afternoon;
by which means very many people were gathered together. When he came,
he saw there was no place so convenient to speak to the people as the
chapel, and therefore he went into it. The priest Lawson, willing
to give a full opportunity to G. Fox, went not up into the pulpit,
but left all the time to him. And G. Fox so powerfully declared the
doctrine of Truth, that many received it, and among these, the priest
himself, who left off his preaching for hire, and in process of time,
came to preach the Lord Jesus Christ, and his glorious gospel freely;
which however did not hinder him to exercise himself in the knowledge
of herbs, wherein he came to be so experienced, that he was, as I have
been told, one of the most skilful herbalists in England; which gave
occasion to an eminent botanist, who at first seemed a little shy of
him, when he perceived his great skill, to love him as a singular
friend. But this transiently.
Now I return again to G. Fox, who having performed his service about
Ramside, went somewhere else, and came also to Brerecliff, where he
found some people that told him, they could not dispute. But he bid
them to fear the Lord, and not to speak the words of God in an airy
manner, but to do the things required. Moreover, that they ought to
mind the light of Christ, and take heed to his Spirit in their hearts,
whereby they would come to see their evil thoughts, words, and actions;
for this light, (he said,) would show them their sins, and by following
this light, they should also see that their Saviour Christ Jesus, saved
them from sin: and he said, the first step to peace was to stand still
in the light, which showed them their sins and transgressions; by which
they should see they were in the fall of the old Adam, in darkness and
death, alienated from the covenant of the promise, and without God in
the world; and that Christ who died for them, was their Saviour and
Redeemer, and their way to God. After G. Fox had spoken thus, he went
to a new built chapel near Gleaston, wherein none had yet preached:
hither came a great many people, unto whom he preached, and many were
convinced.
From thence he returned to Swarthmore again; for Margaret Fell being
full of fear, and expecting her husband’s return home, had desired G.
Fox to come, since some of the great ones of the country, being gone to
meet her husband, had informed him, that a great disaster had befallen
the family: and that the Quakers were witches, and had turned them from
their religion; and that he must send them away, or all the country
would be undone. Without all question, this was a very sad message to
judge Fell, for he came home greatly offended: and one may easily think
what a condition his wife was in, being in fear that she should either
displease her husband, or offend God.
At that time Richard Farnsworth and James Nayler were at her house,
and she desired them to speak to her husband; which they did very
moderately and wisely: and though at first he was displeased, yet after
he had heard them speak, he was better satisfied. And they making as
if they would go away, she desired them to stay, because she expected
G. Fox that evening; and she wished for an opportunity, that both he
and they might speak to her husband, whereby he might satisfy himself
further about them. Dinner in the meantime being ready, judge Fell, and
his wife Margaret, sat down at table, and whilst they were sitting,
an extraordinary power seizing on her, made such an operation on her
mind, that he was struck with amazement, and knew not what to think of
it; but he was quiet and still; and the children also were become so
grave and modest, that they could not play on their music they were
learning. At night G. Fox came, and judge Fell sitting in the parlour,
Margaret asked him if G. Fox might come in; and he said, ‘Yes.’ George
then coming in without any compliment, began to speak presently; at
which the family, as well as J. Nayler, and R. Farnsworth, entered. He
now speaking, declared what the practice of Christ and the apostles was
in their day; and showed how the apostacy came in since; and what was
the practice of the modern priests in the apostacy. He also answered
all the objections of judge Fell, and so thoroughly satisfied him by
the Scriptures, that he was convinced in his judgment, and asked if
he was that George Fox whom justice Robinson had spoken so much in
commendation of amongst many of the parliament men? To this G. Fox
answered him, that he had been with the justices Robinson and Hotham in
Yorkshire; that they had been very civil and loving to him, and that
they were convinced in their judgments by the Spirit of God, that the
principle he bore testimony to was the Truth; and that they saw beyond
the priests of the nation. All this so satisfied judge Fell, that he
was very quiet that night, and went to bed. The next morning came
Lampitt, the priest of Ulverstone, and walking with the judge into the
garden, spoke much to him there, to render the doctrine of the Quakers
odious to him, having also said to others, that G. Fox held strange
notions. But judge Fell had seen the night before so much, that the
priest got little entrance upon him. And when Lampitt came into the
house again, G. Fox spoke sharply to him, and asked him, when God spake
to him, and called him to preach to the people. The priest not liking
such questions, it was not long before he went away. And whilst some
were speaking how several in those parts were convinced of the Truth
now declared, and that they knew not where to get a meeting place;
judge Fell hearing them, said of his own accord, ‘You may meet in my
hall, if you will.’ So the next First-day there was at his house a
meeting, and a large one indeed, being the first meeting of the people
called Quakers, that was at Swarthmore; and so it continued to be kept
there until the year 1690, when a new meeting-house was built there.
Judge Fell not being willing to appear in that meeting, went that day
to the steeple-house, and none with him but his clerk and his groom.
Yet in process of time he came to be so well affected to the doctrine
of the Quakers, so called, that though he did not enter publicly into
their society, yet he loved them, and several years before his death,
did not frequent the steeple-house any more.
After G. Fox had stayed some days at the house of judge Fell, he
went to Lancaster, and there preached in the market; and on the next
First-day, had a great meeting in the street, amongst the soldiers,
to whom he declared the Truth; and in the afternoon went to the
steeple-house; but speaking there, and directing people to the Spirit
of God, he was hauled out, and stoned along the street.
Then having travelled about some time, and preached in some places,
sometimes with rude opposition, he returned to Swarthmore, where
discoursing with several priests at judge Fell’s house, he asked them,
whether any of them ever heard the voice of God or Christ, commanding
them to go to any people, and declare the word of the Lord to them. But
none of them answered this with Yea: yet one saying, ‘I can speak of my
experience as much as you;’ G. Fox told him experience was one thing,
but to go with a message, and to have the word of the Lord, as the
prophets and apostles had, was quite another. An ancient priest, whose
name was Thomas Taylor, did ingenuously confess before judge Fell, that
he had never heard the voice of God, nor of Christ, but that he spoke
his experiences, and the experiences of the saints in former ages. This
very much confirmed judge Fell in the persuasion he had already, that
the priests were not what they pretended to be: for he had thought, as
the generality of the people did then, that they were sent from God.
At this time, the saying of G. Fox wrought so close on the mind of the
said T. Taylor, that he was convinced, and travelled with him into
Westmoreland; and coming into Crosland steeple-house, T. Taylor’s mouth
was opened, so that he declared amongst the people, how he had been
before he was convinced; and like the good scribe, brought forth things
new and old from his treasury, to the people; and showed them how the
priests were out of the way.
Now great rage arose among the priests, and they began as much as they
could, to stir up to persecution; for not only T. Taylor after some
time preached the gospel freely, but several others, viz. John Audland,
Francis Howgill, John Camm, Edward Burrough, Richard Hubberthorn,
Miles Halhead, and others, appeared zealous preachers among those
called Quakers; and often declared the doctrine they professed in
steeple-houses, and markets; whereby the number of their friends began
greatly to increase.
In the meanwhile G. Fox returned into Lancashire, and went to
Ulverstone, where Lampitt before mentioned was priest. He now seeing
how the people called Quakers did set up meetings, and met in private
houses, said they forsook the temple, and went to Jeroboam’s calves
houses; whereas formerly he had preached of a people, that would own
the teachings of God, and that men and women should come to declare
the gospel. Now it was told him, that the old mass houses, which were
called churches, were more like Jeroboam’s calves houses; though man
strove to persuade people that such a building was the house of God:
whereas Christ was the head of the church, and never was called the
head of an old house; and that the apostle speaking of Christ said,
“Whose house we are,” Heb. iii. 6. This passage puts me in mind,
how some of the parliament soldiers, observing, over some of the
steeple-house doors, these words of the patriarch Jacob, when God had
appeared to him in a dream, ‘This is none other but the house of God,
and this is the gate of heaven,’ could not endure to see this gross
conceit concerning those buildings, but rased out the words, ‘of God,’
and ‘of heaven;’ so that nothing was left, but ‘This is none other but
the house, and this is the gate:’ and certainly their zeal was more
reasonable than the conceit of those, who think that in the gospel
days a building of lime and stone, may be called the house of God. It
seems also a silly conceit, to call a meeting-house, furnished with a
steeple, a church; and to deny that name to the congregation-houses
of dissenters, calling them, and them only, meeting-houses. But this
notion hath kept up the esteem of those mass-houses; and the priests,
that they might not lose their gain of burials, have endeavoured to
keep people in the belief, that the ground of these buildings was
holy; and this save occasion to the people called Quakers, to call
those buildings, steeple-houses. Now since a fantastical man I very
well knew in Holland, conversing there among the people of that
persuasion, undertook to translate that denomination into Dutch,
_Gespitste huyzen_, it gave occasion to some Latin writers in Germany,
to complain, that the Quakers scornfully called their temples _Domus
acuminatas_.[2] And though Croese says also in _Historia Quakeriana_
concerning them, _Templa cuncti Quakeri contumeliosè vocabant æedes
pyramidatas_,[3] yet he knew better. But this digression has led me
off from G. Fox, whom I left at Ulverstone, where he went to the
steeple-house whilst priest Lampitt was preaching. And when G. Fox
began to speak, John Sawrey the justice came to him, and said, if
he would speak according to the scriptures, he should speak. G. Fox
told him he should speak according to the Scriptures, and bring the
Scriptures to prove what he had to say. But then Sawrey, contradicting
himself, said he should not speak; and incensing the people against
him, they fell upon G. Fox, knocked him down, kicked him, and trampled
upon him. At last Sawrey came, took him from the people, and led him
out of the steeple-house, bidding the constables to whip him. Then
he was dragged out of the town and given up to the rage of the rude
multitude, who did so terribly beat him with switches and staves, that
at length fainting, he fell down upon the wet common; but recovering
again, and being strengthened by an immediate power, he stood up, and
stretching out his arms, said with a loud voice, ‘Strike again, here
are my arms, my head, and my cheeks.’ Then a mason gave him such a
heavy blow over the back of his hand with his rule, that it was much
bruised, and his arm so benumbed, that he could not draw it to him
again, so that some of the people cried out, ‘He has spoiled his hand
for ever.’ But he being preserved through the love of God, stood still,
and after a while felt such an extraordinary strengthening power, that
he instantly recovered strength in his hand and arm.
[2] Steeple-house.
[3] All the Quakers contemptuously called churches,
steeple-houses.
This made the people fall out among themselves; and some said, if he
would give them money, they would secure him from the rest. But he,
instead of doing so, showed them their false Christianity, and told
them, they were more like Jews and heathens, than true Christians;
and that their fruits were an evidence of the unprofitable ministry
of their priests. Then he felt himself moved to return to Ulverstone,
and went into the market there: and as he went, a soldier meeting him,
said, ‘Sir, I see you are a man, and I am ashamed and grieved that you
should be thus abused.’ But G. Fox told him, the Lord’s power was over
all. And this he experienced, when he walked through the people in the
market; for none of them had power to touch him then, though some of
his friends were abused. And he seeing the soldier among them, with his
naked rapier, bade him put up his sword again, if he would go along
with him; for he was willing to draw him out of the company, lest some
mischief should be done: and yet a few days after seven men fell upon
this soldier, and beat him cruelly, because he had taken part with G.
Fox and his friends.
G. Fox having performed his service at Ulverstone, came again to
Swarthmore, where he found several of his friends dressing their wounds
and bruises received by the hearers of priest Lampitt. And now the
priests began to prophesy again, that within half a year, the Quakers
should all be put down and gone. But they reckoned wrong; for it fared
with those people as with trees, which grow best when most lopped.
_Duris ut ilex tonsa pipennibus, per damna, per cædes, ab ipso, ducit
opes animumque ferro._[4]
[4] IMITATED.
As by the lopping axe, the sturdy oak
Improves her shade, and thrives beneath the stroke;
Tho’ present loss and wounds severe she feel,
She draws fresh vigour from th’ invading steel.
G. Fox keeping in continual motion, went with James Nayler to Walney
Island, having first had a meeting at a little town called Cockan,
after which a man came to him with a pistol, and held it at him, but
it would not go off. G. Fox then zealously speaking to him, he was so
struck, that he trembled with fear, and went away. The next morning G.
Fox went over in a boat to James Lancaster’s, and as soon as he came to
land, about forty men with staves, clubs, and fishing-poles, fell upon
him, beating and punching him, and endeavoured to thrust him backward
into the sea: but he pressing on, was knocked down and stunned. When
he came to himself again, he saw James Lancaster’s wife, throwing
stones at his face, and her husband James was lying over him, to keep
the blows and the stones from off him; for the people had persuaded
this woman, that G. Fox had bewitched her husband, and promised her to
kill him when he came thither. But the Lord, by his invisible power,
preserved him wonderfully, so that they could not take away his life.
At length he got up, but was soon beat down again into the boat; which
James Lancaster observing, came to him, and set him over the water.
Being come to the other side, they saw how the wicked crew was fallen
upon James Nayler, with an horrible cry, ‘Kill him; Kill him.’ For
whilst they had been beating G. Fox, they had not minded Nayler, who
was walking up into a field.
G. Fox being now come again to Cockan, met with no better
entertainment, for the people came on with pitchforks, flails, and
staves, to keep him out of the town, crying, ‘Kill him; Knock him on
the head.’ But he was preserved alive; and after having been much
abused, they drove him a pretty way out of the town, and left him. Then
James Lancaster went back to look after James Nayler. In the meanwhile
G. Fox went to a ditch of water, and washed himself from the blood
and dirt. After which he walked about three miles to the house of one
Thomas Hutton, but was so bruised that he could hardly speak; only he
told where he left James Nayler. Whereupon the said Hutton, and Thomas
Lawson, the priest mentioned before, (who lodged then at Hutton’s
house,) took each of them a horse, to see if they could find James
Nayler; and they lighting on him, brought him thither that night.
Margaret Fell the next day hearing what was befallen G. Fox, sent an
horse for him; but he was so sore bruised, that he was not able to
bear the shaking of the horse, without much pain. When he was come
to Swarthmore, the justices Sawrey and Thompson gave forth a warrant
against him; but judge Fell coming home, made it ineffectual, and
sent out warrants into the Isle of Walney, to apprehend all those
riotous persons: whereupon some of them fled the country. But what is
remarkable, James Lancaster’s wife, who so wickedly behaved herself,
repented so of her evil, that she became afterwards one of G. Fox’s
friends.
Judge Fell now desired of G. Fox a relation of what had befallen him:
but he was backward, and said, that those people could not do otherwise
in the spirit they were; and that they manifested the fruits of their
priests’ ministry. Which made the judge afterward say to his wife, ‘G.
Fox spoke of the things as a man that had not been concerned.’
The occasion upon which a warrant was issued out against him, was a
design the priests had laid to touch his life; in order to which a
report was spread, that in a certain meeting he had spoken blasphemy;
and they, to maintain this forgery, had suborned false witnesses. The
time of the sessions at Lancaster being come, G. Fox went thither with
judge Fell, who on the way told him, that such a matter had never been
brought before him, and that he did not know what to do in the case.
But G. Fox said, ‘When Paul was brought before the rulers, and the Jews
and priests accused him of many false things, he stood still all that
while, till they had done; and when they had done, Felix, the governor,
beckoned to him to speak for himself. And so, said G. Fox, thou mayest
do by me.’
Being come to Lancaster, at the sessions, there appeared about forty
priests against him; and these had chosen one Marshal, priest of
Lancaster, to be their speaker; and the witnesses they had provided,
were a young priest, and two priests’ sons. When the justices were set,
and had heard all the charges of the priests and witnesses; which were,
that G. Fox had said, that God taught deceit, and that the Scripture
contained but a parcel of lies; the witnesses were examined upon oath;
but they were so confounded, and at such a loss, that one of them, not
being able to answer directly to what was asked him, said, the other
could say it; which made the justices say, ‘Have you sworn it, and do
you now say, the other can say it? It seems you did not hear those
words spoken yourself, though you have given it in upon your oath.’
There were several persons in the court, who declared that they had
heard one of the two priests’ sons say, if he had power he would make
George deny his profession; and that he would take away his life. The
young priest, who also was a witness, confessed, that he should not
have meddled with the thing, had not another priest sent for him, and
set him on work. After all the accusations had been heard, several men
of reputation in the country affirmed in court, that no such words,
as had been sworn against G. Fox, were spoken by him at the meeting;
for most of the serious men on that side of the county, that were
then at the sessions, had been at that meeting, wherein the witnesses
swore he spake the aforesaid blasphemous words. Colonel West, being
a justice of the peace, and then upon the bench, was so well pleased
with these evidences, that he, (having long been weak in body,) said he
blessed the Lord that had healed him that day; adding, that he never
saw so many sober people, and good faces together in all his life.
And then turning himself to G. Fox, said, ‘George, if thou hast any
thing to say to the people, thou mayest freely declare it.’ Then he
began to speak; but priest Marshal, the orator for the other priests,
went away presently. Now that which G. Fox declared, was, that ‘the
holy Scriptures were given forth by the Spirit of God; and that all
people must first come to the Spirit of God in themselves, by which
they might know God and Christ, of whom the prophets and apostles
learnt, and also know the holy Scriptures. For as the Spirit of God
was in them that gave forth the Scripture; so the same Spirit of God
must also be in those that come to know and understand the Scriptures:
by which Spirit they might have fellowship with the Father, and with
the Son, and with one another: and that without that Spirit, they
could know neither God nor Christ, nor the Scriptures, nor have right
fellowship with one another.’ No sooner had he spoken these words,
but about half a dozen priests burst out into a passion, and one of
them, whose name was Jackus, said that the Spirit and the letter were
inseparable: which made G. Fox answer, ‘Then every one that hath the
letter, hath the Spirit; and they might buy the Spirit with the letter
of the Scripture.’ To which judge Fell, and colonel West added, that
according to that position, they might carry the Spirit in their
pockets, as they did the Scriptures. The justices also bid Jackus prove
what he had said. But he finding himself caught, would have denied
it; and the other priests endeavoured to disguise his words with a
pretended meaning. But the justices would admit no other meaning, than
the plain sense of the words. And seeing the witnesses did not agree,
and perceiving that they were set on by the envy of the priests, they
discharged him, and after judge Fell had spoken to the justices Sawrey
and Thompson, concerning the warrant they had given forth against G.
Fox, showing that this tended to encourage such riots as those in the
Isle of Walney, he and colonel West granted a supersedeas, to stop the
execution of the said warrant.
G. Fox, being thus cleared in open sessions, many people rejoiced, and
were that day convinced of the Truth declared by him in the court; and
among these, one justice Benson, and the mayor of Lancaster, whose
name was Ripan; also one Thomas Briggs, who had been very averse to,
and an opposer of, the Quakers so called; and this same Briggs became
afterwards a faithful minister of the gospel amongst them, and remained
so to the end of his days.
G. Fox stayed yet some days at Lancaster. But to relate all that he and
his friends met with, is not my intention; for to set down at large all
such occurrences, would be a work requiring more leisure and strength
than can be expected from me. And therefore I intend only to describe
what I find most remarkable; though many notable things have happened,
of which I could not fully be informed in every circumstance, as name,
place, time, &c. But it is probable that this may give occasion in
England, to some other author after me, to make such discoveries, that
posterity will wonder at it. For such abuses as G. Fox met with, was
the share also of many others of his friends, especially the preachers,
who this year were no less than twenty-five in number; and almost in
every place where they came, they met with opposition, and became
as it were the prey of the rude multitude. But neither the beating,
buffeting, nor stoning of the mad rabble, nor the jails, nor whippings
that befel them from the magistrates, were able to stop the progress of
the doctrine they preached to the people in markets, streets, and also
in steeple-houses. And many and even of those that had been enraged
like wolves, became afterwards like lambs; and suffered patiently from
others, what formerly they themselves, in a blind zeal, had committed.
Thus the Quakers so called, by a firm and lasting patience, have
surmounted the greatest difficulties, and are at length become a
numerous people, many not valuing their own lives, when they met with
any opportunity for the service of God. And though their enemies on
this account, have charged them with stubbornness and obstinacy, yet
they meekly resigned to what befel them, well knowing that thus to
be accused hath been always the lot of those who suffered for the
testimony of truth. Neither could they be charged with resistance or
making head against their persecutors; for one man did sometimes lead
a great many of them to prison, who never forsook their religious
assemblies, how hot soever persecution was. That this was also the
practice of the primitive Christians, appears by what Cyprian, who died
a martyr, wrote to Demetrian, viz. _Nemo nostrum, quando apprehenditur,
reluctatur; nec se adversus injustam violentiam vestram, quamvis nimius
et copiosus sit noster populus, ulciscitur._[5] But let not my reader
think, that these I have described have been the greatest sufferings
of this harmless people; for I believe them to have been an hundred
times more than my pen will be able to mention. Now I take up again the
thread of my relation.
[5] No one of us makes resistance when he is taken up; nor takes
any revenge on your unrighteous violence, although our numbers
are greater than yours.
G. Fox being acquitted by the court, as hath been said, it made the
priests fret to hear it cried about, that the priests had lost the day,
and that the Quakers had kept the field. To revenge this, they got some
envious justices to join with them, who at the following assizes at
Lancaster, informed judge Windham against G. Fox; which so prevailed
upon him, that he commanded colonel West, who was clerk of the assizes,
to issue forth a warrant for apprehending him, but the said colonel
telling the judge of his innocency, spoke boldly in his defence. The
judge offended at this, commanded him again, either to write a warrant,
or to go off from his seat. Then the colonel told him in plain terms,
that he would not do it, but that he would offer up all his estate, and
his body also for G. Fox. Thus the judge was stopped; and G. Fox coming
that night to Lancaster, heard of a warrant to be given out against
him, and therefore judged it better to show himself openly, than to
make his adversaries seek him. So he went to the chambers of judge
Fell and colonel West; and as soon as he came in, they smiled, and the
colonel said, ‘What! are you come into the dragon’s mouth?’ But G. Fox
was always undaunted, and did not use to flinch in danger. So he stayed
some days in town, and walked up and down there, without being meddled
with, or questioned by any.
Yet his Friends in the meanwhile did not suffer the less; for all
the villany or insolence that could be thought of, was not judged by
some to be too bad to vex them. It was about this time that Richard
Hubberthorn and several others were hauled out of a meeting by some
wicked men, and carried some distance off in the fields, where they
bound them, and left them so in the winter season.
G. Fox being now come again to Swarthmore, wrote several letters to the
magistrates and priests who had raised persecutions thereabouts. That
to justice John Sawrey, was very sharp, and after this manner:
‘Friend,
‘Thou wast the first beginner of all the persecution in the
North. Thou wast the first stirrer of them up against the
righteous seed, and against the truth of God; and wast the first
strengthener of the hands of evil-doers against the innocent and
harmless: and thou shalt not prosper. Thou wast the first stirrer
up of strikers, stoners, persecutors, stockers, mockers, and
imprisoners in the North; and of revilers, slanderers, railers,
and false accusers, and scandal-raisers. This was thy work, and
this thou stirredst up! So thy fruits declare thy spirit. Instead
of stirring up the pure mind in the people, thou hast stirred
up the wicked, malicious and envious; and taken hand with the
wicked. Thou hast made the people’s minds envious, up and down
the country: this was thy work. But God hath shortened thy days,
and limited thee, and set thy bounds, and broken thy jaws, and
discovered thy religion to the simple and babes, and brought
thy deeds to light. How is thy habitation fallen, and become
the habitation of devils! How is thy beauty lost, and thy glory
withered! How hast thou showed thy end, and thou hast served God
but with thy lips, and thy heart far from him, and thou in thy
hypocrisy! How hath the form of thy teaching declared itself to
be the mark of the false prophets, whose fruit declares itself!
for by their fruits they are known. How are the wise men turned
backward! View thy ways, and take notice, with whom thou hast
taken part. That of God in thy conscience will tell thee. The
ancient of days will reprove thee. How hath thy zeal appeared to
be the blind zeal; a persecutor, which Christ and his apostles
forbad Christians to follow! How hast thou strengthened the hands
of evil-doers, and been a praise to them, and not to them that
do dwell! How like a mad man, and a blind man, didst thou turn
thy sword backward against the saints, against whom there is no
law! How wilt thou be gnawed and burned one day, when thou shalt
feel the flame and have the plagues of God poured upon thee, and
thou begin to gnaw thy tongue for pain, because of the plagues!
Thou shalt have thy reward according to thy works. Thou canst not
escape; the Lord’s righteous judgment will find thee out, and the
witness of God in thy conscience shall answer it. How hast thou
caused the heathen to blaspheme, and gone on with the multitude
to do evil, and joined hand in hand with the wicked! How is thy
latter end worse than thy beginning, who art come with the dog to
bite, and art turned as a wolf to devour the lambs! How hast thou
discovered thyself to be a man more fit to be kept in a place to
be nurtured, than to be set in a place to nurture! How wast thou
exalted and puffed up with pride! And how art thou fallen down
with shame, that thou comest to be covered with that which thou
stirredst up, and broughtest forth. Let not John Sawrey take the
words of God into his mouth, till he be reformed. Let him not
take his name into his mouth, till he depart from iniquity. Let
not him and his teacher make a profession of the saints’ words,
except they intend to proclaim themselves hypocrites, whose lives
are so contrary to the lives of the saints; whose church hath
made itself manifest to be a cage of unclean birds. You having
a form of godliness, but not the power, have made them that be
in the power, your derision, your by-word, and your talk at your
feasts. Thy ill savour, John Sawrey, the country about have
smelled, and of thy unchristian carriage all that fear God have
been ashamed; and to them thou hast been a grief. In the day of
account thou shalt know it, even in the day of thy condemnation.
Thou wast mounted up, and hadst set thy nest on high; but never
gottest higher than the fowls of the air. But now thou art run
amongst the beasts of prey, and art fallen into the earth; so
that earthliness and covetousness have swallowed thee up; and thy
conceitedness would not carry thee through, in whom was found the
selfish principle, which hath blinded thy eye. Thy back must be
bowed down always; for thy table is already become thy snare.
G. F.’
Sharp indeed was this letter; but G. Fox thought himself moved thereto
by the Lord: and it is remarkable that this justice Sawrey, who was the
first persecutor in those parts, afterwards was drowned, and so died
not a natural death. To the priest William Lampitt he writ also, and
another letter to others, to reprove them for their wickedness.
Some time after he went to Westmoreland, where mischief was intended
against him, but prevented by justice Benson, and some considerable men
besides. Coming to Grayrigg, he had a meeting there; where a priest
came to oppose, but was confounded; and there being many people, some
of the milk-pails that stood upon the side of the house, tumbled down
by reason of the crowd; from which the priest afterwards raised a
slander, that the devil frighted him, and took away one side of the
house. And though this was a known falsehood, yet it was given out as
true in public print.
Another time this priest came to another meeting, and fell to jangling;
saying first, that the Scriptures were the word of God. To which G.
Fox said, that they were the words of God, but not Christ, who is the
Word. And when he urged the priests for proof of what he had said, the
priest, being at a loss, was not long before he went away. Some time
after coming again into a meeting, and hearing that G. Fox directed the
people to Christ Jesus, the priest taking out his bible, said, it was
the word of God. Then G. Fox told him, it was the words of God; but not
God, the Word. The priest however persisted in what he had said; and
offered to prove before all the people, the Scriptures to be the word
of God. But this quarrel tending to vain logomachies, or contest about
words, ended in confusion; and many of the priest’s followers came to
see the vanity of his assertions.
1653.
The year being now come to an end, and a war kindled between England
and Holland, King Charles II. then in exile, asked the Dutch to be
received in their navy as a volunteer, without any command: but this
was courteously refused by the States-General. Oliver Cromwell, in
the meanwhile, strove for the supreme authority in England, the more
because he perceived how some of the parliament, jealous of his
increasing greatness, endeavoured to cross him in his design. This made
him labour to get the parliament dissolved: but they not going on so
quickly as he would have them, to put a period to their sitting, he
resolved arbitrarily to make an end of them. And entering the house in
the month called April, 1653, after having rudely inveighed against
them, that they had made a bad use of their authority, and that without
their dissolution the realm would not be safe, &c. he at length cried
out, ‘You are no parliament:’ and then ordering some musqueteers to
enter, he made the members depart the house, and ordered the doors to
be shut; thus putting an end to this assembly, that had been sitting
nigh thirteen years.
But what is remarkable, G. Fox not long before being come to
Swarthmore, and hearing judge Fell and justice Benson discoursing
together concerning the parliament, he told them, ‘That before that day
two weeks the parliament should be broken up, and the speaker plucked
out of his chair.’ And thus it really happened: for at the breaking
up of the parliament the speaker being unwilling to come out of his
chair, said that he would not come down unless he were forced: which
made general Harrison say to him, Sir, I will lend you my hand; and
thereupon taking him by the hand, the speaker came down. This agreed
with what G. Fox had predicted. And a fortnight after justice Benson
told judge Fell, that now he saw George was a true prophet; since
Oliver had by that time dissolved the parliament.
Now in Cumberland great threatenings were spread, that if ever G. Fox
came there again, they would take away his life. He hearing this, went
thither; but nobody did him any harm. Returning then to Swarthmore,
where justice Anthony Pearson was at that time; he so effectually
declared truth, that this justice was convinced, and not long after
entered into the society of the despised Quakers.
G. Fox then, going again into Cumberland, went to Bootle, and there
found preaching in the steeple-house, a priest from London, who
gathered up all the Scriptures he could think of, that speak of false
prophets, antichrists, and deceivers, and made application of them to
the Quakers. But when he had done, George began to speak, and returned
all those Scripture places on the priest; who being displeased at
this, said that he must not speak there. But G. Fox told him that the
hour-glass being run, and he having done, the time was free for him,
as well as for the priest, who was himself but a stranger there. He
having said this, went on, and showed who were the false prophets, and
what marks the Scriptures gave them; directing people to Christ their
teacher. When he had done, the priest of the place made a speech to
the people in the steeple-house yard, and said, ‘This man hath gotten
all the honest men and women in Lancashire to him; and now he comes
here to do the same.’ To which G. Fox returned, ‘What wilt thou have
left? and what have the priests left them, but such as themselves? for
if it be the honest that receive the Truth and are turned to Christ,
then it must be the dishonest that follow thee, and such as thou art.’
Some words were also exchanged about tithes; and G. Fox told them,
that Christ had ended the tithing priesthood, and had sent forth his
ministers to give freely, as they had received freely.
From thence he went to Cockermouth, near which place he had appointed a
meeting; and coming thither he found James Lancaster speaking under a
tree, which was so full of people, that it was in danger of breaking.
G. Fox now looked about for a place to stand upon, for the people lay
spread up and down. But at length a person came to him, and asked if
he would not go into church. He seeing no place more convenient to
speak to the people, told him, yes. Whereupon the people rushed in on a
sudden, so that the house was so full of people, he had much ado to get
in. When they were settled he stood up on a seat, and preached about
three hours; and several hundreds were that day convinced of the truth
of this doctrine.
From thence he went to other places, and particularly to Brigham, where
he preached in the steeple-house with no less success. Afterwards
coming into a certain place, and casting his eye upon a woman unknown
to him, he told her that she had lived a lewd life; to which she
answered, that many could tell her of her outward sins, but of her
inward, none could. Then he told her, her heart was not right before
the Lord: and she was so reached, that afterwards she came to be
convinced of God’s truth.
Then he came near Coldbeck, to a market town, where he had a meeting at
the cross, and some received the truth preached by him.
From thence he went to Carlisle, where the teacher of the Baptists,
with most of his hearers, came to the abbey, in which G. Fox had a
meeting. After the meeting the Baptist teacher, who was a notionist,
and an airy man, came to him, and asked what must be damned? and he
told him, that which spake in him was to be damned. And this stopt his
mouth. Then he opened to him the states of election and reprobation, so
that he said, he never heard the like in his life, and came afterwards
also to be convinced of the Truth. Then he went up to the castle among
the soldiers, who by beating of the drum called the garrison together.
Among these he preached; directing them to the measure of the Spirit of
Christ in themselves, by which they might be turned from darkness to
light, and from the power of Satan to God: he warned them also to do no
violence to any man, &c. G. Fox having thus discharged himself, none
opposed him, except the serjeants, who afterwards came to be convinced.
On the market-day he went into the market, though he had been
threatened that if he came there, he would meet with rude treatment.
But he willing to obey God more than man, showed himself undaunted, and
going upon the cross, he declared that the day of the Lord was coming
upon all deceitful ways and doings, and deceitful merchandise; and that
they should put away all cozening and cheating, and keep to yea, and
nay, and speak the truth to one another.
On the First-day following, he went into the steeple-house, and after
the priest had done he began to preach. Now the priest going away, and
the magistrate desiring G. Fox to depart, he still went on, and told
them he came to speak the word of life and salvation from the Lord
amongst them. And he spoke so powerfully that the people trembled and
shook, and they thought the steeple-house shook also: nay, some of them
feared it would have fallen down on their heads. Some women in the
meanwhile making a great bustle, at length the rude people of the city
rose, and came with staves and stones into the steeple-house: whereupon
the governor sent some musqueteers to appease the tumult; and these
taking G. Fox by the hand in a friendly manner, led him out. Then he
came to the house of a lieutenant, where he had a very quiet meeting.
The next day the justices and magistrates sent for him to come before
them in the town-hall. So he went thither, and had a long discourse
with them concerning religion, and showed them that though they were
great professors, (viz. Presbyterians and Independents,) yet they
were without the possession of what they professed. But after a long
examination they committed him to prison as a blasphemer, an heretic,
and a seducer. There he lay till the assizes came on, and then all
the talk was, that he was to be hanged: and the high sheriff Wilfrey
Lawson, was so eager to have his life taken away, that he said, he
himself would guard G. Fox to execution. This made such a noise that
even great ladies came to see him, as one that was to die. But though
both judge and magistrates were contriving how they might put him to
death, yet the judge’s clerk started a question, which puzzled them and
confounded their counsels, so that he was not brought to a trial as was
expected; which however was contrary to law. But such was their envy
against him, that the jailer was ordered to put him amongst thieves and
murderers, and some naughty women; which wicked crew were so lousy,
that one woman was almost eaten to death with lice: but what made the
prison the worse, there was no house of office to it, and in this
nasty place men and women were put together against all decency. Yet
these prisoners, how naught soever, were very loving to G. Fox, and so
hearkened to his wholesome counsel, that some of them became converts.
But the under jailer did him all the mischief he could. Once when he
had been at the grate, to take in the meat his friends brought him,
the jailer fell a beating of him with a great cudgel, crying, ‘Come
out of the window,’ though he was then far enough from it. But whilst
the jailer was thus beating him, he was so filled with joy, that he
began to sing, which made the other rage the more, so that he went and
fetched a fiddler, thinking thereby to vex him. But when this fellow
played, he sang a hymn so loud, that with his voice he drowned the
sound of the fiddle, and thereby so confounded the player, that he was
fain to give over and go his ways.
Not long after, Justice Benson’s wife felt herself moved to eat no meat
but what she should eat with G. Fox, at the bars of the dungeon-window.
Afterwards she herself was imprisoned at York, when she was big with
child, for having spoken, it is like, zealously to a priest. And when
the time of her travail came, she was not suffered to go out, but was
delivered of her child in the prison.
Whilst G. Fox was in the dungeon at Carlisle, there came to see him one
James Parnel, a little lad of about sixteen years of age; and he was so
effectually reached by the speaking of G. Fox, that he became convinced
of the truth of his sayings; and notwithstanding his youth, was by the
Lord quickly made a powerful minister of the gospel, showing himself
both with his pen, and his tongue, a zealous promoter of religion,
although he underwent hard sufferings on that account, as will be
mentioned hereafter.
There were also many others, who not sticking at any adversities,
came to be zealous preachers of repentance; among these was Thomas
Briggs already mentioned, who went through many cities, towns, and
villages, with this message: ‘Repent, repent, for the mighty terrible
day of the Lord God of power is appearing, wherein no worker of
iniquity shall stand before him, who is of purer eyes than to behold
iniquity, for he wills not the death of a sinner; and if ye repent,
and turn to him, he will abundantly pardon.’ Sometimes he went into
markets and steeple-houses, and was often cruelly abused. Once being
in a steeple-house at Warrington in Lancashire, and speaking a few
words after the priest had done, he was very violently knocked on his
head: after which, a man taking hold of his hair, smote him against a
stone, and pulled off an handful of it, which Thomas taking up from
the ground, mildly said, ‘Not one hair of my head shall fall without
my Father’s permission.’ At another time he speaking to a priest in
Cheshire, as he was going in his journey, the priest was much offended
at him; and one of his hearers, as it were in revenge of this pretended
affront, struck him on the head, and knocked him down; but Thomas
getting up again, and turning his face to the smiter, he smote him on
his teeth, so that the blood gushed out exceedingly; which some of the
standers by could not but cry out against. But not long after, the man
that struck him thus, fell sick, and died, crying upon his death-bed,
‘Oh that I had not smitten the Quaker!’ This Thomas once going through
Salisbury, and calling the inhabitants to repentance, was apprehended,
and brought before several justices, who proffered him the oath, under
pretence of his being a Jesuit: but he saying, he could not swear,
because Christ had commanded, not to swear at all, was sent to prison,
where he was kept a month. He also went up and down the streets of
Yarmouth, proclaiming the terrible day of the Lord, that all might
repent, and fear Him, that made heaven and earth, and the sea. And
being followed by a great multitude of rude people, and turning about,
he spoke so powerfully to them, and with such piercing words, that they
ran away for fear. At length an officer came and took hold of him, but
leading him gently, he had opportunity to continue preaching to the
people, and to clear himself. Being brought before the magistrates,
they ordered him to be led out of the town; which being done, Thomas
came in again by another way, and having performed his service there to
his satisfaction, he departed the town.
When he came to Lynn, and warned people to repent, a great mastiff dog
was set upon him, but the dog coming near him, fawned upon him. Thus he
went through many places, passing sometimes five or six towns in one
day; and though swords were drawn against him, or axes taken up to hew
him down, yet he went on, and spoke so awfully, that even some, who
did not see his face, were so reached by the power that accompanied
him, that they became converts. Coming to Clanzous in Wales, and many
hearing him attentively, the constable stirred up the rude people, and
cried, ‘Kill him; Kill him;’ as if he had been a mad dog; and they
threw such great stones upon him, that he admired they did not kill
him; but he was preserved by such a mighty power, that according to
his relation, they were to him as a nut, or a bean. Many other rude
encounters he met with, but was preserved wonderfully in the greatest
dangers; which strengthened him not a little in the belief, that God,
who so miraculously saved him, did require this service from him. He
was also in America, and died in a good old age, after having laboured
above thirty years in the service of the gospel.
Miles Halhead was also one of the first zealous preachers among the
Quakers so called. He was the first of those of his persuasion, that
was imprisoned at Kendal. Once he went to Swarthmore to visit his
friends, and to assist at their meeting; by the way he met the wife
of the justice Thomas Preston, and because he passed by her quietly,
without the ordinary way of greeting, she grew so offended, that she
commanded her man to go back and beat him; which he did. At which Miles
being kindled with zeal, said to her, ‘O thou Jezebel! Thou proud
Jezebel! Canst thou not permit and suffer the servant of the Lord, to
pass by thee quietly?’ She then held forth her hands, as if she would
have struck him, and spit in his face, saying, ‘I scorn to fall down
at thy words.’ This made Miles say again, ‘Thou proud Jezebel, thou
that hardenest thy heart, and brazenest thy face against the Lord and
his servant, the Lord will plead with thee in his own time, and set
in order before thee, the things that thou hast done this day to his
servant.’ And so he parted with her, and went to Swarthmore. About
three months after this, he felt himself moved to go and speak to her;
and when he came to Houlker Hall, he asked for Thomas Preston’s wife:
she then coming to the door, and Miles not knowing her, asked her, if
she was the woman of the house; to which she said, ‘No: but if you
would speak with Mrs. Preston, I will intreat her to come to you.’
Then she went in, and coming back with another woman, said, ‘Here is
mistress Preston:’ but then it was manifested to him, that she herself
was the woman. It is true, as hath been said, some time before he had
seen her on the way, and spoken to her; but it may be, she was then in
so different a dress, that by reason thereof he did not know her; yet
firmly believing that it was she, he said, ‘Woman, how darest thou lie
before the Lord and his servant? Thou art the woman I came to speak
to.’ And she being silent, not speaking a word, he proceeded, ‘Woman,
hear what the Lord’s servant hath to say unto thee: O woman, harden
not thy heart against the Lord; for if thou dost, he will cut thee off
in his sore displeasure; therefore take warning in time, and fear the
Lord God of heaven and earth, that thou mayest end thy days in peace.’
Having said this, he went away, she, how proud soever, not doing him
any harm, being withheld, without knowing by what. But, notwithstanding
that, she continued the same: for several years after, when G. Fox was
prisoner at Lancaster, she came to him, and belched out many railing
words, saying amongst the rest, that his tongue should be cut off, and
he be hanged. But some time after, the Lord cut her off, and she died,
as it was reported, in a miserable condition.
But before I leave this woman, I must also say, that about three years
after she had made her man beat Miles, it happened that as he was
riding from Swarthmore, near to Houlker Hall, he met with a person who
said to him, ‘Friend, I have something to say unto you, which hath lain
upon me this long time. I am the man that, about three years ago, at
the command of my mistress, did beat you very sore; for which I have
been very much troubled, more than for any thing that I ever did in all
my life: for truly, night and day it hath been often in my heart, that
I did not well in beating an innocent man, that never did me any hurt
or harm. I pray you forgive me, and desire the Lord to forgive me, that
I may be at peace and quiet in my mind,’ To this Miles answered, ‘Truly
friend, from that time to this day, I never had any thing in my heart
against thee, nor thy mistress, but love. The Lord forgive you both;
I desire that it never may be laid to your charge; for ye knew not
what ye did,’ Here Miles stopped, and so went his ways. Many a notable
occurrence he had in his life, and therefore he is to appear yet more
than once in the course of this history.
Travelling once in Yorkshire, he came to Skipton, where declaring the
word of truth, he was so sorely abused and beaten, that he was laid
for dead; nevertheless, by the Lord’s power, he was healed of all his
bruises, and within three hours he was healthy and sound again, to the
astonishment of those that had so abused him, and to the convincing of
many that beheld him.
Then he went to Bradford, Leeds, and Halifax, where he also declared
the doctrine of truth amongst the people; but not without meeting with
great persecution.
From thence he came to Doncaster, and there went on a First-day of the
week to a steeple-house, where, after the worship was done, he spoke to
the priest and people: but they, instead of hearkening to what he said,
fell upon him in a great rage, and drove him out of the town; and he
being sorely bruised, they left him for dead. But before his going from
home, he had been firmly persuaded, that the Lord would preserve him in
all dangers: and it happened so to him according to his belief; for he
got up again, and went to a friend’s house, where he laid himself down
upon a bed. But not long after, he felt a very strong motion to go to
a certain chapel, and there to declare the word of the Lord: forthwith
he felt also an inward assurance, that if he gave up to do so, the Lord
would heal him from his bruises. Then he rose, as well as he could, and
came down stairs with great difficulty, by taking hold of the walls
for a stay, and going out, he began to mend by degrees; and coming
at length into the chapel, he spake as he was moved; and when he had
cleared himself, he went back to the house from whence he came, and the
Lord made him sound of all his bruises.
From thence he went to York, and there spoke to the lord mayor, and
other rulers of that city: and passing through Yorkshire, he went
into several steeple-houses, to exhort the people; and though he met
with great hardships, yet he was supported by an invisible hand. So
being clear of that country, he returned to his house at Mountjoy, in
Underbarrow, in the county of Westmoreland. But his going thus often
from home, was an exceeding great cross to his wife, who in the first
year of his change, not being of his persuasion, was very much troubled
in her mind, and would often say from discontent, ‘Would to God I had
married a drunkard, then I might have found him at the alehouse; but
now I cannot tell where to find my husband.’ But after the space of a
year, it pleased the Lord to visit her. She had a little son of about
five years of age, which child she loved extraordinarily, insomuch that
she thought it was her only delight and comfort; but it happened that
this darling died, and some time after she spoke thus to her husband:
‘Truly, husband, I have something to tell thee: one night being in bed,
mourning and lamenting with tears in my eyes, I heard a voice, saying,
‘Why art thou so discontented concerning thy husband? I have called
and chosen him to my work; my right hand shall uphold him. Therefore
be thou content and pleased, that he serve me, and I will bless thee,
and thy children for his sake; and all things shall prosper that thou
shalt take in hand. But if thou wilt not be content, but grudge and
murmur, and repine against me, and my servant, whom I have chosen to
do my work, I will bring a greater cross upon thee.’ These words being
fresh in my mind both night and day, I often said within myself, What
cross can this be, that would be greater than the want of my husband?
But for all this, I could not be content: all the joy I had, or could
find, was in our little boy, who would often, when he saw me weeping
and mourning, take me about my neck, and say, My dear mother, pray be
content, for my father will come home in a little time. This child
would often comfort me in this manner; but for all that I could not be
content. Not long after, it pleased the Lord to take from me this my
only son, my chiefest joy. Then the voice which I had heard came into
my mind, and I perceiving that this was the cross which the Lord would
bring upon me, smote upon my breast, and said within myself, that I
was the very cause why the Lord had taken away my little son. A great
fear then seizing upon me, I said, O Lord, my God! give me power to be
content to give up my husband freely to do thy will, lest, O Lord, thou
take away from me all my children. From that time I never durst oppose
thee, my husband, any more in the work of the Lord, for fear that his
judgments might also fall upon me and my children.’ This served not a
little to strengthen and encourage Miles.
Some time after, walking in his garden, he felt a motion to go to
Stanley chapel in Lancashire. Now though he might expect to meet with
rude entertainment there, yet he consulted not with flesh and blood,
but went to the aforesaid chapel. Being come, he was not suffered to
enter, but the door was violently turned against him. Then he walked
in the yard till the worship was done, and the people that came out,
(one may guess how edified,) fell upon him with great rage, and one
captain William Rawlinson, took hold of his arms and shoulders, and
calling another man to take him by the feet and legs, they threw him
over the wall; by which fall he was exceedingly bruised, so that he
had much to do to get home. By the way it was inwardly said to him,
that he must be content with what was befallen him that day, and that
if he was faithful in what the Lord required of him then, he would heal
him again. Being come home, he waited upon the Lord to know his will.
In this resignedness, within six days, he was moved to go to Windermere
steeple-house, and it was, as it were said unto him, Fear not the
face of any man, but speak the word of the Lord freely; and then thou
shalt be made sound again of all thy bruises. So he went to the said
steeple-house, and having spoken the word of the Lord to the priest and
people, without receiving any harm, he was healed that day of his sore
bruises.
Some time after by another motion, he came to Furness in Lancashire,
to the house of captain Adam Sands, where he found a great number of
professors gathered, and priest Lampitt preaching. But as soon as Miles
entered, Lampitt was silent, and which continuing a pretty while,
captain Sands said to him, ‘Sir, what is the matter: are you not well?’
to which the priest answered, ‘I am well, but I shall speak no more
as long as this dumb devil is in the house.’ ‘A dumb devil,’ said the
captain, ‘where is he?’ ‘This is he,’ said the priest, pointing with
his hand, ‘that standeth there.’ Then the captain said, ‘This man is
quiet and saith nothing to you: I pray you, sir, go on in the name of
the Lord; and if he trouble or molest you in my house, I will send him
to Lancaster castle.’ But the priest said again, ‘I shall not preach
as long as this dumb devil is in the house.’ Then the captain said to
one Camelford, a priest also, ‘I pray you, sir, stand up and exercise
your gift, and I will see that you be not disturbed.’ But the priest
answered as the other, ‘I shall not speak as long as this dumb devil
is in the house.’ Then the people cried, ‘Lord rebuke thee Satan;
Lord rebuke thee Satan: what manner of Spirit is this that stops our
ministers’ mouths?’ Then the captain came to Miles, and taking him by
the hand, led him out of the house. In all that time he had not spoke a
word, and saw now the accomplishment of what he had been persuaded of
before, viz. that an invisible power would confound by him the wisdom
of the priests when he spoke never a word. The said Camelford was one
who, a good while before had stirred up the rabble against G. Fox; and
the other was that Lampitt, who has been mentioned already, and who had
been so esteemed by Margaret Fell, before she came to be acquainted
with G. Fox.
Some time after this occurrence, Miles went to Newcastle, and there
said to the mayor, rulers, and priests of that town, that God’s anger
was kindled against them, because they had shut the kingdom of heaven
against men, and would not enter themselves, nor suffer them that
would. Because of this he was imprisoned: but the mayor being much
troubled, sent for the sheriff, for these two had committed Miles; when
come, he said to him, ‘We have not done well in committing an innocent
man to prison: pray let us release him.’ The sheriff consenting, Miles
was set at liberty. Then he declared the word of the Lord in those
parts, and many were convinced of the truth held forth by him. But now
I part with this Miles Halhead, who hereafter is to be mentioned again.
About this time, viz. in the summer, general Cromwell had called a new
parliament, consisting mostly, (as hath been said by some,) of members
of his own choice; for it was a certain number of persons out of each
county and city in England, Scotland, and Ireland, nominated by the
council of officers, and sent for to meet at Westminster. Into the
hands of these, Cromwell delivered the supreme authority of the nation,
by an instrument, or commission, signed by himself and the officers;
but the authority of this meeting lasted scarce half-a-year, as will be
said in the sequel.
To this parliament a report was made, that at Carlisle, a person was
imprisoned, who was to die for religion. This was G. Fox, whom we have
left thus long in the dungeon at Carlisle, and now are returning to him
again. The parliament then caused a letter to be sent down concerning
him to the sheriff, and other magistrates. And G. Fox knowing how
scandalously he had been belied, about speaking blasphemous words,
gave forth a paper, wherein he challenged all who found fault with
his doctrine, to appear in public; since he was ready to stand the
test of whatsoever he might have spoken. He also wrote a significant
letter to the justices at Carlisle, wherein he showed them plainly the
injustice of their dealings, and the horrid evil of persecution, as
having been always the work of the false church. Mention hath been made
already of the justices Benson and Anthony Pearson: these had desired,
more than once, leave to visit G. Fox in prison; but this having been
denied them, they wrote a letter to the magistrates, priests, and
people at Carlisle, wherein they emphatically described the wickedness
of persecution, and what would be the reward of persecutors; saying
also, that these were worse than the heathen that put Paul into prison;
because none of his friends or acquaintance were hindered by them from
coming to him. However, at length Pearson got an opportunity to come
with the governor into the dungeon, where G. Fox was kept, and they
found the place so bad, and of so noisome a smell, that the governor
cried shame of the magistrate, for suffering the jailer to treat G.
Fox after such a manner; and calling the jailers into the dungeon,
required them to find sureties for their good behaviour, and put the
under-jailer, who had been very cruel to G. Fox, into the dungeon with
him. In the meanwhile, those who had imprisoned G. Fox began to grow
afraid, the rather, it may be, because the parliament took notice of
these doings; and it was not long after that he was released; and then
coming to the house of one Thomas Bewly, near Coldbeck, in Cumberland,
there came a Baptist teacher to oppose him: but he found what G. Fox
spoke to be so efficacious, that he became convinced of the truth
thereof.
At that time there was also Robert Widders, who being moved to go to
Coldbeck steeple-house, the Baptist teacher went with him. Widders
coming into the steeple-house, there was one Hutton preaching, to whom
he spoke; but the rude people threw him down, and dragged him into the
yard, where they pushed and beat him till the blood gushed out of his
mouth, so that he lay for dead some time; but a certain woman coming to
him, held up his head, so that at length he recovered his breath. The
Baptist who went along with him, had his sword taken from him, and was
sorely beaten with it; yet this did not frighten or discourage him; and
he not only left off the wearing of a sword, but also freely gave up
the inheritance of an impropriation of tithes.
The same day that this preacher was thus attacked with his own
sword, being the first of the week, several of G. Fox’s friends, and
among them, William Dewsbury, went, one to this, and others to other
steeple-houses; and by such means, the number of the said friends
increased; though Dewsbury at that time was so violently beaten by the
people that he was almost killed; but the Lord’s power healed him.
But to return to Robert Widders: he being recovered from the rude
treatment he met with, as hath been said, felt himself so encouraged
anew, and strengthened in his undertakings, that he went, the same day
in the afternoon, seven miles to Ackton steeple-house, when he spoke
to priest Nichols, and calling him an enemy of Christ, told him, also,
that the hand of the Lord was against him. Then William Briscoe, a
justice of Crofton, commanded the constable to secure Robert; which he
did, and carried him to the priest’s house; where being examined by the
justice, the priest began to fawn upon him. Thereupon Robert told the
priest, that the spirit of persecution lodged in him. But the priest
said, ‘No, he was not such a man.’ Yet presently after he said to the
justice, that Robert had stolen the horse he came with: and, that he
could find in his heart to become his executioner with his own hands:
which made Robert say, ‘Did I not say unto thee, that the spirit of
persecution lodged in thee?’ Then the aforesaid justice writ a warrant
to send Robert to Carlisle jail; and after having given the warrant to
the constable he asked Robert, by what authority or power he came to
seduce and bewitch the people? Robert answered, ‘I came not to seduce
and bewitch people, but I came in that power which shall make thee, and
all the powers of the earth, bend and bow down before it, to wit, the
mighty power of God.’ Whilst Robert was speaking thus, the dread of
the Lord seized on the justice, and so struck him, that he called for
his warrant again, and took it out of the constable’s hand, suffering
Robert, about night, to go away.
He being thus freed, did not leave visiting the steeple-houses from
time to time, for which he was sometimes imprisoned, and at other
times saved remarkably. Once coming near Skipton in Yorkshire, at the
steeple-house, he spoke very sharply to the priest, Webster; since he
was one that had been partly convinced of the doctrine of the inward
light, but becoming disobedient thereunto, was turned back again. He
also spoke to the people, and to justice Coats, bidding them to mind
the word of God in the heart, which divided between the precious and
the vile. After having cleared himself, he went to a place where a few
of his friends were met together; but he had not been long there, when
there came some horsemen and foot, who took him away, and carried him
to the said justice; who examining him, said, he had broken the law,
by disturbing the minister and the people, and that he might send him
prisoner to York castle. Robert answered, ‘Send me to jail thither, if
thou darest; for I appeal to the witness of God in thy conscience.’
But the justice being a moderate man, said, ‘I neither dare nor will;’
and taking Robert by the hand, told him, he might take his own time in
going away.
To relate all the occurrences of this Robert Widders, would be too
prolix; therefore I will only say, that as he was very zealous in
speaking to the priests, so he suffered very much in his estate,
because for conscience-sake he refused to pay them tithes; and on
that account there was taken from him, at sundry times, to the value
of 143_l._ besides what he suffered for meetings, and for Sunday
shillings, so called, which also amounted to a considerable sum. And
this not only befel him, but it was the portion of many hundreds, nay,
perhaps thousands of those of his persuasion. Wherefore I will not
undertake to relate all that might be mentioned of this kind; for that
would be beyond my reach.
However, by this that hath been said, may be seen, by what means the
Quakers, so called, grew so numerous in those early times. As on one
hand there were raised zealous preachers; so on the other, there were
abundance of people in England, who, having searched all sects, could
no where find satisfaction for their hungry souls. And these now
understanding that God by his light was so near in their hearts, began
to take heed thereunto, and soon found that this gave them far more
victory over the corruption of their minds, under which they had long
groaned, than all the self-willed worships which they with some zeal
had performed many years. And besides those that were thus prepared to
receive a further manifestation of the way of life, there were also
many of a rude life, who being pricked to the heart, and brought over
by the Christian patience of the despised Quakers, became as zealous in
doing good, as formerly they had been in working evil.
Perhaps some will think it was very indecent that they went so
frequently to the steeple-houses, and there spoke to the priests; but
whatsoever any may judge concerning this, it is certain that those
teachers generally did not bring forth the fruits of godliness, as
was well known to those who themselves had been priests, and freely
resigned their ministry, thenceforth to follow Christ in the way of his
cross; and these were none of the least zealous against that society
among whom they formerly had ministered with an upright zeal. Yet
they were not for using sharp language against such teachers, who,
according to their knowledge, feared God; but they levelled their aim
chiefly against those, who were only rich in words, without bringing
forth true Christian fruits, and works of justice. Hence it was that
one Thomas Curtis, who was formerly a captain in the parliament army,
but afterwards entered into the society of the people called Quakers,
wrote, in a letter to Samuel Wells, priest of Banbury, and a persecutor
of those of that persuasion, amongst other things, these words: ‘To
thy shame, remember I know thee scandalous. How often hast thou sat
evening after evening, at cards, and sometimes whole nights, playing,
and sometimes compelling me to play with thee, for money; yet then
thou wast called of the world a minister; and now art thou turned
persecutor, &c.’ None therefore need think it strange, that those
called Quakers did look upon such teachers as hirelings. And that there
were not a few of that sort, appeared plainly when King Charles II.
was restored; for those who had formerly cried out against episcopacy,
and its liturgy, as false and idolatrous, then became turn-coats, and
put on the surplice, to keep in the possession of their livings and
benefices. But by so doing, these hypocrites lost not a few of their
auditors, for this opened the eyes of many, who began to inquire into
the doctrine of the despised Quakers, and saw that they had a more sure
foundation, and that this it was which made them stand unshaken against
the fury of persecution.
Let us again take up the thread of these transactions which concern
G. Fox: who, now travelling through many places in the north of
England, had every where great meetings; but now and then met with
some opposition; sometimes with hands, and at others with the tongue.
Among the rest, at Derwentwater, in Northumberland; where, in a dispute
recommending perfection, he was contradicted; but to prove his
position, he said that Adam and Eve were perfect before they fell; and
all that God made was perfect; and that the imperfection came by the
devil and the fall: but that Christ, who came to destroy the devil,
said, ‘Be ye perfect.’ To this one of the professors answered, that Job
said, ‘Shall mortal man be more pure than his Maker? The heavens are
not clean in his sight. God charged his angels with folly.’ But G. Fox
showed him his mistake, and told him that it was not Job that said so,
but one of those that contended against him. Then the professors said,
the outward body was the body of death and sin; but G. Fox replied,
that Adam and Eve had each of them an outward body, before the body of
death and sin got into them; and that men would have bodies when the
body of sin and death was put off again, and they were renewed into the
image of God again by Christ Jesus.
Thus G. Fox found work almost every where, and passing to Hexham, he
had a great meeting there on the top of a hill. The priest, indeed, had
threatened that he would come and oppose; but came not.
G. Fox, then travelling on, came into Cumberland, where he had a
meeting of many thousands of people on a hill near Langlands. Once
he came into Brigham steeple-house, before the priest was there, and
declared the Truth to the people; but when the priest came in, he began
to oppose, but was wearied so, that at length he went away.
There being now also several others who preached the doctrine of the
inward light of God, which convinceth man of sin, the number of those
professors of the light increased greatly. And as it had been said at
first, that they should be destroyed within a short time; so now the
priests began to say, that they would eat out one another. For many
of them, after meetings, having a great way to go, staid at their
friends’ houses by the way, and sometimes more than there were beds
to lodge, so that some lay on the hay-mows. This made some of the
public church grow afraid that this hospitality would cause poverty,
and that when these friends had eaten out one another, they would come
to be maintained by the parishes, and so be chargeable to them. But
it fell out quite otherwise, for these people were the more blessed,
and increased, without falling into want. This puts me in mind of what
one of the daughters of Judge Thomas Fell once told me, viz. that her
father having been abroad, and coming home with his servants, found
the shed so full of the horses of strange guests, (for Margaret, his
wife, had cleared the stable where they first stood, to make room for
her husband’s own horses,) that he said to his wife, this was the way
to be eaten out, and that thus they themselves should soon be in want
of hay. But to this Margaret said, in a friendly way, that she did not
believe, when the year was at an end, that they should have the less
for that. And it so fell out; for this year their stock of hay was
such, that they sold a great parcel of what they had in abundance. Thus
the proverb was verified, that charity doth not impoverish. The truth
of this was also experienced by those called Quakers; for though many
people at first were shy, and would not deal with them, because of
their non-conformity with the vulgar salutation, and their saying Thou
and Thee to a single person, instead of You, &c. insomuch that some
that were tradesmen lost their customers, and could hardly get money
enough to buy bread; yet this changed in time, when people found by
experience they could better trust to the words of these, than to that
of those of their own persuasion. Hence it was, that often when any
came into a town, and wanted something, they would ask, where dwells
a draper, or taylor, or shoemaker, or any other tradesman, that is a
Quaker? But this so exasperated others, that they began to cry out,
if we let these Quakers alone, they will take the trade of the nation
out of our hands. Now the cause of their trade’s thus increasing, was,
because they were found upright in their dealings; for integrity did
then shine out among them above many others: to this the true fear of
God led them, and to this they were exhorted from time to time. G. Fox
also writ a general epistle to them, which was as followeth:
‘To you all, Friends every where, scattered abroad.
‘In the measure of the life of God, wait for wisdom from God,
even from him, from whence it comes. And all ye, who be babes
of God, wait for the living food from the living God to be
nourished up to eternal life, from the one fountain, from whence
life comes; that orderly, and in order, ye may all be guided
and walk: servants in your places, young men and young women in
your places, and rulers of families; that every one, in your
respective places, may adorn the Truth; every one in the measure
of it. With it, let your minds be kept up to the Lord Jesus, from
whence it doth come; that a sweet savour you may be to God, and
in wisdom ye may all be ordered and ruled; that a crown and a
glory ye may be one to another in the Lord. And that no strife,
nor bitterness, nor self-will may appear amongst you; but with
the light, in which the unity is, all that may be condemned. And
that everyone in particular may see to, and take care of, the
ordering and ruling of their own family; that in righteousness
and wisdom it may be governed, the fear and dread of the Lord
in every one’s heart set, that the secrets of the Lord every
one may come to receive, that stewards of his grace you may
come to be, to dispense it to every one as they have need; and
so in savouring and right discerning, you may all be kept: that
nothing that is contrary to the pure life of God, may be brought
forth in you, or among you; but all that is contrary to it, may
by it be judged: so that in light, in life, and love, ye may
all live; and all that is contrary to the light, and life, and
love, may be brought to judgment, and by that light condemned.
And that no fruitless trees be among you: but all cut down and
condemned by the light, and cast into the fire; so that everyone
may bear and bring forth fruit to God, and grow fruitful in
his knowledge, and in his wisdom. And so that none may appear
in words beyond what they be in the life, that gave forth the
words: here none shall be as the untimely figs: and none shall
be of those trees, whose fruit withers: such go in Cain’s way,
from the light; and by it are condemned. And that none amongst
you boast yourselves above your measure; for if you do, out of
God’s kingdom you are excluded: for in that boasting part gets up
the pride, and the strife, which is contrary to the light; which
light leads to the kingdom of God: and gives everyone of you an
entrance thereinto, and an understanding, to know the things
that belong to the kingdom of God. And there the light and life
of man everyone receives, him who was, before the world was,
by whom it was made: who is the righteousness of God, and his
wisdom: to whom all glory, honour, thanks, and praise belongs,
who is God blessed forever. Let no image, nor likeness be made;
but in the light wait, which will bring condemnation on that
part, that would make the images; for that prisons the just. So
to the lust yield not the eye, nor the flesh; for the pride of
life stands in that, which keeps out of the love of the Father;
and upon which his judgments and wrath remains, where the love
of the world is sought after, and a crown that is mortal: in
which ground the evil enters, which is cursed; which brings forth
briars and thorns, where the death reigns, and tribulation and
anguish is upon every soul, and the Egyptian tongue is heard: all
which is by the light condemned. And there the earth is which
must be removed; by the light it is seen, and by the power it is
removed; and out of its place it is shaken; to which the thunders
utter their voices, before the mysteries of God be opened, and
Jesus revealed. Therefore all ye whose minds are turned to
this light, (which brings condemnation upon all those things
before-mentioned, that are contrary to the light,) wait upon the
Lord Jesus for the crown, that is immortal, and that fadeth not
away.
G. F.’
This epistle he sent to be read at the meetings of his friends. Not
long after, a certain priest of Wrexham in Wales, whose name was Morgan
Floyd, sent two of his congregation into the north of England, to
inquire what kind of people the Quakers were. These two coming thither,
found the doctrine of the said people such, that they became convinced
of the truth thereof, and so embraced it; and after some stay, they
returned home. One of these was called John ap-John, and continuing
faithful, became a minister of the gospel he had thus received; but the
other afterwards departed from his convincement.
Let us now take a short view of state affairs in England. We have seen
already Cromwell’s power so great, that he ventured to dissolve the
long parliament, and that he called another in its room. But before
the year’s end, this Parliament resigned their power into the hands of
Cromwell, from whom they had received it. Thus he, with his council
of field officers, saw himself again in the possession of the supreme
government: and it was not long before this council declared: ‘that
henceforth the chief rule of the nation should be entrusted to a single
person, and that this person should be Oliver Cromwell, chief general
of all the forces in England, Scotland, and Ireland; that his title
should be Lord Protector of the Commonwealth of England, Scotland, and
Ireland; and all the dominions belonging thereunto; and he was to have
a council of twenty-one persons to assist him in the government.’
This matter being thus stated, the commissioners of the great seal,
and the lord mayor and aldermen of London, were required, on the 16th
of December, to attend Cromwell, and his council, in Westminster-hall.
Being come thither, the instrument of government was read, whereby
Cromwell was declared Protector, he standing all this while
bare-headed, and major-general Lambert kneeling, presented him with a
sword in the scabbard, representing the civil sword: which Cromwell
accepting, put off his own, to intimate thereby, that he would no
longer rule by the military sword. The said instrument being writ on
parchment, contained, ‘That the Protector was to call a Parliament
every three years; that their first meeting should be on the 13th of
September next ensuing: that he should not be permitted to dissolve a
parliament, before it had set five months; that the bills presented
to him for his consent, if he did not confirm them within twenty
days, should have the force of laws; that he was to have a council,
who were not to exceed the number of twenty-one, and not to be under
thirteen; that forthwith after his death, the council was to choose
another Protector; that no Protector after him, should be capable of
being chief general of the army; and that it should be in the power
of the Protector to make war and peace.’ Whilst this instrument was
reading, Cromwell held his hand on the bible, and afterwards took the
oath, that he would perform all that was contained therein. This being
done, he covered himself, all the others remaining uncovered. Then
the commissioners delivered the seals to him, and the lord mayor of
London the sword; all which he restored again, with an exhortation to
use them well. Afterward general Lambert carried the sword before him
to his coach, in which he went to Whitehall, where he was proclaimed
Protector, which was done also in the city of London. Now he was
attended like a prince, and created knights, as kings used to do. Thus
Cromwell, by a singular, and very strange turn of mundane affairs, saw
himself placed in the palace, from whence he and his adherents had cast
out King Charles the First.
THE THIRD BOOK. 1654-1655.
1654.
Oliver Cromwell in the beginning of the year 1654, seeing himself
invested with the supreme authority of the nation, required, both of
the soldiers and others, the oath of fidelity. But since amongst the
first, there were many, who, though convinced of the truth of the
doctrine of the Quakers so called, yet had not convenient opportunity
to leave the military service, it now presented itself; for when the
oath was tendered them, they declared that in obedience to Christ’s
command, they could not swear; whereupon they were disbanded. Among
these was John Stubbs, a man skilled not only in Latin, Greek, and
Hebrew, but also in the Oriental languages; he was convinced by G. Fox,
when in Carlisle prison, and became afterwards a faithful minister of
the gospel. But some of the soldiers, who had been convinced in their
judgment, not continuing steadfast, took the required oath, but not
long outlived it; for marching afterwards into Scotland, and passing by
a garrison there, these, thinking they had been enemies, fired at them,
whereby several were killed.
G. Fox now seeing the churches of his friends in the North settled,
passed from Swarthmore, (where he was about the beginning of this
year,) to Lancaster, and from thence to Synder-hill-green[6], where
he had a great meeting of some thousands of people, among whom were
many persons of note; and a general convincement there was, so that a
great number entered into the communion of those called Quakers: with
whom about this time, Ambrose Rigge was also united, who, having been
inclined to godliness from a youth, hearing G. Fox preach, and being
convinced of the truth of the doctrine he taught, received it, and
became a professor of it, though for that reason he was cast out by his
parents and relations.
[6] _Possibly Sinderhill-green.--Transcriber._
We have seen the first rise of these Christians, called Quakers, in
the North of England, and how they increased under the oppression
of persecution, so that in most places in those parts meetings were
settled: it remains to relate how they spread further.
There were now about sixty ministers of the word raised among them,
and these went out in the service of the gospel, to turn people,
where they could have an opportunity, from darkness to the light, and
from the power of Satan to God. Of these, Francis Howgill and Edward
Burrough, went to London; John Camm and John Audland, to Bristol;
Richard Hubberthorn and George Whitehead, to Norwich: Thomas Holmes
into Wales, and others other ways. G. Fox, well knowing this to be
a weighty work, writ a large epistle to these ministers, wherein he
admonished them to prudence, advising them, to know the seed of God,
which bruiseth the head of the serpent; also to know the power of God,
and the cross of Christ: to receive wisdom from God by the light; and
not to be hasty, or to run in their own wills, but to continue in
patience.
I will first mention somewhat of the occurrences at London, whither
Edward Burrough and Francis Howgill, with Anthony Pearson, who had
been a justice of peace, came in the forepart of the summer. Howgill
and Pearson, were the first of the people called Quakers, that had a
meeting in this great city, where they preached in the house of one
Robert Dring, in Watling-street; and Burrough was, as I have been
informed, that day in an assembly of a separate society. Yet I have
been told also, that Ruth, wife of William Crouch, merchant in London,
had said, that somewhat before that time, there had been in the said
house meetings of some few persons, of whom she was one; and also Anne
Downer, afterwards married to George Whitehead; that one Isabella
Buttery, with another woman, having spread in London some books, and
among these one of G. Fox’s, called, ‘The way to the Kingdom,’ had
met with this small company, of which were but two or three men, one
of which was Amos Stoddard, formerly a military officer, mentioned
already; and that the said Isabella sometimes spoke a few words in
this small meeting. But when F. Howgill and E. Burrough were come to
London, things began to have another face; for they laid hold of all
opportunities they could light on to preach the gospel.
At London there is a custom in summer time, when the evening
approaches, and tradesmen leave off working, that many lusty fellows
meet in the fields, to try their skill and strength in wrestling,
where generally a multitude of people stands gazing in a round. Now
it so fell out, that E. Burrough passed by the place where they
were wrestling, and standing still amongst the spectators, saw how
a strong and dexterous fellow had already thrown three others, and
was waiting for a fourth champion, if any durst venture to enter the
lists. At length, none being bold enough to try, E. Burrough stepped
into the ring, (commonly made up of all sorts of people,) and having
looked upon the wrestler with a serious countenance, the man was not a
little surprised, instead of an airy antagonist, to meet with a grave
and awful young man; and all stood as it were amazed at this sight,
eagerly expecting that would be the issue of this combat. But it was
quite another fight E. Burrough aimed at. For having already fought
against spiritual wickedness, that had once prevailed on him, and
having overcome in measure, by the grace of God, he now endeavoured
also to fight against it in others, and to turn them from the evil
of their ways. With this intention, he began very seriously to speak
to the standers by, and that with such a heart-piercing power, that
he was heard by this mixt multitude with no less attention than
admiration; for this speech tended to turn them from darkness to the
light, and from the power of Satan to God. To effect this he laboured
with convincing words, showing how God had not left himself without a
witness, but had given to man a measure of his grace, and enlightened
every one with the light of Christ. Thus he preached zealously; and
though many might look upon this as a novelty, yet it was of such
effect, that some were convinced of the Truth; for he was a breaker of
stony hearts, and therefore by a certain author, not unjustly, called
a son of thunder; though he also omitted not in due season, to speak
a word of consolation to those that were of a broken heart, and of a
contrite spirit.
But to thunder against sin and iniquity was his peculiar talent;
insomuch, that once preaching very zealously in meeting, and perceiving
there were some contrite souls, that wanted spiritually-refreshing
food, he was heard to intimate, that though his present speaking was
not milk for babes, yet he would remember such anon, and administer to
them also; but now he must thresh the whore. And indeed he was one of
those valiants, whose bow never turned back, nor sword empty from the
slaughter of the mighty; for the Lord blessed his powerful ministry
with very glorious success: nay, he was such an excellent instrument
in the hand of God, that even some mighty and eminent men were touched
to the heart by the power of the word of life, which he preached. And
although coals of fire, as it were, came forth of his mouth, to the
consuming of briers and thorns, and he passing through unbeaten paths,
trampled upon wild thistles and luxuriant tares; yet his wholesome
doctrine dropped as the oil of joy upon the spirits of mourners in
Sion. Hence it was that Francis Howgill not unjustly said of him when
deceased, ‘Shall days, or months, or years, wear out thy name, as
though thou hadst had no being? Oh nay: shall not thy noble and valiant
acts, and mighty works which thou hast wrought, through the power of
him that separated thee from the womb, live in generations to come? Oh
yes! The children that are yet unborn shall have thee in their mouths,
and thy works shall testify of thee in the generations who yet have no
being.’
The said Howgill, also an eminent and eloquent man, being now at
London, went to court, to utter what was in his mind to Oliver
Cromwell. And after having spoke to him, he thought it convenient to
express himself further in writing; as he did in the following letter:
‘Friend,
‘I was moved of the Lord to come to thee, to declare the word of
the Lord, as I was moved of the Lord, and deal plainly with thee,
as I was commanded, and not to petition thee for any thing; but
to declare what the Lord had revealed to me, concerning thee; and
when I had delivered what I was commanded, thou questionedst it,
whether it was the word of the Lord or not, and soughtest by thy
reason to put it off; and we have waited some days since, but
cannot speak to thee, therefore I was moved to write to thee, and
clear my conscience, and to leave thee. Therefore hear the word
of the Lord. Thus saith the Lord, I chose thee out of all the
nations, when thou wast little in thy own eyes, and threw down
the mountains and the powers of the earth before thee, which had
established wickedness by a law, and I cut them down, and broke
the yokes and bonds of the oppressor, and made them stoop before
thee, and I made them as a plain before thee, that thou passedst
over them, and trode upon their necks; but thus saith the Lord,
now thy heart is not upright before me, but thou takest counsel,
and not of me; and thou art establishing peace, and not by
me; and thou art setting up laws, and not by me; and my name
is not feared, nor am I sought after; but thy own wisdom thou
establishest. What, saith the Lord, have I thrown down all the
oppressors, and broken their laws, and thou art now going about
to establish them again, and art going to build again, that which
I have destroyed? Wherefore, thus saith the Lord, Wilt thou limit
me, and set bounds to me, when, and where, and how, and by whom I
shall declare myself, and publish my name? Then will I break thy
cord, and remove thy stake, and exalt myself in thy overthrow.
Therefore this is the word of the Lord to thee, whether thou
wilt hear or forbear. If thou take not away all those laws which
are made concerning religion, whereby the people which are dear
in mine eyes are oppressed, thou shalt not be established; but
as thou hast trodden down my enemies by my power, so shalt thou
be trodden down by my power, and thou shalt know that I am the
Lord; for my gospel shall not be established by thy sword, nor
by thy law; but by my might, and by my power, and by my Spirit.
Unto thee, this is the word of the Lord, Stint not the eternal
Spirit, by which I will publish my name, when and where, and
how I will; for if thou dost, thou shalt be as dust before the
wind; the mouth of the Lord hath spoken it, and he will perform
his promise. For this is that I look for at thy hands, saith
the Lord, that thou shouldst undo the heavy burdens, and let
the oppressed go free. Are not many shut up in prison, and some
stocked, some stoned, some shamefully entreated? And some are
judged blasphemers by those who know not the Lord, and by those
laws which have been made by the will of man, and stand not in
the will of God; and some suffer now because they cannot hold up
the types, and so deny Christ come in the flesh; and some have
been shut up in prison, because they could not swear, and because
they abide in the doctrine of Christ; and some, for declaring
against sin openly in the markets, have suffered as evil-doers:
and now, if thou let them suffer in this nature by those laws,
and count it just; I will visit for those things, saith the Lord,
I will break the yoke from off their necks, and I will bring
deliverance another way, and thou shalt know that I am the Lord.
‘Moved of the Lord to declare and write this, by a servant of the
Truth for Jesus’s sake, and a lover of thy soul, called,
FRANCIS HOWGILL.’
The last of the First Month, about
the ninth hour, waiting in James’s
Park, at London.
How this was received, I am not acquainted; but this I have understood,
that some of Cromwell’s servants, and among these one Theophilus
Green, and Mary, afterwards wife of Henry Stout, were so reached by F.
Howgill’s discourse, that after some time they entered into the society
of the Quakers, so called.
Now in the said letter, or speech, we find notice taken of laws made
concerning religion: these I do not look upon as made by the induction
of Cromwell; but such as were made in former times, which he could
have altered, if he would have done it: as afterwards many penal laws
were abrogated, under the reign of King William and Queen Mary, as
will be said in its proper place. For I do not find that in Cromwell’s
time any laws were made to constrain people to frequent the worship
of the public or national church. But notwithstanding, the Quakers,
so called, were imprisoned for refusing to swear, or for not paying
tithes to maintain the priests; and they were whipped like vagabonds,
for preaching in markets, or in other public places; or they were fined
for not taking off their hats before magistrates; for this was called
contempt of the magistracy; and when for conscience sake they refused
to pay such a fine, either the spoiling of goods, or imprisonment
became their share: and thus always a cloak or cover was found to
persecute them, and malice never wanted pretences to vex them. And it
also often happened that E. Burrough and F. Howgill were opposed by the
chiefest of several sects, whereby disputes were raised, which many
times gave occasion for some of the hearers to embrace the doctrine
maintained by the said Burrough and Howgill; which so enraged their
enemies, that no slanders were spared, and they sometimes branded them
as witches.
In the meanwhile the people called Quakers so increased in London,
that they began to have settled meetings, the first of which was in
Aldersgate Street, at the house of one Sarah Sawyer. The first among
woman of this society that preached at London publicly, was the already
mentioned Anne Downer, afterwards married to one Greenwell, and being
become a widow, in process of time entered into matrimony with George
Whitehead, as hath been hinted already.
The number of the said people increasing at London from time to time,
several meetings were now erected there, one of which was in the
house of one Bates, in Tower Street, and another at Gerard Robert’s,
in Thomas Apostles; until the church became so great, that a house
known by the name of the Bull and Mouth, in Martin’s le Grand, near
Aldersgate, was hired for a meeting-house; and it being a building that
had belonged to some great man, there was a large hall in it that would
hold many people, and so was very convenient for a meeting place.
Abundance of books were now spread against the Quakers, as seducers
and false prophets; and these written by the priests and teachers of
several sects: for they perceiving that many of their hearers forsook
them, left no stone unturned to stop it. But the event did not answer
their hope, since Burrough and Howgill did not suffer those writings to
go unanswered, but clearly showed the malice and absurdities of those
writers.
Leaving them busy with this work, we will take a turn toward Bristol,
to behold the performances of John Audland, and Thomas Airey; who came
thither in the month called July in this year, and going into the
meetings of the Independents and Baptists, they found opportunity to
preach Truth there, and also had occasion to speak to others, so that
many received their testimony.
From thence they went to Plymouth in Devonshire, and so to London,
where they met with John Camm; but after some stay there, John Audland
returned to Bristol with John Camm, and found there a door opened for
their ministry. Among those that did receive their testimony, were
Josiah Cole, George Bishop, Charles Marshal, and Barbara Blaugdone,
concerning which persons more is to be said hereafter. It was not long
ere F. Howgill and E. Burrough, having gathered a church at London,
came also to Bristol, where persecution now began to appear with open
face: for the magistrates commanded them to depart the city and the
liberties thereof; to which they answered, that they came not in the
will of man; and that when He who moved them to come thither, did move
them also to depart, they should obey; that if they were guilty of the
transgression of any law, they were not unwilling to suffer by it; that
they were free-born Englishmen, being free from the transgression of
any law; and that if by violence they were put out of the city, they
were ready to suffer, and would not resist; and so they departed out of
the presence of the rulers. But now the priests, especially one Ralph
Farmer, began to incite and enrage the people, and to set the city, as
it were, on fire.
Hence it was that J. Camm and J. Audland, intending to have a
meeting at Brislington, about two miles from Bristol, and passing
over a bridge, were assaulted by the rabble of the city, and several
apprentices of Farmer’s parish, who having got notice of their
coming, were gathered there, and violently abused them with beating,
kicking, and a continual cry, knock them down, kill them, or hang
them presently. Thus they were driven back, and forced into the city
again, narrowly escaping with their lives. But the tumult did not yet
cease; for some of the multitude were heard to say, that they should
find more protection from the magistrates, than those strangers,
viz. Camm and Audland. But the officers of the garrison, thinking it
unwarrantable to permit such a tumult, since it was not without reason
to be feared, that the royalists, or abettors of King Charles, might
take hold of such an opportunity to raise an insurrection, caused
three of the ringleaders to be seized; but this made such a stir, that
the next day more than five hundred people, as it was thought, were
gathered together in a seditious manner, so that their companions were
set at liberty. This made the tumultuous mob more bold and saucy, the
rather because they saw that the magistrates, hearing that J. Camm and
J. Audland not only had kept a meeting at Brislington, but also had
visited some in their houses at Bristol, had bid them to depart the
town.
Now the riotous multitude did not stick to rush violently into the
houses of the Quakers, so called, at Bristol, under a pretence of
preventing treasonable plottings. And when some in zeal told the
priests, these were the fruits of their doctrine, they incited the
people the more, and induced the magistrates to imprison some of
those called Quakers. This instigated the rabble to that degree, that
now they thought they had full liberty to use all kind of insolence
against the said people; beating, smiting, pushing, and often treading
upon them, till blood was shed: for they were become a prey to every
malapert fellow, as a people that were without the protection of the
law. This often caused a tumult in the town; and some said, (not
without good reason,) that the apprentices durst not have left their
work, had not their masters given them leave. And a certain person
informed the mayor and aldermen upon his oath, that he had heard an
apprentice say, that they had leave from their masters, and were
encouraged; for alderman George Hellier had said, he would die rather
than any of the apprentices should go to prison. Now an order of
sessions came forth, that the constables do once in every fortnight,
make diligent search within their several wards, for all strangers
and suspicious persons; and that all people be forewarned, not to be
present at any tumult, or other unlawful assembly, or gather into
companies or multitudes in the streets, on pain of being punished
according to law. But this order was to little purpose, for the
tumultuous companies and riots continued; and once when a proclamation
was read in the name of the Lord Protector, requiring every one to
depart, some of the rioters were heard to say, ‘What do you tell us of
a Protector? tell us of King Charles.’ In the meanwhile the Quakers,
so called, were kept in prison, and it plainly appeared that the order
against unlawful assemblies was levelled against their meetings: and
though the magistrates pretended that they must answer for it to
the Protector, if they did let the Quakers alone without disturbing
their meetings, which at that time, for the most part, were silent,
and nothing was spoken, but when now and then one of their ministers
from abroad visited them; yet this was not at all agreeable with the
Protector’s speech he made on the 12th of the month called September,
to the parliament, in the painted chamber, where he spoke these words:
‘Is not liberty of conscience in religion a fundamental? so long
as there is liberty for the supreme magistrate, to exercise
his conscience in erecting what form of church government he
is satisfied he should set up, why should he not give it to
others? Liberty of conscience is a natural right, and he that
would have it, ought to give it, having liberty to settle what
he likes for the public. Indeed that hath been the vanity of our
contests: every sect saith, Give me liberty; but give it him,
and to his power he will not yield it to any body else. Where
is our ingenuity? Truly that is a thing that ought to be very
reciprocal. The magistrate hath his supremacy, and he may settle
religion according to his conscience. And I may say to you, I can
say it, all the money in the nation would not have tempted men
to fight upon such an account as they have engaged, if they had
not had hopes of liberty, better than they had from episcopacy,
or than would have been afforded them from a Scottish Presbytery,
or an English either, if it had made such steps, or been as
sharp and rigid as it threatened when it was first set up. This
I say is a fundamental: it ought to be so. It is for us and the
generations to come.’
Cromwell spoke more in confirmation hereof; and indeed he would have
been a brave man, if really he had performed what he asserted with
binding arguments. But though now he seemed to disapprove the behaviour
of Presbytery, (for then he was for Independency,) yet after some time
he courted the Presbyterians; and these fawning upon him from the
pulpit, as their preserver and the restorer of the church, he suffered
the Quakers to be persecuted under his government, though he pretended
not to know it, when he might easily have stopt it. But by hearkening
to the flatteries of the clergy, at length he lost his credit, even
with those who with him had fought for the common liberty; and thus
at last befel him after his death, what he seemed to have imprecated
on himself in the foregoing speech, if he departed from allowing
due liberty. For he further said, that many of the people had been
necessitated to go into the vast howling wilderness in New England, for
the enjoyment of their liberty; and that liberty was a fundamental of
the government; adding, that it had cost much blood to have it so, and
even the hazarding of all. And in the conclusion he said, that he could
sooner be willing to be rolled into his grave, and buried with infamy,
than give his consent to the wilful throwing away of that government;
so testified unto in the fundamentals of it. Now who knows not what
infamy befel him afterwards, when in the reign of King Charles the
Second, it is said, his corpse was digged up, and buried near the
gallows, as may be further mentioned in its due place?
But I return now to Bristol, where several were kept in prison still,
and no liberty granted them; nay, they were even charged with what
they utterly denied themselves to be guilty of. Among these, one John
Worring was accused of having called the priest, Samuel Grimes, a
devil: but Worring denied this, though he did not stick to say, he
could prove somewhat like it by his own words. And it being asked him
how, he answered, that the priest had said at the meeting, that in all
things he did, he sinned; and if in all things, then as well in his
preaching, as in other things; and he that sinneth is of the devil.
If you will not believe me, believe the Scriptures. It may be easily
conjectured that this answer did not please the priests’ followers, and
therefore Worring and some others were kept in prison: and among these
also Elizabeth Marshall, who in the steeple-house, after the priest
John Knowls had dismissed the people with what is called the blessing,
spoke to him, and said, ‘This is the word of the Lord to thee. I warn
thee to repent, and to mind the light of Christ in thy conscience.’ And
when the people, by order of the magistrates then present, violently
assaulted her, giving her many blows with staves and cudgels, she
cried out, ‘The mighty day of the Lord is at hand, wherein he will
strike terror on the wicked.’ Some time before she spoke also in the
steeple-house to the priest Ralph Farmer, after he had ended his sermon
and prayer, and said, ‘This is the word of the Lord to thee. Wo, wo, wo
from the Lord to them who take the word of the Lord in their mouths,
and the Lord never sent them.’
A good while after this, the magistrates gave out the following warrant:
_‘City of Bristol._
‘To all the constables within this city, and to every one of them.
‘Forasmuch as information hath been given us, that John Camm, and
John Audland, two strangers, who were commanded to depart this
city, have, in contempt of authority, come into this city again,
to the disturbance of the public peace: these are therefore to
will and require you forthwith to apprehend them, and bring them
before us to be examined, according to law. Given this 22d of
January, 1654. Signed,
_William Cann_,
_Joseph Jackson_,
_Gabriel Sherman_,
_Richard Vickris, Dept. Mayor_,
_Henry Gibbs_,
_John Lock_.’
Camm and Audland had departed the town before this time, having never
been commanded, (as the warrant saith,) to depart the city, either by
the magistrates themselves, or by any other at their command; though
F. Howgill and E. Burrough had been required to do so. So this warrant
proving ineffectual, the magistrates caused another to be formed in
these words:
_‘City of Bristol._
‘To the constables of the peace of the ward of ---- and to every
of them.
‘Forasmuch as information hath been given us upon oath, that
certain persons of the Franciscan order in Rome, have of late
come over into England, and under the notion of Quakers, drawn
together several multitudes of people in London; and whereas
certain strangers, going under the names of John Camm, John
Audland, George Fox, James Nayler, Francis Howgill, and Edward
Burrough, and others unknown, have lately resorted to this city,
and in like manner, under the notion of Quakers, drawn multitudes
of people after them, and occasioned very great disturbances
amongst us; and forasmuch as by the said information it appeareth
to us to be very probable, and much to be suspected, that the
said persons so lately come hither, are some of those that came
from Rome, as aforesaid; these are therefore in the name of his
highness, the lord protector, to will and require you to make
diligent search through your ward for the aforesaid strangers, or
any of them, and all other suspected persons, and to apprehend
and bring them before us, or some of us, to be examined and dealt
with according to law: hereof fail you not. Given the 25th of
Jan. 1654. Signed,
_John Gunning, Mayor._
_Gabriel Sherman_,
_Henry Gibbs_,
_George Hellier_,
_Gabriel Sherman_,
_William Cann_,
_Joseph Jackson_,
_John Lock_,
_Richard Vickris_.’
Hereunto these magistrates affixed their seals; and that alderman
Sherman might be sure his name was down, he wrote it twice. How
frivolous this pretence of persons of the Franciscan order was, even a
child might perceive; for the Quakers were by this time so multiplied
in the North of England, that they could no more be looked upon as an
unknown people. And as for G. Fox, and James Nayler, they had not yet
been at Bristol, and therefore it seemed absurd to seek for them there.
But it was thought expedient to brand the Quakers with odious names,
that so under the cloak thereof, they might be persecuted as disturbers
of the public peace: as appeared when one Thomas Robertson, and Josiah
Cole, being at Nicholas’ steeple-house, and standing both still without
speaking a word, until the priest Hazzard had ended, and dismissed the
people, were very rudely treated; for Thomas then lifting up his voice,
was presently, even when the word was yet in his mouth, struck on the
head by many, as was also his companion, though he did not attempt to
speak. But Thomas, after being a little recovered of a heavy blow,
began to speak again, and said to the people, ‘Tremble before the Lord,
and the word of his holiness.’ But this so kindled their anger, that
they were both hurried out of the steeple-house, and with great rage
driven to the mayor’s, who commanded them both to Newgate prison.
Not long after one Jeremy Hignel, being in his shop attending his
calling, was sent for by the mayor and aldermen, to come before them;
which he presently doing, the mayor asked him whether he knew where
he was; he answered he did. Then the mayor asked where; he replied,
‘In the presence of the Lord.’ ‘Are you not,’ said the mayor, ‘in
the presence of the Lord’s justices?’ his answer was, ‘If you be the
Lord’s justices, I am.’ Whereupon one of the aldermen said, without any
more words passing at that time, ‘We see what he is; take him away to
Newgate.’ For since he did not take off his hat, it was concluded he
was a Quaker, and this was counted cause enough to send him to prison;
and so he was immediately brought thither, where the keeper received
him without a mittimus, and kept him close prisoner nineteen days,
permitting none to come to him but his wife.
No better was the treatment of Daniel Wastfield, who, being sent for by
the mayor, appeared before him, and alderman Vickris; then the mayor
said to him, ‘Wastfield, come hither;’ and he thereupon drawing near,
the mayor asked him three several times, ‘What art thou?’ Though he
knew him well enough, having called him by his name as above said.
Wastfield answered, ‘I am a man.’ ‘But what’s thy name?’ said the
mayor. ‘My name is Daniel Wastfield,’ answered he. Then said the mayor
to one of his officers, ‘Take him and carry him to Newgate;’ further
adding, that he came thither to contemn justice: to which Wastfield
replied, ‘No, I came hither in obedience to thy order;’ for the mayor
had sent for him, as hath been said. Thus he was carried away without
a mittimus, the mayor saying his word was a mittimus; and he was kept
a close prisoner thirty-three days, and none suffered to come to him
but his servants, notwithstanding he was a widower, and must now leave
his house and trade to their management; and a child of his died in the
meanwhile, and was buried, and he kept from seeing it.
The magistrates having thus begun persecution, became from time to time
more vigorous in it, insomuch, that several others were imprisoned,
and among these Christopher Birkhead, who, standing still in Nicholas’
steeple-house, with his hat on, and being asked by the priest, Ralph
Farmer, what he stood there for; answered, ‘I stand in obedience to the
righteous law of God in my conscience; I have neither offended the law
of God, nor of the nation. A wonderful and horrible thing is committed
in the land.’ More he would have spoken, but was stopped with beating
and thrusting, and so carried to prison.
Now the magistrates were not a little incited to persecution by the
said Farmer; and there being several that were very bold, they did not
stick to write sharp letters to him; and his indecent carriage was also
told him to his face, by word of mouth, in the steeple-house, after
sermon; and those who did so, were sent to prison. At length these
prisoners were brought to trial; and since it could not be proved that
they had transgressed any law, some of the magistrates seemed inclined
to set them at liberty, if they would have declared that they were
sorry for what they had done. Among them was also one William Foord,
and nothing material being found against him, but that he was one of
those called Quakers, he was accused of having kept a stranger at work;
which he however esteemed to be lawful, since his trade of wool-combing
did not belong to the company of milliners, who complained of him. Yet
he was asked whether he was sorry for what he had done; which denying,
as well as those who had reproved the priests, he that was not guilty
was sent to prison again, as well as those that were pretended to be
so. Among these last was also Sarah Goldsmith, who, from a well meant
zeal to testify against pride, having a coat of sackcloth, and her hair
dishevelled, with earth or dust strewed on her head, had gone through
the city without receiving any considerable harm from the people,
because some looked upon her to be crack-brained. There was also one
Temperance Hignel, who, having said in the steeple-house to the priest,
after he had ended his sermon, ‘Wo from the Lord God to thee, Jacob
Brint,’ was presently struck down, and so violently abused, that blood
ran down her face, and she, being committed to prison, fell sick; and
when they saw her life was in danger, she was carried out in a basket,
and died three days after. The reason she gave, when in prison, why she
spoke in that manner to the priest was, that he had scarce any hearers,
but what were swearers, drunkards, strikers, fighters, and railers,
&c. And that therefore his ministry was in vain, since he preached for
gain; whereas he himself ought to have brought forth good fruits.
How long the others were kept in prison, I do not know certainly;
however, it was a pretty long time; for George Bishop, and Dennis
Hollister, who formerly had been a member of the parliament, and three
others, put all these transactions in writing at large, and sent it
to the magistrates, in hopes that thereby they might see the evil of
persecution: but this proving in vain, they gave it out in print five
months after, that so every one might know how the Bristollers treated
their inhabitants, which was to that degree, that an author said, ‘Was
such a tyrannical iniquity and cruelty ever heard of in this nation? Or
would the ministers under king Charles have ventured to do so? Was not
Stafford but a mean transgressor in comparison of these?’ And though
archbishop Laud was beheaded, yet it could not be proved that the
Episcopalians had persecuted so fiercely, as these pretended asserters
of liberty of conscience had done, who, being got into possession of
the power, did oppress more than those they had driven out. This made
the persecuted, some of which formerly had also fought for the common
liberty, the more in earnest against those that were now in authority.
But I will turn away from Bristol towards Norwich, whither Richard
Hubberthorn, and George Whitehead were gone. Here it happened, that R.
Hubberthorn, having spoken to a priest in a steeple-house yard, and not
having taken off his hat before the magistrates, was imprisoned in the
castle, where he was kept great part of the following year, and in the
meanwhile, writ several epistles of exhortation to his friends; and his
companion, G. Whitehead’s preaching had such an effect, that a meeting
of their friends was settled in that city.
But before I go on, it will be convenient to give some account of the
quality of these two persons: R. Hubberthorn was born in the North of
Lancashire, and descended from very honest parents: his father was a
yeoman of good reputation among men, and Richard was his only son, and
from a youth inclined to piety. Being come to man’s estate, he became
an officer in the parliament’s army, and from a zeal for godliness,
preached sometimes to his soldiers. But entering afterwards into the
society of the Quakers so called, he left his military employment,
and testified publicly against it; for he was now become a soldier
under another banner, viz. that of Christ Jesus, Prince of Peace; not
fighting as formerly, with the outward sword, but with the sword of the
Spirit, which is the word of God. In his ministry he had an excellent
gift, and though not so loud in voice as some others, yet he was a man
of a quick understanding, and very edifying in his preaching.
G. Whitehead, (who, whilst I write this, is yet alive,) was trained up
to learning, and though but a youth, instructed others in literature,
and continued in that calling sometime after he came to be convinced of
that Truth which was preached by the professors of the light; and he
strove to bring up children in the fear of the Lord. But before this
change he was a diligent hearer of the world’s teachers, and usually
frequented the steeple-house at Orton in Westmoreland: yet the singing
of David’s psalms became so burdensome to him, that sometimes he
could not join therewith; for he saw that David’s conditions were not
generally suitable to the states of a mixed multitude; and he found
himself to be short of what they sung. This consideration brought him
into such a strait, that often he durst not sing those psalms the
priests gave their hearers to sing, lest he should have told lies unto
God. Now also he began to see that the priests’ lives and practices
did not agree with their doctrine; for they themselves spoke against
pride and covetousness, and yet lived in them. This likewise made him
go to hear some that were separated from the national church, and got
into a more specious form of godliness; but he soon saw, that, though
there was a difference in the ceremonial part, and that these had a
more true form of words than the priests, yet they were such as ran
before they were sent by God, speaking peace to that nature in him,
wherein he felt no true peace. And when he was about seventeen years of
age, which was in the year 1652, he first heard the doctrine of Truth
preached by those that were reproachfully called Quakers; and their
testimony wrought so powerfully on his mind, that he received it, and
so entered into their communion. Now he found, that to grow up in the
true wisdom, and to become wise in the living knowledge of God, he must
become a fool to that wisdom, wherein he had been feeding upon the
tree of knowledge, having in that state no right to the tree of life:
and he continuing in faithfulness, it pleased the Lord to ordain him a
minister of the gospel: in which service he acquitted himself well, to
the convincing of others, and the edification of the church.
But now leaving him, let us go and see what happened at Oxford in the
year 1654. At the latter end of the month called June, there came
two women, named Elizabeth Heavens, and Elizabeth Fletcher. These
spoke in the streets to the people, and in the college they exhorted
the scholars, who wickedly requiting their zeal, violently pushed
Elizabeth Fletcher against a grave-stone, and then threw her into the
grave; and their malice grew to that pitch, that they tied these two
women together, and drove them under the pump: and after their being
exceedingly wetted with pumping water upon them, they threw them into
a miry ditch, through which they dragged Elizabeth Fletcher, who was
a young woman, and so cruelly abused her, that she was in a painful
condition till her death, which fell out not long after. Some short
time after this rude encounter, she and her companion, on a First-day
of the week, went into the steeple-house at Oxford, and when the
priest had ended, they began to admonish the people to godliness: but
two justices there present, commanded them to be taken into custody,
and carried to the prison called Bocardo, where none but felons were
used to be lodged. The justices desiring the magistrates to meet on
this account, the mayor would not meddle with it, but said, ‘Let those
who have committed them deal with them according to law, if they have
transgressed any;’ adding that he had nothing to say against them;
but that he would provide them with victuals, clothes, or money, if
they wanted any. Yet he came into the assembly where these women were
examined, and whither the vice-chancellor of the university was also
required to come, who charged them, that they blasphemed the name of
God, and did abuse the Spirit of God, and dishonoured the grace of
Christ: and asking them whether they did read the Scriptures, they
answered yea they did. Then he asked whether they were not obedient
to the power of the magistrate; to which their answer was, they were
obedient to the power of God, and to the power that was of God they
were subject for conscience-sake. ‘Well,’ said the vice-chancellor,
‘you profane the word of God, and I fear you know not God, though
you so much speak of him.’ Then the women being made to withdraw,
it was concluded that there was matter enough for their commitment
and punishment, and agreed that a paper should be drawn up for their
being whipped out of the city. When this was done, it was presented
to the mayor to set his hand to it; but he refused, and said he was
not willing to do so. Then one of the justices said, that it was
the privilege of the city, that if any vagrant was taken within the
franchises and liberties thereof, a paper must be drawn up, that such
a one, mayor, had committed such and such persons; and that then it
was to be sealed with the office seal. But the mayor refused this as
well as the other. Which made some say, that if he would not, it should
be done by them. And then it was agreed upon, that they should be
whipped soundly; which was performed the next morning, though with much
unwillingness in the executioner: and the mayor had no hand in it.
But leaving these, I will turn to another, one Barbara Blaugdone, of
whom mention hath already been made, that she was one of those that
received the Truth, by the ministry of John Audland and John Camm. She
was from her youth inclined to godliness, and her employment was to
instruct children. But being entered into the society of those called
Quakers, she became plain, both in speech and habit, and thereupon the
children she taught, were taken from her; and, going sometimes into the
steeple-houses, to bear testimony against their formalities, she was
put in prison, and kept there a quarter of a year at a time. Afterwards
she led a very severe life, and abstained from all flesh, wine, and
beer, drinking only water for the space of a whole year. In the
meanwhile she grew up and prospered in true piety. Once it happened,
that coming from a meeting that was at George Bishop’s house at
Bristol, a rude fellow ran a knife, or some sharp instrument, through
all her clothes, into the side of her belly, which if it had gone but
a little further, might have killed her. Then she went to Marlborough,
where, exhorting people, in the steeple-houses and other places, to
fear God, she was put into prison for the space of six weeks, and there
she fasted several days and nights. When she was released, she went to
Isaac Burges, the man that committed her, and discoursing with him, he
was really convinced of the Truth, but could not resolve to take up the
cross; yet he was afterwards very loving to her friends, and stood by
them upon all occasions, never more persecuting any of them: and coming
some time after to Bristol, he went to her house and confessed, that he
knew her doctrine was Truth, but that he could not take up the cross to
walk in that way. A while after she went into Devonshire, to Moulton,
Barnstable, and Bediford, in all which places a prison was her lot. She
went also to him, that after was earl of Bath, where, being acquainted,
she had formerly vainly spent much time, but now she was moved to call
this family to leave off their vanity. And she asked to speak with the
lady; but one of the servants that knew her, bid her to go to the back
door, and their lady would come forth that way, to go into the garden.
Barbara being come thither, a great mastiff dog was set loose upon her;
and he running fiercely, as if to devour her, turned suddenly, and
went away crying and halting, whereby she clearly saw the hand of the
Lord in it, to preserve her from this danger. The lady then came and
stood still, hearing what Barbara spoke, and gave her thanks for her
exhortation, yet did not invite her to come in, though she often had
been lodged there, and had eaten and drank at her table.
Then Barbara went to Great Torrington, and, going into the
steeple-house, spoke somewhat to the people by way of exhortation;
but not having sufficient opportunity to clear herself, went to her
lodging, and sat to writing. After noon the constables came to her, and
took away what she had written, and commanded her to go along with them
to their worship. To which she answered, that they would not suffer
her to speak there, and that she knew no law that could compel her to
go thither twice in a day; and that they all knew she was there in the
morning. Being thus unwilling to go, the next day the mayor sent for
her; when come, she found him moderate, and loth to send her to prison;
but the priest being present, was very eager, and said she ought to be
whipped for a vagabond. She then bid him prove where ever she asked any
one for a bit of bread; but he said she had broken the law by speaking
in their church; and he so pressed the mayor, that at length he made
him write a mittimus, and send her to Exeter prison, which was twenty
miles distant: there she remained for some time, until the assizes
came, but was not brought forth to a trial. And after the sessions
were over, she was put to lodge one night among a great company of
gypsies, that were then in prison; and the next day the sheriff came
with a beadle, who brought her into a room, where he whipped her till
the blood ran down her back, and she never startled at a blow; but sang
aloud, and was made to rejoice that she was counted worthy to suffer
for the name of the Lord; which made the beadle say, ‘Do ye sing? I
will make you cry by and by;’ and with that he laid on so hard, that
one Ann Speed seeing this began to weep; but Barbara was strengthened
by an uncommon and more than human power, so that she afterwards
declared if she had been whipped to death in the state she then was,
she should not have been terrified or dismayed. And the sheriff seeing
that all the wrath of man could not move her, bid the fellow leave
off striking; and then Ann Speed was suffered to dress her stripes.
The next day she was turned out with all the gypsies, and the beadle
followed her two miles out of the town; but as soon as he left her, she
returned back, and went into the prison to see her friends, that were
prisoners there, and having visited them, she went home to Bristol.
But by the way coming to Bediford, she was taken up, and put into the
town-hall, and searched to see whether she had either knife or scissors
about her. Next day she was brought before the mayor, who discoursing
much with her, had a sense of what she spoke to him; and at last he set
open two doors, one right against the other, and said he would give
her her choice, which she would go out at; whether she would go forth
to prison again, or go home. And she told him, that she would choose
liberty rather than bonds. So she went homeward, and then he took
his horse and followed; and overtaking her, would have had her ride
behind him; but when any whom he knew met them, he would slacken his
pace; and as soon as they were passed, he came up again to her; which
she perceiving, refused to ride behind him; yet he rode three or four
miles with her, and discoursed all the way: and when they parted, she
kneeled down and prayed for him, all which time he was very serious,
and afterwards grew very solid and sober. She writ once to him; but not
long after, he died.
Being come home she was moved to go to Basingstoke, to endeavour to
obtain liberty for two of her friends, viz. Thomas Robinson, and
Ambrose Rigge, who were taken up at the first meeting that their
friends had had there. But when she came thither the entrance of the
prison was denied her. And she having a letter from John Camm to them,
put it in at the chink of the door, and then she went to the mayor to
desire their liberty; he told her, that if he saw the letter which she
brought them, they should have their liberty. She then said he should
see it; and so went and fetched it; which he having read, told her that
she should have her brethren out; but that he could not let them out
presently. Yet it was not long before her friends had their liberty.
Now leaving Barbara for some time, we return to Miles Halhead. In
the First month of this present year, he was moved to go to Ireland,
and declare the word of the Lord there; and speaking of this to
James Lancaster, and Miles Bateman, they quickly resolved to keep
him company, and so they went for Ireland; where they proclaimed the
Truth in cities, towns, villages, and before magistrates, as occasion
offered; and their testimony was received by many. After they had
discharged themselves, they returned to England, where Miles soon found
himself moved to go to Scotland. In his way thither, he met his friend
James Lancaster, who was very free to go with him; and so they went
into Scotland; but were not the first of those called Quakers in that
country; for Christopher Fell, George Wilson, and John Grave, had been
there before; so that a little church of those of their communion,
was already planted in that kingdom, before Halhead went thither: and
one Alexander Hamilton had, a year before ever any Quakers appeared
in Scotland, erected a meeting at Drumbowy, and also at Heads, and
he received their testimony when they came there, as also his wife
Joan, James Gray, James Miller, and others. I find also that Scotland
was early visited by Catherine Evans, and Sarah Cheevers, two eminent
women, of whom something extraordinary is to be related in its due time.
But I return to J. Lancaster, and Miles Halhead, who being come to
Dumfries, went on a First-day of the week into the steeple-house in
that town, where seeing many people gathered together, howling and
crying, and making great lamentation, as if they had been touched
with a sense of their sins, Miles was silent until their worship was
done; but then, being grieved with their deceit and hypocrisy, spoke
as he was moved; but met with great opposition, many of the people
being in such a rage, that they drove him and his companion out of the
town, near to the side of a great river; and it was intended that the
women of the town should stone them; but they prevented this by wading
through the river.
Being thus safely passed the water, they went to Edinburgh and Leith,
where they staid about ten days. During that time, Miles spoke to
the people when occasion offered; as also to the garrisons, and to
the captains and officers of the army, who were much affected, and
confessed that the Lord had been very good unto them; for Miles’s
message was, that the anger of the Lord was kindled against them,
because they had not performed their promises, which they made to him
in the day of their distress, when their enemies encompassed them on
every side; for then the Lord delivered them, and gave them victory;
but they had returned him evil for good, and committed violence against
those he sent to declare his word amongst them. This being told them at
large by Miles, he went to Glasgow and Stirling, where he also spoke as
he was moved; and so returned to England.
But before I leave Scotland, I may say, that as the first meetings were
at Drumbowy, and Heads, so it was not long ere meetings were settled
also at Garshore, at Edinburgh, and also at Aberdeen. The first Scotch
preachers of those called Quakers, I find to have been William Osborn,
Richard Ree, and Alexander Hamilton, already mentioned. Of the said
Hamilton, I may mention a singular instance: after he and his wife,
with her and his sister, had separated themselves from the society of
the Independents, it happened that Thomas Charters, a teacher of that
sect, at Kilbride, not far from Drumbowy, seeing that he could not draw
Hamilton, and those of his family back again, threatened them with
excommunication, and appointed a day for it, giving notice thereof
to Hamilton some days beforehand. Hamilton warned him to forbear, or
else the anger of God would seize on him. But he answered, ‘It is but
Alexander Hamilton that saith so.’ To which Hamilton returned in the
presence of many witnesses, that it was not only he, but what he had
said was of the Lord. But Charters persisting in what he intended, and
walking two days before the appointed time in the steeple-house yard,
where his horse was feeding, stepped to him to stroke him; but the
horse growing wanton, gave Charters such a violent kick on his side,
that he died about the same hour which was appointed by him for the
excommunication. Whether this case happened in the year I now describe,
I am not certain; but however, it was either in, or near it.
This year Miles Halhead came to Berwick in Northumberland, and went to
the mayor of that town, and spoke to him in his shop thus; ‘Friend,
hear what the servant of the Lord hath to say unto thee. Give over
persecuting the Lord’s servants, whom he doth send in love to this town
of Berwick, to show you the way that leads to life eternal. I charge
thee, O man, touch not the Lord’s anointed, nor do his prophets any
harm, lest thou procure the anger of the living eternal God against
thee.’ This bold language so offended the mayor, that he sent Miles
to prison, where he was about ten weeks, and then was brought to the
sessions, where a bill drawn up against him, was read in open court:
but he denied the contents thereof, yet said, ‘But what I said to
the mayor of this town, I will not deny.’ And then he related the
aforesaid words he spoke to the mayor. Whereupon the recorder said,
‘Sirs, as I understand by his own words, if he cannot prove the mayor
of the town a persecutor, in my judgment he hath wronged him.’ To this
Miles answered, ‘If the mayor of this town of Berwick, dare say in the
presence of the Lord, whose presence is here, that he is no persecutor,
but the persecuting nature is slain in him, I will be willing to abide
the judgment of the court.’ Then the clerk of the court said, ‘Mr.
Mayor, if you will say that you are no persecutor, but the persecuting
nature is slain in you, he is willing to abide the judgment of the
court.’ To this the mayor answered, ‘I know not what to do; I would
I had never seen him; I pray you, let him go, and let us be no more
troubled with him.’ Then Miles said that he would prove this mayor of
Berwick the greatest persecutor in town or country. ‘I was once, [thus
he went on,] committed to the prison in this town before, by some of
the justices that are now in this court; but thou, O man, hast exceeded
them all; thou hast committed me, and kept me in close prison, for
about ten weeks, for speaking to thy own person, in thy own shop. Now
I make my appeal to the recorder of this town of Berwick, as I am a
free-born Englishman, whether my imprisonment be legal, according to
the law of this nation, or not?’ Then the recorder of the town stood
up and said, ‘It is not very legal for any minister of the law to
imprison any man in his own cause.’ Then the court cried, ‘Take him
away.’ The chief priest of the town then stood, and desired the court
that he might ask Miles one question; to this Miles said, ‘The Lord
knows thy heart, O man, and at this present has revealed thy thoughts
to his servant; and therefore now I know thy heart also, thou high
priest, and the question thou wouldst ask me: and if thou wilt promise
me before the court, that if I tell thee the question thou wouldst
ask me, thou wilt deal plainly with me, I will not only tell thee thy
query, but I will answer it.’ Then the priest said he would. Then Miles
proceeded: ‘Thy question is this: thou wouldst know whether I own that
Christ that died at Jerusalem, or not?’ To this the priest wondering,
said, ‘Truly that is the question.’ Then Miles said, ‘According to
my promise, I will answer it before this court: in the presence of
the Lord God of heaven, I own no other Christ than him that died at
Jerusalem, and made a good confession before Pontius Pilate, to be the
light and way that leads fallen man out of sin and evil, up to God
eternal, blessed for evermore.’ More questions were not asked him, but
the jailer was commanded to take him away. Yet within a short time, the
court gave order to release him. Then going to Newcastle, he returned
to his wife and children at Mount-joy, where we will leave him for some
time, and in the meanwhile return again to G. Fox, whom we left at
Cynder-hill-green[7], from hence he travelled up and down in Yorkshire,
as far as Holderness, visiting his friends, and finding the churches
in a flourishing state. To relate all his occurrences there, would be
beyond my pale.
[7] _Possibly Sinderhill-green.--Transcriber._
Passing then through the countries, he went to Lincolnshire, and to
the meeting where he was, came the sheriff of Lincoln, who made great
contention for a time; but at length the power of the Lord so reached
him, that he was convinced of the Truth, as were several others also
that did oppose him.
Whilst G. Fox was in this country, the church of his friends increased,
and many received the doctrine preached by him, and amongst these, was
one sir Richard Wrey, with his brother, and the brother’s wife, who
both continued steadfast till they died; but sir Richard found this way
so narrow, that he afterwards ran out; for persecution in that time
fell so fast on those called Quakers, that none could abide in their
society, but such as were willing to hazard all.
G. Fox now went to Derbyshire, and the abovesaid sheriff of Lincoln
travelling with him, they came into Nottinghamshire, and so into the
Peak country, where having a meeting at Thomas Hammersley’s, several
ranters came and opposed him; and when he reproved them for swearing,
they said Abraham, Jacob, and Joseph swore. But though G. Fox did not
deny this, yet he said, ‘Christ, (who said before Abraham was, I am,)
saith, Swear not at all. And Christ ends the prophets, as also the old
priesthood, and the dispensation of Moses; and he reigns over the
house of Jacob, and of Joseph, and saith, Swear not at all. And God
when he bringeth in the first-begotten into the world, saith, Let all
the angels of God worship him, to wit, Christ Jesus, who saith, Swear
not at all. And as for the plea that men make for swearing to end their
strife, Christ, who says, Swear not at all, destroys the devil and his
works, who is the author of strife; for that is one of his works. And
God said, This is my beloved Son in whom I am well pleased, hear ye
him. So the Son is to be heard, who forbids swearing: and the apostle
James, who did hear the Son of God, and followed him, and preached him,
forbids also all oaths.’ Thus G. Fox prevailed, and many were convinced
that day. It is remarkable that Thomas Hammersley, being summoned
upon a jury, was admitted to serve without an oath; and when he being
foreman brought in the verdict, the judge did declare, that he had been
a judge so many years, but never heard a more upright verdict than that
the Quaker had then brought in.
G. Fox travelling on, came to Swanington, in Leicestershire, where
there was a general meeting, to which many of his friends came from
several parts, and among these, J. Audland, and F. Howgill, from
Bristol; and E. Burrough, from London. After this, G. Fox came to
Twycross, and some ranters there sang and danced before him; but he
reproved them so earnestly, that some of them were reached, and became
modest and sober.
Then he went to Drayton, his birth-place, to visit his relations; where
Nathaniel Stevens, the priest, having gotten another priest, sent for
him. G. Fox, having been three years abroad, knew nothing of their
design, but yet at last he went to the steeple-house yard, where the
two priests had gathered abundance of people; and they would have had
him gone into the steeple-house: but he asked them what he should do
there; and it was answered him, Mr. Stevens could not bear the cold.
At which G. Fox said, ‘He may bear it as well as I.’ At last they went
into a great hall, R. Farnsworth being with him, where they entered
into a dispute with the priests concerning their practice, how contrary
it was to Christ and his apostles. The priests asked where tithes were
forbidden, or ended; whereupon G. Fox showed them out of the epistle to
the Hebrews, chap. vii. that not only tithes, but the priesthood that
took tithes, was ended; and that the law was ended and disannulled, by
which the priesthood was made, and tithes were commanded to be paid.
Moreover, he, knowing Steven’s condition, laid open his manner of
preaching, showing, that he, like the rest of the priests, did apply
the promises to the first birth, which must die; whereas the promises
were to the seed, not to many seeds, but to the one seed, Christ, who
was one in male and female: for all were to be born again, before
they could enter into the kingdom of God. Then Stevens said, that he
must not judge so. But G. Fox told him, he that was spiritual judged
all things. Stevens confessed, that this was a full scripture: but
‘Neighbours,’ said he, ‘this is the business; G. Fox is come to the
light of the sun, and now he thinks to put out my star-light.’ To this
G. Fox returned, that he would not quench the least measure of God in
any, much less put out his star-light, if it were true star-light,
light from the morning star: but that if he had any thing from Christ,
or God, he ought to speak it freely, and not take tithes from the
people for preaching; seeing Christ commanded his ministers to give
freely, as they had received freely. But Stevens said, he would not
yield to that.
This dispute being broke off for that time, was taken up again a week
after by eight priests, in the presence of many people: and when they
saw that G. Fox remained unshaken, they fawningly said, ‘What might
he have been if it had not been for the Quakers!’ Afterwards the
dispute was resumed in the steeple-house yard, where G. Fox showed,
by abundance of Scriptures, that they who preach for wages were false
prophets and hirelings; and that such who would not preach without
wages or tithes, did not serve the Lord Jesus Christ, but their
own bellies. This he treated on so largely, that a professor said,
‘George, what! wilt thou never have done?’ To this his answer was,
that he should have done shortly. And when he broke off, one of the
priests said, they would read the Scriptures he had quoted. ‘With all
my heart;’ said he: then they began to read Jer. xxiii. and when they
had read a verse or two, George said, ‘Take notice, people.’ But the
priests cried, ‘Hold thy tongue, George.’ He then bid them read the
whole chapter throughout; but they stopping, asked him a question:
and he told them, that if the matter he charged them with was first
granted, then he would answer their question: for his charge had
been that they were false prophets, and false teachers, such as the
true prophets, Christ and his apostles, cried against. ‘Nay,’ said a
professor to that: but he said, ‘Yes; for you, leaving the matter, and
going to another thing, seem to consent to the proof of the former
charge.’ Now their question was, seeing those false prophets were
adulterated, whether he did judge priest Stevens an adulterer. To this
he answered, that he was adulterated from God in his practice, like
those false prophets.
Then they broke up the meeting, and Stevens desired, that G. Fox, with
his father and mother, might go aside with him, that he might speak to
him in private. George, though his relations yielded to it, was very
loth to do so; yet, that it might not be said he was disobedient to
his parents, he went: but many of the people being willing to hear,
drew close to them. Then Stevens said, if he was out of the way, George
should pray for him; and if George was out of the way, he would pray
for him: moreover, that he would give to George a form of words to pray
by. To this G. Fox replied, ‘It seems thou dost not know, whether thou
art in the right way or no; but I know that I am in the everlasting
way, Christ Jesus, which thou art out of: and thou wouldst give me a
form of words to pray by, and yet thou deniest the common prayer book
to pray by, as well as I. If thou wouldst have me pray for thee by a
form of words, is not this to deny the apostles’ doctrine and practice
of praying by the Spirit as it gave words and utterance?’ Here, though
some of the people fell a laughing, yet others, that were grave and
sober, were convinced of the Truth, and the priests were greatly
shaken: insomuch that George’s father, though he was a hearer and
follower of the priest, was so well satisfied, that, striking his cane
upon the ground, he said, ‘Truly I see, he that will but stand to the
Truth, it will carry him out.’
G. Fox did not stay long at Drayton, but went to Leicester, and from
thence to Whetstone, where a meeting was to be kept; but before it
began, there came about seventeen troopers, of colonel Hacker’s
regiment, who, taking him up, brought him to the said colonel, where
there was also his major and captains. Here he entered into a long
discourse with them, about the priests, and about meetings; for at
this time there was a noise of a plot against Cromwell: and he spoke
also much concerning the light of Christ, which enlighteneth every man
that cometh into the world. The colonel hearing him speak thus, asked
whether it was the light of Christ that made Judas betray his Master,
and afterwards led him to hang himself? G. Fox told him, ‘No; that was
the spirit of darkness which hated Christ and his light.’ Then the
colonel said to George, he might go home, and keep at home, and not go
abroad to meetings. But he told him, he was an innocent man, free from
plots, and he denied all such works. Then the colonel’s son, Needham,
said, ‘Father, this man hath reigned too long; it is time to have him
cut off.’ G. Fox asked him for what? ‘What have I done, or whom have
I wronged from a child; and who can accuse me of any evil?’ Then the
colonel asked him, if he would go home, and stay there. To which G. Fox
answered, that if he should promise him so, it would imply that he was
guilty of something, to go home, and make his home a prison to himself;
and if he went to meetings, they would say, he broke their order; but
that he should go to meetings, as the Lord should order him; and that
therefore he could not submit to their requirings: and having further
added, that he and his friends were a peaceable people: the colonel
said, ‘Well then, I will send you to-morrow morning by six o’clock, to
my lord Protector, by captain Drury, one of his life-guard.’ The next
morning, about the appointed time, he was delivered to captain Drury.
Then G. Fox desired he would let him speak with the colonel, before
he went; and so the captain brought him to the colonel’s bed-side,
who again bade him go home and keep no more meetings. But G. Fox told
him he could not submit to that; but must have his liberty to serve
God, and go to meetings. ‘Then,’ said the colonel, ‘you must go before
the Protector.’ Whereupon G. Fox kneeled on his bed-side, and prayed
the Lord to forgive him: since, according to his judgment, he was as
Pilate, though he would wash his hands; (for he was stirred up and set
on by the priests,) and therefore George bade him, when the day of his
misery and trial should come upon him, then to remember what he had
said to him. Far was it now from Needham, who would have had G. Fox
cut off, to think that one time this would befal his father, in an
ignominious manner, at Tyburn. But what afterwards happened, when he
was condemned as one of the judges of King Charles the First, will be
related in its due place.
G. Fox then having left colonel Hacker, was carried prisoner by
captain Drury to London; where the captain went to give the Protector
an account of him; and coming again, he told G. Fox, the Protector
did require, that he should promise, not to take up a carnal sword
or weapon against him, or the government as it then was: and that he
should write this in what words he saw good, and set his hand to it.
G. Fox considering this, next morning writ a paper to the Protector,
by the name of Oliver Cromwell, wherein he did in the presence of God
declare, that he denied the wearing or drawing of a carnal sword, or
any outward weapon, against him, or any man: and that he was sent of
God to stand a witness against all violence, and against the works of
darkness; and to turn people from darkness to the light, and to bring
them from the occasion of war and fighting, to the peaceable gospel;
and from being evil-doers, which the magistrates sword should be a
terror to. Having writ this, he set his name to it, and gave it to
captain Drury, who delivered it to Oliver Cromwell; and after some time
returning to the Mermaid, near Charing-cross, where G. Fox was lodged,
he carried him to Whitehall, and brought him before the Protector who
was not yet dressed, it being pretty early in the morning. G. F. coming
in, said, ‘Peace be in this house,’ and bid the Protector keep in the
fear of God, that he might receive wisdom from him; that by it he might
be ordered, and with it might order all things under his hands to God’s
glory. He had also much discourse with him concerning religion, wherein
Cromwell carried himself very moderately, but said that G. Fox and his
friends quarrelled with the ministers, meaning his teachers. G. Fox
told him, he did not quarrel with them; but they quarrelled with him
and his friends. ‘But, (thus continued he,) if we own the prophets,
Christ, and the apostles, we cannot uphold such teachers, prophets, and
shepherds, as the prophets, Christ, and the apostles declared against;
but we must declare against them by the same power and spirit.’
Moreover, he showed that the prophets, Christ, and the apostles
preached freely, and declared against them that did not declare freely,
but preached for filthy lucre, and divined for money, or preached for
hire, being covetous and greedy, like the dumb dogs, that could never
have enough: and that they that had the same spirit, which Christ, the
prophets, and the apostles had, could not but declare against all such
now, as they did then. He also said, that all Christendom, (so called,)
had the Scriptures, but they wanted the power and spirit, which they
had who gave them forth; and that was the reason they were not in
fellowship with the Son, nor with the Father, nor with the Scriptures,
nor one with another. Whilst he was thus speaking, Cromwell several
times said, it was very good, and it was truth. G. Fox had many more
words with him; but seeing people coming in, he drew a little back: and
as he was turning, Cromwell catched him by the hand, and with tears in
his eyes, said, ‘Come again to my house; for if thou and I were but an
hour of a day together, we should be nearer one to another:’ adding,
that he wished him no more ill than he did to his own soul. To this
G. Fox returned, that if he did, he wronged his own soul; and bid him
hearken to God’s voice, that he might stand in his counsel, and obey
it; and if he did so, that would keep him from hardness of heart; but
if he did not hear God’s voice, his heart would be hardened. This so
reached the Protector, that he said it was true.
Then G. Fox went out; and captain Drury following, told him, that the
lord Protector said he was at liberty, and might go whither he would:
yet he was brought into a great hall, where the protector’s gentlemen
were to dine; and he asked what they did bring him thither for? They
told him it was by the Protector’s order, that he might dine with them.
But George bid them tell the Protector he would not eat a bit of his
bread, nor drink a sup of his drink. When Cromwell heard this, he said,
‘Now I see there is a people risen, and come up, that I cannot win
either with gifts, honours, offices, or places; but all other sects and
people I can.’ But it was told him again, that the Quakers had forsook
their own, and were not like to look for such things from him.
It was very remarkable that captain Drury, who, while G. Fox was under
his custody, would often scoff at him, because of the nickname of
Quakers, which the Independents had first given to the professors of
the light, afterwards came to him, and told him, that as he was lying
on his bed to rest himself in the day time, a sudden trembling seized
on him, that his joints knocked together, and his body shook so, that
he could not rise from his bed; he was so shaken, that he had not
strength enough left to rise. But he felt the power of the Lord was
upon him, and he tumbled off his bed, and cried to the Lord, and said,
he would never speak against the Quakers more, viz. such as trembled at
the word of God.
The particular occurrences that befel G. Fox, when he was at liberty
in London, I pass by. He had great meetings there, and the throngs of
people were such, that he could hardly get to and from the meetings,
because of the crowd. In the meanwhile the number of his friends
increased exceedingly, and some belonging to Cromwell’s court were
also convinced of the Truth preached by him. He wrote about that time
several papers, one of which was against pride, gaudy apparel, and the
world’s fashions.
I do not find that about this time there was at London any persecution
from the magistrates, but in other places there was: and it was in this
year that Anne the wife of John Audland, coming into a steeple-house at
Banbury, said, after the priest had ended, that those that were without
the doctrine of Christ, though they said the Lord liveth, yet spoke
falsely, according to Jer. v. 2. For this she was imprisoned as guilty
of blasphemy, and two boys swore against her, that she had said that
the Lord did not live. Thus false accusations prevailed, and at this
rate persecution was cloaked.
The year drew now to an end, and Cromwell concluded a peace with the
United Netherlands; to get things the more clear at home, it seems
he endeavoured to remove troubles abroad. And there being a rumour
spread of a plot as hath been hinted already, to be the more assured
of the parliament, he caused a guard to be set upon the door of the
house, to keep out those members that refused to sign a paper, whereby
they promised to be faithful to the lord Protector, and to make no
alteration in the government, so as it was settled, on a single person,
and a parliament. But several of the members would not sign this paper,
saying, that it was a violation of the privileges of the parliament,
and a depriving them of their liberty; and therefore they were kept
out; but others who subscribed the said paper were admitted. Yet this
assembly not acting to the satisfaction of Cromwell, he dissolved them
after a session of five months. The young king Charles, who lived in
exile, had left France, and was come to Cologne on the Rhine, where he
stayed for some time.
But I return to London, where we left G. Fox. He was in that city
continually at work, discharging his duty every where, both with mouth
and pen, suffering no time to be lost. There being commissioners
appointed for the trying of ministers, he writ a paper to them, wherein
he advised them, to see whether they were not such whom the prophets,
Christ, and the apostles disapproved; and who would admire men’s
persons because of advantage, &c. He staid at London till the year
1655; and after having cleared himself, he went to Bedfordshire, and
came to the house of John Crook, a justice of peace, where there was
a great meeting, and many were convinced of the Truth he declared, of
which number John Crook also was one; but for this he was soon turned
out from being a justice.
Whilst G. Fox was in Bedfordshire, there was also Alexander Parker,
one of the early ministers among those called Quakers. But leaving
them there, I now intend to speak of William Caton, who, as it hath
been said already, was one of the family of judge Fell. When he was
but about fourteen years of age, his father procured leave for him to
dwell in the said family; and his behaviour was so pleasing, that he
was allowed the judge’s son, as a companion night and day; he ate as
he did, and went with him a hunting, shooting, and fishing, partaking
of the same pleasure with him in every thing, and living in ease and
plenty; so that he had cause of joy, that Providence had cast his lot
into such a noted family; for not only judge Fell, but also his wife
Margaret, and their daughters, were well qualified. W. Caton conversing
with such choice company, grew up in piety, and was very zealous in
performing his private devotions, staying often in the bed-chamber,
till the judge’s son, his bed-fellow, was gone down, so that he might
the more freely pour out his heart before God in prayer. Having
attained to the age of fifteen years, he was very diligent, when he
had been at a lecture, to write down the chief heads thereof; for such
of the family as could make repetitions of sermons, and paraphrase
thereupon, were held in esteem. But William Caton found that what he
reaped thereby, could not satisfy the hunger and thirst of his immortal
soul.
After he and the judge’s son had for some time learned Latin together
in the family, where there was a priest that instructed them, they were
removed to a school at Hawkshead: but here he found company which he
disliked more than that in the judge’s family.
It was in the year 1652, about Midsummer, that G. Fox, (as hath been
said in its proper place,) first came to the house of judge Fell at
Swarthmore. His non-conformity to the ordinary salutations, W. Caton
not a little wondered at; but yet it did not hinder him from giving due
attention to the doctrine G. Fox preached, which in substance was, to
give heed to the light, which Christ Jesus had enlightened us withal,
and which shining in our hearts, convinceth us of sin and evil. This
so reached W. Caton, that in due time he began to be subject to this
inward convincement, by which he came to be much restrained in his
carriage, and could not allow himself so great liberty as he was wont
to do; for though he was no ways extravagant, yet now he saw that a
true Christian must be weaned from all vanity; and that the common
diversions of youth displeased God. This he clearly perceived, for the
witness of God had awakened and reproved him of that which was contrary
to true gravity, and sobriety of mind. He had not yet left the school:
but, though he was pretty much advanced in his learning, the making
of Latin verses became a burden to him, because he could not give his
thoughts that liberty for invention as others did; neither could he
well any longer give to the master of the school the compliment of
the hat, as he was used to do: this I had from his own mouth. One may
easily guess that hereby he was brought into a strait; but Margaret
Fell, seeing that he longed to be freed from the school, caused him to
stay at home, where he was employed by her in writing, and teaching her
children. And when he was about seventeen years of age, he became more
and more strengthened in the spiritual warfare, and his heart was often
filled with joy, because of the mercy and loving kindness of the Lord
to him.
Thus advancing in godliness, he was frequently moved to go to the
places of public worship, and also to markets, to warn people to
repentance; but then beating and buffeting was his share, and because
of his youth he was despised by many; yet he fainted not: and esteeming
it his duty now to labour in the ministry of the gospel, he desired to
be discharged of his service. Judge Fell was very unwilling to part
with him; but Margaret his wife, though she could not well give him
up before, yet believing that the Lord required his service, not only
freely resigned him, but also prevailed with her husband to let him
go: for he did not desire his liberty to serve other men, but to enter
into the service of the Lord, and to proclaim the everlasting gospel.
About the end of the year 1654, being eighteen years of age, he took
his leave of that family, which was not done without mutual shedding of
tears at parting.
He then went to visit his friends in Lancashire, Yorkshire, Derbyshire,
and Warwickshire; from thence to Norwich, and so to Wellingborough, in
Northamptonshire; where he found an opportunity to declare the Truth
of God in the steeple-house. After that he travelled to Cambridge,
visiting his friends there; and then returned to Norwich, where he
visited his friends in prison, and had great meetings in that city.
Then he went to London, where he was very kindly received by those
of the household of faith; and on a First-day of the week was at two
steeple-houses, at one of which he had large liberty to speak, being
indeed persuasive in speech; and in the afternoon, at a meeting of
dissenters from the public worship, he had liberty to publish Truth
without opposition, or contradiction from any; and many were added to
the faith: for at that time there were twelve ministering brethren,
most of them come out of the North of England, among whom was John
Stubbs, already mentioned, with whom he travelled into Kent: and coming
to Dover, where they were altogether strangers, not knowing any body
in the town, they took their lodging at an inn. J. Stubbs went on the
first day of the week to a meeting of the Baptists, and W. Caton to
the steeple-house, where he had but little liberty; but in the yard
he had more opportunity to clear his conscience to the people. In the
afternoon he went up to the castle, where the Independents performed
their worship. Shortly after, he and J. Stubbs went into the Baptists’
meeting, unto which much people resorted, and many began to be affected
with their testimony, and adhered to it. This made such a stir, that
they were hauled before the magistrates, who examined them, and ordered
that none should entertain them on a certain penalty; whereupon they
were turned out of their lodging. But one Luke Howard, a shoemaker, who
had already heard W. Caton at London, and afterwards at Dover, in the
steeple-house yard, though he little regarded him at London, but said
to his companion, ‘I know more than he can tell me, or more than either
I or he is able to live up to;’ yet now he became so affected with W.
Caton’s testimony, that he invited him and J. Stubbs to his house,
where he entertained them; and not long after they had a meeting there;
and he heard the testimony of his guests with no less satisfaction,
than Agrippa of old, did the speech of the apostle Paul, when he said
to him, ‘Almost thou persuadest me to be a Christian:’ For Luke Howard
was not yet come so far that he could resolve to conform himself with
the Quakers, so called: but yet, such was his love to them, that when
the mayor of the town sent four constables to his house, with an order
to deliver them up, that so they might be carried out of the town, he
refused to do so, relying on his right as a freeman of the corporation;
and the doors being shut, kept the constables out of his house, and
told them from the shop window, that the mayor had no lawful authority
to have these men hauled out of his house, and sent out of town,
there being no hue and cry come after them. They staid yet some days
in his house, and he became so strengthened by their ministry, that
he joined with them in profession, and also gave up his house to be a
meeting-place for their friends.
Then W. Caton and J. Stubbs departed the town, and went to Folkstone,
and from thence to Hithe, in both which places they found opportunity
to preach the Truth. After some stay, they went to Romney, and so to
Lydd. Here it was, that Samuel Fisher, both by their ministry, and by
that of Ambrose Rigge, and Thomas Robinson, (who now were also gone
forth in the service of the gospel,) was convinced, and brought over to
their society.
He was trained up to literature, and had studied diligently in the
University; and though but young then, yet was of a pious conversation,
and disliked many ceremonies and customs usual in the schools. When he
had finished his course there, he was ordained a priest of the church;
and a certain great man took him to be his chaplain; and afterwards he
got a living at Lydd, worth about two hundred pounds a year. But after
having been thus employed some time, he came to see that infant baptism
was an human institution, and to preach for wages unlawful. To this
may be added, that Luke Howard, some time before he knew the Quakers,
so called, not being satisfied concerning the singing of David’s
psalms at the public worship, so troubled his master that he had been
apprentice with, that he got Samuel Fisher, as a learned minister, to
come and discourse with him, and to try to convince him: and S. Fisher
talking with him, L. Howard told him, that God was a Spirit, and must
be worshipped in Spirit and Truth, of all those that would worship him
acceptably. And also, that it was contrary to Truth, for a proud man
to sing, “he was not puft in mind, he had no scornful eye, and he did
not exercise himself in things that were too high;” when he lived in
pride, wherein God beheld him afar off. And further, that it was very
unbecoming such an one to sing, “Rivers of tears run down mine eyes,
because other men keep not thy laws,” when he never knew a true sorrow
and repentance for his own sins. This reason of Howard’s against the
customary singing in their worship, had so much influence upon S.
Fisher, that from that time he was stopped from any more giving David’s
conditions to the people to sing; and becoming in time more and more
uneasy to go on in acting what was burdensome to his conscience, he
resolved to desist from his ministry, and so went to the bishop, and
delivered up the commission that he had received from him to preach:
and casting himself upon God’s providence, he took a farm, and turned
grazier, by which means he maintained his wife and children much better
to his content than before.
Departing thus from the Episcopalian church, he went over to the
Baptists, and became a zealous teacher among them. It was about this
time, that W. Caton, and J. Stubbs came to Lydd, whom S. Fisher
received into his house, remembering that Scripture exhortation, “Be
not forgetful to entertain strangers, for many thereby have entertained
angels unawares.” W. Caton went to the meeting of the Independents,
and Stubbs to that of the Baptists, where Fisher then preached; and
J. Stubbs having got opportunity to speak, declared Truth so plainly,
that S. Fisher being very much affected with it, began to paraphrase
upon it, with excellency of speech. W. Caton and J. Stubbs departing
this place, went to another town in this county, but not long after
returning to Lydd, they found S. Fisher in fellowship with themselves;
for it happened that this fellow-teacher, George Hammond, in his sermon
so violently inveighed against those called Quakers, that S. Fisher
could not be satisfied, until he stood up in the said meeting, and
bore a public testimony against the revilings of Hammond: saying to
him, ‘Dear brother, you are very dear and near to me, but the Truth
is nearer and dearer: it is the everlasting Truth and gospel which
they hold forth.’ And speaking more words to that effect, he openly
defended the doctrine of the reviled Quakers. This so vexed Hammond,
that falling into a greater rage, he said, ‘Our brother Fisher is
also bewitched.’ But Fisher rendered not reviling for reviling, but
continued with patience in the faith. This was he who afterwards writ
a book, called Rusticus ad Academicos, wherein he often encountered
the priests with their own weapons; for he was very dexterous at that,
and so well versed in the ancient poets, that he now and then with
their words, gave home blows to his adversaries, allowing himself
sometimes the freedom of the prophet Elijah against the prophets of
Baal. He writ also a paper in Hebrew to the Jews, in which language he
was well skilled. But before I say more of him, I return to W. Caton
and J. Stubbs. They went from Lydd to Ashford, Tenterden, Cranbrook,
and Staplehurst, where they found an open and tender hearted people,
who embraced their doctrine, and some would have given them money,
nay, even have forced it upon them, yet they would not take any: but
as they freely had received, so they freely gave: telling people it
was not theirs, but them, which they sought. Thence they travelled to
Maidstone, where J. Stubbs went to the public place of worship, and W.
Caton to the meeting of the Independents. J. Stubbs was taken at the
steeple-house, and W. Caton, the day following from his inn, and were
both sent to the house of correction, where they were searched, and
their money, inkhorns, and bibles, &c. taken from them. Afterwards they
were stripped, and their necks and arms put in the stocks, and in that
condition were desperately whipped. A hard encounter indeed, especially
for such a young man as W. Caton was; but they were supported by an
invisible hand. Afterwards means were used to compel them to work; and
it was told them, he that would not work should not eat. But they were
not free to consent thereto, because they esteemed this demand unjust,
not being guilty of the breach of any law. Thus they were kept without
victuals for some days, only a little water once a day was allowed
them. In the meanwhile, the malefactors that were there, would have
given them of their bread; yea, the women of the house being moved with
compassion, would have given them something privately; but they were
not free to accept of either. Now the report of this cruelty being
spread in the town, many began to be offended at it; so that an officer
was sent to make restitution of some of their things, which had been
taken from them, and then they bought victuals with their own money.
Not long after, they were parted, and with officers conveyed out of the
town, one at the one end of it, and the other at the other.
At length W. Caton came to London, where he found his companion, J.
Stubbs; but being there, it came upon them to return to the town from
whence they came, which was no small trial to them; but yet they
resigned, and gave up to what they believed to be the will of the Lord.
Now Providence so ordered it, that none meddled with them, though
they, to be more fully seen, went on a First-day of the week to the
steeple-house. They went also to Canterbury, where, at the meetings of
the Baptists and Independents, they had pretty good liberty to declare
the Truth amongst them; and some, being convinced, received their
testimony. They were likewise at Sandwich, where W. Caton had some
service among the Dutch people at their steeple-house.
It was now nigh Midsummer, when he felt a motion to go over to Calais,
in France. For that end he went to Dover, and so to Calais, where
coming to their high place of worship, his spirit was very much grieved
and burdened, with the great idolatry in vogue there; for he saw how
some were worshipping before their dumb idols, and he could not well
ease his spirit for want of the language. Having some time walked about
in the town, he came to be known to some of the chief of the city,
who desiring to speak with him, some of them came down in person to
the quay, to look for him; and understanding he was aboard, he was
called ashore, and conveyed to a large house, where several of the
great ones were come to see and hear him: so that he had a very good
opportunity to declare the Truth among them, there being a Scotch lord
who interpreted for him. And after he had cleared his conscience, they
suffered him to depart quietly.
Soon after he returned for England, and found his companion, J.
Stubbs, at Dover; and it being upon him to go for Holland, W. Caton
was made free to accompany him. With this intent, they went together
to Yarmouth, but could not find passage there for Holland, and so they
passed further to the North; and coming to Swarthmore, W. Caton found
his friends very glad to see him, especially Margaret Fell, who had
been as a nursing mother to him. After some stay there, having been
abundantly refreshed, they went to Shields, where they heard of a ship
bound for Flanders; but having little inclination to go thither, came
soon after to Yarmouth, where they found a ship intended for Flushing,
in Zealand. With this vessel they went over, and arrived safely at
the said town: and on the First-day of the week, they went to the
congregation of the English and Scotch, where many wondered at them
because of their non-conformity; and after they began to speak, there
arose a great stir, so that they were soon hurried out. The same day
they went to Midddleburg, whither being come, before the afternoon’s
worship was ended, one of them began to speak after the priest had
done: but he stopped him presently, thinking at first they were such
as came thither begging; but perceiving the contrary, he and others
were the more violent. After that, he sent for them to his house, and
reasoned awhile with them; but he being of a lofty mind, they found but
a slight entertainment there. After a short stay in town, they embarked
themselves for Rotterdam, in Holland, where being come, when they
had been some few days in the city, they got a meeting at an English
merchant’s house: but he that interpreted for them, not rendering their
words truly, it seemed not to satisfy the hearers. After some time they
returned to Zealand, and from thence again to England, where being
arrived, W. Caton journeyed to Swarthmore, and was received there with
joy; and having some drawings to Scotland, he went to Bishoprick, where
he found his companion J. Stubbs again, with whom he travelled towards
Scotland. It was about the beginning of the month called December, when
they came to Berwick upon Tweed, where W. Caton went into the great
public assembly; and when the priest had done, stepped upon a seat,
and beginning to speak, none seemed to make such haste to get away, as
the priest: in the meanwhile W. Caton spoke with great boldness, and
had pretty good liberty to declare the Truth. But when he had done,
he was taken hold of, and brought before the magistrates, who ordered
that he should be turned out of the town; which was done. J. Stubbs was
that day in a meeting of the Baptists, and had some service there. Not
long after, W. Caton, who wandering up and down, could not well get
any lodging for his money, returned, and came into the town again, the
guard suffering him very freely to pass.
Then they both travelled to Edinburgh, in Scotland, where they found
things somewhat out of order, through the unfaithfulness of some that
were convinced of the Truth; but their ministry was so effectual among
them, that they were brought into better order again: and so they
edified the church according to their ability, the meeting being kept
at the house of William Osborn, who had been a lieutenant-colonel,
and afterwards become a zealous minister among the flock there.
While W. Caton was there, he went once to the chief steeple-house,
where, after the priest had done, he spoke to the people; but, the
multitude combining, he was not suffered to say much, but was carried
out; and coming into the street, there was a guard of soldiers, who
conducted him with drawn swords to the places where he desired to be.
He was about that time also with general Monk, who behaved himself
moderately, and heard him. J. Stubbs now returning to England, W.
Caton went to Stirling, where, being carried to the governor, he was
at first high, but when W. Caton, who was a man of meek behaviour,
had spoke a little to him, he became cool and sedate. He then went
to the English chaplain’s house, who was kind to him. From Edinburgh
he went to Glasgow, where, going into the great cathedral, after the
service was done, he had some liberty to speak to the multitude in the
yard, the rude people being kept under by the English soldiers, who
were moderate, so that he had very good service there. He also went
to Douglas, where his service was no less, both in the steeple-house
and elsewhere: so that having cleared himself in Scotland, he returned
to England, and came again to Swarthmore, where he was received as
formerly in very great love.
1655.
Leaving him there, I turn again to G. Fox, whom we left in
Bedfordshire. From thence he went by London to Kent, and came to
Romney, not long after W. Caton and J. Stubbs had been there. Here he
had a very large meeting, whither Samuel Fisher also came, and there
was a great convincement that day, so that many were turned to the
light of Christ: and after the meeting S. Fisher’s wife said, ‘Now
we may discern betwixt flesh and spirit, and distinguish spiritual
teaching from fleshly.’
From hence G. Fox went to Dover and Canterbury, and further into
Sussex, and so to Reading, where they had a great meeting, and many
were convinced that day. There came also George Bishop, of Bristol,
who, being a captain, then wore a sword, though in time, he entirely
left it off.
G. Fox, going from hence, passed up to London, where, leaving him for
some time, we will go and behold the life and occurrences of James
Parnel, who was born at Retford, in Nottinghamshire, and trained up
in the schools of literature. He laboured very early in the ministry
of the gospel, having been convinced by G. Fox, when not quite
sixteen years of age, and then embraced the Truth; though for that
reason despised and rejected by his relations. He was, (though of
low stature,) endued with great ability, and did not fear, wherever
he came, to call people to repentance. Being imprisoned at Cambridge
for his zealous testimony, and afterward turned out of town like a
vagabond, he soon came back and disputed with the scholars of the
university; but met with rude and bad entertainment from them. In the
beginning of this year he came into Essex, being then about eighteen
years of age, and preached the gospel in several parts of that county,
as Felsted, Stebbing, Witham, Coggeshall, Halsted, and other places,
and many received the word by his ministry. About the middle of the
summer he came to Colchester, and there preached the gospel on a
First day of the week in a steeple-house, after the sermon; then in a
great meeting appointed on purpose; and after that disputed with the
town-lecturer, and another priest, in the French school, all in one
day; so that many were convinced of the Truth preached by him; and
among these also Stephen Crisp, of whom more will be said hereafter.
J. Parnel spent that week in the said town, preaching, exhorting, and
disputing, to the convincing of many; though others were enraged,
insomuch, that his godly zeal was often rewarded with blows; as once
coming out of Nicholas’ steeple-house, he was struck by one with a
great staff, who said, ‘There, take that for Christ’s sake.’ To which
he meekly answered, ‘Friend, I do receive it for Jesus Christ’s sake.’
Many other grievous affronts he bore, without showing any heat or
anger; so that he was a real pattern of patience and meekness.
Having laboured in the gospel about ten days in Colchester, he went to
Coggeshall, where a fast was proclaimed, to be held upon the 12th of
the month called July, to pray against the errors of the people called
Quakers. J. Parnel being come thither, went into the steeple-house,
where he stood still, till the priest was coming out of the pulpit.
Now since this priest Sammes, who was an Independent, had cried out
fiercely against the Quakers, as deceivers, J. Parnel esteemed it his
duty to say something to that; and the first words he spoke were, ‘This
is the order of the true church, that all may speak one by one; and
if any thing be revealed to him that stands by, let the first hold
his peace.’ Then he spoke on behalf of those called Quakers: but the
priest, interrupting, asked what he would object against him? To which
J. Parnel answered, in that he reviled the people called Quakers,
and said they were built upon a sandy foundation, and so called them
Shakers. ‘But,’ said he, ‘I will prove their foundation not to be
sandy, and thee to be a false prophet.’ After some more words spoken by
him, some accused him, that he owned no church: to which he said it was
false. Then it was asked him what church he owned? And he answered, the
church in God. Then priest Willis stood up, and said, he spoke nothing
but nonsense. Parnel bade him name one word which he had spoken that
was nonsense. At which Willis said, ‘To say the church in God.’ Then
Parnel took out his bible, and read 1 Thes. i. 1. where the apostle
writes to the church, which is in God the Father. The priest now was at
a loss, and Parnell told him, that he blasphemed in saying the church
in God was nonsense. Then priest Stellum stood up, and accused Parnel
with lies and slanders, and not suffering him to clear himself from
those accusations, he got up into the pulpit, and began to pray; but
Parnel not taking off his hat, the magistrates called to him to put
it off. To which he returned, ‘Order the priest to put off his cap;’
and further said, before he should be subject to their wills, he would
rather pass out of the meeting place; and so he went out.
Not long after, justice Dionysius Wakering followed him, and struck
him with his hand upon his back, saying he arrested him in the name
of the lord protector. Parnel, not knowing him to be a magistrate,
asked him where his writ was. Wakering said he had one; but showed
none. Then Parnel was hurried into an house, and some of his friends
engaged, that he should be forthcoming when their worship was done. And
accordingly he appeared where four justices and six or seven priests
were met together. Then justice Wakering pulled his hat off his head,
and threw it away; and they questioned him concerning many things; all
which he answered, with many frivolous questions asked to ensnare him.
At last he was committed to the common jail at Colchester, where none
of his friends were permitted to come to him. The time of the sessions
at Chelmsford being come, he, with several felons and murderers was
fastened to a chain, and thus led about eighteen miles through the
country, remaining chained both night and day.
Being brought into the court before judge Hills, the jailer took off
his hat and cast it upon the floor. Then the clerk read his indictment,
and asked him if he was guilty; to which he said, that he denied all
guilt; and he called for his accusers. The judge said he might see
them; and that he ought to say guilty, or not guilty. On which Parnel
told him, he was not guilty. Then a jury of twelve men was called,
whose foreman was a drunkard; priest Willis was also called, who swore
against him, and so did two justices; one of their men swearing that
they would speak nothing against him but the truth. The accusations
were, that in a riotous manner he did enter into the parish church at
Great Coggeshall; that he there did stand up, and told the minister
he blasphemed, and spoke falsely, using many other reproachful words
against him: and he could not give a good account where he was last
settled, or of his life and conversation, appearing to be an idle
person. He was also accused with contempt of the magistracy, and of
the ministry. To this he answered, that he no ways in a riotous manner
entered the steeple-house, but came thither quietly, and alone: for
being followed by several boys that would have come in after him,
he bade them go in before, rather than to go in disorderly, whereby
to occasion any disturbance. That he had said to priest Willis, he
blasphemed, by saying the church in God was nonsense, he denied not;
but did not own himself to be a vagabond and idle person. And he
did not think it indecent to call an unjust judge, unrighteous; a
persecutor, persecutor; and a deceiver, deceiver. Thus Parnel pleaded
his cause. Yet the judge said to the jury, that if they did not find
him guilty, the sin would lie upon their heads; thus condemning the
prisoner before the jury had considered the case. Then J. Parnel began
to speak, to inform them concerning his cause, but the judge would not
suffer him, though one of the jury desired it. After consultation, the
jury had nothing to lay to his charge, but a paper in which he had
answered the mittimus, though he had already owned this paper to be his
writing. But in that they were at a loss, because in the indictment
he was accused of a riot: yet the judge and the clerk strove to draw
some words from the foreman, which the other jurymen did not consent
to, and he himself was unwilling to answer fully to their questions.
Then J. Parnel was made to withdraw; and being called in again, the
judge fined him to the value of about forty pounds, for contempt of the
magistracy and ministry; for he said the lord protector had charged him
to punish such persons as should contemn either magistracy or ministry.
Thereupon J. Parnel was carried back again to the prison, being an old
ruinous castle, built as it is reported, in the time of the ancient
Romans: here he was to be kept until the fine should be paid: and the
jailer was commanded, not to let any giddy-headed people, (by which
denomination they meant his friends,) come at him.
The jailer was willing enough to comply with this order, suffering none
to come to him, but such as abused him; and his wife, who was a wicked
shrew, did not only set her man to beat him, but several times herself
laid violent hands upon him, and swore she would have his blood: she
also set other prisoners to take away the victuals brought to him by
his friends; and would not let him have a trundle bed, which they would
have brought him to lie on, so that he was forced to lie on the cold
and damp stones. Afterwards he was put into the hole in the wall, a
room much like a baker’s oven; for the walls of that building, which is
indeed a direful nest, are of an excessive thickness, as I have seen
myself, having been in the hole where this pious young man ended his
days, as will be said by and by. Being confined in the said hole, which
was, as I remember, about twelve feet high from the ground, and the
ladder too short by six feet; he must climb up and down by a rope on a
broken wall, which he was forced to do to fetch his victuals, or for
other necessities: for though his friends would have given him a cord
and a basket to draw up his victuals in, yet such was the malice of his
keepers, that they would not suffer it.
Continuing in this moist hole, his limbs grew benumbed; and thus it
once happened, that as he was climbing up the ladder, with his victuals
in one hand, and come to the top thereof, catching at the rope with
his other, he missed the same, and fell down upon the stones, whereby
he was exceedingly wounded in his head, and his body so bruised, that
he was taken up for dead. Then they put him into a hole underneath the
other; for there were two rows of such vaulted holes in the wall. This
hole was called the oven, and so little, that some baker’s ovens were
bigger, though not so high. Here, (the door being shut,) was scarcely
any air, there being no window or hole. And after he was a little
recovered from his fall, they would not suffer him to take the air,
though he was almost spent for want of breath: and though some of his
friends, viz. William Talcot and Edward Grant, did offer their bond of
forty pounds to the justice Henry Barrington, and another, whose name
was Thomas Shortland, to lie body for body, that Parnel might but have
his liberty to come to W. Talcot’s house, and return, when recovered;
yet this was denied; nay so immoveable were they set against him, that
when it was desired that he might only walk a little sometimes in the
yard, they would not grant it by any means: and once the door of the
hole being open, and he coming forth, and walking in a narrow yard
between two high walls, so incensed the jailer, that he locked up the
hole, and shut him out in the yard all night, being in the coldest time
of the winter. This hard imprisonment did so weaken him, that after ten
or eleven months he fell sick and died. At his departure there were
with him Thomas Shortland, and Ann Langley: and it was one of these,
that came often to him, who long after brought me into this hole where
he died.
Several things which are related here, I had from the mouth of
eye-witnesses, who lived in that town. When death approached, he said,
‘Here I die innocently.’ A little after he was heard to say, ‘Now I
must go:’ and turning his head to Thomas, he said, ‘This death must I
die; Thomas, I have seen great things: don’t hold me, but let me go.’
Then he said again, ‘Will you hold me?’ To which Ann answered, ‘No,
dear heart, we will not hold thee.’ He had often said that one hour’s
sleep would cure him of all: and the last words he was heard to say,
were, ‘Now I go;’ and then stretched out himself, and slept about an
hour, and breathed his last. Thus this valiant soldier of the Lamb
conquered through sufferings: and so great was the malice and envy of
his persecutors, that to cover their guilt and shame, they spread among
the people, that by immoderate fasting, and afterwards with too greedy
eating, he had shortened his days. But this was a wicked lie; for
though it be true that he had no appetite to eat some days before he
fell sick, yet when he began to eat again, he took nothing but a little
milk, as was declared by credible witnesses. During his imprisonment he
writ several edifying epistles to his friends.
By continuing this relation without breaking off, I am advanced
somewhat as to time; but going back a little, let us see the
transactions of Edward Burrough and Francis Howgill. It was in the
year 1655, that they went together to Ireland, where they came in
the summer, and staid more than six months, having spent at Dublin
about three months, without being disturbed, though they omitted no
opportunity to declare the doctrine of Truth. Henry Cromwell, son of
the protector, was at that time lord deputy of Ireland; and it was in
his name that they were carried from Cork, (whither they were gone,)
to Dublin; for since several received their testimony, and adhered
to the doctrine they preached, it was resolved upon, not to let them
stay any longer in Ireland. Here it was, as I have been told, that
William Ames, by their ministry, was brought over into the society of
the Quakers, so called. He was a Baptist teacher, and also a military
officer, who being of a strict life himself, kept his soldiers under a
severe discipline. I remember how he used to tell us, when any soldier
under his colours had been guilty of any immorality on a First-day of
the week, he presently had him bound neck and heels. But being now
entered into the society of the despised Quakers, and in process of
time becoming a minister among them, it was not long before he was cast
into prison; of whom more may be said hereafter.
Now E. Burrough and F. Howgill were banished out of Ireland; but on the
same day that they were sent away, Barbara Blaugdone arrived there.
She went from England in a vessel bound for Cork, but by foul weather
carried to Dublin. When the tempest was high, the seamen said, that
she being a Quaker was the cause of it, and they conspired to cast
her overboard. Aware of this plot, she told the master what his men
designed to do, and said that if he did suffer this, her blood would
be required at his hands. So he charged them not to meddle with her.
The storm continuing, and it being on a First-day of the week, she went
upon the deck, feeling herself moved to speak to the seamen by way of
exhortation, and to pray for them; for their priest, afraid like the
rest, could not say any thing among them. Having spoke what was upon
her, she concluded with a prayer; and all the ship’s crew were very
quiet and sedate, saying, that they were more beholden to her than to
their priest, because she prayed for them; and he, for fear, could not
open his mouth to speak. At length they arrived safe at Dublin, without
damage, which indeed was strange, and made the master say, that he was
never in such a storm without receiving any loss.
Barbara going ashore, went to the house of the deputy; but the people
told her, there was for her no speaking with him; for she might know
that he had banished two of her friends out of the nation the day
before. Then she met with the secretary, and desired him to help her
to speak with the deputy. He answered that he did not think he could;
then she told him that if he would be so civil, as to go up and tell
the deputy that there was a woman below that would speak with him;
if he refused, she was answered. So the secretary went up; and there
came a man to fetch her into the withdrawing-room; and after she had
been there awhile, a person came out of the deputy’s chamber, and all
that accompanied him stood bare-headed; for they knew she never saw
the deputy, but she had a sense it was a priest, who showed himself
covered to deceive her: and the room being almost full of people, they
asked her why she did not do her message to their lord. To which she
answered, ‘When I see your lord, then I shall do my message to him.’ A
little after the deputy came forth, and sat down on a couch: she then
stood up, and speaking to him what was upon her mind, bade him beware
that he was not found fighting against God, in opposing the Truth, and
persecuting the innocent; but like wise Gamaliel, to let them alone;
for if it was of God, it would stand; but if of man, it would fall.
Further, that the enmity did not lie so much in himself, but he was
stirred up to it by evil magistrates, and bad priests; and that God’s
people were as dear to him now, as ever; and they that touched them,
touched the apple of his eye. In the meanwhile, in his name, and by
his power, there was much hurt done to the people of God, all over the
nation, and it would at last lie heavy upon him. Moreover, that the
teachers of the people did cause them to err, and that he knew the
priests’ condition. She touching upon that, the deputy said to the
priest that stood by, ‘There’s for you, Mr. Harrison:’ and she spoke
with such power, that it made the deputy much concerned: and when she
had done, he asked the priest what he had to say to that which she
spoke. And he said, it was all very true, and very good, and he had
nothing to say against it, if she did speak as she meant. Then she told
the priest, that the Spirit of God was true, and did speak as it meant,
and meant as it spoke; but that men of corrupt minds did pervert the
Scriptures, by putting their own imaginations and conceivings upon it,
and so did deceive the people: but the holy men of God wrote, and gave
forth the Scriptures as they were inspired of the Holy Ghost; and that
they were of no private interpretation; and could not be understood but
by the same spirit that gave them forth.
After having thus spoken, she went away, and returned to her lodging,
which was at one captain Rich’s house, who coming home, said, that the
deputy was so sad and melancholy, after she had been with him, that he
could not go to bowls, or to any other pastime.
Barbara having now performed her service at Dublin, went to Cork,
where she had some relations and acquaintance; but great were her
sufferings thereabout; for she was imprisoned almost wherever she
came, being moved to follow those of her acquaintance, into several
steeple-houses: yet wherever her mouth was opened, there was some that
received her testimony. Once she was made to speak in a market-place,
where a butcher swore he would cleave her head; and having lifted up
his cleaver to do it, there came a woman behind him, and catching his
arms, stopt him, till the soldiers came and rescued Barbara. Many of
her acquaintance, with whom she formerly had been very conversant,
were now afraid of her; for sometimes she spoke so awfully to them
in their houses, that it made them tremble; and some said she was a
witch; and, running away, their servants turned her out of doors. After
having been there some time, she returned home to Bristol; but it was
not very long ere she was moved to go to Ireland again; and being come
near Dungarvan, the ship foundered near the shore: the master and the
passengers got into the boat, save one man and a woman, who were cast
away; and Barbara who was still in the cabin, was almost stifled by
waves that beat in upon her; yet at length she got upon the deck. The
master in the meanwhile being come ashore, called to her, that if she
would leap down, he and another would venture to come into the water
to save her. Accordingly they came up to their necks, and she leaping
down, they caught her; but being entangled in the ropes in leaping
down, she was drawn from them again: but presently a wave came rolling
and beat the ship outward, which was their preservation; for if it had
beaten inward, it might have killed them all three; she was thus caught
again, and drawn to shore. Then she went to Dublin, where coming into
the court of justice, she spoke to the judges, and exhorted them to
righteousness. But this was taken so ill, that she was put into prison,
where she lay upon straw on the ground, and when it rained, the wet
and filth of the house of office ran in under her. Being arraigned at
the bar, she was required to plead guilty or not guilty. She answered
that there was no guilt upon any one’s conscience for what was done in
obedience to the Lord God. But she not answering in that form of words
they bid her, was sent back to prison again, where she suffered much.
In the meanwhile, there happened a singular instance, which I cannot
pass by with silence.
At that time there was in prison an inn-keeper, with his family,
being accused of a murder: now the brother of him that was either
murdered, or lost, could not enjoy some land, except he could prove
that his brother was dead; and in order thereto, he brought a fellow
into the prison, who said, he would prove that the man was killed at
such an inn, and buried under a wall: and he accused the inn-keeper
and his wife, their man and maid, and a smith, to be guilty of this
murder; they being already in prison. Barbara having heard of this,
found means to go to this desperate fellow: and asked him how he could
conceal this murder so long, when he was, according to law, as guilty
of it as any of them, if what he said were true. At this question he
trembled so exceedingly, that his knees struck one against another;
and he confessed that he never before saw the people with his eyes,
nor ever was at the place in his life, nor knew anything of it, but
only he was drawn in by the man that was to have the land, and was
persuaded to witness the fact. Other prisoners heard this confession
also, and Barbara sent to the deputy, desiring him to send down his
priest, that he might hear the said confession. The priest came, and
the fellow confessed the same to him as he had done to Barbara; and he
once also confessed the same before the judge. But afterwards he eat
his words; for the man that had induced him, came every day, and made
him drink plentifully, and also caused the jailer to lock up Barbara,
that she might not come to him. Then she wrote to the inn-keeper, and
his wife, and man, and judge Pepes, and told him the day of his death
did draw nigh, wherein he must give an account of his actions; and
that therefore he ought to take heed, that he did not condemn innocent
people, having but one witness, in whose mouth so many lies were found,
the others all saying they were innocent. For all that, the judge went
on, and condemned all the accused, and the accuser also, as conscious
to the crime. Hereupon a priest came to speak with the maid that was
condemned, and was in the same prison with Barbara, but she would not
see him, saying, ‘Nay, he can do me no good; I have done with man for
ever: but God, thou knowest that I am innocent of what they lay to my
charge.’ But, however, they were all hanged, and the witness first,
probably for fear he should have made another confession after he had
seen the others hanged.
Now some friends of Barbara, viz. Sir William King, colonel Fare,
and the lady Brown, hearing she was in prison, came to see her, and
afterwards went to the aforementioned judge, to get her released: but
when they came to him, he told them, that he was afraid of his life.
At which they laughed, and said, they had known her from a child, and
there was no harm in her at all. And being all very earnest to get her
liberty, they at last obtained it. Then she went to the steeple-house
where this judge was, and cleared herself of him. He being come home,
went to bed, and died that night. The noise of which sudden death being
spread, it made people say, that Barbara had been a true prophetess
unto him.
She now went to Limerick, where she was put into prison, but after a
while being released, she took shipping for England again; and at sea
was robbed of all that she had, by a privateer, who, coming on board,
took the master away, until he should pay them a sum of money, for the
ship and goods; but she came safe to England. She travelled at her own
charge, paying for what she had.
But leaving her, I will return to Miles Halhead, who, as he was
following the plough, in the beginning of this year, felt a motion
to go to London. Taking York and Hull in his way, and passing thence
through Lincolnshire and Leicestershire, he came to the city of London,
from whence, after some stay, he went to Bristol with Thomas Salthouse,
and so to Exeter and Plymouth, where he suffered much persecution, and
was imprisoned. He writ about that time a letter to his wife, which I
think worth the while to insert here, and was as followeth.
‘_Anne Halhead_,
‘My dear heart, my dear love in the bowels of love, in the Lord
Jesus Christ, salutes thee and my children. My soul, my soul
is poured forth in love to thee daily, and the breathings, of
my soul to my Father is for thee, that thou mayest be kept in
the fear of the Lord, and in his counsel daily, that so thou
mayest come to rest and peace, that is laid up for all that fear
him, and walk in obedience to the light that Jesus Christ hath
enlightened them withal. So my dear heart, I declare to thee,
in the presence of the living God, who is Lord of heaven and
earth, and before men and angels, there is no other way that
leads to peace, and eternal rest, but walking in obedience to
the light that comes from Jesus Christ, and of this light thou
hast received a measure. Therefore my dear heart, be faithful
to the Lord in what is made known unto thee, that thou mayest
come to witness true peace and rest, that eye hath not seen, nor
ear heard, neither hath it entered into the heart of man, what
is laid up for all them that fear him. So, my dear heart, as I
have found peace and eternal rest to my soul from the Lord, so I
am moved of the Lord in love to thy soul, to show thee the way
that leads to peace and eternal rest; which way is Christ, who
is the light, and the way that leads to the Father, from whence
all light comes; and of this light which comes from Christ, I
bear record thou hast received a measure. Therefore, in dear
love, I exhort thee to walk in obedience to thy measure, which
thou hast received from the Lord. So, in the presence of the Lord
God do I declare, that walking in obedience to this light that
comes from Christ, is the way that leads to eternal rest and
peace. Therefore, as thou tenderest the eternal good of thy soul,
be faithful to the light that comes from Christ, which light
beareth witness against lying, and swearing, and vain talking,
and all manner of evil. So, my dear wife, in bowels of dear love
to thy soul, which is more precious than all the world, have I
showed thee the way; if thou wilt walk in it, it will lead thee
into the eternal covenant of life and peace. So, my dear wife,
in love, in love I have cleared my conscience to thee, in the
presence of the living God, as a true and faithful husband to
thee, desiring thy eternal good and welfare as my own, the Lord
God is my witness. Dear wife, remember my dear love to all my
friends and countrymen, according to the flesh; for I desire the
eternal good and welfare of you all, and that you all may come
to believe in the light in your own consciences, which Jesus
Christ hath enlightened you with; which light bears witness
against lying, and swearing, and all manner of evil. This is the
light of Christ, and walking in obedience to this light is the
way that leads out of sin and evil, up to God eternal, blessed
for evermore: and he that acts contrary to this light in his own
conscience, it is his condemnation. Now, dear friends, while you
have time prize it.
Thy husband, and a lover of thy soul,
MILES HALHEAD.’
Wiltshire, the 7th of the
Third month, 1655.
This year also he writ the following epistle to his fellow-believers.
‘_Dearly beloved friends and brethren_,
‘In the North of England, even to the South, the land of our
nativity, whom the Lord God of heaven and earth hath called
and chosen in this the day of his eternal everlasting love, to
serve him in truth and in righteousness, who hath received the
Lord’s Truth in the love of it, not only to believe in his name,
but to suffer bonds and imprisonments, and hard sentences for
the testimony of Jesus, and the word of God. Dear friends, and
beloved brethren, my prayers to the Lord God of heaven and earth,
and my soul’s desire is for you all, that you may all dwell
together as children of one father, in the eternal bond of love,
and oneness of the spirit; that you may all grow in the eternal
living Truth of God, to be established upon the rock and sure
foundation, that the gates of hell and death cannot prevail
against you; that under the shadow of the wings of the Almighty,
you may all be kept and preserved in peace and rest, now in the
day of trial, and hour of darkness, when hell hath opened her
mouth, and the raging sea cast out her proud waves, even like to
overflow the banks. Glory, glory, and eternal living praises be
given to the Lord God, and to the Lamb forevermore, of all the
children of the light, who hath found a resting-place for all his
dear ones, lambs, and babes, and children of light to flee into,
in the needful time of trouble, where none can make them afraid,
nor take away their peace, as they abide faithful to him, who is
our way, our light, our life, our strength, and eternal portion
for ever. My dear friends and brethren, I beseech you in the
bowels of dear and tender love, that you walk as dear children,
faithful to him who hath called you with an honourable calling,
and loved you from the beginning with an everlasting love, that
all your friends and neighbours, and men of this world, that
see your life coupled with fear, may be made to confess and
acknowledge, to the honour and glory of the living Lord, that the
God whom we serve and fear, is the only true God of Israel: and
herein you become a precious savour unto the living eternal God,
and a sweet smelling savour unto all the children of light, and
no good thing will the Lord God withhold from you; the mouth of
the Lord God of Hosts hath spoken it, whose promises are yea and
amen to his own seed forevermore.
MILES HALHEAD.’
Given forth the 14th of the Sixth
Month, 1655, when I was a prisoner
at the prison-house, in the city
of Exeter, in Devonshire, for the
testimony of Jesus, and the word of
God.
A chief cause why he was imprisoned there, was, that Thomas Salthouse,
with whom he travelled, (having heard that one George Brooks, a priest
belonging to the Nightingale frigate, said, after the declarations of
M. Halhead, and T. Salthouse, at Plymouth, that it was the eternal
truth which they had spoken, with many other words in vindication of
what they said,) told Brooks, that he had spoken many good words, and
fair speeches; but asked him, whether he lived the life of what he
spoke? Further, ‘He that entereth not by the door, but climbeth up some
other way, is, as Christ said, a thief and a robber.’ For T. Salthouse
thought, and that not without reason, as will be shown by and by, that
he did not want the praises of this priest, that were not better than
those of the damsel possessed with a spirit of divination, which she
spoke concerning Paul and Silas, viz. ‘These men are the servants of
the most high God, which show unto us the way of salvation.’ Now what
T. Salthouse had spoken to the priest, was called provoking language;
the rather, because when the priest was speaking of the trinity,
T. Salthouse had asked him, where that word was to be found in the
Scriptures: saying further, ‘I know no such Scripture that speaks of
the three persons in the trinity; but the three that the Scripture
speaks of, are the Father, the Son, and the Holy Ghost, and these
three are one.’ From hence T. Salthouse, and M. Halhead, were accused
as such as denied the Holy Three that are One. But because about this
accusation, they were at a loss in the court, something else was
thought of to ensnare them, viz. they were required to take the oath
of abjuration of the Pope. This oath the mayor of Plymouth had already
tendered them, when they were first apprehended; and they refusing to
swear, were sent to Exeter prison: and now being brought to trial, and
the said oath required of them, they answered thus:
‘In the presence of the Eternal God, and before all this people, we
do deny, with as much detestation as any of you do, the Pope and his
supremacy, and the purgatory, and all that is in the form of the oath
mentioned, we declare freely against: and we do not deny to swear
because of any guilt that is upon us, but in obedience to the command
of Christ, who saith, “Swear not at all:” and we will not come under
the condemnation of an oath, for the liberty of the outward man.’
Thus refusing to swear, merely that they might not offend against the
command of our Saviour, they were sent back to prison again, as such
that clandestinely adhered to the Pope: and use hath been made of this
snare during the space of many years, to vex the Quakers, so called.
The next day the prisoners were brought again before the bench, and
were asked:
‘Will ye confess, that you wronged G. Brooks, in calling him thief, and
be sorry for it, and make him satisfaction?’
To this M. Halhead answered:
‘One of us did not speak one word to him, and therefore I deny to make
him satisfaction, or to be sorry for it; and what was spoken was no
such thing; therefore we will not lie for our liberty, nor confess that
we are sorry for that which we never spoke.’
Then the court fined them five pounds a piece; and they were to go to
the house of correction till payment, and to find sureties for their
good behaviour: and for refusing to take the oath, the court threatened
to send into the North to seize on their estates. So they were returned
to prison; and what follows, was entered as the record of their
proceedings.
‘July 10, 1655. Thomas Salthouse, and Miles Halhead, for provoking
words against G. Brooks, clerk, who refused to be tried by the country,
fined 5_l._ a piece, committed to Bridewell till payment, and finding
sureties for their good behaviour.’
What is said here of refusing to be tried by the country, was a
notorious untruth: and as to finding sureties, that seemed of little
moment; for though the giving of security had been offered before,
when they were taken prisoners, yet that was not accepted of; and the
mayor, John Page, had the boldness to assert, that they refused to give
security, as will appear by the warrant by which he sent them to the
common jail in Exeter, whereof the following is a true copy.
‘_Devon_,
‘John Page, merchant, mayor of the borough of Plymouth, in the
county aforesaid, and one of his highness’s justices of the peace
within the said borough, to the keeper of his highness’s jail at
Exon[8] castle, or to his lawful deputy in that behalf, greeting.
I send you herewithal by the bearer hereof, the bodies of Thomas
Salthouse, late of Dragglibeck, in the county of Lancaster,
husbandman; and Miles Halhead, late of Kendal, in the county
of Westmoreland, lately apprehended here, as disturbers of the
public peace, and for divers other high misdemeanors against
a late proclamation, prohibiting the disturbing of ministers
and other Christians in their assemblies and meetings, and
against an ordinance of his said highness the lord protector,
and his council, lately made against duels, challenges, and
all provocations thereto, who have refused to give sufficient
security for their personal appearance at the next general
sessions of the peace, to be held for the county of Devon; and in
the mean time to be of good behaviour towards his highness the
lord protector, and all his liege people. These are therefore in
his said highness’s name, to will and command you, that when the
bodies of the said Thomas Salthouse and Miles Halhead, shall be
unto you brought, you them safely detain, and keep them, until
by due course of law they shall be thence delivered: hereof fail
not at your peril. Given under my hand, and seal of Plymouth
aforesaid, the 28th day of May, in the year of our Lord God, 1655.
JOHN PAGE, _Mayor_.’
[8] _Exon is an abbreviation for Exeter.--Transcriber._
By this may be seen under what frivolous pretences those called Quakers
were imprisoned, viz. because of an ordinance made against duels, &c.
and as for their having refused to give security, how untrue this was,
as well as other accusations, may appear from the following certificate.
‘We whose names are hereunto subscribed, do testify, that the
several particulars in an answer made by our friends, are true,
to wit. That they did not at all disturb the public peace, nor
were they at any other meeting, (but that which was appointed
by us,) to disturb any ministers, or other Christians in their
assemblies and meetings; nor were they guilty of any challenges,
duels, and provocations thereunto, in the least measure, whilst
they were amongst us. And as for their refusal to give security,
two of us, whose names are Robert Cary, and Arthur Cotton, had
given security to the mayor, by entering into recognizance for
their appearance at the next sessions, the day before their
sending to prison, but that the town-clerk made it void the next
day, pretending it could not be according to law.
_Ralph Fogg_,
_Arthur Cotton_,
_Robert Cary_,
_Richard Smith_,
_Anthony Todde_,
_John Harris, jun._
_Thomas Faulkener_,
_Nicholas Cole_,
_John Martindale_,
_Richard Lepincote_,
_John Harris, sen._’
Now to what a height of confidence the aforesaid mayor, Page, was
come, in saying, that Thomas Salthouse and Miles Halhead had refused
to give bail, nay, that this was the cause of their confinement, may
also appear from the following letter he writ to general Desborough, to
excuse his proceedings against him.
‘_Plymouth, June 1, 1655._
‘Right Honourable,
‘Captain Hatsell hath communicated to me what you wrote him in
reference to those two men, Thomas Salthouse and Miles Halhead,
of whom, and of their imprisonment, your honour had heard
something from some persons of this place, and received a copy
of a letter which they sent me. By the enclosed copies of their
examinations, your honour will see some part of the cause of
their confinement, which was on their refusal to give bail for
their appearance the next general sessions, to be held for the
county of Devon; they being, as I conceive, offenders within the
late ordinance of his highness the lord protector and council,
made against duels, challenges, and all provocations thereunto,
and also his highness’s late proclamation against Quakers;
and they still refusing to give bail for their appearance as
aforesaid, went from hence to the jail at Exon on Tuesday last.
Indeed, sir, their carriage here was not becoming men, much less
Christians; and besides their contempt of authority, all the
while they were in prison, they never sought God by prayer at any
time, nor desired a blessing on any creature they received, or
gave thanks for them. And these very men were about two months
past taken up by colonel Cupplestone, high sheriff of our county,
and after fourteen days restraint, were sent away by him for
Taunton, from tithing to tithing, as by their own examination;
and they show no occasion they have to come to these parts. They
are by profession Quakers, but husbandmen by their calling: one
of them is a Lancashire man, the other of Westmoreland; and they
left their families, relations, and callings, about three months
since, as they say, and do not work, nor employ themselves in
their calling, to procure themselves a livelihood, but wander
up and down in all parts, to vent their wicked opinions, and
discover their irregular practices in the breach of peace,
and disturbance of good people. Indeed, sir, they hold many
sad opinions, destructive to the true religion, and the power
of godliness. I have hereby according to my duty, given your
honour an account of what passed here in reference to these
men. I could say much more in reference to their examination
and discourse with them; but I fear I have already trespassed
upon your honour’s patience in the perusal of these lines, and
humbly desiring your excuse for giving you this trouble, do most
thankfully acknowledge your honour’s continued favours to this
place, for which we stand very much obliged, desiring your honour
still to retain such an opinion of us, as those that desire to
do nothing unbecoming Christians, and persons that desire the
welfare and peace of this commonwealth and government, and shall
ever labour to appear
Your honour’s very humble servant,
(For myself and my brethren,)
JOHN PAGE, _Mayor_.’
That General Desborough was but little satisfied with this letter,
seems not improbable, because, inquiring into the matter, he let others
have a copy of it, so that Thomas and Miles wrote an answer to it; and
it was also, some time after, given out in public print at London,
by Giles Calvert, with other writings relating thereunto. Now as to
what is said in this letter of his highness’s proclamation against
Quakers, it was a gross untruth; for in the proclamation the Quakers
were not named; but it was against the disturbing of Christians in
their assemblies; and besides, the Quakers, so called, judged that
their public worship was permitted them by the 37th article of the
instrument of government, which said, ‘That all that profess faith in
God by Jesus Christ, shall not be restrained from, but be protected
in, the profession of the faith and exercise of their religion,’ &c.
As concerning their contempt of authority the mayor charged them with,
it was nothing else, but that for conscience sake they could not take
off their hats to the magistrates; neither did they give that honour to
any other but God alone. And as to what was said, that all the while
they were in prison, they never sought God by prayer, &c. this was no
other matter, than that they did not follow the formal way of prayers;
for they were indeed religious men, who often prayed to God, and gave
him thanks; though they were represented in the letter as very wicked
men, and vagabonds that had left their calling, and wandered up and
down the country; although it was well known that they were honest men,
and travelled on horseback, lying at the best inns on the road, and
paying for what they received there. And, therefore, after they had
got a copy of the said letter, they writ a large letter to the mayor,
Page, and showed him his abominable untruths, and told him, that they
had been moved several times in prison, as well as out of prison, to
go to prayers, and to give thanks for the blessings of God which they
received. And in the conclusion of their letter, they signified, that
they would not render railing for railing; but, (said they,) in the
spirit of love and meekness we exhort you all to repent, and fear to
offend the Lord, &c.
Now as concerning the provoking words against George Brooks, for which
they had been fined, it hath been said already what they were; but
this Brooks was of a dissolute life, and a debauched fellow, having
for his drunkenness not only been turned out of the frigates in which
he had served, but also once in the ship Nightingale, ignominiously
exposed with a quarter can about his neck, as appears by the following
testimonies.
‘I having been formerly desired to relate upon what account it
was that Mr. George Brooks, chaplain of the frigate under my
command, was put on shore. First, because he was a busy body, and
disturbed the whole ship’s company. Secondly, being on shore, it
was his common practice to abuse the creature in such sort, that
he was drunken, void of good reason, that he would abuse any one
that came in his company, by ill language, besides the abuse of
himself and the good creature, daily complaints coming unto me
both aboard and on shore. Therefore, knowing him to be a deboist
fellow, and not fit for that employment, I put him on shore, and
I dare own it, whoever shall call me to question. Witness my hand,
ROBERT VESSAY.’
‘Mr. Brooks being formerly with me in the Nightingale, I found
him to be very idle, and continually drunk, which once made me to
put a quarter can about his neck; whereunto I subscribe,
JOHN JEFFERY,
_Captain of the Nantwich_.’
‘The person above-mentioned I have seen drunk on shore, in
testimony whereof I have set my hand,
RICHARD POTTER,
_Captain of the Constant Warwick frigate_.’
From such evidences as these it appears, that it was not without reason
that he and the like priests sometimes were treated a little roughly.
But to return to M. Halhead; he continued prisoner many months before
he was released.
In the meanwhile it happened that George Whitehead, Richard Clayton,
and John Harwood, coming on the 30th of the month called July, to
Bures, in Suffolk, were imprisoned on this occasion. R. Clayton had set
up a paper on the steeple-house door, containing these queries.
‘Whether setting up such ministers as seek for their gain from their
quarters, such as the prophet disapproves; Isaiah, lvi. 11. such as the
prophet Jeremiah disapproves; Jer. v. and of whom mention is made also,
Ezek. xxxiv. and Mic. iii. such as are called of men, masters, loving
the chief places in the assemblies; such as Christ disapproved; Matt.
xxiii. such as the apostle Peter disapproves, 2 Pet. ii. and which the
apostle Paul disapproved also; Phil. iii. or when such were set up
that would not suffer another to speak that stands by, when any thing
is revealed, but send him to prison; whether this was not the setting
up a persecuting spirit, limiting the Spirit of God, and despising
prophecies, not daring to try all things? Whether it was expedient
to give to scoffers, scorners, drunkards, swearers, and persecutors,
David’s conditions to sing? And if such were set up that took tithes,
though the apostle said that the priesthood was changed, and the law
also, Heb. vii. Whether by the setting up of such, they did not set up
such as did not labour in the Lord’s vineyard.’
This paper being set up, people came to read it. G. Whitehead being
there, and laying hold of this opportunity, spoke a few words
to the people, and exhorted them to turn to the Lord from the
vanities and wickedness they lived in. And when G. Whitehead and
his fellow-travellers were passing away, there came a constable
who staid them, and carried them before Herbert Pelham, justice of
peace. He asking several vain questions, and behaving himself rudely,
G. Whitehead began to speak to him concerning his rage: but Pelham
said he did not send for him to preach. And not being able to lay
the transgression of any law to their charge, he sent them by the
constable, to Thomas Walgrave, justice of peace at Smalbridge, in
Suffolk. Being come into his house, Richard Clayton was first examined,
of his name and country, and where he had been. The same and some
other frivolous questions were asked of G. Whitehead. Then Walgrave
asked John Harwood, if he would answer him all the questions he would
demand of him; but J. Harwood refused to be limited thus to his will.
Justice Pelham now being come thither also, J. Harwood told justice
Walgrave, that Pelham, who had before examined him, had his examination
in writing. Then the two justices consulted together what to do in
the case; and not long after Thomas Walgrave asked G. Whitehead, if
he would work at hay? But he denied to be bound to such task-masters,
as being in that calling whereunto God had called him, and wherein he
was chargeable to no man. The conclusion of their consultation was,
that they caused R. Clayton to be whipped, under pretence of having
fastened a seditious paper to the steeple-house; and the other two were
imprisoned.
It was about this time that William Dewsbury, and several other of his
friends were put into prison at Northampton. It happened that he being
at Wellingborough, and going along the streets, the priest, Thomas
Andrews, called to him in these words, ‘Give over deceiving the people,
lest the plagues of God fall on thee.’ To this Dewsbury returned, ‘Dost
thou say I deceive the people? Make it manifest wherein I deceive
them.’ Then Andrews said, ‘Thou sayest there is not any original sin;’
to this Dewsbury replied, ‘Didst thou hear me say so?’ But the priest,
unwilling to answer that question, went away. Afterwards Dewsbury went
into the steeple-house in the said town, and after the sermon was done,
he demanded of the priest that he would prove there before the people,
what he had openly accused him of, viz. that he had said there was no
original sin. Yet the priest would not answer, but went away. There was
also information given, that Dewsbury had said, ‘The priests preach for
hire, and the people love to have it so: but what will ye do in the end
thereof?’ But that this was really so, I do not find.
Dewsbury then being committed to prison, and kept there above half
a year, was at last brought to his trial at Northampton, with other
prisoners, his friends; and being set to the bar, the judge, Atkins,
said to the jailer, ‘Do you use to bring prisoners before the court
in this manner? You deserve to be fined ten pounds, for bringing them
before the court covered.’ The jailer answered, ‘If you command me, I
will take off their hats.’ To which the judge gave command, and the
jailer’s man took them off. Then the judge said to Dewsbury, ‘What art
thou here for?’ Dewsbury answered, ‘The mittimus will express what I
was committed for; but a copy of it I am denied by the keeper of the
jail.’ The next query of the judge was, ‘What is thy name?’ And the
answer was, ‘Unknown to the world.’ ‘Let us hear,’ said the judge,
‘what name that is, that the world knows not.’ ‘It is,’ quoth Dewsbury,
‘known in the light, and none can know it, but he that hath it; but
the name the world knows me by, is William Dewsbury.’ Then said the
judge, ‘What countryman art thou?’ Dewsbury answered, ‘Of the land of
Canaan.’ ‘That is far off,’ replied the judge; ‘Nay,’ said Dewsbury,
‘for all that dwell in God, are in the holy city, New Jerusalem, which
comes down from Heaven, where the soul is in rest, and enjoys the love
of God in Jesus Christ, in whom the Union is with the Father of light.’
To this the judge returned, ‘That is true; but are you ashamed of your
country? Is it a disparagement for you to be born in England?’ ‘Nay,’
said Dewsbury, ‘I am free to declare that my natural birth was in
Yorkshire, nine miles from York, towards Hull.’ Then the judge said,
‘You pretend to be extraordinary men, and to have an extraordinary
knowledge of God.’ To which Dewsbury replied, ‘We witness the work of
regeneration to be an extraordinary work, wrought in us by the Spirit
of God.’ ‘But,’ said the judge, ‘the apostles wrought with their hands
in their callings.’ ‘They had,’ answered Dewsbury, ‘callings in the
world, some were fishermen, Paul, a tent-maker: but when they were
called to the ministry of Christ, they left their callings to follow
Christ, whither he led them by his Spirit, to preach the word: and I
had a calling in the world, as they had, and in it did abide, until
the Father revealed his Son in me, and called me from my calling I
had in the world, to preach the eternal word he had made known to me
in the great work of regeneration.’ ‘Why,’ queried the judge, ‘didst
thou not abide in thy own country, and teach people in those parts?’
‘There I did stay,’ returned Dewsbury, ‘until I was called from thence
to go to where I was led by the Spirit of the Lord; and as many as are
led by the Spirit of God, are the sons and daughters of God; and they
that have not the Spirit of Christ are none of his.’ To this the judge
said, ‘You say well; for we must in charity conclude, that every one in
this place hath the Spirit of God in him: but how do you know that you
are guided by the Spirit of God?’ ‘They that have the Spirit of God,’
replied Dewsbury, ‘are known by their fruits: and he that believeth
in Jesus Christ, and is guided by his Spirit, hath the witness in
himself.’ ‘That is true,’ said the judge, ‘yet notwithstanding, I see
by your carriage, that what my brother Hale did at the last assizes, in
requiring bond for your good behaviour, he might justly do it; for you
are against magistrates and ministers.’ But Dewsbury returned, ‘Make
that manifest wherein we are against them.’
Then said the judge to the clerk, ‘Robert Guy, what have you against
these men?’ And he gave relation of what Dewsbury had said to priest
Andrews in the steeple-house. Dewsbury then giving an account of the
matter of fact, and how the thing happened; and that it was not any
breach of the law of the nation; the judge resumed, ‘But in that you
are found wandering in the country, you break the law; for there is
an old law, that if any did go from their dwellings to travel in the
country without a certificate from some justice, they were to be
taken as wandering persons.’ To this Dewsbury said, ‘If there be any
such law, read it to us; and if there be such a law, thou knowest in
thy conscience it is contrary to the scripture; for the apostles and
ministers of Christ went to and fro in the country, preaching the
word of eternal life; and there were added to the church daily such
as should be saved; and the number of the saints and brethren daily
increased; and the law that is in force in this nation, doth allow all
who profess faith in Jesus Christ, to have free liberty to walk in the
faith, which is according to Scripture.’ To this the judge said, ‘Thou
hast an eloquent tongue, and thou art proud of it.’ ‘Pride I deny,’
replied Dewsbury, ‘but the Truth I witness, which will judge pride, and
torment all that live in it, until it be destroyed.’ The judge then
spoke to the other prisoners; and though he behaved himself moderately,
yet he could not resolve to set them at liberty; but they were
continued in prison, though they had been kept there above twenty-nine
weeks.
One of these prisoners was John Huchin, whom they had nothing else
to charge with, but that being come into the steeple-house at
Wellingborough, he stood there peaceably in silence, but before half
the sermon was over, priest Andrews commanded to have him taken away;
which was done by the church-warden, Henry Hensnan, who carried him to
an alehouse, where it was told him by the constable, that if he would
not come into the church in the afternoon he should be set free. But he
refusing to make such a promise, though they let him alone then, yet
some days after, a constable came to his master’s shop, where he was
working, and took him away without showing any warrant.
Another of the prisoners was Michael Pattison, who having been in the
same steeple-house, and stood peaceably in silence until priest Andrews
had done, and the people were going away, said to him, ‘Friend, canst
thou witness this to be the word of the Lord, that thou hast spoken
here before the people?’ But this so offended the priest, that he
commanded the officers to take Michael away, which the constable, John
Brown, did.
Thomas Goodyar, who was also one of the prisoners, being come to
Northampton, to visit his friends in prison there, it was denied him by
the jailer; and he meeting the mayor and some aldermen in the streets,
spoke to them about persecution; but one of the aldermen struck off
his hat, and said he would teach him better manners, than to stand and
talk before the mayor with his hat on. Then they required sureties
for his good behaviour; and he told them, that he was bound to good
behaviour by the righteous law of God; and refusing to find sureties,
he was taken up in the street, and sent to prison without mittimus, or
further examination. But I will not detain my reader any longer with
these prisoners; for if I should relate all occurrences of this nature
that are come to my knowledge, and under what unreasonable pretences,
even such that were as yet not fully entered into the communion of
those called Quakers, were committed to prison, I must write much more
than I might be able to do, though my life should yet be lengthened
considerably.
I find among my papers of this time, the names of about an hundred
persons, who, for not paying tithes to the priests, and refusing
to swear, suffered either by seizure of their cattle and goods, or
imprisonment. Thomas Aldam, for not paying of tithes to the priest
Thomas Rookby, of Warnsworth, was imprisoned at York in the year 1652,
where he was kept above two years and a half, and besides had thirteen
beeves and two horses taken from him.
But passing by a multitude of the like cases, I return again to G. Fox,
whom I left at London. He, having had there several large meetings,
went from thence to Colchester, where, with difficulty he visited James
Parnel in prison. From Colchester he went to Ipswich, and so on to
Norwich and Yarmouth, finding service every where.
Travelling further, in company with R. Hubberthorn, towards Lynn,
and by the way being in bed at an inn, a constable and officers came
thither, being sent with an hue and cry from a justice of peace, to
search for two horsemen that rid upon grey horses and in grey clothes;
a house being broken up at night, as was reported. Now though they said
they were honest and innocent men, yet a guard with halberds and pikes
was set upon them that night, and in the morning they were carried
before a justice of peace about five miles off. The justice grew angry
because they did not put off their hats to him: but G. Fox told him, he
had been before the protector, and he was not offended at his hat; why
then should he be offended at it, who was but one of his servants? The
justice, having examined them, said, he believed they were not the men
that had broken open the house; but he was sorry that he had no more
against them. But G. Fox told him, he ought not to be sorry for not
having evil against them; but rather to be glad. The justice, though
stirred up by the constable to send them to prison, yet let them go.
G. Fox being thus set at liberty, travelled on to Lynn, from whence he
went to Sutton, where he had a great meeting, many people from other
places being come thither, and also the mayor’s wife of Cambridge; and
many hundreds were convinced of the truth he preached. From thence he
passed to Cambridge, and though the scholars were exceeding rude, yet
he got safe into an inn. In the dark of the evening, the mayor of the
town came, and fetched him to his house, whither some friendly people
were sent for, and he had a meeting there. Next morning he departed the
town and returned to London, where he staid some time.
In this year came out the oath of abjuration against King Charles,
whereupon he wrote to the protector, acquainting him, that many of his
friends, who could not swear for conscience sake, suffered much on this
account.
From London he went to Leicestershire, and coming to Whetstone, where
formerly he had been taken by colonel Hacker, he now had a great
meeting, to which Hacker’s wife, and his marshal came, and they,
besides many more, were convinced of G. Fox’s ministry: who going from
thence after having passed through many places, came again to London,
where meeting James Nayler, and casting his eyes upon him, he was
struck with a fear concerning him; being, as it were, under a sense of
some great disaster that was like to befal him.
In this year Edward Burrough writ a letter to the protector, wherein
he told him, that the Lord’s controversy was against him, because he
had not been faithful in God’s work; but that he had taken his rest
and ease upon a lofty mountain of pride and vain glory; having set up
himself to be worshipped, and exalting his own horn, without giving
glory and honour to God. Moreover, that he had not performed his vows
made to the Lord in the day of distress; and that now he suffered
grievous oppression, cruelty, and tyranny to be acted in his name,
by unjust imprisonments, and persecution of the Lord’s people. That
therefore the Lord would bring his judgments upon him, except he did
repent. How boldly soever Burrough wrote in this letter to Cromwell,
yet I do not find that he showed himself angry because of it; but yet
he hearkened too much to the flatteries of those teachers, who, being
now entered into the possession of the Episcopalians, exalted him as
their idol, by their applause. And he revering them as such who could
strengthen his authority with the people, winked at the grievous
persecution, by their instigation carried on against the Quakers, so
called.
In the meanwhile there were many malcontents, who could not bear that
Cromwell should force the members of parliament to consent to make no
change in the government then established, and would not suffer any one
to sit in the house, without having promised by writing, not to oppose,
or give his consent there, to the change of the said government.
This gave occasion, that even some of those who had been his eminent
friends, now did not stick to reprove him sharply.
Among these was lieutenant-colonel John Lilburn, who being an
extraordinary bold man, very stiff and inflexible, had more than
once showed himself a public asserter of the people’s liberties and
freedoms; for which he had been prosecuted at law; viz. once in the
year 1645, when he was imprisoned as guilty of treason, but was
discharged; and afterwards, in the year 1649, when, having published
several books, to expose to the public the arbitrary power he thought
was exercised in the government, he was confined in the tower: and,
after having been prisoner about seven months, was impeached of high
treason. But he so vigorously defended his cause, that though strong
persuasions had been used to move the jury to bring him in guilty,
yet he so far prevailed, that at length he was set at liberty again:
though I find that once he was whipt for a crime laid to his charge, of
which he gloried publicly. And when Cromwell had usurped the supreme
power, Lilburn made bold to charge him, both by word of mouth, and by
writing, with falseness and tyranny; and he went on at that rate, that
Cromwell, foreseeing that if this man continued thus to expose his
doings, he should not be able to maintain his credit and authority,
ordered him to be taken into custody, and impeached of high treason.
When Lilburn, thus accused, appeared at the bar, he behaved himself
with that undauntedness, and so defended his cause, that he seemed
less to plead for his life, than for the freedom of his country; and,
boldly answering what was objected to him, said that what he had done
was not only no high treason; but the government was such, that no
high treason could be committed against it; and that therefore all
true Englishmen were obliged to oppose the tyranny that was exercised.
He also said that having been once in favour with Cromwell, he might
have attained to great preferment, if he would have been quiet; but
that he having thought this unlawful, it was now resolved to have his
life taken away; which he did not fear, because he asserted a good
cause. Thus vigorously Lilburn pleaded, and he defended his cause
with such strong arguments, that the jury brought him in not guilty,
notwithstanding the endeavours of the judges to the contrary.
Now, though according to law, he must have been set at liberty, yet
Cromwell would not consent to it, but kept him prisoner: and because
he indeed feared him, as one that would weaken his government, he
ordered him to be carried from one prison to another; till at length
he came to be confined in the castle of Dover, in which town lived
Luke Howard, mentioned before; who thereby having occasion to speak
with Lilburn concerning religion, gave him such convincing reasons for
his professions, as prevailed upon Lilburn to receive the Truth; as he
himself signified in a letter he writ to his wife; who having visited
him in prison, afterwards writ to him this following exhortation.
‘_My dear_,
‘Retain a sober patient spirit within thee, which I am confident
thou shalt see shall be of more force to recover thee, than all
thy keen metal hath been. I hope God is doing a work upon thee
and me too, as shall make us study ourselves more than we have
done.’
These words were so acceptable to Lilburn, that repeating them in his
letter to her, he answered thus, after many other passages.
‘_O, my dear love!_
‘I am deeply already entered into my part of it: the mighty
power of God enable thee to get in too, and also to go through
thine, and effectually to go cheerfully and willingly along
hand in hand with me, which would render thee abundantly more
amiable, lovely, and pleasant in mine eyes, although thou wert
then clothed in rags, than thou couldest be to me in the drawing
back, or standing still where thou wast when I last saw thee,
though therein thou wert clothed all over with rich and outwardly
glistering earthly diamonds, and in the greatest of earthly
prosperity. I am sorry thou art so straitly put to it for money;
but to live upon God by faith, in the depth of straits, is the
lively condition of a Christian. O that thy spirit could attain
unto this, according to thy desire in thy letter, and my own
present frame of spirit!----I now can contentedly feed savourily
upon bread and cheese, and small beer alone, for saving of money.
And for my liberty, about which thou so weariest and spendest
thyself, as thy letter acquaints me thou dost, I can say to thee,
that I am in my present temper of spirit, ready really with
Peter, at the sight of the glorious transfiguration of Christ, to
say, it is good being here. For here in Dover Castle, through the
loving-kindness of God, I have met with a more clear, plain, and
evident knowledge of God and myself, and his gracious outgoings
to my soul, than ever I had in all my lifetime, not excepting my
glorying and rejoicing condition under the bishops.--And now
submissively and heartily I can say, the will of my heavenly
Father be done in me, by me, and for me; in whose will I leave
thee and thine, with all thy and my friends, and rest
Thine in the strength of
renewedness of true love,
JOHN LILBURN.’
From Dover Castle, the place of
the present enjoyed delightful
dispensation of the eternal,
everlasting love of God unto my
soul. The 4th of the Tenth Month,
1655.
Whilst Lilburn was prisoner here, Cromwell, as it seemed, would have
released him, if he would have signed a declaration that he would never
draw a sword against his government. But Lilburn as yet not being
fully convinced, that to refrain from the use of the carnal sword, was
the duty of a true Christian, refused; thinking that though G. Fox
had signed such a declaration, yet this did not become him, because
he did not perfectly approve that point of self-denial. But however,
continuing in faithfulness, to persevere in respect of that knowledge
he had already attained to, he became, in process of time, such an
asserter of the true Christian life, that in a paper, which at his
desire was given out in print, he expressed himself thus:
‘I have now the faithful and true witness in my own soul, that
the Lord himself is become, within me, the teacher of my soul,
and enabler of me to walk in a measure of his pure ways and
paths; yea, and so clear a teacher within me is he already become
unto me, as that I with confidence believe my inward teacher
shall never now more be removed into a corner; but is, and shall
be, as a continual voice speaking in my ears, “This is the way,
walk in it:” by which divine teaching, I am now daily taught to
die to sin, and led up by it into living power, to be raised
up, and enabled to live in a pure measure of righteousness;
and by which inward spiritual teachings, I am, I say again,
led up into power in Christ, by which I particularly can, and
do hereby witness, that I am already dead, or crucified to the
very occasions, and real grounds of all outward wars, and carnal
sword-fightings, and fleshly bustlings and contests; and that
therefore confidently I now believe, I shall never hereafter be
an user of a temporal sword more, nor a joiner with those that
so do. And this I do here solemnly declare, not in the least to
avoid persecution, or for any politic ends of my own, or in the
least for the satisfaction of the fleshly wills of any of my
great adversaries, or for satisfying the carnal will of my poor
weak afflicted wife; but by the special movings and compulsions
of God now upon my soul, am I in truth and righteousness
compelled thus to declare; that so I may take away from my
adversaries, all their fig-leaf covers, or pretences, for their
continuing of my every way unjust bonds. And that thereby, if yet
I must be an imprisoned sufferer, it may from this day forward,
be for the Truth as it is in Jesus; which Truth I witness to be
truly professed and practised by the savouriest of people called
Quakers.
‘And to this my present declaration, which I exceedingly long and
earnestly desire to have in print, and for which I know that I
can cheerfully and assuredly lay down my life, if I be called to
witness the truth of it, I subscribe my name,
JOHN LILBURN.’
From my innocent and every way
causeless captivity in Dover
Castle, the place of my soul’s
delightful and contentful
abode, where I have really and
substantially found that which
my soul many years hath sought
diligently after, and with
unsatisfied longingness thirsted
to enjoy: this present First-day
of the week, being the 4th of the
Third Month, 1655.
It sufficiently appears by this, that Lilburn did not think that this
declaration would procure his liberty; and he guessed not wrong; for
before he was released, Cromwell died. Lilburn being then discharged
from his confinement, continued steadfast to the doctrine of the
Truth he had embraced, and died at London in the year 1660. But being
advanced in the time, I go therefore back a little, and intend in the
sequel to give a more circumstantial description of Cromwell’s death.
And thus I conclude this book with the year 1655, in which year there
was a plot of the royalists against Cromwell; and in Nottinghamshire
they had already surprised some places; and towards the West the city
of Salisbury. The young king, (Charles,) was now come from Cologne
into Zealand, to be the nearer if the attempt succeeded. But his time
of ruling was not yet come; for the cavaliers were soon forced to give
way to the power of Cromwell: and the design being thus squashed, king
Charles returned to Cologne. In the meanwhile, Cromwell, to raise
his esteem abroad, sent a fleet, under admiral Penn, to the West
Indies, and another, under the command of admiral Blake, towards the
Mediterranean sea.
THE FOURTH BOOK. 1656-1658.
1656.
Near the beginning of the year 1656, G. Fox went from London to Surry,
Chichester, Portsmouth, and Pool; where William Baily, a Baptist
teacher, and some others, were convinced by G. Fox’s ministry, and
entered into the society of those called Quakers; among whom, Baily
afterwards became an eminent minister. From Pool, G. Fox went to
Southampton, and Dorchester, where he desired of the Baptists to have
their meeting-house to meet in; but they refusing, he sent them word,
that they might come to his inn, if they pleased. Many of them came,
with their teacher, and they fell into a discourse about water-baptism.
G. Fox asked them, whether they could say they were sent of God to
baptize people, as John was; and whether they had the same spirit and
power, that the apostles had. They said they had not. Then he asked
them, how many powers there are. Whether there are any more than the
power of God, and the power of the devil; and they said, there was not
any power than those two. Then said G. Fox, ‘If you have not the power
of God, that the apostles had, then you act by the power of the devil.’
And his speaking was of such effect, that many substantial people
were convinced that night. Next morning when he was passing away, the
Baptists began to shake the dust from off their feet after him. ‘What,
said he, in the power of darkness? We who are in the power of God,
shake off the dust of our feet against you.’
Leaving Dorchester, he came to Weymouth, where, inquiring after
the sober people, about fourscore of them gathered together at the
priest’s house, and most of them were turned to Christ Jesus, who had
enlightened them with his divine light, by which they were reproved of
their sins. There was at that time a captain of horse in the town, who
rode about seven miles out of town with G. Fox. This captain was of
such a merry temper, and so exceedingly given to laughter, that G. Fox
several times spoke very seriously to him about it; but it was become
so customary to him that he would laugh almost at any thing he saw. But
G. Fox still admonished him to gravity, and the fear of the Lord; and
of this he spoke to him again when they parted. The next time G. Fox
saw him, the captain told him, that when he spoke to him at parting,
the power of the Lord so struck him, that before he got home he was
serious enough, and had left his laughing. He indeed became a serious
and good man; and being convinced of the Truth, died in the real
profession thereof.
For brevity’s sake I do not intend to mention all the places G. Fox
passed through, much less all his occurrences. At Kingsbridge he had
good service; and returning in the evening to his inn, and there being
many people drinking, he was moved to go amongst them, and to direct
them to the light which Christ, the heavenly man, had enlightened them
withal; by which light they might see all their evil ways, words, and
deeds; and by the same light they might also see Christ Jesus their
Saviour. But this discourse did not please the innkeeper, seeing it
hindered his guests from drinking: and hearing G. Fox speak so much of
the light, he snatched away the candle, and said, ‘Come, here is light
for you to go into your chamber.’
The next day, G. Fox went to Plymouth, and from thence to Cornwall;
and travelling through the country, he came to Market-Jew. Being there
at an inn, he met with some trouble from the magistrates: and he writ
a paper to show, that the Lord was come to teach his people himself,
by Jesus Christ, &c. This paper came accidentally to the hands of
Peter Ceely, a major in the army, and also a justice of peace at Ives,
whither G. Fox came. Here Edward Pyot and William Salt, who were G.
Fox’s fellow-travellers, were hauled before the said major, whilst G.
Fox was walking down to the sea-side; but he hearing this, followed
them, and came also into the justice’s house, where the aforesaid paper
being produced, it was asked him, whether he would own it: and he said,
‘Yes.’ Then the major tendered them the oath of abjuration, G. Fox
thereupon putting his hand in his pocket, drew forth the answer to it,
which had been given to the protector. A priest being present there,
found fault with his hair, which then was pretty long, and asked to
have cut it; but G. Fox told him, he had no pride in it. It happened
also at other times, that because of his long hair he was spoken to,
as I have seen myself; but of this I am fully persuaded, that he had
not the least pride in it; but it seems to me not improbable, that he,
seeing how some would make it a kind of holiness to wear short hair,
did the contrary to show that, in some things, there was a Christian
liberty, for which we ought not to judge one another. But to proceed,
G. Fox and his companions were taken into custody, and with a guard of
horse sent to prison with this mittimus.
‘_Peter Ceely, one of the justices of the peace of this county,
to the keeper of his highness’s jail at Launceston, or his
lawful deputy in that behalf, greeting._
‘I send you herewithal by the bearers hereof, the bodies of
Edward Pyot, of Bristol, and George Fox, of Drayton and Clay, in
Leicestershire, and William Salt, of London, which they pretend
to be the places of their habitations, who go under the notion
of Quakers, and acknowledge themselves to be such; who have
spread several papers, tending to the disturbance of the public
peace, and cannot render any lawful cause of coming into these
parts, being persons altogether unknown, and having no pass for
their travelling up and down the country, and refusing to give
sureties of their good behaviour, according to the law in that
behalf provided, and refuse to take the oath of abjuration,
&c. These are therefore, in the name of his highness, the lord
protector, to will and command you, that when the bodies of the
said Edward Pyot, George Fox, and William Salt, shall be unto you
brought, you them receive, and in his highness’s prison aforesaid
you safely keep them, until by due course of law they shall be
delivered. Hereof fail ye not, as you will answer the contrary at
your peril. Given under my hand, and seal, at St. Ives, the 18th
day of January, 1656.
P. CEELY.’
By this mittimus it appears under what odd pretences the Quakers, so
called, were committed to prison; for such reasons as are mentioned
therein, might be found and picked up at any time. Thus G. Fox and
his companions were carried through Redruth, Falmouth, and Bodmin,
to Launceston. By the way they suffered great insolences, both from
the soldiers that conducted them, and from others, by the connivance
of captain Keat; but I will not detain my reader with all those
particulars. Being come to Launceston, Keat delivered the prisoners
to the jailer. And though many were greatly enraged against them, and
expected that these prisoners, who thou’d and thee’d all, and did not
put off their hats to any man, should at the assizes be condemned to
be hanged if they did not pay that respect to the bench; yet there
were many friendly people, out of several parts of the country, that
came to visit them; for it was about nine weeks from the time of their
commitment to the assizes: by reason of which several got opportunity
to speak with them, which had that good effect, that many were
convinced of the truth of the doctrine held forth by them.
At the time of the assizes, abundance of people came from far and near,
to hear the trial of the Quakers; who being guarded by the soldiers,
and the sheriff’s men to the court, had much ado to get through the
multitude that filled the streets: besides the doors and windows were
filled with people looking out upon them. Being brought into the court,
G. Fox after all was quiet, said, ‘Peace be amongst you.’ The judge,
(Glyn,) who was then chief justice of England, said to the jailer,
‘What be these you have brought here into the court?’ ‘Prisoners, my
lord,’ said he. ‘Why do you not put off your hats?’ said the judge to
them. They saying nothing; ‘Put off your hats,’ said the judge again;
and they still continuing silent, the judge said, ‘The court commands
you to put off your hats.’ Then G. Fox began to speak, and said, ‘Where
did ever any magistrate, king, or judge, from Moses to Daniel, command
any to put off their hats, when they came before them in their courts,
either amongst the Jews, (the people of God,) or amongst the heathen?
And if the law of England doth command any such thing, show me that
law either written or printed.’ The judge, then growing angry, said,
‘I do not carry my law books on my back.’ ‘But,’ said G. Fox, ‘where
is it printed in any statute-book, that I may read it?’ At this the
judge said, ‘Take him away, prevaricator! I’ll ferk him.’ Then the
prisoners were taken away, and put among the thieves. But presently
after the judge called to the jailer, ‘Bring them up again.’ This being
done, ‘Come,’ said he, ‘where had they hats from Moses to Daniel? Come,
answer me; I have you fast now.’ To this G. Fox replied, ‘Thou mayest
read in the third of Daniel, that the three children were cast into the
fiery furnace, by Nebuchadnezzar’s command, with their coats, their
hose, and their hats on.’ This plain instance stopped him: so that not
having any thing else to say, he cried again, ‘Take them away jailer.’
Accordingly they were taken away, and being thrust among the thieves,
they were kept there a great while, and at length carried again to
prison; but in the afternoon they were brought up again into the court.
G. Fox seeing the jurymen there, gave them a paper, which he had
written against swearing. This paper passing from the jury to the
justices, they presented it to the judge; and he bid the clerk give G.
Fox that paper, and then asked him whether that seditious paper was
his: to which he said if they would read it in open court, that he
might hear it, if it was his, he would own it, and stand by it. The
judge would have G. Fox to have taken it, and looked upon it in his own
hand. But he desired again that it might be read, that all in the court
might hear it, and judge whether there was any sedition in it, or no;
for if there were, he was willing to suffer for it. At length the clerk
of the assizes read it with an audible voice; and when he had done,
G. Fox said it was his paper, and he would own it; and so might they
too, except they would deny the Scripture; for was it not Scripture
language, and the words and commands of Christ and the apostles, which
all true Christians ought to obey? Then they let fall that subject,
and the judge speaking again about the hats of the prisoners, bid the
jailer take them off. Then they asked what they had lain in prison for
these nine weeks, seeing now nothing was objected against them, but
what concerned their hats: ‘And,’ said G. Fox, ‘as for putting off
our hats, that was the honour which God would lay in the dust, though
they made so much ado about it: the honour which is of men, and which
men seek one of another, is the mark of unbelievers: for, “How can ye
believe,” saith Christ, “who receive honour one of another, and seek
not the honour that cometh from God only?” And Christ saith also, “I
receive not honour from men.” And all true Christians should be of
his mind,’ Then the judge made a speech, how he represented the lord
protector’s person; and how he made him lord chief justice of England,
and sent him to come that circuit, &c. Thereupon the prisoners desired
him, that he would do them justice for their false imprisonment, which
they had suffered nine weeks.
But instead thereof, an indictment was read against them, but so full
of untruths, that G. Fox thought it had been against some of the
thieves: for it contained, that they came by force of arms, and in a
hostile manner, into the court; whereas they were brought there as
prisoners; which made him say it was all false. And still they cried
for justice for their false imprisonment, being taken up in their
journey without cause, by major Ceely. Then this Peter Ceely, who, as
a justice of peace, sat also on the bench, said to the judge, ‘May
it please you, my lord, this man, (pointing to G. Fox,) went aside
with me, and told me how serviceable I might be for his design; that
he could raise forty thousand men at an hour’s warning, and involve
the nation in blood, and so bring in king Charles; and I would have
aided him out of the country, but he would not go. And if it please
you, my lord, I have a witness to swear it.’ And so he called upon
his witness, who, without question, was one that was bribed. But the
judge, perceiving this palpable lie, was not forward to examine the
witness: then G. Fox desired the judge that he would be pleased to let
his mittimus be read, in which the pretended crime was signified, for
which he was committed to prison. But the judge said it should not be
read: G. Fox still insisting to have it read, said, ‘It ought to be;
for if I have done any thing worthy of death, or of bonds, let all the
country know it.’ Seeing then they would not read it, he said to one
of his fellow-prisoners, ‘Thou hast a copy of it; read it up.’ ‘It
shall not be read,’ said the judge; ‘jailer, take him away; I will see
whether he or I shall be master.’
Then G. Fox was taken away, and awhile after called for again. He still
cried to have the mittimus read; and the people being eager to hear
it, he bid his fellow-prisoner read it up; which being done, and read
according to the copy already mentioned, G. Fox said to the judge and
justices, ‘Thou that sayest thou art chief justice of England, and
you that be justices, ye know, that if I had put in sureties, I might
have gone whither I pleased, and have carried on the design, if I had
one, which major Ceely hath charged me with. And if I had spoken these
words to him, which he hath declared, then judge ye, whether bail or
mainprize could have been taken in that case.’ Then directing his
speech to major Ceely, he said, ‘When or where did I take thee aside?
Was not thy house full of rude people, and thou as rude as any of them
at our examination, so that I asked for a constable, or other officer,
to keep the people civil? But if thou art my accuser, why sittest thou
on the bench? That is not a place for thee to sit in; for accusers do
not use to sit with the judges: thou oughtest to come down, and stand
by me, and look me in the face. Besides, I would ask the judge and
justices this question, whether or no major Ceely is not guilty of
this treason, which he charges against me, in concealing it so long
as he hath done? Doth he understand his place, either as a soldier or
a justice of the peace? For he tells you here, that I went aside with
him, and told him what a design I had in hand; and how serviceable he
might be for it: that I could raise forty thousand men in an hour’s
time, and bring in Charles, and involve the nation in blood. Moreover,
that he would have aided me out of the country, but I would not go;
and therefore he committed me to prison for want of sureties for the
good behaviour, as the mittimus declares. Now do not you see plainly,
that major Ceely is guilty of this plot and treason that he talks
of, and hath made himself a party to it, by desiring me to go out of
the country, and demanding bail of me; and not charging me with this
pretended treason till now, nor discovering it? But I deny and abhor
his words, and am innocent of his devilish design.’
The judge by this seeing clearly that Ceely, instead of ensnaring G.
Fox, had ensnared himself, let fall that business. But then Ceely
got up again, and said to the judge, ‘If it please you, my lord, to
hear me: this man struck me, and gave me such a blow, as I never had
in my life.’ G. Fox smiling at this, said, ‘Major Ceely, art thou a
justice of peace, and a major of a troop of horse, and tells the judge
here in the face of the court and country, that I, who am a prisoner,
struck thee; and gave thee such a blow, as thou never hadst the like
in thy life? What! art thou not ashamed? Prithee, major Ceely, where
did I strike thee; and who is thy witness for that? Who was by?’ To
this Ceely said it was in the castle-green, and that captain Bradden
was standing by when G. Fox struck him; who then desired the judge to
let him produce his witness for that: and he called again upon Ceely,
to come down from off the bench; telling him it was not fit that the
accuser should sit as judge over the accused. Ceely then said, captain
Bradden was his witness: which made G. Fox say to captain Bradden, who
was present there, ‘Didst thou see me give him such a blow, and strike
him as he saith?’ Bradden made no answer, but bowed his head. G. Fox
then desired him to speak up, if he knew any such thing: but he only
bowed his head again. ‘Nay,’ said G. Fox, ‘speak up, and let the court
and country hear, and let not bowing of the head serve the turn. If I
have done so, let the law be inflicted on me. I fear not sufferings,
nor death itself; for I am an innocent man concerning all his charge.’
But Bradden would not testify to it. And the judge, finding those
snares would not hold, cried, ‘Take him away, jailer;’ and fined the
prisoners twenty marks apiece, for not putting off their hats, and to
be kept in prison till they paid their fine: and so they were brought
back to jail again.
At night captain Bradden came with seven or eight justices to see them:
and they being very civil, said, they did not believe that either the
judge, or any in the court, believed those charges which major Ceely
had made upon G. Fox. And Bradden said, major Ceely had an intent to
have taken away G. Fox’s life, if he could have got another witness.
‘But,’ said G. Fox, ‘captain Bradden, why didst not thou witness for
me, or against me, seeing major Ceely produced thee for a witness, that
thou sawest me strike him? and when I desired thee to speak either
for me, or against me, according to what thou sawest or knewest, thou
wouldest not speak.’ ‘Why,’ said he, ‘when Major Ceely and I came by
you, as you were walking in the castle-green, he put off his hat to
you, and said, how do you do, Mr. Fox? Your servant, sir. Then you said
to him, major Ceely, take heed of hypocrisy, and of a rotten heart;
for when came I to be thy master, or thou my servant? Do servants use
to cast their masters into prison? This was the great blow he meant
that you gave him.’ G. Fox hearing this, called to mind, that they
walking by, Ceely had spoken the aforesaid words, and that he himself
indeed made such an answer, as is mentioned; and he thought he said
nothing amiss, since Ceely so openly had manifested his hypocrisy and
rotten-heartedness, when he complained of this to the judge in open
court, and would have made all believe, that G. Fox gave him a stroke
outwardly with his hand. A report of this trial being spread abroad,
divers people, of whom some were of account in the world, came far
and near to see him and his friends in prison, which tended to the
convincement of some.
Being settled in prison upon such a commitment, that they were not
likely to be soon released, they forebore giving the jailer seven
shillings a week apiece for themselves, and as much for their horses,
which he had in a manner extorted from them: but upon this he grew so
very wicked, that he turned them down into a nasty stinking place where
they used to put persons condemned for witchcraft and murder. This
place was so noisome, that it was observed few who went into it, did
ever come out again in health: for there was no house of office in it,
and the excrements of the prisoners that from time to time had been put
there, had not been carried out for many years; so that it was all like
mire, and in some places to the top of the shoes; and the jailer would
not suffer them to cleanse it, nor let them have beds or straw to lie
on. At night some friendly people of the town brought them a candle
and a little straw; of which they were about to burn a little to take
away the stink. The thieves lay over their heads, and the head jailer
in a room by them, over their heads also. But it seems the smoke went
up into the room where he lay, which put him into such a rage, that he
took the pots of the thieves’ excrements, and poured them down through
a hole upon their heads; whereby they were so bespattered, that it
was loathsome to touch themselves, or one another: besides the stink
so increased, that by it, and the smoke, they were almost in danger
of being suffocated. And all this could not satisfy the rage of this
cruel jailer, but he railed against them so hideously, and called them
such horrible nicknames, that they never had heard the like before.
In this manner they were forced to stand all night, for they could
not sit down, the place being so filthy. Thus he kept them a great
while, before he would let them cleanse it, or suffer them to have any
victuals brought in, but what they got through the grate. And even
this could not be done without difficulty; for a lass one time having
brought them a little meat, he sued her in the town-court for breaking
the prison; perhaps, because she had a little bent an half-broken bar
of the grate, to get a small dish through it. That this jailer was so
desperately wicked, is not so much to be wondered at, since, as they
were informed, he had been a thief, and was on that account burnt both
in the hand and on the shoulder; and the under-jailer in like manner:
their wives had also been burnt in the hand. It was not at all strange,
then, that the prisoners suffered most grievously from such a wicked
crew; but it was more to be wondered at, that colonel Bennet, a Baptist
teacher, having purchased the jail and lands belonging to the castle,
had there placed this head-jailer.
It was much talked of, that spirits haunted this dungeon, and walked
there, and that many had died in it; some thinking to terrify the
prisoners therewith. But G. Fox told them, that if all the spirits and
devils in hell were there, he was over them in the power of God, and
feared no such thing; for Christ, their priest, would sanctify the
walls and the house to them; he who bruised the head of the devil; as
the priest was to cleanse the plague out of the walls of the house
under the law.
Now the time of the sessions at Bodmin being come, the prisoners drew
up their suffering case, and sent the paper thither; upon reading of
which, the justices gave order, that the door of Doomsdale, (thus
the dungeon was called,) should be opened, and that they should have
liberty to cleanse it, and to buy their meat in the town. Having
obtained this liberty, they writ to London, and desired Anne Downer, a
young woman already mentioned in this work, to come down, and to buy
and dress their meat: which she being very willing to do, was therein
greatly serviceable to them; for she was a good writer, and could take
things in shorthand. They also sent up a relation of their sufferings
to the protector; who thereupon sent down an order to the governor
of Pendennis Castle, to examine the matter. On which occasion Hugh
Peters, one of the protector’s chaplains, told him they could not do
George Fox a greater service for the spreading of his principles in
Cornwall than to imprison him there. This was not altogether untrue,
for he was much visited, and many were turned from darkness to the
light; notwithstanding the mayor of Launceston was a fierce persecutor,
casting in prison all he could get; and he did not stick to search
substantial grave women, for letters, as supposed.
In Devonshire it was not much better; for many of those called
Quakers, that travelled through the country, were taken up and
whipped, under pretence of being vagabonds: nay, some clothiers, that
were going to mill with their cloth, and other substantial men, were
seized and whipped; and Henry Pollexfen, who had been a justice of
peace for the most part of forty years before, was cast into prison,
under pretence of being a Jesuit.
In the meanwhile Edward Pyot, who had been a captain, and was a man of
good understanding in the laws and rights of the nation, writ a large
letter to the lord chief justice John Glyn, wherein he plainly set
before him his unlawful dealings; and queried with him, whether his
saying if ye will be uncovered, (or put off your hats,) I will hear
you, and do you justice, was not an overthrow of the laws that were
made to maintain right and justice. Many other particulars, and among
the rest, that of G. Fox’s striking major Ceely were also mentioned
in this letter. G. Fox himself writ also several papers, wherein the
odiousness of persecution was plainly set forth.
Among those that came to visit him was Thomas Lower, a doctor of physic
at London; who, whilst I am writing this, is yet alive: and he, asking
many questions concerning religious matters, received such satisfactory
answers from G. Fox, that he afterwards said his words were as a flash
of lightning, they ran so through him; and that he never met with such
wise men in his life, &c. Thus he came to be convinced of the Truth,
and so entered into the communion of the despised Quakers. While G. Fox
was still in prison, one of his friends went to Oliver Cromwell, and
offered himself body for body, to lie in Doomsdale prison in his stead,
if he would take him, and let G. Fox go at liberty. But Cromwell said
he could not do it, for it was contrary to law: and turning to those of
his counsel, ‘Which of you,’ quoth he, ‘would do so much for me, if I
were in the same condition?‘
Thus G. Fox continued in prison, and it was yet a good while before he
and his fellow-prisoners were released. The next year the wicked jailer
received a recompense of his deeds; for he was turned out of his place,
and for some wicked act was cast into jail himself; and there his
carriage was so unruly, that he was, by the succeeding jailer, put into
Doomsdale, locked in irons, and beaten, and bid to remember how he had
abused those good men, whom he had wickedly, without any cause, cast
into that nasty dungeon; but that now he deservedly should suffer for
his wickedness; and the same measure he had meted to others, he should
have meted out to himself: and this mischievous fellow, who might have
grown rich if he had carried himself civilly, grew now very poor, and
so died in prison.
About the same time that G. Fox was released, Cromwell called a
parliament, which met for the first sitting, in the painted chamber at
Westminster, on the 17th of the month called September. Samuel Fisher
got an opportunity to come into this assembly, where he heard the
protector’s speech, and in it these words, ‘that he knew not of any one
man that had suffered imprisonment unjustly in all England.’ And after
he had got the conveniency of a standing, he said that he had a word
to speak from the Lord to the protector, to the parliament, and the
people, and then he began thus:
‘The burden of the word of the Lord God of heaven and of earth, as it
came unto me on the 22d day of the last month, and as it now lieth
upon me to declare it in his name, even unto thee, Oliver Cromwell,
protector, (so called,) of these three nations, England, Scotland,
and Ireland; and also to all you who are chosen out of the several
parts thereof to sit in parliament this day, to consider of such
things as concern the commonwealth thereof; and likewise to the
three nations themselves, and all the people thereof, whose rulers
and representatives ye are: which word of the Lord, as ye do not
deem yourselves too high, or too great, or too good, to be spoken to
from the Lord; and as you will not fall under the guilt of that sin
of saying to the seers, See not, and to the prophets, Prophesy not,
prophesy not unto us right things, prophesy smooth things, prophesy
deceits; I charge you all, in the name of the living God, that without
interruption or opposition, whether you like it, or like it not, you
stand still and hear it: and when I have done, you may do with me as
the Lord shall give you leave, or leave me under the power of your
hands to do; no law of equity condemning any man before he be heard,
especially when he speaks on so high an account as from the God of
heaven himself, though to such as are no less than God’s under him here
on earth.’
Scarce had he spoken thus much, but some cried, ‘A Quaker, a Quaker;
keep him down, he shall not speak:’ yet the protector and the
parliament-men were still and quiet. But some others, among whom two
justices of peace, had not so much patience; but Fisher, as he related
afterwards, believed that the protector and the parliament-men would
have given him audience, had not others set him at nought: some saying
the protector had spoken long, and was very hot and weary: and that
he, [Fisher,] might be ashamed to occasion his stay any longer. Thus
Fisher was interrupted, and the protector and parliament-men, rising,
went away, though Fisher did not question but the protector would have
heard him: for his moderation in hearing what was said, having been
experienced before, Fisher was willing to acknowledge his nobility as
freely as Paul took notice of the like in Festus; whom he held most
noble in that he would hear him, though he thought him mad. Fisher
being thus prohibited, published his speech in print, so as he intended
to have delivered it, though not one syllable of it was written before.
It was pretty long, and contained a sharp reproof to the hypocrisy of
those, who, under a show of godliness, made long prayers, kept fasts,
and, nevertheless, lived in pride, pomp, and luxury, persecuting those
who really were a pious people. And to the protector he said, that
unless he took away the wicked from before him, and all flattering
false accusers, his throne would never be established in righteousness.
In the introduction placed before this speech, he saith that before
this burden came upon him, he had prayed God that he might have been
excused of this message, thinking that a more unworthy one than himself
could not have been singled out; but whatever he did, he could not be
rid of it; and though he spent a whole week with fasting, tears, and
supplication, yet during the time of that abstinence, he felt a daily
supply and refreshment to his spirits, so that he fully resigned to do
what he believed was required of him from the Lord; and he felt all
fears of the frowns of men removed from him. Some other speeches which
he intended to have made to the parliament, but was obstructed therein,
he also published afterwards in print.
In the latter part of this year it happened that Humphrey Smith coming
to Evesham in Worcestershire, was disturbed in a meeting by the mayor,
Edward Young, who said he would break the Quakers’ meetings, or else
his bones should lie in the dirt. Thus resolved, he came in the month
called October, on a First-day of the week in the morning, into their
meeting, in a house where H. Smith was: and several persons after being
rudely abused, were hauled out to prison. In the afternoon a meeting
being kept in the street, some of the company were by order of the said
mayor put into the stocks, and others, of which the aforesaid Smith
was one, into a dark dungeon: and though the mayor then said it was
an unlawful assembly, but if they would meet in houses he would not
molest them; yet on next First-day of the week, he seeing one going to
a meeting that was appointed in a house, put him in prison. H. Smith
and his friends had some bedding and bed-clothes sent them, but the
mayor caused it to be taken away from them; and afterwards when some
straw was brought them to lie upon, the jailer would not suffer it;
nay, when one came, and asked liberty to fetch out their dung from
them, the mayor denied it, and ordered him to be put in the stocks. The
place where they were kept, was not twelve feet square, and the hole
to take in air, was but four inches wide, so that even by day-light
they were fain to burn candle, when they had it. Here they were kept
above fourteen weeks, with their own dung in the same room; so that
one of them grew sick of the stink; and yet the jailer said, if they
had been there for theft or murder, he could have let them have more
liberty than now he durst, because of the mayor. James Wall, one of the
prisoners, was a freeman of the town, and a shopkeeper, and yet the
mayor forbade his wife to stand in the market-place, which for many
years she had done. She going to him about it, he began to fawn upon
her, and said: ‘I hear that your husband doth abuse you.’ To which she
answered, ‘My husband did never abuse me; but as for that judgment
which he now holdeth, once I could not own it; but now seeing it is so
much persecuted, makes me own it, because the way of God was always
persecuted.’ He hearing her speak so, said, she should not have a
standing place for five pounds.
About a month after, Margaret Newby and Elizabeth Courton came to this
town, and had a meeting at the house of one Edward Pitwayes: but coming
in the afternoon to visit the prisoners, the mayor himself laid violent
hands on them, and caused them to be put in the stocks, with their legs
near a yard one from another; and he would not suffer them to have a
block to sit on, though they desired it; yet as one that would seem to
have some modesty, he bid the constable fetch a block, and put between
their legs, uttering indecent expressions; in this posture they were
kept for the space of fifteen hours, and then, in a freezing night sent
out of the town, without suffering them to go to any place to refresh
themselves. And as to Humphrey Smith, and those with him, they were yet
kept a good while in prison.
In this year Alexander Parker was at Radnor in Wales, and bearing
there a testimony against the priest Vavasor Powel, he also preached
the doctrine of Truth, as occasion offered. It was, I think, about
this time, that Ambrose Rigge and Thomas Robinson came to Exeter; from
thence to Bristol, and afterwards to Basingstoke in Hampshire. Here,
after much trouble, they got a meeting appointed; but before all the
people were assembled, the chief priest, with the magistrates, came
thither, and causing them to be taken away, tendered them the oath
of abjuration. But they denying to swear for conscience sake, were
committed to prison: and the jailer nailed planks before the window,
to deprive them of the light; neither would he suffer them to have
a candle at night. Here they were kept about a quarter of a year;
having nothing to lie on but some straw. But this their suffering had
such effect, that some of the inhabitants seeing these unreasonable
dealings, began to inquire into the doctrine held forth by the
sufferers, and so came to be convinced of the truth thereof. They at
last being released, Robinson went to Portsmouth, where he preached
repentance. Some time after A. Rigge came also thither, and reaped
what Robinson in some respect had sowed; though it was not long before
he was sent out of town. But returning within a short time, he found
opportunity to have a meeting there; and by his preaching some were
convinced, and embraced his doctrine.
From thence he went to the Isle of Wight, where some also received the
doctrine maintained by him. After some stay he returned to Sussex,
where he had great service. And travelling up and down the county, he
came to Weymouth and Melcomb-Regis, where speaking in the steeple-house
against the priest, he was seized and locked up in a nasty dungeon
where there was nothing to lie on but some filthy straw, and a stone
to sit on: there was also no house of office; but on the ground lay an
heap of dung, where he was also forced to ease himself. But there being
an opening at the top of the room, he could see people go along the
streets, and thus took occasion, from this subterranean cave, to preach
to the passengers with such power and efficacy, that his doctrine
entered into the hearts of the hearers and stuck there. This manner of
preaching often hath been in England, and I myself, in my young years,
have been an eye-witness of it; and have heard the prisoners lift up
their voice so, that it could be heard very easily in the streets;
which made people that passed by, stand still, and hearken to what was
spoken by such zealous preachers. And though these were often hindered
of having meetings, yet it was impossible to stop up the fountain from
whence their words flowed. Thus it was also with A. Rigge, who, after
an imprisonment of eleven weeks, being set at liberty, travelled up and
down again; but in many places where he came, a prison was his lot;
sometimes even when nothing could be laid to his charge, but that he
was gone from his dwelling-place; for the parliament had made a law,
that all who were gone from home, and could not give a satisfactory
account of their business, should be taken up as vagabonds. Under this
pretence, many who travelled to the markets with their goods, were
seized by the way; for if it did but appear that such an one was a
Quaker, which was presently seen by his not putting off his hat, then
there wanted no pretended reason to clap him up in prison.
A. Rigge travelling on, came also to visit some of his friends
in prison at Southampton. This was taken so ill, that the mayor,
Peter Seal, without examining, caused him to be fastened to the
whipping-post, in the market place, where he was severely lashed by
the executioner, and then put into a cart, and sent out of the town,
in freezing snowy weather; the mayor threatening him, that if ever he
returned, he should be whipt again, and burnt in the shoulder with an
R. signifying rogue. Notwithstanding this, he was moved to return, and
the mayor was very eager to have this executed on him; but the other
magistrates would not consent; and not long after the mayor died of a
bloody flux. This relation hath carried me a little beyond the course
of time. But now I leave A. Rigge for a while, intending to make
further mention of him hereafter.
In this year William Caton went again into Scotland, from whence
returning, he travelled to Bristol, thence to Plymouth, and so to
London; from whence he made a voyage again to Holland, where William
Ames and John Stubbs had been, and also found some among the English
people at Amsterdam, who had received the doctrine they preached,
though afterwards they turned from it again. W. Ames found also some
reception among the Baptists there, who at first were pleased with him,
but J. Stubbs did not please them so well: as Dr. Galenus Abrahams once
told me, who compared Ames to a musician that played a very melodious
tune, and Stubbs to a disturber of the harmonious music; though Ames
afterwards, for his great zeal, was found fault with also.
W. Caton now arrived at Dort, and from thence repaired to Rotterdam,
where, for want of an interpreter that understood English, he was fain
to make use of the Latin. But it grieved him exceedingly to meet with
some unruly spirits there, that having been in some measure convinced
by W. Ames, ran out under the denomination of Quakers, into extremes,
both in words and writings. Some of these persons I know, and have
seen also some of the books they published in print, in which, under
a pretence of plainness, not one capital letter was to be found, even
not to proper names, nay, not to names of authors themselves. And since
they ran out into several other extravagancies, it was not much to be
wondered, that the magistrates clapt them up in Bedlam. The ringleader
of these people, was one Isaac Furnier, who formerly, (as I have heard
my uncle tell, who had seen it himself,) lived as another Diogenes,
using at the fire, instead of a pair of tongs, a split stick; and now
conversing among the Quakers, so called, made it a piece of holiness
to use the most blunt language, he could think of; how absurd and
irregular soever. In fine, he so behaved himself, that the orthodox
Quakers rejected his society. He it was, as I have understood, who
was the author of that ridiculous saying, ‘My spirit testifieth:’
which, though not approved nor used by the true Quakers, yet hath
been so spread among the people in the Low Countries, that it hath
been constantly credited, and is not yet quite disbelieved, that the
Quakers used to say so of any thing they intend to do; and that if any
one, whoever it be, says so, they will give credit to his saying. The
abovesaid Dr. Galenus told me, that this man coming to his door, and
finding the doctor’s name writ on the post of the door, (as is usual in
Holland,) did with his knife, scratch out the letters Dr. signifying
doctor. On which the doctor asked him, why he did so? And his answer
was, because the spirit did testify so unto him. And being asked
farther, if so be that spirit did move him to stab the doctor with
the knife, whether he would follow that motion, he answered, (if the
relation be true,) as the doctor affirmed to me, ‘Yes.’ But however it
be, this is true, that this Furnier was a passionate, and giddy-headed
man, whom the true Quakers could not own, though he had translated
many of their books out of English into Dutch; and would also preach
amongst them. But at length he left them, and turning papist, fell into
a dissolute and debauched life.
But to return to W. Caton: coming to Amsterdam, he did not find much
more satisfaction there than at Rotterdam; for several high-conceited
professors, who seemed to approve the doctrine preached by the Quakers,
were more apt to take upon them to teach others, than to receive
instruction from others. Wherefore W. Caton did not stay long at
Amsterdam, but returned to Rotterdam; and from thence went to Zealand,
arriving at Middleburgh, accompanied with a certain young man, who
went to some of the meeting-places in that city, and was apprehended;
which Caton understanding, went to visit him, and they perceiving that
he was his companion, secured him also; and after having been kept in
prison some days, being weak in body, it was ordered that they should
be sent to England; and so they were carried in a coach-wagon to the
water-side, being conducted by a guard of soldiers, to protect them
against the rude multitude, and brought on board a ship of war, where
Caton suffered great hardship; for the seamen were so ill-natured,
that they would not allow him so much as a piece of sailcloth, but he
was fain to lie upon the bare boards, in very cold and stormy weather.
But though thus hardly used, yet he felt his strength increase, and so
experienced the mercies of God. It was in November when he arrived at
London, where he was kindly received by the brethren: after some stay
there, he went to Hampshire, Surry, Sussex, and Kent.
Not long before this, G. Fox came to Exeter, where James Nayler was
in prison, and spoke to him by way of reproof; which Nayler slighted,
though he offered to kiss G. Fox: but he unwilling to suffer this,
said, since he had turned against the power of God, he could not
receive his show of kindness. It appeared by letters the magistrates
found in his pocket at Bristol, that the Quakers found fault with him,
and had reproved him of his high-mindedness, before it launched out
into that extravagant act which made so great a noise in the world, and
hath been mixed with many untruths, and false turns. I have therefore
thought it worth while to inquire narrowly into it, in order to give a
true relation of matters of fact.
This James Nayler was born of honest parents,[9] in the parish of
Ardesley, near Wakefield in Yorkshire, about the year 1616. He had
served in the parliament army, being quarter-master in major-general
Lambert’s troop in Scotland; was a member of the Independents; and
afterwards, in the year 1651, he entered into the communion of the
Quakers, so called.[10] He was a man of excellent natural parts, and
at first did acquit himself well, both in word and writing among his
friends, so that many came to receive the Truth by his ministry. He
came to London towards the latter end of the year 1654, or beginning
of 1655, and found there a meeting of friends, which had already been
gathered in that city, by the service of Edward Burrough, and Francis
Howgill; and there he preached in such an eminent manner, that many
admiring his great gift, began to esteem him much above his brethren,
which as it brought him no benefit, so it gave occasion of some
difference in the society; and this ran so high, that some forward and
inconsiderate women, of whom Martha Simmons was the chief, assumed the
boldness to dispute with F. Howgill and E. Burrough, openly in their
preaching, and thus to disturb the meetings:[11] whereupon they, who
were truly excellent preachers, did not fail, according to their duty
to reprove this indiscretion. But these women were so disgusted, that
Martha, and another woman, went and complained to J. Nayler, to incense
him against F. Howgill and E. Burrough; but this did not succeed, for
he showed himself afraid to pass judgment upon his brethren, as they
desired. Hereupon Martha fell into a passion, in a kind of moaning or
weeping, and, bitterly crying out with a mournful shrill voice, said,
‘I looked for judgment, but behold a cry;’ and with that cried aloud
in a passionate lamenting manner, which so entered and pierced J.
Nayler, that it smote him down into so much sorrow and sadness, that
he was much dejected in spirit, or disconsolate. Fear and doubting
then entered him, so that he came to be clouded in his understanding,
bewildered, and at a loss in his judgment, and became estranged from
his best friends, because they did not approve his conduct; insomuch
that he began to give ear to the flattering praises of some whimsical
people, which he ought to have abhorred, and reproved them for. But
his sorrowful fall ought to stand as a warning, even to those that are
endued with great gifts, that they do not presume to be exalted, lest
they also fall, but endeavour to continue in true humility, in which
alone a Christian can be kept safe.
[9] His father was a husbandman, and of good repute, having a
competent estate to live on, with industry, according to the
manner of the country where he dwelt. He was educated in good
English, and wrote well. About the age of twenty-two he married,
and then removed into Wakefield parish; where he continued, till
the wars broke out in 1641, and then went into the army, and was
a soldier eight or nine years, first under the Lord Fairfax,
and afterwards quarter-master under major-general Lambert,
till disabled by sickness in Scotland, he returned home about
1649.--J. W.’s account.
[10] He and Thomas Goodair were convinced by G. Fox, about
Wakefield, anno 1651, as were also Richard Farnsworth, Thomas
Aldam, William Dewsbury, and wife, about the same time. And in
the beginning of the year following, as he was in the field
at plough, meditating on the things of God, he heard a voice,
bidding him to go out from his kindred, and from his father’s
house; and had a promise given with it, that the Lord would
be with him; whereupon he did exceedingly rejoice that he had
heard the voice of God, whom he had professed from a child, and
endeavoured to serve: and when he went home he made preparation
to go; but not being obedient, the wrath of God was upon him, so
that he was made a wonder, and it was thought he would have died.
Afterwards being made willing, and going out with a friend, not
thinking then of a journey, he was commanded to go into the West,
not knowing what he was to do there; but when he came, he had
given him what to declare; and so he continued, not knowing one
day what he was to do the next; and the promise of God, that he
would be with him, he found made good to him every day.--Collect.
of J. N.’s writings.
[11] These women’s practice we may suppose to be somewhat like
that which gave occasion to the apostle Paul to say, “Let your
women keep silence in the churches, for it is not permitted unto
them to speak.” 1 Cor. xix. 34. This prohibition of speaking,
must be voluntary discourse, by way of reasoning or disputing,
and not when they had an immediate impulse, or concern to
prophesy; for the apostle in the same epistle, has defined
prophesy to be speaking unto “Men to edification, exhortation,
and comfort.” chap. xiv. 3. And has also chap. xi. made express
mention of women’s praying and prophesying, together with the men.
Hannah Stranger, whom I very well know, and have reason to believe a
woman of high imaginations, at this time wrote to him several very
extravagant letters; calling him the everlasting Son of Righteousness,
Prince of Peace, the only begotten Son of God, the fairest of ten
thousands, &c. In the letters of Jane Woodcock, John Stranger, and
others, were expressions of the like extravagancy; and the said Hannah
Stranger, Martha Simmons, and Dorcas Erbury, arrived to that height
of folly, that in the prison at Exeter, they kneeled before Nayler,
and kissed his feet: but as to what hath been divulged concerning his
committing of fornication, I never could find, though very inquisitive
in the case, that he was in the least guilty thereof.[12]. But for
all that, he was already too much transported, and grew yet more
exorbitant; for being released from that prison, and riding to Bristol
in the beginning of November, he was accompanied by the aforesaid and
other persons; and passing through the suburbs of Bristol, one Thomas
Woodcock went bareheaded before him; one of the women led his horse;
Dorcas, Martha, and Hannah, spread their scarfs and handkerchiefs
before him, and the company sung, “Holy, holy, holy, is the Lord God
of hosts, Hosannah in the highest: holy, holy, holy, is the Lord God
of Israel.” Thus these mad people sung, whilst they were walking
through the mire and dirt, till they came into Bristol; where they were
examined by the magistrates, and committed to prison; and not long
after he was carried to London, to be examined by the parliament. How
it went there may be seen in the printed trial, which the parliament
was pleased to publish.[13] I believe that J. Nayler was clouded in
his understanding in all this transaction: but how grievous soever his
fall was, yet it pleased God, in his infinite mercy to raise him up
again, and to bring him to such sincere repentance, that, (as we may
see in the sequel,) he abhorred not only this whole business, but also
manifested his hearty sorrow, in pathetical expressions, which were
published, as will be shown in its proper place.
[12] As to that accusation, as if I had committed adultery with
some of those women who came with us from Exeter prison, and also
those who were with me at Bristol, the night before I suffered
there, of both which accusations I am clear, before God, who kept
me at that day both in thought and deed, as to all women, as a
little child, God is my record. Collect, of J. Nayler’s writings,
p. 54. See more particularly in his answer to Blome’s Fanatic
History, in the said Collect, at p. 652.
[13] But the extravagancy of the sentence, which that parliament
passed upon him with other circumstances, give great reason
to suspect the account was partially taken, and published to
justify their cruelty, which is also set forth in part by way of
annotation on the said trial. And, (as J. W. says,) some of his
answers were innocent enough, some not clear, and some aggravated
by his adversaries; some of them he denied, some he owned; they
reported the worst, and more than was true in some things, adding
and diminishing as they were minded; much was wanting of what he
had spoken to the committee; wresting and perverting his words
what they could, and endeavouring to draw words out of him to
ensnare him, and take away his life: and to show their confusion
when he was before them, they would have had him to kneel, and
put off his hat to them, though a part of the charge against him
was, that some kneeled to him.
What hath been said of the odd doings in Exeter prison, and of his
riding into Bristol, was not denied by him, nor by the rest of the
company, when they were examined by a committee of parliament, who
made their report on the 5th of December, to which the house agreed
next day. On the 16th this business, which had, (not without much
contradiction; for many members of the parliament did not approve the
severity used against him,) been treated both forenoons and afternoons,
was proposed the twelfth time: which made an ingenious author say
afterwards, that it was wondered at by many, what the cause might be,
that this foolish business should hold so many wise men so long at
work. On the 17th, after a long debate, they came to this resolution,
That James Nayler be set on the pillory, with his head in the
pillory, in the Palace-yard, Westminster, during the space of
two hours, on Thursday next, and be whipped by the hangman
through the streets, from Westminster to the Old Exchange,
London; and there likewise be set on the pillory, with his head
in the pillory, for the space of two hours, between the hours of
eleven and one, on Saturday next, in each place wearing a paper
containing an inscription of his crimes; and that at the Old
Exchange his tongue be bored through with a hot iron, and that
he be there also stigmatized in the forehead with the letter B.;
and that he be afterwards sent to Bristol, and be conveyed into,
and through the said city on horseback, with his face backward,
and there also publicly whipped the next market-day after he
comes thither; and that from thence he be committed to prison in
Bridewell, London, and there restrained from the society of all
people, and there to labour hard till he shall be released by
parliament; and during that time he be debarred the use of pen,
ink, and paper, and shall have no relief but what he earns by his
daily labour.
They were long ere they could agree on the sentence; for suppose there
was blasphemy committed, yet his tongue seemed not properly guilty of
it, since it was not proved that blasphemous words had been spoken by
him.[14] Many thought it to be indeed a very severe judgment to be
executed upon one whose crime seemed to proceed more from a clouded
understanding, than any wilful intention of evil.
[14] At Lancaster sessions the priest got some to swear blasphemy
against G. Fox, (which was the common accusation in those days,)
but he was cleared, and the priests, &c. were enraged, who
thereupon sent a petition to the council of state, against G.
F. and J. N. who answered the same in a book called, ‘Saul’s
Errand to Damascus.’ After this, J. N. was persecuted in divers
places, beaten, stoned, and cruelly used by the priests and
their rude followers, and in danger of his life. Afterward, by
the instigation of the priest, he and F. Howgill were committed
to Appleby jail, and tried on an indictment for blasphemy, for
saying Christ was in him, according to Col. i. 27. “Christ in
you the hope of glory.” He was also another time charged with
blasphemy, for asserting in a book, ‘Justification by the gift of
God’s Righteousness,’ which he proved from Rom. v. and so stopped
their mouths, and cleared himself: by which we may see what that
generation, who were righteous in their own eyes, would have made
blasphemy.--J. Whiting’s account.
Now although several persons of different persuasions, being moved
with compassion towards Nayler, as a man carried away by foolish
imaginations, had offered petitions to the parliament on his behalf,
yet it was resolved not to read them, till the sentence was pronounced
against him.
There lived then at London, one Robert Rich, a merchant, (a very bold
man,) who writ a letter to the parliament, wherein he showed what was
blasphemy; and on the 15th of December, several copies thereof were
delivered to particular members; and in that which was given to the
speaker, these words were written at the bottom, ‘If I may have liberty
of those that sit in parliament, I do here attend at their door, and am
ready, out of the Scriptures of Truth, to show, that not any thing J.
Nayler hath said or done, is blasphemy,’ &c.
The parliament after judgment was concluded, resolved that the speaker
should be authorized to issue his warrants to the sheriffs of London
and Middlesex, the sheriff of Bristol, and governor of Bridewell, to
see the said judgment put in execution. By some it was questioned
whether that was a sufficient warrant, unless the protector concurred
in the matter; but he seemed unwilling to meddle with it. The thing
being thus far agreed upon, J. Nayler was brought up to the bar; and
when the speaker, sir Thomas Waddrington, was about to pronounce the
aforementioned sentence, Nayler said he did not know his offence.
To which the speaker returned, he should know his offence by his
punishment. After sentence was pronounced, though J. Nayler bore the
same with great patience, yet it seemed he would have spoken something,
but was denied liberty; nevertheless was heard to say, with a composed
mind, ‘I pray God, he may not lay it to your charge.’
The 18th of December, J. Nayler suffered part of the sentence; and
after having stood full two hours with his head in the pillory,
was stripped, and whipt at a cart’s tail, from Palace-yard to the
Old Exchange, and received three hundred and ten stripes; and the
executioner would have given him one more, (as he confessed to the
sheriff,) there being three hundred and eleven kennels, but his foot
slipping, the stroke fell upon his own hand, which hurt him much.
All this Nayler bore with so much patience and quietness, that it
astonished many of the beholders, though his body was in a most pitiful
condition: he was also much hurt with horses treading on his feet,
whereon the print of the nails were seen. Rebecca Travers, a grave
person, who washed his wounds, in a certificate which was presented to
the parliament, and afterwards printed, says, ‘There was not the space
of a man’s nail free from stripes and blood, from his shoulders, near
to his waist, his right arm sorely striped, his hands much hurt with
cords, that they bled, and were swelled: the blood and wounds of his
back did very little appear at first sight, by reason of abundance of
dirt that covered them, till it was washed off.’ Nay, his punishment
was so severe, that some judged his sentence would have been more mild,
if it had been present death: and it seemed indeed that there was a
party, who not being able to prevail so far in parliament as to have
him sentenced to death, yet strove to the utmost of their power to make
him sink under the weight of his punishment: for the 20th December was
the time appointed for executing the other part of the sentence, viz.
boring through his tongue, and stigmatizing in his forehead; but by
reason of the most cruel whipping, he was brought to such a low ebb,
that many persons of note, moved with compassion, presented petitions
to the parliament on his behalf, who respited his further punishment
for one week.
* * * * *
During this interval, several persons presented another petition, in
which are these words:
‘Your moderation and clemency in respiting the punishment of J.
Nayler, in consideration of his illness of body, hath refreshed
the hearts of many thousands in these cities, altogether
unconcerned in his practice; wherefore we most humbly beg your
pardon that are constrained to appear before you in such a suit,
(not daring to do otherwise,) that you would remit the remaining
part of your sentence against the said J. Nayler, leaving him
to the Lord, and to such gospel remedies as he hath sanctified;
and we are persuaded you will find such a course of love and
forbearance more effectual to reclaim; and will leave a seal of
your love and tenderness upon our spirits,
And we shall pray,’ &c.
This petition being presented at the bar of the house by about one
hundred persons, on the behalf of the whole, was accordingly read
and debated by them; but not being likely to produce the desired
effect, the petitioners thought themselves in duty and conscience
bound to address the protector, for remitting the remaining part of
the sentence; who, thereupon, sent a letter to the parliament, which
occasioned some debate in the house. But the day for executing the
remaining part of the sentence drawing near, the petitioners made a
second address to the protector. It was, indeed, very remarkable,
that so many inhabitants that were not of the society of those called
Quakers, showed themselves so much concerned in this business; but
to me it seems to have proceeded merely from compassion towards the
person of J. Nayler; whom they regarded as one that was rather fallen
into error, through inconsiderateness, than to have been guilty of
wilful blasphemy: for then he would not have deserved so much pity.
But, notwithstanding all these humble petitions, the public preachers,
it seems, prevailed so much with Cromwell, that he could not resolve
to put a stop to the intended execution; for five of these ministers,
whom I find named thus, Caryl, Manton, Nye, Griffith, and Reynolds,
came on the 24th of December, by order from the parliament, (as it was
said,) to Nayler, to speak with him concerning the things for which
he was detained; and would not permit either friend or other to be
present in the room. A certain impartial or neutral person desired it
earnestly, but it was denied him; but coming into the prison, after the
conference, he asked Nayler what had been the issue of it, who told
him, that he told those ministers, that he saw they had an intent to
make him suffer, (though innocent,) as an evil-doer; and therefore had
denied any to be present that might be indifferent judges betwixt them
and him; and that therefore he should not say any thing, unless what
passed was written down, and a copy thereof given him to keep, or left
with the jailer, signed by them. This was by them consented to, and
so they propounded several questions unto him, and took his answers
in writing. He further told, that they asked him if he was sorry for
those blasphemies that he was guilty of, and whether he did recant
and renounce the same; to which his answer was, ‘What blasphemies,
name them?’ but they not being able to instance in any particular, he
continued, ‘Would you have me recant and renounce, you know not what?’
Then they asked him whether he did believe there was a Jesus Christ? to
which he answered, he did believe there was, and that Jesus had taken
up his dwelling in his heart and spirit, and for the testimony of Him
he now suffered. Then one of the preachers said, ‘But I believe in a
Jesus that never was in any man’s heart:’ to which Nayler returned,
he knew no such Christ, for the Christ he witnessed filled heaven and
earth, and dwelt in the hearts of the believers. Next they demanded
of him why he suffered those women to worship and adore him? to which
he replied, ‘Bowing to the creature I deny; but if they beheld the
power of Christ, wherever it is, and bow to it, he had nothing by
which he might resist that, or gainsay it;’[15] and withal said to the
ministers, ‘Have you thus long professed the Scriptures, and do you now
stumble at what they hold forth?’ Whereupon they desiring one instance
of Scripture wherein such a practice was held forth, he answered,
‘What think you of the Shunamite’s falling down at the feet of Elisha
and bowing before him? As also divers others in Scripture spoken of,
as of Abigail to David, and that of Nebuchadnezzar to Daniel:’ upon
which they pausing awhile, said at length, ‘That was but a civil act
or acknowledgement:’ to which he returned, ‘So you might interpret the
act of those women also, if your eye were not evil, seeing the outward
action is one and the same:’ and he perceiving that they were seeking
to wrest words from him to their own purpose, said, ‘How soon have you
forgot the works of the bishops, who are now found in the same, seeking
to ensnare the innocent.’ Whereupon they rose up, and with bitterness
of spirit, burnt what they had written before, and so left him with
some bemoaning expressions; and when they were departing, he desired of
them that the parliament would send him such questions in writing as
they desired satisfaction to, and give him leave to return his answers
in writing also.
[15] The most that I find in his examination, either in Bristol
or London, before the committee of parliament, as published from
their report, was, that he owned Christ in him, but never that
he was Christ; and that he took the honour given, not as to
himself, but to Christ in him; which yet is more than any man
ought to receive; for when the beloved disciple, John, fell at
the angel’s feet to worship him, he, (though an angel,) said unto
him, “See thou do it not, I am thy fellow-servant, and of thy
brethren that have the testimony of Jesus, worship God.” Rev.
xix. 10. And if an angel ought not, surely no mortal man ought to
receive or accept it, on any pretence whatsoever; though falling
down, or kneeling to one another, is too frequently used by some
other people, and if it is not to their person, it must be to
their function, quality, or character in the church: but that he
received it to himself, as a creature, he utterly denied, Trial,
p. 15. And that there could not be a more abominable thing, than
to take from the Creator, and give to the creature, &c. J. W.
By this it seems that Nayler, though still under some cloud, yet was
a little more clear in his understanding than before; but he was
encountered by fierce enemies, and therefore the execution of his
sentence was not stopped, but performed on the 27th of December. Robert
Rich, that forward man, of whom something hath been mentioned already,
was this day at the parliament door, from eight in the morning till
about eleven, crying variously to the parliament men, as they passed
by. To one whom he judged to be innocent, he said, “He that dwelleth
in love, dwelleth in God, for God is love:” and to another, whom he
thought to be swayed by envy, he said, “He that hates his brother is
a manslayer, and he that hates his brother is a murderer.” Some then
thought that Nayler would not have suffered any further punishment,
because many honourable persons had attended the parliament and the
protector on his behalf; but Rich knowing how the case stood, told
the people that the innocent was going to suffer; and to some of the
parliament men he cried, that he was clear from the blood of all
men; and that he desired them to be so too. Then he went towards the
Exchange, and got on the pillory, held Nayler by the hand while he
was burnt in the forehead, and bored through the tongue; and was not
a little affected with Nayler’s suffering, for he licked his wounds,
thereby as it seems to allay the pain; and he led him by the hand from
off the pillory. It was very remarkable that notwithstanding there
might be many thousands of people, yet they were very quiet, and few
heard to revile him, or seen to throw any thing at him: and when he
was burning, the people both before and behind him, and on both sides,
with one consent stood bareheaded, as seeming generally moved with
compassion and good-will towards him.
Many now rejoiced, seeing how some few among the Quakers, as Rich,
and the like sort of people, did side with Nayler, whilst the Quakers
generally spoke against him and his doings; for those who hoped to see
the downfall of them, signified not obscurely, that now things went
as they would have, since the Quakers, (as they said,) were divided
among themselves. But time showed that this pretended division soon
came to an end, and those diviners and guessers overshot themselves.
How it went with the execution of Nayler’s sentence at Bristol, I am
not informed;[16] but by a letter of one Richard Snead, an ancient
man of about eighty years, I have understood that Nayler had written a
letter to the magistrates of Bristol, wherein he had disapproved, and
penitently condemned, his carriage there.[17] After this he was brought
to Bridewell, London, (as sentenced,) where he continued prisoner about
two years, during which confinement he came to a true repentance of his
transgression; and having got the use of pen and ink, wrote several
books and papers, condemning his error, which were published in print;
and after his release, he published several others, one of which by way
of recantation, runs thus:
[16] He was sent to Bristol, and there whipped from the
middle of Thomas street, over the bridge, up High street, to
the middle of Broad street, all which he bore with wonderful
patience, as related by an eye-witness, and then sent by Tower
lane the back way to Newgate, and from thence returned to
Bridewell, London, according to the sentence.--J. W.
[17] After he was set at liberty, he went to Bristol, where in
a public meeting, he made confession of his offence, as to his
former fall, and declared in so powerful a manner, as tendered
and broke the meeting into tears, so that there were few dry
eyes, (as related by some then present,) and many were bowed in
their minds and reconciled to him.--J. W.’s account.
‘Glory to God Almighty, who ruleth in the heavens, and in
whose hands are all the kingdoms of the earth; who raiseth up,
and casteth down at his will; who hath ways to confound the
exaltation of man, and to chastise his children, and to make
man to know himself to be as grass before him; whose judgments
are above the highest of men, and his pity reacheth the deepest
misery; and the arm of his mercy is underneath, to lift up the
prisoner out of the pit, and to save such as trust in him from
the great destruction, which vain man, through his folly, brings
upon himself; who hath delivered my soul from darkness, and made
way for my freedom out of the prison-house, and ransomed me from
the great captivity; who divides the sea before him, and removes
the mountains out of his way, in the day when he takes upon him
to deliver the oppressed out of the hand of him that is too
mighty for him in the earth: let his name be exalted for ever,
and let all flesh fear before him; whose breath is life to his
own, but a consuming fire to the adversary.
‘And to the Lord Jesus Christ be everlasting dominion upon earth,
and his kingdom above all the powers of darkness; even that
Christ of whom the Scriptures declare, which was, and is, and
is to come, the light of the world to all generations; of whose
coming I testify with the rest of the children of light, begotten
of the immortal seed, whose truth and virtue now shine in the
world, unto the righteousness of eternal life, and the Saviour of
all that believe therein; who hath been the rock of my salvation,
and his spirit hath given quietness and patience to my soul in
deep affliction, even for his name’s sake: praises forever.
‘But condemned forever be all those false worships with which
any have idolized my person in the night of my temptation, when
the power of darkness was above. All their casting of their
clothes in the way, their bowings and singings, and all the
rest of those wild actions which did any ways tend to dishonour
the Lord, or draw the minds of any from the measure of Christ
Jesus in themselves, to look at flesh, which is as grass, or to
ascribe that to the visible, which belongs to Christ Jesus; all
that I condemn, by which the pure name of the Lord hath been any
ways blasphemed through me, in the time of temptation: or the
spirits of any people grieved, that truly love the Lord Jesus,
throughout the whole world, of what sort soever. This offence I
confess, which hath been sorrow of heart, that the enemy of man’s
peace in Christ, should get this advantage in the night of my
trial, to stir up wrath and offences in the creation of God; a
thing the simplicity of my heart did not intend, the Lord knows;
who in his endless love hath given me power over it, to condemn
it. And also that letter which was sent me to Exeter, by John
Stranger, when I was in prison, with these words, ‘Thy name shall
be no more James Nayler, but Jesus,’ this I judge to be written
from the imaginations; and a fear struck me when I first saw
it, so I put it into my pocket, close, not intending any should
see it; which they finding on me, spread it abroad, which the
simplicity of my heart never owned. So this I deny also, that
the name of Christ Jesus was received instead of James Nayler,
or ascribed to him; for that name is to the promised seed to all
generations; and he that hath the Son, hath the name, which is
life and power, the salvation and the unction, into which name
all the children of light are baptized. So the name of Christ I
confess before men, which name to me hath been a strong tower in
the night and in the day; and this is the name of Christ Jesus,
which I confess, the Son and the Lamb, the promised seed, where
he speaks in male and female. But who hath not this in himself,
hath not life, neither can have, by idolizing my person, or the
person of any flesh; but in whom the heir is born, and hath
spoken, or doth speak, there he must not be denied the mouth to
speak by, who is head over all, and in all his own, God blessed
forever.
‘And all those ranting wild spirits, which then gathered about
me in that time of darkness; and all their wild actions and
wicked words against the honour of God, and his pure spirit and
people; I deny that bad spirit, the power and the works thereof;
and as far as I gave advantage, through want of judgment, for
that evil spirit in any to arise, I take shame to myself justly;
having formerly had power over that spirit, in judgment and
discerning, wherever it was; which darkness came over me through
want of watchfulness and obedience to the pure eye of God, and
diligently minding the reproof of life, which condemns the
adulterous spirit. So the adversary got advantage, who ceases not
to seek to devour; and being taken captive from the true light,
I was walking in the night where none can work, as a wandering
bird fit for a prey. And if the Lord of all my mercies had not
rescued me, I had perished; for I was as one appointed to death
and destruction, and there was none could deliver me. And this I
confess, that God may be justified in his judgment, and magnified
in his mercies without end, who did not forsake his captive in
the night, even when his spirit was daily provoked and grieved;
but hath brought me forth to give glory to his name for ever. And
it is in my heart to confess to God, and before men, my folly and
offence in that day: yet were there many things formed against
me in that day to take away my life, and bring scandal upon the
Truth, of which I am not guilty at all; as that accusation, as if
I had committed adultery with some of those women who came with
us from Exeter prison, and also those who were with me at Bristol
the night before I suffered there; of both which accusations I
am clear before God, who kept me in that day both in thought and
deed, as to all women, as a child, God is my record. And this I
mention in particular, (hearing of some who still cease not to
reproach therewith God’s Truth and people,) that the mouth of
enmity might be shut from evil speaking; though this toucheth not
my conscience.
‘And that report, as though I had raised Dorcas Erbury from the
dead carnally, this I deny also, and condemn that testimony to
be out of the Truth; though that power that quickens the dead,
I deny not, which is the word of eternal life. And this I give
forth, that it may go as far as the offence against the Spirit
of Truth hath gone abroad, that all burdens may be taken off of
the Truth, and the Truth cleared thereby, and the true light, and
all that walk therein, and the deeds of darkness be condemned;
and that all that are in darkness, may not act in the night, but
stay upon God, who dwells in the light, who with the workers
of iniquity hath no fellowship; which had I done, when first
darkness came upon me, and not been led by others, I had not
run against that rock to be broken, which so long had borne me,
and of whom I had so largely drank, and of which I now drink
in measure; to whom be the glory of all, and to him must every
tongue confess, as Judge and Saviour, God over all, blessed
forever.’
The author adding to this an exhortation to the reader, how to behave
himself, if at any time he came to be tempted to sin; and also a
warning, not to rely too much on gifts, wisdom, and knowledge,
concludes thus:
‘This I have learned in the deeps, and in secret, when I was
alone; and now declare openly in the day of thy mercy, O Lord.
Glory to the Highest for evermore, who hath thus far set me free,
to praise his righteousness and his mercy; and to the eternal,
invisible, pure God, over all, be fear, obedience, and glory for
evermore. Amen.
JAMES NAYLER.’
He writ another paper, wherein he related at large, how by
unwatchfulness he came to fall, after having once obtained much victory
over the power of Satan, by the grace of God, when he daily walked
humbly in his fear, having for some years laboured faithfully in the
ministry of the gospel. But what is remarkable, though wherever he did
use to come, he went with great boldness through all opposition, yet
coming to the city of London, he entered it with the greatest fear
that ever he came into any place with, in spirit foreseeing, as he
relates, somewhat to befal him there, but not knowing what it might be:
‘Yet had I,’ (thus he saith,) ‘the same presence and power as before,
into whatever place or service I was led of the Spirit; in that life I
never returned without victory in Christ Jesus, the Lord thereof. But
not minding in all things to stand single and low to the motions of
that endless life, by it to be led in all things within and without;
but giving away to the reasoning part, as to some things which in
themselves had no seeming evil, by little and little it drew out my
mind after trifles, vanities, and persons, which took the affectionate
part, by which my mind was drawn out from the constant watch, and pure
fear, into which I once was begotten. Thus having in a great measure
lost my own guide, and darkness being come upon me, I sought a place
where I might have been alone to weep and cry before the Lord, that his
face I might find, and my condition recover. But then my adversary,
who had long waited his opportunity, had got in, and bestirred himself
every way, so that I could not be hid: and divers messages came to
me, some true, some false, as I have seen since. So I knowing some to
be true, to wit, how I had lost my condition, with this I let in the
false message also; and so letting go that little of the true light
which I had yet remaining in myself, I gave up myself wholly to be led
by others; whose work was then to divide me from the children of light,
which was done: though much was done by divers of them to prevent it,
and in bowels of tender love many laboured to have stayed me with them.
And after I was led out from them, the Lord God of my life sent divers
of his servants with his word after me, for my return; all which was
rejected; yea, the provocation of that time of temptation was exceeding
great against the pure love of God; yet he left me not; for after I had
given myself under that power, and darkness was above, my adversary
so prevailed, that all things were turned and perverted against my
right seeing, hearing, or understanding; only a secret hope and faith
I had in my God, whom I had served, that he would bring me through
it, and to the end of it, and that I should again see the day of my
redemption from under, it all; and this quieted my soul in my greatest
tribulation.’
The author, moreover, seriously exhorting others, who also might come
to fall into great temptation, concludes with these words:
‘He who hath saved my soul from death thus far, and hath lifted
my feet up out of the pit, even to him be immortal glory forever,
and let every troubled soul trust in him; for his mercy endureth
forever.
JAMES NAYLER.’
That he came to a perfect recovery from his having been in a maze,
seems to appear plainly by the following thanksgiving to God for his
mercies, which he published after his fall:
‘It is in my heart to praise thee, O my God; let me never forget
thee, what thou hast been to me in the night, by thy presence
in the day of trial, when I was beset in darkness, when I was
cast out as a wandering bird, when I was assaulted with strong
temptations, then thy presence in secret did preserve me, and in
a low state I felt thee near me. When the floods sought to sweep
me away, thou didst set a compass for them how far they should
pass over. When my way was through the sea, and when I passed
under the mountains, there wast thou present with me. When the
weight of the hills was upon me, thou upheldst me, else had I
sunk under the earth. When I was as one altogether helpless;
when tribulation and anguish was upon me day and night, and the
earth without foundation; when I went on the way of wrath, and
passed by the gates of hell; when all comforts stood afar off,
and he that is mine enemy had dominion; when I was cast into the
pit, and was as one appointed to death; when I was between the
millstones, and as one crushed with the weight of his adversary;
as a father, Thou wast with me, and the rock of thy presence.
When the mouths of lions roared against me, and fear took hold
of my soul in the pit, then I called upon thee in the night,
and my cries were strong before thee daily; who answeredst me
from thy habitation, and deliveredst me from thy dwelling-place;
saying, I will set thee above all thy fears, and lift up thy feet
above the head of oppression, I believed, and was strengthened,
and thy word was salvation. Thou didst fight on my part when I
wrestled with death; and when darkness would have shut me up,
then thy light shone about me, and thy banner was over my head.
When my work was in the furnace, and as I passed through the
fire, by thee I was not consumed, though the flames ascended
above my head. When I beheld the dreadful visions and was amongst
the fiery spirits, thy faith stayed me, else through fear I had
fallen. I saw thee and believed, so the enemy could not prevail.
‘When I look back into thy works I am astonished, and see no
end of thy praises. Glory, glory to thee, saith my soul, and
let my heart be ever filled with thanksgiving. Whilst thy works
remain, they shall show forth thy power. Then didst thou lay
the foundation of the earth, and lead me under the waters, and
in the deep didst thou show me wonders, and thy forming of the
world. By thy hand thou ledst me in safety, till thou showedst
me the pillars of the earth. Then did the heavens shower down,
they were covered with darkness, and the powers thereof were
shaken, and thy glory descended; thou filledst the lower parts
of the earth with gladness, and the springs of the valleys were
opened, and thy showers descended abundantly; so the earth was
filled with virtue. Thou madest thy plant to spring, and the
thirsty soul became as a watered garden: then didst thou lift
me out of the pit, and set me forth in the sight of my enemies.
Thou proclaimedst liberty to the captive, and calledst mine
acquaintance near me: they to whom I had been a wonder, looked
upon me, and in thy love I obtained favour in those who had
forsook me. Then did gladness swallow up sorrow, and I forsook
all my troubles; and I said, how good is it that man be proved
in the night, that he may know his folly; that every mouth may
become silent in thy hand until thou makest man known to himself,
and hast slain the boaster, and showed him the vanity that vexeth
thy spirit.
JAMES NAYLER.’
This plainly appears to be a poetical piece; for the author all along
makes use of allegorical sayings, to signify the great anguish and
tribulation he had been under.
The hatred of his enemies was the fiercer, because he had undisguisedly
and clearly demonstrated their duty, to the rulers, and preachers, and
lawyers: for in a certain book, published by him in the year 1653, to
exhort men to repentance, he writes thus to the rulers:
‘O you rulers of the people, who are set up to judge between
a man and his neighbour, ought not you to judge for God, and
not for man? Ought not you to be men fearing God, and hating
covetousness, not judging for gifts and rewards? Ought not you to
countenance and encourage them that do well, and to be a terror
to them which do evil? Justice is so. And he that is of God,
and bears his sword, turns the edge of it against all sin and
wickedness, injustice and oppression; and so sets up justice and
judgment in the gates, that the poor may be delivered from him
that is too mighty for him, and that the cause of the fatherless,
widow, and stranger may not fall; but hath an ear open to the
cries of the poor and helpless, who hath but little money, and
few friends; that a poor man may not be afraid to appear in a
good cause, against the greatest oppressor in the nation.
‘And ought not you to judge without respect to persons, or
without seeking respect to your own persons, worship or honour
from men; but only to advance justice, equity, and righteousness,
which is of God; that so you may be honoured by the Lord; for
true humility is honour, and he that honours the Lord, him will
He honour; and such have been honoured in all ages, though they
never sought it from men.’
This and much more he writ to the rulers; and to the preachers thus:
‘And you who say you are the teachers of the nation, how long
will it be ere you look at your own ways? Is not all manner of
filthiness amongst you, which you should lead the people out
of? Is there not among you drunkenness, gluttony, whoredom,
and sporting, sitting down to eat and to drink, and rising up
to play; swearing, lying, backbiting, false accusing, railing,
slandering, contention, strife, and envy? Yea, are not the best
of you given to pride and covetousness, which is idolatry;
fulness of bread, and abundance of idleness? Are not you
hirelings, and teach for the fleece? Do not you contend for money
with your own hearers, and sue them at law for it; yea, although
they cannot satisfy your demands, without sinning against the
light in their own consciences, and so sin against God? Are you
not bitter, and persecutors of any that come to discover your
lewdness, crying out to the magistrate to uphold you in your
beastly ways, and to stop the mouths of all those whom God hath
sent to witness against you? And many more works of this nature
are amongst you, which the pure all-seeing God hath showed unto
his people, to be amongst you, and therefore it is that they
come out from you, lest they partake with you of your sins and
plagues. But are not you blind leaders of the blind, when you
neither see these to be the works of darkness, nor those that
follow you. Wo unto you that devour souls for money and gain, the
day of your account is at hand. O repent, the blood of souls is
upon you,’ &c.
The lawyers in the same writing had a stroke also thus:
‘And you lawyers, ought not you to plead the cause of equity,
between man and man for equity sake, without respect to
yourselves or others, but only to truth itself; that a just cause
may be owned in whomsoever it concerns? But is not the justest
cause sure to fall, if the party have not money to satisfy your
demands; which are many times very unreasonable? And you who
should instruct people in the ways of truth and peace, do not you
by your wisdom teach them lies and strife? Do not you advise your
plaintiffs, as you call them, to declare in bills, things that
are not true, and make small offences seem very great by false
glosses? For say you, we may declare what we will, and prove what
we can; so that you, and they whom you act for, know beforehand,
that scarce one thing of ten can be proved, neither is true? Is
this the way to make up the breach, and preserve peace and truth
amongst people? O miserable fall from God, when that law which
should preserve in peace, is used to aggravate offences beyond
truth, and so make differences greater. And do not you delight to
fish in troubled waters: and the greater dissension amongst the
people, the more is your gain? Are not your purses filled, and
your estates raised in the ruins of the people? And are not those
laws which ought to be used to preserve people from oppression,
by abusing, made the undoing of whole families, impoverishing
towns and countries? The law, as it is now used, is scarce
serviceable for any other end, but for the envious man, who hath
much money to revenge himself upon his poor neighbours, which,
may be, never did him wrong. Is there any appearing for the poor
against the rich, although his cause be just; but by deceit,
delays, and expenses, the remedy is worse than the disease?’
Much more he wrote to the lawyers, to stir them up to do justice, and
then addressed himself to the people in general, in these words:
‘And you people of the nation, that have seen the hand of
God against the prince and people for these and the like
abominations, and you yourselves are escaped, as brands plucked
out of the fire; have you at all turned to him who hath smitten
you; or are you bettered by correction; or have you made your
peace with the Almighty? Although you have seen war, and the
sword reaching to the very soul, are you not every one, to your
own power, gathering fuel to that fire which hath been burning
in the land, and hath consumed thousands; which should have been
as a warning unto you who are escaped, to return to the Lord
from the evil of your doings? But are not you still making the
breach wider between God and the nation, as though you were left
for no other end, but to fill up the measure of iniquity that
is yet behind, that the just God may sweep the land with the
besom of destruction? O when will you cease to provoke the Lord
by your sins? Where is your Redeemer you have professed so long
in words and forms? Can you witness him in your works? And what
hath he redeemed you from? For saith he, “Why call you me Lord,
and do not the things which I say?” Is He your Lord, and you
servants to all manner of filthiness? And notwithstanding you
have seen his wonders in the nation, yet do not you exceed all
that ever went before you, in pride, covetousness, drunkenness,
swearing, envying, quarrelling, backbiting, slandering, false
accusing, self-love, and deceit in all manner of merchandise and
trading; false weights and measures, sayings, protestings one
towards another, in your bargaining, speaking things that are not
true, and hereby to overreach your brethren, and get dishonest
gain. How many false oaths, and idle words are spent about every
bargain in your markets, and open streets, without blushing, or
being ashamed? Yea, it is able to break the hearts of any who
know the pure God, to know it, and hear it; for it is come to
such a height of deceit, that none can trust his brother, for
lying, swearing, and forswearing, which abound in the nation;
and yet you will profess yourselves to be the members of Jesus
Christ: and had Jesus Christ ever such a body as this? Nay, all
that are members of him, are of one heart, and one soul.
‘And you talk of a communion of saints: had ever the saints
such a communion as this, to defraud one another for money; and
profess a Redeemer, and are servants to the devil, and your own
lusts, in all the motions and temptations thereof, and are led
captive at his will? But what redemption is this you witness?
So long as sin, the partition wall between God and you, stands
still whole in your wills, you will be drunk, swear, lie, and
commit adultery, dissemble, and satisfy your lusts in all things,
and say we are redeemed; yet commit all these abominations
and live in them, under a pretence of a profession, and going
to the idols’ temple once a week. Did ever Jesus Christ redeem
such a people, or dwell in such a people? Those whom he hath
redeemed, he hath freed from the servitude of sin, by separating
them from sin, and reconciling them to God, from whence they are
fallen by sin: for God and sin cannot dwell in one. And to such
he saith, “Be ye holy, for I am holy:” and as he is the “Lamb
of God who taketh away the sins of the world,” now see, how is
your sins taken away, when the kingdom of darkness doth wholly
rule in you, and leads you into works and ways of darkness? Are
you reconciled to God, and have you fellowship with him? Are
not you yet strangers to him, and worship an unknown God? “For
he that commits sin, hath not seen him, neither known him,” and
so worship, they know not what, in formal and superstitious
worships.’
Thus J. Nayler wrote: but I now break off that I may not be tedious.
So zealous was he before his fall; which was wholly of another nature
than the common sins and transgressions; for, by the wiles of Satan,
he accepted the idolatrous honour that some persons gave him, instead
of which he ought to have reproved them; and thus was he so stupified
in his understanding, that he imagined the bowing and kneeling before
him, was not done on account of his person, but for Christ: and with
this false opinion he blinded himself for a time, till it pleased God
to pity him, and to give him light again; after he had suffered such an
unheard of punishment for his transgression, as is already related in
this history. And because his freedom of speech against unrighteousness
of all sorts, and his preaching, ran very sharp upon all, several were
angry with him, became his enemies, and took occasion from his crime
to revenge themselves fiercely upon him, by making him suffer a cruel
punishment, which was no ways proportionable to his transgression. But
herein barbarous cruelty played its part so much, that the soberest
inhabitants did detest it, and therefore a petition was presented to
the parliament, desiring a discharge of part of the punishment, of
which the first subscriber was colonel Scroop, who was governor of
Bristol.
While he lay in the house of correction, he writ several papers to
manifest his regret and repentance for his crime; some of which are
already inserted in this history. Since, is come to my hand a letter to
his friends, being written with his own hand to this purport:
‘_Dear brethren_,
‘My heart is broken this day for the offence that I have
occasioned to God’s truth and people, and especially to you, who
in dear love followed me, seeking me in faithfulness to God,
which I rejected; being bound wherein I could not come forth,
till God’s hand brought me, to whose love I now confess: and I
beseech you, forgive wherein I evilly requited your love in that
day. God knows my sorrow for it, since I see it, that ever I
should offend that of God in any, or reject his counsel; and how
that paper you have seen lies much upon me, and I greatly fear
further to offend, or do amiss, whereby the innocent Truth, or
people of God should suffer, or that I should disobey therein.
‘Unless the Lord himself keep you from me, I beseech you let
nothing else hinder your coming to me, that I might have your
help in the Lord: in the mercies of Christ Jesus this I beg of
you, as if it was your own case, let me not be forgotten of you.
‘And I entreat you, speak to Henry Clarke, or whoever else I
have most offended; and by the power of God, and in the spirit
of Christ Jesus, I am willing to confess the offence, that God’s
love may arise in all hearts, as before, if it be his will, who
only can remove what stands in the way; and nothing thereof do I
intend to cover: God is witness herein.’
He also writ several other confessions of his faults about this time,
in one of which, amongst others, I find these words:
‘And concerning you, the tender plants of my Father, who have
suffered through me, or with me, in what the Lord hath suffered
to be done with me, in this time of great trial and temptation;
the Almighty God of love, who hath numbered every sigh, and put
every tear in his bottle, reward it a thousand fold into your
bosoms, in the day of your need, when you shall come to be tried
and tempted; and in the meantime fulfil your joy with his love,
which you seek after. The Lord knows, it was never in my heart to
cause you to mourn, whose suffering is my greatest sorrow that
ever yet came upon me, for you are innocent herein.’
When he had finished that letter, and set his name, he wrote as follows:
‘I beseech you, (all that can,) to receive it, even as you would
be received of the Lord; and for the rest, the Lord give me
patience to suffer, till he make up the breach.’
While he was in Bridewell, he writ to the parliament, who had punished
him as a blasphemer, to let them know what his true opinion concerning
Jesus Christ was.
‘Christ Jesus, (the Immanuel, of whose sufferings the Scriptures
declare,) him alone I confess before men; for whose sake I have
denied whatever was dear to me in this world, that I might win
him, and be found in him, and not in myself; whose life and
virtue I find daily manifest in my mortal body, (which is my
eternal joy and hope of glory;) whom alone I seek to serve in
spirit, soul and body, night and day, (according to the measure
of grace working in me,) that in me he may be glorified, whether
by life or death; and for his sake I suffer all things, that he
alone may have the glory of my change, whose work alone it is in
me: even to that eternal Spirit be glory, and to the Lamb for
ever.
‘But to ascribe this name, power, and virtue, to James Nayler,
(or to that which had a beginning, and must return to dust,) or
for that to be exalted, or worshipped, to me is great idolatry,
and with the Spirit of Christ Jesus in me it is condemned; which
Spirit leads to lowliness, meekness, and long-suffering.
‘So having an opportunity given, (with readiness,) I am willing,
in the fear of God the Father, (in honour to Christ Jesus, and to
take off all offences from every simple heart,) this to declare
to all the world, as the truth of Christ is in me, without guile
or deceit, daily finding it to be my work to seek peace in truth
with all men in that spirit.
JAMES NAYLER.’
After this, hearing that some had wronged him about that which he had
spoken to the committee of the parliament, and understanding how men
had perverted his words, he wrote a paper, declaring himself further
concerning his belief of Christ, and his sufferings, and death, &c.
Also he complained of things that some had published, under the title
of James Nayler’s recantation, wherein they had much perverted him; and
he declared:
‘And as touching the printing of that paper, (called J. N.’s
recantation,) it was not done by me, nor with my knowledge in the
least, nor do I yet at all know the man that hath done it; but
out of the Truth, and against the Truth he hath done it, and for
evil towards me, whoever it was; the Lord God of my life, who
hath kept me alive in all distress, turn it for good, and forgive
the evil: and though he that hath done it, hath not done it in
Truth, nor love to it, yet what of truth there is in the paper,
I shall own, as stands on Truth’s behalf: for thus it was, that
after I was put into the hole at Bridewell, I heard of many wild
actions done by a sort of people who pretended that they owned
me; and these were earnestly stirred up at that day, with much
violence, and many unseemly actions, to go into the meetings of
the people of the Lord called Quakers, on purpose to hinder their
peaceable meetings; and yet would take that holy and pure name
of God and Christ frequently in their mouths, whereby the name
of the Lord was much dishonoured, and his pure Spirit grieved,
and much disorder they caused in many places of the nation, to
the dishonour of Christ Jesus, for which I felt wrath from God;
which when I understood that they had any strength through me, I
used all means I could to declare against that evil spirit, which
under the name of God and Christ, was against God and Christ, his
Truth and people; and something I did give forth about a year and
a half since, in denial of these spirits, which it seems to me,
he that hath done this, hath got a sight of, and hath added to
it the thoughts of his own heart, and so hath brought out this
darkness, that people know not what to make of it.
‘Therefore, so far as it testifies against those unclean ranting
spirits, and all the actions wherein the holy name of God hath
been dishonoured, and his Spirit grieved, so far I own it; but in
that it is turned as though I denied the Lord Jesus Christ, and
his Truth, which hath called me out of the world, or his people,
whom he hath called into light, in that I own it not; for in the
patience and tribulation of Christ Jesus, and with those who have
the power this day to testify therein, against all the evils of
this present world, I am one in heart and soul to the utmost of
my strength, till the coming of the Lord Jesus over all; and the
throne of meekness and truth, be set on the top of enmity and
deceit; in which faith and power I am given up to live or die,
suffer or rejoice, as God will, even so be it, without murmuring.
JAMES NAYLER.’
This is certain, that James Nayler came to very great sorrow, and
deep humiliation of mind; and therefore, because God forgives the
transgressions of the penitent, and blotteth them out, and remembereth
them no more, so could James Nayler’s friends do no other than forgive
his crime, and thus take back the lost sheep into their society. He
having afterwards obtained his liberty, behaved himself as became a
Christian, honest and blameless in conversation; and patiently bore the
reproach of his former crimes.
When king Charles the Second had ascended the throne, one Richard Blome
published a book, entitled, The Fanatic History, which was said to be
published with the approbation of orthodox divines, (so called,) and
dedicated by him to the king. This book struck chiefly against the
Quakers, and was stuffed with a multitude of lying stories, and the
fall of J. Nayler was not concealed in it. He being then alive, took
up the pen, and answered the falsities contained in it, relating to
himself: and because R. Blome, in his dedication, said, ‘That if his
majesty put not forth his royal hand of power suddenly, to restrain us,
we are so numerous, and seducing, that we will, (in a little time,)
diffuse our poison over the better part of his kingdom, which none but
a regal authority can stifle.’
‘I say then, what is become of your spiritual weapons? Have not
your teachers told people of the strength of truth, and the power
of godliness? Have you lost both, (may wisdom say,) and run you
now to the arm of flesh, to get errors stifled, (as you call
them,) or else your hope is lost, and your faith fails you? Did
ever any of Christ’s ministers leave their spiritual weapons, to
run to the arm of flesh, or a carnal weapon to stop seducers? I
say, no. This they never did; but with spiritual weapons they
wrestled, and overcame spiritual wickedness, and with them cut
down heresies, blasphemies, and false worships, and cleared the
churches of Christ of them, and drove them down before them in
the world: for none could resist the spirit by which they spoke,
of all the false priests, and false worshippers; but being put
to the worst, they cried, (as you do,) to rulers and people,
Help us, or all will be overrun: for they that turn the world
upside down are come hither, (mind your cry.) And then the rude
multitude ran on heaps upon them, and made tumults often, and
fell upon them with staves and fists, and assaulted the houses
that entertained them, as you do, and so hauled them before
rulers, who took their parts herein, and put them in prison, and
often whipped them; unless it were some that were so noble, as
not to heed the cry of the multitude; but would hear their cause,
and give them leave to speak, before they would sentence them
that were accused. And this was the nobility of heathen kings and
rulers; and do not you seek to make England’s rulers worse than
them? Beware lest heathens rise up in the day of judgment against
them who are called Christians, and condemn them.
‘And is this your cry for help, against so contemptible a people,
(as you count them,) you, like silly women, do but discover your
weakness and worthlessness; and if God open the eyes of King
Charles, he will see it. What! have you preached and wrestled
yourselves out of all hope and faith, that either you must have
sudden help from him, or all is lost and overrun? Surely it may
be said, you have been bad watchmen, and idle shepherds, who have
lost all, if sudden help come not from another hand. Now if any
had come against you with carnal weapons, then had you had some
excuse in crying to the earthly powers; but in that nothing but
spirit comes against spirit, and yet you have lost the day. This
doth clearly manifest, that the power of God you have not in you,
but have lost the kingdom of the Most High, and so are become
unreasonable men, who would have two weapons against one, and
another to do your work for you, and yet are unwilling to forego
your wages; yea, this advantage you have had divers years, but
have not prevailed therewith.
‘And whereas thou sayest thy book is of great consequence; and so
thou presumest to make king Charles the patron of it: and then
askest pardon for thy presumption, when thou hast done.
‘I say thou hast need: the substance of thy book being made up
of false accusations, gathered up out of books formerly written
against us, which have been disproved by answers several times
over: and to these thou hast added some new accusations, as false
as the old, and spied out the failings of some few, who have
mourned before God, that ever they should sin, and give occasion
to the enemy of God so to blaspheme. And many things which were
done and spoken by others, who are not of us, nor ever were: and
of this is thy book made up, as any may see who reads it, and our
several answers to the charges therein, many of them of several
years standing, against these false accusations, which have most
of them been printed over and over, and presented to the former
powers that have risen, and as often answered: so there needed no
more to be said, than hath been, were it not for the sake of some
who may yet be strangers to your way of dealing towards us, under
every power that hath been. Now discretion will say, that to make
another man the father of such a work, to which he is a stranger,
(but especially a king,) is presumption indeed, rashness and
folly, and needs a pardon.
‘And whereas you now say, that none but a regal authority can
stifle; it is true, you have tried parliaments and protectors,
(as you called them,) and parliaments again; and to make them
then work for you, your priests used these arguments to them, to
wit, That in the late wars they had exposed lives, liberties,
estates, and relations, with all other personal advantages, in
maintaining the just proceedings of parliaments, and from them
you then claimed our stifling, as the price of your prayers,
purses, hazards, losses, banishment, and blood, as may be read
in the Westmoreland petition against us, which thou hast printed
in page 197 and 198. And was not this power that which you then
called the common enemy, in the same petition, page 200, which
you now cry to, and would put him upon that work against us
now, as defender of your faith, &c. Ah! a faithless generation
have you been to God and man, may you not be ashamed of this
work, to print it, and send it to king Charles, and call him to
defend it, and patronize it: how hath envy bereaved you of your
reasonableness? Shall he who defends this, defend either faith or
truth? But this is, that you may cover yourselves with your shame
and envy, that both king and people, and parliaments, may see
what a generation you are, that will run under any power to get
your bloody ends; but indeed true to none; for if it was true,
that you were so faithful to that parliament, with your prayers,
purses, and blood, as there you plead, then is your faith but
new, which now you would have defended; but if not true, then how
great deceivers, and how little to be trusted, or defended, in
your cruel designs.
‘“The king that faithfully judges the poor, his throne shall be
established for ever. But, if a ruler hearken to lies, all his
servants are wicked.” Prov. xxix. 12, 14.
‘And to thee, who hast set forth this book of mischief, I say
with the Scriptures, “Lay not wait, O wicked man, against the
dwelling of the righteous, spoil not his resting place. For a
just man falleth seven times, and riseth up again; but the wicked
shall fall into mischief.” Prov. xxiv. 15, 16. See also Mich.
vii. 8.
J. N.’
_In answer to the book._
‘The day is come that the Scripture is fulfilled, which the
Lord spoke by his prophet, Isa. xliv. 25. That he will make the
diviners mad; and that the prophets shall be ashamed, every
one of his vision, Zach. xiii. 4. The which doth now evidently
appear, and their folly is made manifest unto all, that will
see and behold it, according to 2 Tim. iii. 9. And is not this
manifest madness and folly in them, called orthodox and divines,
to present unto the king their packet of lies, which have been
seven years told over, and so long since disproved and confuted,
as may be seen in a book called, Saul’s Errand to Damascus, &c.
printed in the year 1653, and in several other books since. It
already hath been, and is now manifest unto all men of sober
understandings, that these men, falsely called orthodox and
divines, have had no defence, either to vindicate themselves,
or disprove the people called Quakers, but this refuge of lies,
which they first presented to the parliament sitting in 1652, and
likewise to other parliaments which have been since that time,
and to the two protectors, and which now to this present king is
directed; and you presumptuously charge him to be the patron of
it, requiring him to defend those lies which you falsely call the
faith. But this we know, according as it is written, Prov. xxix.
12, 19. that “if a ruler hearken to lies, and his servants are
wicked; but a wise king scattereth the wicked, and bringeth the
wheel over them.” Chap. xx. 26.
‘These pretended divines are such as have bowed and crouched
under every appearance of a power, and by flatteries seem to
cleave unto them, that they might uphold, maintain, and satisfy
their God, which is their bellies. These were of them which
said, that Oliver Cromwell was the light of their eyes, and the
breath of their nostrils: so that now with shame they might
rather confess that they are blind, and dead, (from the light and
life of God,) than to multiply lies in their accustomed manner
as formerly. These also were of them that said, Oliver Cromwell
was Moses, who had led them into a sight of the good land; and
that Richard his son was Joshua, which should lead them into the
possession. But we, with many more, do see that their hope is
false, and their faith also proved vain, and that they are not
yet in the land of promise, for there no liars come. And those
former rulers hearkening to their lies, were deceived by them,
which was the cause of God’s judgments, and utter destruction
coming upon them; which while they put into the priests’ mouths
they cried peace unto them, calling them Moses, Aaron, and
Joshua; but when they ceased, and could not put into their
mouths, then they cried out, that Moses and Joshua were tyrants
and oppressors: and so will they do unto the king now, who are
seeking to cleave unto him by flattery and deceit; and if he
deny to be the patron and defender of their lies, will be apt to
cry as much against him. So that he, or they, are blessed, whose
ears are not open to their clamours, but whose hearts are joined
to the Truth, and who are led by the Spirit of God as their
instructor; for such shall discern hypocrites, and false-hearted
men, under every pretence of flattery or dissimulation; for the
folly of these begins to be manifest unto all men. 2 Tim. iii. 9.
‘Now in answer to the history concerning John Toldervey, asserted
by a company of priests, as Brooks, Cocking, Goodwin, Jenkins,
Jacomb, Alderry, Tombs, and Pool, who themselves say, that they
have but perused a part, as page 99, and yet pretend to witness
the whole; whose witness is disproved and denied by the said
John Toldervey, both by his own book given forth from him, and
by his life and conversation, being now, (since his return
from his out-going,) a living witness, not against, but for
the way, doctrine, principle, and practice, which the people
called Quakers do live in, against those lies published abroad
concerning him.
‘And as for thy charge thou hast against J. Nayler, through the
everlasting mercy of my God, I have yet a being amongst the
living, and breath to answer for myself, though against the
intents of many cruel bloody spirits, who pursued my soul, unto
death, (as much as in them lay,) in that day of my calamity,
when my adversary was above, and wherein I was made a sign to a
backsliding generation, who then would not see nor hear what now
is coming upon them; but rejoiced against this piece of dust, and
had little pity towards him that was fallen into their hands;
wherein God was just in giving me up for my disobedience, for a
little moment, as a father to correct; yet should not they have
sought to aggravate things against me, as thou dost; for it was a
day of deep distress, and lay sore upon my soul, and the merciful
God saw it, who, though he was displeased for a time, yet his
thoughts were not to cast off for ever, (but extend mercy,) as
it is at this day; glory be to his name from my delivered soul,
eternally.
‘And in that day there were many spirits flocked about me, and
some whom, (while the candle of the Lord shone upon my head,)
I ever judged and kept out from me, who then got up and acted,
and spoke several things not in the light and Truth of God, by
which they who sought occasion against me, were then strengthened
to afflict this body, and he that watches for evil in thee and
some others, makes use of still against God’s Truth and innocent
people; whose mouths the God of my mercy stop, and so finish the
trouble on my heart as to that thing; for my soul hath long dwelt
among lions, even among them that are set on fire, whose teeth
are spears and arrows, and their tongues a sharp sword, speaking
mischievous things to shed blood.
‘But, O man, or men, whoever you be, whose work it is to gather
the failings of God’s people in the time of temptation, or
night of their trial, and aggravate them, and add thereto the
wickedness and mischievous lies of your own hearts, as thou
hast done in thy book, and then come out with those, against
God’s everlasting holy Truth, it to reproach; I say you are set
on work by an evil spirit, and you do but show yourselves to
be enemies to God and his children; and it is our sorrow, that
any of us should give occasion to blaspheme; and it hath been
trouble of soul to all the people of God, that have ever loved
righteousness, when they have thus occasioned the joy of the
wicked, or to feed the man that watches for iniquity, and feeds
on mischief; yet know this, you that are of that brood, God will
not cast off his people; though he be sometimes provoked to
correct them, even before their adversaries, (which is a sign
to them,) yet is his anger but for a moment, and his favour
shall return as streams of life; then shall the food be taken
out of the mouth of the viper, and the prey from between the
teeth of the devourers; and God will feed them with their own
vomit, and the poison that hath long lain under their tongues,
shall be bitter in their own bowels. Thus will God certainly
plead with Zion’s enemies, as he bends her sons for himself,
and God will make up her breaches: and this hath my soul seen,
Jacob’s captivity restored, and the diggers of the pit are fallen
therein; neither hath he smitten him as he smote them that smote
him, nor is he slain according to the slaughter of them that are
slain by him, but this is all his fruit to purge away his sin.
‘So he that hath long watched for my faultering, then got
advantage against me; yet had I then power to bear his utmost
envy, through Christ Jesus, whom I then confessed before men, who
then was my support in all, and under all, and who is over all,
blessed for ever of all who have proved him in the depth.
‘But that which was, and is the sorrow of my heart, is the
advantage the enemy then took against the name of Christ, his
Truth, and his despised people, in that time of temptation, which
is that which thou art now pursuing with hatred and lies, as that
I was suspected to have a woman in bed with me, the night before
I suffered at Bristol, when there were six or seven persons in
the room that night, and a man, (to wit,) Robert Rich, in bed
with me. But this, and several other false things, thou hast
written in thy book, of which I am clear before the Lord, so
they touch me not at all; nor shall I here mention them against
thee in particular; but to God alone I look, in his time, to be
cleared from all offences in his sight, who only knows my heart
in this thing, in whose presence I can say, that nothing is more
odious and burdensome to my soul, than that any of the glory or
worship which belongs to God or to Christ, should be given to
flesh and blood, in myself, or others: and how it was with me
in that day many talk of, but few know; so the judgment of such
I bear; desiring that none in judging me, might have condemned
themselves in God’s sight; whose counsels are a great deep, and
the end of his work past finding out, till he himself reveal
them; but in the end he will be justified of all, and in all he
doth, that all flesh may be silent before him.
‘And however myself, or any others, may be left to themselves, to
be tried in the night, yea, should any utterly fall, or whatever
may be acted by any man or woman, that is not justifiable in
God’s sight, yet in vain dost thou, or you, gather up sin, or
watch for iniquity, to cast upon the light, which condemns it in
every enlightened conscience, and there will clear himself to be
no author nor actor therein; and I know by the Spirit of Jesus,
which I have received, and which worketh in me, that this is not
his work, nor his seed; and in him that loves his enemies, thou
art not; but the old accuser of the brethren it is that worketh
strongly in thee; and in the light which thou reproachest, art
thou seen to be the man that makes lies, and carries tales to
shed blood.’ Ezek. xxii. 9. 12.
Thus much and more J. Nayler writ to answer the falsehoods whereof he
was accused, and to apologize for the doctrine of which he had made
profession, and to show that the fault of his crime must no ways be
attributed to the same as many envious persons in those times asserted,
to wit, that his fall was a consequence of the doctrine that men must
take heed to the saving grace, the inward anointing, or the light
wherewith every man coming into the world is enlightened from God.[18]
[18] J. Nayler was a man who had been highly favoured of God with
a good degree of grace, which was sufficient for him, had he
kept to its teachings; for while he did so, he was exemplary in
godliness and great humility, was powerful in word and doctrine,
and thereby instrumental in the hand of God, for turning many
from darkness to light, and from the power of satan to the
power of God. But he, poor man, became exalted above measure,
through the abundance of revelation; and in that exaltation did
depart from the grace and Holy Spirit of God, which had been his
sufficient teacher. Then blindness came over him, and he did
suffer himself to be accounted of above what he ought: here he
slipped and fell, but not irrecoverably; for it did please God
of his infinite mercy, in the day of his affliction, to give him
a sight and sense of his outgoings and fall, and also a place of
repentance. And he, with the prodigal, humbled himself for his
transgression, and besought God with true contrition of soul, to
pardon his offences through Jesus Christ. God, I firmly believe,
forgave him, for he pardons the truly penitent. His people
received him with great joy, for that he who had gone astray from
God, was now returned to the Father’s house, and for that he who
had separated himself from them through his iniquity, was now,
through repentance and forsaking of it, returned into the unity
of the faith, and their holy fellowship in the gospel of Christ.
And I do hereby testify, that I do esteem it a particular mark
of God’s owning his people, in bringing back into unity with
them, a man who had so dangerously fallen, as did James Nayler.
And here let none insult, but take heed lest they also, in the
hour of their temptation, do fall away. Nor let any boastingly
say, Where is your God? Or blasphemously suppose his grace is
not sufficient for man in temptation, because the tempted may go
from, and neglect the teaching of it. David and Peter, as their
transgression came by their departing from this infallible guide,
the Holy Spirit, so their recovery was only by it.--Jos. Wyeth’s
Anguis Flagel.
Yet to proceed further with J. Nayler: he wrote, after his recovery,
many papers and edifying letters: he also answered two letters,
which, when the persecution in New England burnt so fierce, were
sent over from thence in defence of that fact; one under the name of
John Endicot, governor of Boston, and the other in that of Richard
Bellingham. All the arguments for the persecution of the Quakers to
be lawful and necessary, he answered at large, and showed how little
agreement their crime of pursuing persecution had with the name
wherewith they had called themselves, for a distinction from other
persuasions, namely, Independents, by which they would have it known,
that they were independent of all, except the Spirit of Jesus Christ,
on whom they pretended alone to be dependent: and yet, nevertheless,
it now appeared manifestly, that it was the fleshly arm whereby they
supported themselves. He wrote also some papers to the parliament, and
the rulers, to check the vanities that were publicly committed, and
to mend their faults; to ease the oppressed, and to take care for the
maintenance of liberty.
At length[19] he died at Huntingdonshire, in the latter end of the
year 1660, about the 44th year of his age. About two hours before his
death, he spoke, in the presence of several witnesses these words:
[19] He was a man of great self-denial, and very jealous of
himself, ever after his fall and recovery.--At last, departing
from the city of London, about the latter end of the Eighth
month, 1660, towards the North, intending to go home to his
wife and children, at Wakefield, in Yorkshire, he was seen by
a friend of Hertford, (sitting by the way-side in a very awful
weighty frame of mind,) who invited him to his house, but he
refused, signifying his mind to pass forward, and so went on
foot as far as Huntingdonshire, and was observed by a friend,
as he passed through the town, in such an awful frame, as if he
had been redeemed from the earth, and a stranger on it, seeking
a better country and inheritance. But going some miles beyond
Huntingdon, he was taken ill, (being, as it is said,) robbed
by the way, and left bound: whether he received any personal
injury, is not certainly known, but being found in a field by a
countryman toward evening, was had, or went to a friend’s house
at Holm, not far from King’s Rippon, where Thomas Parnel, a
doctor of physic dwelt, who came to visit him; and being asked
if any friends at London should be sent for to come and see
him; he said ‘Nay,’ expressing his care and love to them. Being
shifted, he said ‘You have refreshed my body, the Lord refresh
your souls;’ and not long after departed this life, in peace
with the Lord, about the Ninth month, 1660, and the 44th year
of his age, and was buried in Thomas Parnel’s burying ground at
King’s Rippon aforesaid.--J. W.’s account.
‘There is a spirit which I feel, that delights to do no evil, nor
to revenge any wrong, but delights to endure all things, in hope
to enjoy its own in the end. Its hope is to outlive all wrath
and contention, and to weary out all exaltation and cruelty, or
whatever is of a nature contrary to itself. It sees to the end of
all temptations. As it bears no evil in itself, so it conceives
none in thought to any other: if it be betrayed, it bears it;
for its ground and spring is the mercies and forgiveness of God.
Its crown is meekness, its life is everlasting love unfeigned,
and takes its kingdom with entreaty, and not with contention,
and keeps it by lowliness of mind. In God alone it can rejoice,
though none else regard it, or can own its life. It is conceived
in sorrow, and brought forth without any to pity it; nor doth it
murmur at grief and oppression. It never rejoiceth but through
sufferings; for with the world’s joy it is murdered. I found it
alone, being forsaken. I have fellowship therein with them who
lived in dens, and desolate places of the earth, who through
death obtained this resurrection, and eternal holy life.[20]
JAMES NAYLER.’
[20] N. B. There is a passage in the book called, The complete
History of England, vol. iii. page 201, which says that J.
Nayler died with no fruits, nor so much as signs of repentance.
How the author came by such information, we cannot tell, but
that it is a manifest mistake we doubt not but the impartial
reader is by this time abundantly convinced.
This was J. Nayler’s last testimony, or dying words; and thus he gave
proof, that though he had erred, yet with great confidence he hoped for
a happy resurrection.
So I conclude the story of J. Nayler, and leaving him now, time calls
me to New England.
It was in the month called July, of this present year, when Mary Fisher
and Ann Austin arrived in the road before Boston, before ever a law was
made there against the Quakers; and yet they were very ill treated;
for before they came ashore, the deputy-governor, Richard Bellingham,
(the governor himself being out of town,) sent officers aboard, who
searched their trunks and chests, and took away the books they found
there, which were about one hundred, and carried them ashore, after
having commanded the said women to be kept prisoners aboard; and the
said books were, by an order of the council, burnt in the market place
by the hangman. Afterwards the deputy-governor had them brought on
shore, and committed them by a mittimus to prison as Quakers, upon this
proof only, that one of them speaking to him, had said thee, instead
of you; whereupon he said, he needed no more, for now he saw they
were Quakers. And then they were shut up close prisoners, and command
was given that none should come to them without leave; a fine of five
pounds being laid on any that should otherwise come at, or speak with
them, though but at the window. Their pens, ink, and paper were taken
from them, and they not suffered to have any candle-light in the night
season; nay, what is more, they were stripped naked, under pretence to
know whether they were witches, though in searching, no token was found
upon them but of innocence: and in this search they were so barbarously
misused, that modesty forbids to mention it: and that none might have
communication with them, a board was nailed up before the window of the
jail. And seeing they were not provided with victuals, Nicholas Upshal,
one who had lived long in Boston, and was a member of the church there,
was so concerned about it, liberty being denied to send them provision,
that he purchased it of the jailer at the rate of five shillings a
week, lest they should have starved. And after having been about five
weeks prisoners, William Chichester, master of a vessel, was bound in
one hundred pounds bond to carry them back, and not to suffer any to
speak with them, after they were put on board; and the jailer kept
their beds, which were brought out of the ship, and their bible, for
his fees.
Such was the entertainment the Quakers first met with at Boston, and
that from a people, who pretended, that for conscience-sake, they
had chosen the wilderness of America, before the well-cultivated old
England; though afterwards, when they took away the lives of those
called Quakers, they, to excuse their cruel actions, did not stick to
say, that at first they had used no punishment against the Quakers.
Scarce a month after the arrival of the aforesaid women at Boston,
there came also Christopher Holder, Thomas Thirstone, William Brend,
John Copeland, Mary Prince, Sarah Gibbens, Mary Whitehead, and Dorothy
Waugh; they were locked up in the same manner as the former, and after
about eleven weeks stay, sent back; Robert Lock, a master of a ship,
being compelled to carry these eight persons back on his own charge,
and to land them no where but in England; having been imprisoned till
he undertook so to do.
The Governor, John Endicot, whose blood-thirstiness will appear in
the sequel, being now come home, bid them ‘Take heed ye break not our
ecclesiastical laws, for then ye are sure to stretch by a halter.’
And when they desired a copy of those laws it was denied them; which
made some of the people say, ‘How shall they know then when they
transgress?’ But Endicot remained stiff, having said before, when at
Salem he heard how Ann Austin and Mary Fisher had been dealt with at
Boston, ‘If I had been there, I would have had them well whipped.’
Then a law was made, prohibiting all masters of ships from bringing
any Quakers into that jurisdiction, and themselves from coming in,
on penalty of the house of correction. When this law was published,
Nicholas Upshal, already mentioned, could not forbear to show the
persecutors the unreasonableness of their proceedings: warning them
to take heed that they were not found fighting against God, and so
draw down a judgment upon the land. But this was taken so ill, that
though he was a member of their church, and of good repute, as a man
of unblameable conversation, yet he was fined in twenty-three pounds,
and imprisoned also for not coming to church, and next they banished
him out of their jurisdiction. This fine was exacted so severely that
Endicot said, ‘I will not bate him one groat.’ And though a weakly old
man, yet they allowed him but one month’s space for his removal, so
that he was forced to depart in the winter.
Coming at length to Rhode Island, he met an Indian prince, who having
understood how he had been dealt with, behaved himself very kindly, and
told him, if he would live with him, he would make him a warm house.
And further said, ‘What a God have the English, who deal so with one
another about their God!’ For it seems Upshal was already looked upon
as one that was departing from his church-membership. But this was but
a beginning of the New England persecution, which in time grew so hot,
that some of the Quakers were put to death on the gallows, as will be
related in its due time.
Now I return to Old England, where we left G. Fox at Exeter, from
whence he went to Bristol. Here he had a great meeting in an orchard;
and since some thousands of people were come thither, and many very
eager to see him, he stepped upon a great stone that stood there, and
having put off his hat, stood a pretty while silent, to let people
look at him. A Baptist was there named Paul Gwyn, who began to find
fault with G. Fox’s hair, and at last said to the people, ‘Ye wise men
of Bristol, I strange at you, that ye will stand here, and hear a man
speak, and affirm that which he cannot make good.’ Hereupon G. Fox
asked the people whether they ever heard him speak before, or ever saw
him before? And he bid them take notice what kind of man this Gwyn was,
who so impudently said, that he spake and affirmed that which he could
not make good; and yet neither Gwyn nor they ever heard him, or saw
him before; and that therefore it was a lying, envious, and malicious
spirit that spoke in him. Then G. Fox charging Gwyn to be silent, began
to preach, which lasted some hours, without being disturbed.
After this meeting, G. Fox departed from Bristol, and passing through
Wiltshire, Marlborough, and other places, he returned to London; and
when he came near Hyde Park, he saw the Protector coming in his coach;
whereupon he rode up to the coach side, and some of his life-guard
would have put him away; but the protector forbade them. Then riding
by his coach side, he spoke to him about the sufferings of his friends
in the nation, and showed him how contrary this persecution was to
Christ and his apostles, and to Christianity. And when they were come
to the gate of St. James’s Park, G. Fox left Cromwell, who at parting
desired him to come to his house. The next day Mary Sanders, afterwards
Stout, one of Cromwell’s wife’s maids, came to G. Fox’s lodging, and
told him, that her master coming home, said he would tell her some
good news; and when she asked him what it was, he told her G. Fox was
come to town; to which she replied, that was good news indeed. Not
long after, G. Fox and Edward Pyot went to Whitehall, and there spoke
to Cromwell concerning the sufferings of their friends, and directed
him to the light of Christ, who had enlightened every man that cometh
into the world. To which Cromwell said, This was a natural light; but
they showed him the contrary, saying that it was divine and spiritual,
proceeding from Christ, the spiritual and heavenly man. Moreover G.
Fox bid the protector lay down his crown at the feet of Jesus. And as
he was standing by the table, Cromwell came and sat upon the table’s
side by him, and said he would be as high as G. Fox was. But though
he continued to speak in a light manner, yet afterward was so serious
that when he came to his wife and other company, he said that he never
parted so from the Quakers before.
G. Fox having visited the meetings of his friends in and about London,
departed thence, and travelled almost through all England, not without
many occurrences, which for brevity’s sake I pass by. At length he
returned to London again, this year being now come to an end.
1657.
In the parliament which Cromwell had called, a law was made whereby
Charles Stuart’s title of king was rejected, and the year 1657 being
come, subsidies were granted to Cromwell, and there was a contrivance
underhand to make him king, of which, though he expressed his dislike,
yet he seemed not altogether averse to it; for speaking once with
general Fleetwood, and colonel Desborough, he began to droll with them
about the word monarch, and said, it was but a feather in a man’s cap;
and therefore he wondered that men would not please the children, and
permit them to enjoy their rattle. But they not obscurely signified
to him, that this business did displease them; and told him, that
those who put him upon it, were no enemies to Charles Stuart; and that
if he accepted of it, he would infallibly draw ruin upon himself.
Now, though he would not openly oppose them, yet he did not stick
to tell them, they were a couple of scrupulous fellows, and so left
them. It is related also, that major-general Lambert told Cromwell,
that if he accepted the crown, he could not assure the army to him.
The design thus miscarrying, and Cromwell having now seen that the
matter would not go so cleverly, he refused the title of king; and the
parliament confirming him in his title of protector, it was agreed
that the parliament henceforth should consist of a lower house, and
another house; and that the protector should name a successor in the
government. Now he was solemnly vested in his authority, a throne for
that purpose being erected in Westminster Hall, and he being clothed
in a purple robe lined with ermines, and the sceptre and sword being
presented him, took the oath to rule faithfully. Cromwell having called
a new parliament, it consisted of two houses, viz. a house of commons,
and another house as they called it. And many excluded members having
taken place again in the house of commons, it was believed that more
than an hundred of the members were enemies to Cromwell; and the
authority of the upper house began to be called in question by some,
because it was filled up with many of his creatures, some of them of
low rank. And this matter was so carried on in the house of commons,
that Cromwell dissolved the parliament; and he also made major-general
Lambert surrender his commission.
Edward Burrough, who often wrote to Cromwell, having heard of the
design of making him king, wrote a letter to him, wherein I find, that
after having told the protector, that he had had many warnings from the
Lord, he thus speaks to him:
‘I as one that hath obtained mercy from the Lord, and unto
whom his word is committed, being moved of him, do hereby in
his presence yet once more warn thee, that thou fear before
him, and diligently hearken to him, and seek him with all thy
heart, that thou mayest know his will and counsel concerning
thee, and mayest do it, and find favour in his sight, and live.
Now is the day that his hand is stretched forth unto thee, to
make thee a blessing or to leave thee a curse forever; and the
days of thy visitation are near an end, when God will no more
call unto thee, nor hear thee, when in the day of thy trouble
thou callest to him. And if thou rejectest the counsel of the
Lord, and followest the desires of thine own heart, and the
wills of men, and wilt not have the light of the world, Christ
Jesus, only to rule thee, and to teach thee, which condemns all
evil, then shall evil surely fall upon thee, if thou lovest not
the light in thee which condemns it; and the judgments of God,
nor the day of his last visitation with vengeance, thou mayest
not escape. Therefore consider and mark my words, and let this
counsel be acceptable unto thee; let it move thee to meekness,
to humbleness, and to fear before the Lord; assuredly knowing
that it is he that changeth time and things, and that bringeth
down, and setteth up whomsoever he will; and how that thou wast
raised from a low estate, and set over all thine enemies. And in
that day when thou wast raised up, when the fear of the Lord was
before thy face, and thy heart was towards him, and thou wast
but little in thine own eyes, then was it well with thee, and
the Lord blessed thee. And it was not once thought concerning
thee, that the hands of the ungodly would have been strengthened
against the righteous under thee, or that such grievous and cruel
burdens and oppressions would ever have been laid upon the just,
and acted against them in thy name, and under thy dominion, as
unrighteously have come to pass in these three years: and this
thy suffering of such things is thy transgression, and thou
hast not requited the Lord well for his goodness unto thee, nor
fulfilled his will in suffering that to be done under thee, and
in thy name, which the Lord raised thee against, and to break
down, hast thou been faithful to the end.
‘Again, consider, and let it move on thy heart, not to exalt
thyself, nor to be high-minded, but to fear continually, knowing
that thou standest not by thyself, but by another, and that he
is able to abase thee, and give thee into the will of thine
enemies whensoever he will; and how the Lord hath preserved
thee sometimes wonderfully, and doth unto this day, from the
murderous plots, and crafty policy of evil men, who seek thy
evil, and would rejoice in thy fall, and in the desolation of
thy family and countries: how have they, and do they lay snares
for thy feet, that thou mayst be cut off from amongst men, and
die unhappily, and be accounted accursed? And yet to this day he
hath preserved thee, and been near to keep thee, though thou hast
hardly known it; and the Lord’s end is love to thee in all these
things, and yet a little longer to try thee, that thou mayst give
him the glory.
‘O that thy heart were opened to see his hand, that thou mightest
live unto him, and die in him, in peace. And beware lest hardness
of heart possess thee, if thou slight his love, and so be shut up
in darkness and given to the desires of thine enemies, and left
to the counsels of treacherous men, who may seek to exalt thee by
flattery, that they may the better cast thee down, and destroy
thee, and blot out thy name in reproach, and make thy posterity a
people miserable. But now, O consider, and let it enter into thy
heart, for thou hast not answered the Lord, but been wanting to
him, for all this, and hast chosen thy own way and glory, rather
than his, and not fulfilled his counsel in raising thee; for the
bonds of cruelty are not loosed by thee, and the oppressed are
not altogether set free; neither is oppression taken off from the
back of the poor, nor the laws regulated, nor the liberty of pure
consciences altogether allowed: but these dominions are filled
with cruel oppressions, and the poor groan every where under the
heavy hand of injustice; the needy are trodden down under foot,
and the oppressed cry for deliverance, and are ready to faint for
true justice and judgment. The proud exalt themselves against
the poor, and the high-minded and rebellious contemn the meek of
the earth; the horn of the ungodly is exalted above the Lord’s
heritage, and they that are departed from iniquity, are become
a prey to oppressors: and the cruel-hearted deal cruelly with
the innocent in these nations. Many are unjustly, and wofully
sufferers, because they cannot swear on this, or that occasion;
though in all cases they speak the truth, and do obey Christ’s
commands, even such are trodden upon, by unjust fines charged
upon them; and this is by the corruptness of some that bear rule
under thee, who rule not for God as they ought, but turn the
sword of justice. Some suffer long and tedious imprisonments,
and others cruel stripes and abuses, and danger of life many
times, from wicked men, for reproving sin, and crying against the
abominations of the times, (which the Scriptures also testify
against,) in streets, or other places: some having been sent to
prison, taken on the highway, and no evil charged against them;
and others committed, being taken out of peaceable meetings, and
whipt, and sent to prison, without transgression of any law, just
or unjust, wholly through the rage and envy of the devil, and
such who have perverted judgment and justice; and some in prison
have suffered superabundantly from the hands of the cruel jailers
and their servants, by beatings and threatenings, and putting
irons on them, and not suffering any of their friends to visit
them with necessaries; and some have died in the prisons, whose
lives were not dear to them, whose blood will be reckoned on
account against thee one day. Some have suffered hard cruelties,
because they could not respect persons, and bow with hat or knee;
and from these cruelties canst thou not altogether be excused in
the sight of God, being brought forth in thy name, and under thy
power. Consider, friend, and be awakened to true judgment, and
let the Lord search thy heart; and lay these things to mind, that
thou mayest be an instrument to remove every burden, and mayest
at last fulfil the will of God. O be awakened, be awakened, and
seek the Lord’s glory, and not thine own; lest thou perish before
the Lord and men: nay, if men would give thee honours, and high
titles, and princely thrones, take them not; for that which would
exalt and honour thee in the world, would betray thee to the
world, and cast thee down in the sight of the world: and this is
God’s word to thee: what! shall the whole nation be perjured men,
and thou the cause of it? And wilt thou transgress by building
again that which thou hast destroyed? Give heed unto my words,
and understand my speech: be not exalted by man, lest man betray
thee. Deal favourably, and relieve the oppressed; boast not
thyself, though the Lord hath used thee in his hand; but know
that when he will, he can cast thee, as a rod, out of his hand,
into the fire; for in his hand thou art. If thou wilt honour him,
he will honour thee; otherwise he can, yea, and will confound
thee, and make thee weak as water before him. His love through
my heart breathes unto thee: he would thy happiness, if thou
wilfully contemn it not, by exalting thyself, and seeking thy
own glory, and hardening thy heart against the cry of the poor.
This I was moved in bowels of pity to lay before thee, who am thy
friend, not in flattery, but in an upright heart, who wishes well
unto thee in the Lord.
E. BURROUGH.’
That which E. Burrough mentions in the forepart of this letter, of the
grievous burdens and oppressions laid upon the just, seems chiefly to
regard the tithes which the priests extorted from the Quakers, so that
many thereby were reduced to poverty; and the heinousness of this was
not unknown to Cromwell; for when he was about to give battle to his
enemies, near Dunbar in Scotland, he said in his prayer to God, that
if the Lord would be pleased to deliver him at that time, he would
take off that great oppression of tithes. But this promise he never
performed, but suffered himself to be swayed by the flatteries of his
teachers; and therefore it was not without great cause that E. Burrough
laid this grievous oppression before him. A copy of the said letter,
of which but a part is inserted here, to shun prolixity, was given
into the hands of Oliver Cromwell, then protector, in the Third month
of this year. In the next month E. Burrough spoke with him about it,
and Cromwell told him in effect that all persecution and cruelty was
against his mind, and said that he was not guilty of those persecutions
acted unjustly upon Burrough’s friends. This made E. Burrough write
again to him, and bid him,
‘Consider what the cause is, that what thou desirest not to be
done, is yet done: is it not that thou mayest please men; making
it appear thou art more willing to do the false teachers of this
nation, and wicked men, a pleasure, than to own the people of
God, in relieving them, and easing them of their cruel burdens
and oppressions, laid upon them by unjust men? For a word of
thy mouth, or a show of thy countenance, in dislike of these
cruel and unjust persecutions, would bind the hands of many
blood-thirsty men. Therefore consider: thou canst not be cleared
in the sight of the Lord God from them, being acted under thee,
and in thy name: for there seems rather to be a favouring of
them in thee, by forbearance of the actors of cruelty, by which
their hands are strengthened, than any dislike showed by thee, in
bearing thy witness, as thou oughtest to do, against them. For
thou knowest of some in this city, and elsewhere, whom we know
to be just men, who suffer imprisonment, and the loss of their
liberties, because for conscience-sake they cannot swear; and
many others in this nation, suffering cruel things upon the like,
or same ground: even for well-doing, and not for evil; which
oppression might be removed, and their unjust sufferings taken
off by thee, by a word from thy mouth or pen; and this makes that
thou canst not be clear in the sight of God in these things,
because not helped by thee, who hast the power to help it.
‘And as concerning the light of Christ, at which thou stumblest,
by which every man that cometh into the world is enlightened,
in short, this I say: this light to thee is given of God, and
thou must own it to be thy only teacher, to receive by it from
the Father, and to be guided by it in all things, if ever thou
inheritest God’s kingdom.
‘The kingdom of Christ is setting up by his own power, and all
must bow and become subject thereto; he needeth none of thy
policy, nor the strength of thy arm to advance it; yet would he
have thee not to prove thyself an open enemy thereof, by doing,
or suffering to be done, cruelty and injustice against them whom
the Lord is redeeming out of this world, into subjection unto
that kingdom; lest thou be such a one, as will not enter thyself,
nor suffer others to enter, and so destruction come upon thee.
Wherefore arise as out of sleep, and slumber not in this world’s
glory and honour; be not overcome by the pleasures of this world,
nor the flattering titles of men; wink not at the cruelty and
oppression acted by some, who shelter under thee, and make thy
name a cloak for mischief against the upright.
‘Consider, I say, consider, and be thou changed in thy mind and
heart; lest thou having forgotten God, and his many deliverances,
be shut up, and numbered for destruction. I desire the Lord may
give thee a more perfect understanding of his ways and judgments,
and that the crown immortal thou mayest strive for, by meekness
and righteousness, through relieving the oppressed, and showing
mercy to the poor, and removing every burden which lies upon the
innocent; and this is the desire of him who is thy friend, and
would not have thee crowned with dishonour, through suffering
the people of God to be oppressed in thy name, which will be thy
overthrow absolutely, if thou removest it not, by turning, and
easing the oppressed.
E. BURROUGH.’
This letter was delivered to O. Cromwell, in the Fourth month, and in
the month following E. Burrough wrote again to him, that the good name
PROTECTOR, by the great oppression, acted in his name, was abused and
subverted; and that instead of protection by it, great injustice was
acted under it, and covered with it. Besides, that several justices of
the peace, and other officers, in trust under him, when they had owned
the people called Quakers, had been cast out of their places; though
they had not denied to serve him and the commonwealth, neither had
unfaithfulness to their trust been proved against them.
In September, E. Burrough wrote another letter to Cromwell, wherein he
signified to him, that he had many enemies, some of which endeavoured
to destroy him by any means, without regarding the danger that might be
in the attempt. And that he going on in oppressing through tyranny, or
suffering it, perhaps the Lord might raise up the wicked to be a plague
to wickedness, and suffer the oppressors to overthrow oppressions.
That there were others, viz. the Fifth Monarchy men, who, though not
so bad as the former, yet secretly murmured against him, and envied
him, not being friends to his government, some of them being cast out
and rejected, without just cause, as they supposed. ‘And as to us, how
can we, (said he,) mention thee in our prayers to God, except it be to
be delivered from thee, who are daily unjustly sufferers by thee, or
because of thee? Or how can we be friends to that government, under
which we daily suffer such hard and cruel things, as the loss of our
liberty and estates, and are in danger of life also?’
It was about the beginning of this year, that Christopher Birkhead came
to Zealand, having been before at Rochelle, in France, where, having
spoken and written against the popish religion, he was imprisoned and
examined by the bishop: and some would have had him burnt, but the
criminal judge absolved him. It was in the latter end of the month
called February, when he came to Middleburgh, in Zealand; and going to
the English congregation there, after the preacher, William Spanke,
had preached about three quarters of an hour, he said, ‘Friends, the
apostle saith, that we may all prophesy, one by one; that two or
three prophets may speak, and the others judge; and if any thing be
revealed to another that sitteth by, let the first hold his peace.’
This speaking caused a great stir in the congregation, and the rather,
because he stood in the place where the women used to sit: so he was
apprehended by order of the magistrates, and examined in the presence
of some of the public preachers. When he was asked what his name was?
He answered, that his name, according to the flesh, was Christopher
Birkhead. Then it was asked him, whether he had yet another name?
And his answer was, ‘Yes, written in the Lamb’s book of life.’ Being
inquired what that name was, he made answer, ‘None knows it but he that
hath it.’ To which was said, ‘Why, if you have it, tell it us.’ ‘No,’
replied he, ‘read it, if ye have seen the book of the Lamb opened: it
is forbidden me to tell it.’ Then the English teacher, Spanke, asked
whether he had seen the book of the Lamb opened? And he answered,
‘Yea.’ The next question was, whether he had opened it? ‘No,’ said
Birkhead, ‘it was the Lamb that did it.’ Then Spanke asked, whether
his name in the book of the Lamb was not Jesus. ‘No,’ quoth Birkhead,
‘that is the name of the Lamb.’ More other questions to ensnare him,
Spanke put to him; and being examined by the magistrates concerning
the place of his abode, his calling or trade, &c. Spanke was asked,
what he had to say against him? Who then related what had happened in
the congregation. Concerning this, several questions were asked of
Birkhead, but since he understood not Dutch, and the French tongue but
imperfectly, he complained that he could not fully answer for himself
so as he wished. He was asked also, whether any body else came along
with him? And he was charged to speak the truth. To which he said,
that God did not permit him to lie. One of the preachers then said
that all men were liars. To this Birkhead replied, that though all men
were liars, yet he knew a deliverance from lying. Then Spanke bid him,
not to add to the Scriptures: for Birkhead had accused him a little
before, that he had added his meaning to the Scriptures. And it being
strongly asserted, that all men were liars, Birkhead took occasion from
thence, to ask Spanke whether he was a liar? Who, without hesitation,
answering, ‘Yes,’ Birkhead bluntly told him, ‘Then thou art of thy
father the devil.’ Now the matter of J. Nayler having caused strange
reports of the Quakers every where, and Birkhead, for want of the
language, not being able to answer so plainly every objection, his
offence, without question, was aggravated the more; and the conclusion
was, that he was sentenced to be confined in the house of correction.
But after some time he was released, at the intercession of the Heer
Newport, ambassador of the States General in England.
In this year it was, I think, that one George Baily coming into France,
was taken into custody, and died in prison there; he having zealously
testified against popery, and spoken boldly against worshipping of
images.
William Ames returning this year to Amsterdam, and one Humble Thatcher,
(whom I could never learn to have been truly in communion with the
Quakers,) coming with him, it caused some jealousy: for Ames, who
formerly had been in military employment, was an extraordinary bold
man; and about this time it seems, a paper was put on the door of the
English meeting-house, though Ames declared he knew nothing of it, or
who was the author. About this time also, the strange business of J.
Nayler being noised abroad, by a book that was published in print at
Amsterdam, and some other pamphlets, stuffed with several untruths, and
abominable lies; it was not to be wondered at, that the magistrates
fearing some mischief, sent for Ames and Thatcher to appear before
them, and commanded them to depart the town within twenty four hours:
but they being persuaded of their own innocency, did not obey this
command. The next day appearing again before the magistrates, and not
putting off their hats, it seems they were looked upon as such as did
not own magistrates; (for this the Quakers stood charged with in public
print, and were compared to the tumultuous crew of Anabaptists, or
Fifth Monarchy men, at Munster, in the foregoing age:) and so they were
kept in custody for some days, and then at night were led through the
Regulars gate, and so banished out of the town. But W. Ames judging
that he had committed no evil, came again the next day into the city,
and passed the great market-place, called the dam. It is reported,
that some of the magistrates seeing him out of the windows of the
town-house, walking along the street, said, ‘Lo, there’s the Quaker;
if we had a mind now to make martyrs, here would be an opportunity for
it.’ But it seems not without reason, that it was looked upon to be
most safe to wink at this; for though strange reports were spread up
and down of the Quakers, yet there was no proof of their evil carriage
here. Meanwhile Ames staid some time in town, and the doctrine he
preached found a little entrance, even with some of the collegians.
It was about this time, that my parents, viz. Jacob Williamson Sewel,
of Utrecht, free citizen and Surgeon at Amsterdam, and his wife, Judith
Zinspenning, born in this town, both members of the Flemish Baptists
church there, were convinced of the Truth preached by W. Ames; she
having before had immediate openings, that if ever she would become
a child of God, she must give heed to this light, which reproved for
sin. They, with two or three more, were the first orthodox Quakers
in Amsterdam; orthodox I say, because I very well remember what a
strange and odd sort of people about that time, did flock to the
Quakers in this country. But these whimsical people not being sincere
in heart: but more inclined to novelties, than to true godliness;
perceived in time that they were not regarded by them: and they were
also contradicted by Ames and others; so that at length after many
exorbitancies, they left the Quakers.
In the forepart of this year, William Caton came also to Amsterdam.
Before he left England, he had had a meeting at the east side of
Sussex, on the day called Shrove Tuesday, where there had never been
any of his friends before. But the people being on that day more rude
than ordinary, came up to the house with a drum, in such a desperate
manner, as if they would have pulled the house down. Caton stepping
out, asked what they wanted; they answered, Quakers; at which he told
them he was one. And he spoke so plainly to them, and with so much
power, that fear falling upon them, they withdrew with shame and
confusion.
Not long after he went to London, and from thence to Holland; and being
safely arrived at Rotterdam, he repaired to Amsterdam; where he came in
due time to stop the unruliness of some froward spirits, among which
one Anne Garghil, an English woman, was not one of the least: whose
rudeness grew in time to that degree, that she would not suffer W. Ames
to preach peaceably in the meeting, but laid violent hands on him; so
that at length to be rid of her, he bade an English seaman that was
present, to take her away, which was done accordingly: and how haughty
she was, and continued, I well remember still. W. Caton procured also
some books to be printed at Amsterdam, to prevent evil and malicious
reports concerning the Quakers; and he went with W. Ames to Zutphen
in Guelderland; where meeting with nothing but opposition, he returned
to Amsterdam, and from thence by Leyden and the Hague, to Rotterdam;
from which place he went to Zealand, where he wrote the book called
‘The Moderate Enquirer Resolved,’ both in Latin and English, which was
afterwards translated indifferently into Dutch. After some stay, Caton
returned again to England, and came to London, where the society of his
friends was in a thriving condition, and many were added to the church.
In this city we left G. Fox: he wrote there several papers for the
opening of the understandings of people, and for the edification of
his friends. From thence he travelled into Kent, Sussex, and Surry;
and coming to Basingstoke, though the people were rude there, yet he
had a quiet meeting in the place: in the inn he had some trouble with
the innkeeper, who was a drunkard. Afterwards he came to Portsmouth,
Exeter, Bristol, and into Wales, where many came to him. At Brecknock,
(where he was accompanied by Thomas Holmes, who, first of the Quakers
in Wales, had preached the doctrine of the inward light; and by
John-ap-John, who three years before had been sent by a priest out of
Wales into the North, to inquire what kind of people the Quakers were;)
he had a great meeting in the steeple-house yard, where was a priest,
and one Walter Jenkin who had been a justice, and another justice. Here
he preached so effectually, that many were convinced: and after the
meeting, he went with Jenkin to the other justice’s house, who said to
him, ‘You have this day given great satisfaction to the people, and
answered all the objections that were in their minds.’ At Leominster
he had a great meeting, where priest Tombs made some opposition, by
saying, that the light G. Fox spoke of, was but a natural light; but
G. Fox asserted the contrary, and said, that he had spoken of no other
light than John bore witness to, viz. “The word which was in the
beginning with God, and which word was God; and that was the true light
which enlighteneth every man that cometh into the world.”
G. Fox coming from this place to Tenby, as he rode in the street, a
justice of peace came out and desired him to alight, and to stay at his
house, which he did; and on the First-day of the week had a meeting
there, whither the mayor and his wife, and several others of the chief
of the town came. John-ap-John, who was then with G. Fox, left the
meeting, and went to the steeple-house, and was by the Governor cast
into prison. The next morning the governor sent one of his officers to
the justice’s house, to fetch G. Fox; which grieved the mayor and the
justice, and so they went up to the Governor, and a while after G. Fox
went with the officer, and coming in, said ‘Peace be unto this house;’
and before the Governor could examine him, he asked, why he had cast
his friend into prison? and the governor answered, ‘For standing with
his hat on in the church.’ ‘Why,’ resumed G. Fox, ‘had not the priest
two caps on his head, a black one and a white one? And if the brim
of the hat, which was but to defend from the weather, had been cut
off, then my friend would have had but one cap,’ ‘These are frivolous
things,’ said the governor: ‘Why then,’ said G. Fox, ‘dost thou cast my
friend into prison for such frivolous things?’ Then the governor asked
him, whether he owned election and reprobation? ‘Yes,’ said he, ‘and
thou art in the reprobation.’ This so incensed the governor, that he
told G. Fox, he would send him to prison, till he proved it. G. Fox not
at all at a loss, said, ‘I will prove that quickly, if thou wilt but
confess truth:’ and then he asked him, whether wrath, fury, and rage,
and persecution, were not marks of reprobation? For he that was born
of the flesh, persecuted him that was born of the spirit; and Christ
and his apostles never persecuted nor imprisoned any. This speech of
his so struck the governor, that he fairly confessed, that he had too
much wrath, haste, and passion in him: which made G. Fox say, that Esau
the first birth was up in him, not Jacob the second birth. By this the
man was so reached, that he confessed to Truth, and inviting G. Fox
to dinner with him, he set his friend at liberty. It was with great
satisfaction that G. Fox departed the town; and in several other places
of Wales he had some singular occurrences; and though the people were
rude, yet some were convinced.
At length he came to Lancaster, where, at the inn, he met with colonel
West, who was very glad to see him. Next he came to Swarthmore, where
he wrote some epistles and other papers. After having staid there some
days, he went to some other places in the North, and to Scotland. Here,
travelling from town to town, he met with great opposition from some
priests: for in an assembly, they had drawn up several articles, or
curses, to be read in their steeple-houses, the first of which was,
‘cursed is he that saith every man hath a light within him sufficient
to lead him to salvation: and let all the people say, Amen.’ An
independent pastor preaching one day against the Quakers, and the
light, and calling the light natural, cursed it, and so fell down as
dead in his pulpit; the people carrying him out, and pouring strong
waters into him, it brought him to life again; but he was mopish, and,
as one of his hearers said, he never recovered his senses.
In October G. Fox came to Edinburgh, where he was summoned to appear
before the council, who, though indifferently civil, yet told him,
he must depart the nation of Scotland by that day seven-night:
against which he not only spoke but wrote also. Whilst G. Fox was in
Scotland, his friends there were brought to a great strait; for, being
excommunicated by the Presbyterian teachers, charge was given, that
none should buy or sell, nor eat nor drink with them. Hence it came
to pass, that some having bought bread, or other victuals, of their
neighbours, these frightened with the curses of their priests, did run,
and fetch it from them again. But colonel Ashton, a justice of peace,
put a stop to these proceedings, and being afterwards convinced of the
Truth, had a meeting settled at his house, and declared the Truth, and
lived and died in it.
G. Fox now travelled almost over all Scotland, and had in some places
good opportunities to declare the gospel, being often heard with
satisfaction by the English soldiers; but the Scotch generally gave
little heed. He went also among the Highlanders, who were a mischievous
people. Returning at length to Leith, the innkeeper told him, that the
council had granted forth warrants to apprehend him, because he was not
gone out of the nation after the seven days were expired, that they
had ordered him to depart in. Some others told him the same, to whom
he said, ‘What do you tell me of their warrants against me? If there
were a cart load of them I do not heed them; for the Lord’s power is
over them all.’ From Leith he went to Edinburgh again, and went to
the inn where he had lodged before, and no man offered to meddle with
him. Alexander Parker and Robert Widders being also there, he resolved
to go with Parker to Johnston, out of which town some time before he
had been led by soldiers; and he came into Johnston just as they were
drawing up the bridges, the officers and soldiers never questioning
him. And coming to captain Davenport’s house, from which he had been
hauled before, he found there many officers, who lifting up their
hands, wondered that he came again; but he told them, the Lord God
hath sent him amongst them again. Then the Baptists sent him a letter
by way of challenge, that they would discourse with him again the next
day. And he sent them word, that he would meet them at a certain house,
about half a mile out of the town, at such an hour. For he thought if
he should stay in town to speak with them, they might, under pretence
of discoursing with him, have raised people to carry him out of the
town again, as they had done before. At the time appointed he went to
the place, captain Davenport and his son accompanying him; and there
he staid some hours, but none of them came; whereby the intent of the
Baptists was sufficiently discovered. Being thus disappointed, he went
back again to Edinburgh, and past through the town, as it were, against
the cannon’s mouth. The next day, being the first day of the week, he
went to the meeting in the city, and many officers and soldiers came
to it, and all was quiet. The following day he went to Dunbar, where
walking with a friend or two of his in the steeple-house yard, and
meeting with one of the chief men of the town there; he spoke to one
of his friends to tell him, that about the ninth hour next morning,
there was to be a meeting there, of the people of God, called Quakers,
of which they desired him to give notice to the people of the town.
To which he said, that they were to have a lecture there by the ninth
hour; but that a meeting might be kept there by the eighth hour, if
they would. G. Fox thinking this not inconvenient, desired him to give
notice of it. Accordingly in the morning many came, both poor and rich;
and a captain of horse being quartered in the town, came there with his
troopers also. To this company G. Fox preached, and after some time
the priest came, and went into the steeple-house; but G. Fox and his
friend being in the steeple-house yard, most of the people staid with
them; so that the priest having but few hearers, made short work, and
coming out, stood a while and heard G. Fox, and then went away. This
was the last meeting he had in Scotland, and he understood afterwards,
that his labour had not been in vain, but that the number of believers
increased. Now he departed from Dunbar, and came to Berwick in
Northumberland, and from thence to Newcastle, where we will leave him
awhile, and return again to New England.
We have seen before, that a law was made there, to prevent the Quakers
coming into that country. The first I find that came after that, were
Anne Burden, a widow, whose business was to gather up some debts in
the country, that were due to her; and Mary Dyer from Rhode Island,
who, before her coming, knew nothing of what had been done there
concerning the Quakers. These two were both imprisoned, which William
Dyer, Mary’s husband, hearing, came from Rhode Island, and did not get
her released without a great deal of pains; becoming bound in a great
penalty, not to lodge her in any town in that colony, nor to permit any
to speak with her: an evident token that he was not of the society of
Quakers, so called, for otherwise he would not have entered into such
a bond; but then without question, he would also have been clapped up
in prison. As for Anne Burden, she was kept in prison, though sick,
about a quarter of a year. Whilst she was in this restraint, some
tender-hearted people had procured of her debts to the value of about
thirty pounds in goods; and when she at length was to be sent away, she
desired that she might have liberty to pass for England, by Barbadoes,
because her goods were not fit for England. Now how reasonable soever
this request was, yet a master of a ship was compelled to carry her to
England, without her goods, for which she came there, except to the
value of about six shillings, which an honest man sent her upon an old
account. And when the master of the ship asked who should pay for her
passage, the magistrates bid him take so much of her goods as would
answer it. But he was too honest to do so, being persuaded that she
would not let him be a loser, though he could not compel her to pay,
since she went not of her own will: yet for all that she paid him at
London. After she was gone, when he that had the first trust from her
husband, was to convey her goods to Barbadoes, these rapacious people
stopped to the value of six pounds ten shillings for her passage, for
which they paid nothing, and seven shillings for boat-hire to carry her
on ship-board, though the master proffered the governor to carry her in
his own boat, but that was not allowed; she being sent with the hangman
in a boat that was pressed: besides, they took to the value of fourteen
shillings for the jailer, to whom she owed nothing. Now, though this
widow had made such a great voyage, to get something of what was due to
her, to relieve her, and her fatherless children, yet after three years
she had nothing of it come to her hands; and whether she got any thing
since I never understood.
The next of the Quakers that came to Boston, was Mary Clark, who,
having left her husband, John Clark, a merchant taylor, with her
children at London, came thither to warn these persecutors to desist
from their iniquity: but after she had delivered her message, she was
unmercifully rewarded with twenty stripes of a whip with three cords,
on her naked back, and detained prisoner about twelve weeks in the
winter season. The cords of these whips were commonly as thick as a
man’s little finger, having each some knots at the end; and the stick
was sometimes so long, that the hangman made use of both his hands to
strike the harder.
The next that came were Christopher Holder and John Copeland, who
had been banished before; and coming to Salem, a town in the same
colony, Holder spoke a few words in their meeting, after the priest
had done; but was hauled back by the hair of his head, and a glove
and handkerchief thrust into his mouth, and so turned out with his
companion; and next day had to Boston, where each of them received
thirty stripes with a knotted whip of three cords, the hangman
measuring his ground, and fetching his strokes with the greatest
strength he could: which so cruelly cut their flesh, that a woman
seeing it fell down as dead. Then they were locked up in prison, and
the jailer kept them three days without any food, not giving them so
much as a draught of water; and so close that none might come to speak
with them; lying on the boards without bed or straw. Thus they were
kept nine weeks prisoners, without fire, in the cold winter season. And
Samuel Shattock, of Salem, who endeavoured to stop the thrusting of the
glove and handkerchief into Holder’s mouth, lest it should have choaked
him, was also carried to Boston, and there imprisoned, till he had
given bond for twenty pounds, to answer it at the next court, and not
to come at any meeting of the Quakers.
The career of this cruelty did not stop here; for Lawrence Southick
and Cassandra, his wife, members of the public church at Salem, and an
ancient and grave couple, having entertained the aforesaid C. Holder
and J. Copeland, were committed to prison, and sent to Boston, where
Lawrence being released, his wife was kept seven weeks prisoner, and
then fined forty shillings for owning a paper of exhortation, written
by the aforesaid Holder and Copeland.
The next that came from England, as being under a necessity from the
Lord to come to this land of persecution, was Richard Dowdney, who was
apprehended at Dedham, and brought to Boston, having never before been
in that country; yet he was not spared for all that, but thirty stripes
were also given him in like manner as the former. And after twenty days
imprisonment, he was sent away with Holder and Copeland; after having
been threatened with cutting off their ears, if they returned. These
cruel dealings, so affected many inhabitants, that some withdrew from
the public assemblies, and meeting by themselves quietly on the First
days of the week, they were fined five shillings a week, and committed
to prison. The first whose lot this was, were the aforesaid Lawrence
and Cassandra Southick, and their son Josiah, who, being carried to
Boston, were all of them, notwithstanding the old age of the two, sent
to the house of correction, and whipped with cords, as those before, in
the coldest season of the year, and had taken from them to the value of
four pounds thirteen shillings, for not coming to church.
Leaving New England for a while, I will turn another way. It was in
this year, about the latter end of summer, that a certain young man
named George Robinson, felt a motion to travel to Jerusalem. In order
thereunto, he embarked in a ship bound for Leghorn, in Italy, where,
having staid about two weeks, being daily visited by English and
others, he went with a French ship towards St. John D’Acre, formerly
called Ptolemais, a city in Asia bordering upon the Mediterranean sea,
near Palestine, where, having lodged about eight days in a French
merchant’s house, he embarked in a vessel bound for Jaffa or Joppa.
What occurred by the way with some Turks, who demanded unreasonable
tribute of him, I pass by; but a certain Armenian on that occasion
having seen his meek behaviour, said, he was a good Christian, and was
very kind to him. Being arrived at Jaffa, he went to Ramoth, but the
Friars at Jerusalem having heard of his coming, gave orders to some
to stop him, which was done accordingly; and after having been locked
up about a day, there came an ancient Turk, a man of great repute,
who took him into his house, and courteously entertained him. After
four or five days there came an Irish friar from Jerusalem, with whom,
falling into discourse of religious matters, the friar at first behaved
himself kindly, but told him afterwards, that was not the business he
came about, but that he was sent from his brethren, the friars, at
Jerusalem, to propound to him some questions.
1. Whether he would promise, when he came to Jerusalem, that he
would visit the holy places as other pilgrims did?
2. Whether he would pay so much money as pilgrims used to do?
3. Whether he would wear such a sort of habit as was usual with
pilgrims?
4. That he must speak nothing against the Turks laws.
5. And when he came to Jerusalem, not speak any thing about
religion.
Not being willing to enter into a promise, he was by the Irish friar,
(with a guard of horse and footmen, he brought with him,) carried back
to Jaffa, and embarked in a vessel bound for St. John d’Acre; whither
being come, a French merchant called Surrubi, took him into his house,
and lodged him about three weeks. This man entertained him very kindly,
and would say sometimes that it was the Lord’s doings; ‘For,’ said he,
‘when my own countrymen come to me, they are little to me, but thee I
can willingly receive.’ After much trouble, Robinson got opportunity,
by the help of the said French merchant, who was an ancient man, to
return by sea to Jaffa; from whence he went on his journey a-foot,
and by the way met three men, two of them riding upon asses, and the
other going a-foot; and they asking him for money, one held his gun to
his breast, and another put his hands into his pockets, and took some
things out. He suffering all this without any opposition, the man that
took his things from him put them up again; and one of the three taking
him by the hand, led him a little on his way, in a friendly manner, and
so left him. At length Robinson came to Ramoth, where he was presently
known, and two that belonged to the friars laid hold on him, and
hurried him away; but two Turks took him from them, and one leading him
by one arm, and the other by the other, they brought him into a mosque,
or Turkish temple. Thus innocently entering there, many people came
flocking in, and also some of the Mahometan priests, who having caused
him to sit down, asked him whether he would turn to the Mahometan
religion? But he refusing, they pressed him much, made great promises,
and said that he had no need to fear what the Christians might do unto
him. Nevertheless he answered he could not turn unto them for all the
world. But they continued to strive much with him, and would have him
hold up one of his fingers, as a sign of owning them; and one bid him
say, ‘Christ is bad;’ but he answered, he knew him to be good, and he
was his servant. Then some growing angry, said if he would not turn to
their religion, he would die. To which he replying that he would rather
die than turn unto them; it was answered, he should then die. And so
by their order, the executioner hauled him away to the place where it
was expected that he should have been burnt to death with camel’s dung.
Here he was made to sit down upon the ground, and was as a sheep among
wolves. Whilst he was thus sitting with a retired mind, the Turks began
to fall out among themselves, and whilst they were at odds, a grave
ancient Turk, a man of note, came to him, and said whether he would
turn from his religion or not, he should not die. Then he was brought
before the priests again, who asked him, ‘Will you turn?’ and he
answering ‘No,’ they recorded in a book, that he was no Roman Catholic,
but of another religion; for though he denied to be such a Catholic,
yet he had owned that he was a Christian.
The Turks coming now to be more sedate, the aforesaid ancient man
ordered his servants to conduct Robinson to his house, where he was
friendly entertained, and soon perceived that the friars had thus
plotted against him; for he went not into the mosque of his own
accord; being led into it; but heaven preserved him. After having
been four or five days in the house of the ancient Turk, there came a
guard of horsemen, hired by the friars, to carry him to Gaza; for they
had pre-informed the bashaw of that place against him; but Robinson
being come thither, things took another turn than they expected; for
the bashaw being by some Turks made acquainted with the mischievous
design of the friars, made them not only pay a considerable fine, but
also commanded them to convey Robinson safely to Jerusalem. Whilst he
was at Gaza, he was visited by many Turks, Greeks, and Armenians; the
latter of which having heard he was a Christian, and that he chose
rather to die than to turn from his religion, became very loving, as
were the Turks, the Jews also showed themselves moderate towards him.
Then according to the forementioned order of the bashaw, he was carried
to Jerusalem, and there, by the appointment of the friars, brought
into their convent, where at first they seemingly showed love unto
him, and one confessed, there was now an evident sign, that he was a
good Christian, for he was come through persecution and sufferings;
and those things which had been spoken in his prejudice, were manifest
to be untrue. Robinson told the friar, it was he and his brethren
that had been the cause of his sufferings, and withstood his coming
to Jerusalem. To which the other returned, that the English friar had
misinformed them by his writing, which had caused them to do what
they had done; and that therefore they desired he would now pass by
those things, seeing he was come through in such a miraculous manner;
for, (continued the friar,) it was the Lord’s work, thus to carry him
through, and he might praise God he was preserved.
The next morning a friar came to him, and asked if he would become an
obedient child, and go to visit the holy places, according to their
custom; he answered, ‘No.’ Then the friar said, ‘Whereas others give
great sums of money to see them, you shall see them for nothing.’ But
Robinson replied ‘I shall not visit them in your manner, for in so
doing I should sin against God.’ This did not please the friar, yet he
said they would honour him as much as ever they honoured any Englishman
that came thither, if he would conform unto them. But Robinson
continued immoveable, and said he should not conform; and as for their
honour, he did not matter it. Then the friar became angry, and said
they would make him an example to all Englishmen that came thither.
To which Robinson returned, ‘I choose your dishonour rather than your
honour.’ The friar seeing he could not prevail, went away in anger, and
within a short time came again; and other friars being present, one
asked him if he would visit their church, and the holy sepulchre, and
Bethlehem, with the rest of the holy places, as other pilgrims did? But
he told them, at present he had no business to visit them; and in their
manner he should not visit them at all, viz. to worship them. Then one
said to him, ‘How can you be a servant of God, and will not go to visit
the places where the holy men of God dwelt?’ To which he returned, that
they under pretence of doing service to God, in visiting the places
where the holy men dwelt, did oppose that way, and resist that life,
which the holy men of God lived and walked in. Then one of the friars
said, ‘What do you preach unto us for?’ To which he replied, that he
would have them turn from those evil practices they lived in, else the
wrath of the Almighty would be kindled against them. But they did not
at all like such discourse, and therefore said, if he would not go and
visit the aforesaid places, yet he must give twenty-five dollars, as
was the manner of those that visited them; for, said they, the Turks
must be paid, whether he would visit them, or not; but if he would
visit them, then they would pay it for him. To this he signified, that
he could not submit to such unreasonable terms.
Then they brought him before a Turk in authority in that place, who
asked him divers questions, to which he soberly gave answers; and they
discoursing about the worship of the Christians, the Turk asked also,
what was the ground of his coming to Jerusalem. To which he answered,
that it was by the command of the Lord God of heaven and earth he came
thither; and that the great and tender love of God was made manifest
in visiting them; his compassionate mercies being such, that he would
gather them in this the day of his gathering. This was the message
which Robinson believed he had from the Lord to declare unto them,
whether they would hear, or forbear. And afterwards he wrote, that
having thus cleared his conscience, he found great peace with the Lord,
and therefore he magnified his glorious name, who had gone along with
him, and preserved him in many trials. For the friars, who intended him
mischief, were commanded by the Turks to carry him again safe and free
of charges, to Ramola. Here I leave him, because I do not find how he
came home; but that he returned thither in safety, appears to me from
the relation he afterwards published of his travels.
1658.
The year being come to an end, I return again to G. Fox, whom we left
at Newcastle. Whilst he was there, he, with Anthony Pearson, visited
some of the aldermen; and among these one Ledger, who as well as the
priests, had said the Quakers would not come into any great towns, but
lived in the fields like butterflies. G. Fox desired to have a meeting
amongst them; but they would not yield to it. He therefore asked
Ledger, whether they had not called his friends butterflies, and said
they would not come into any great towns? ‘But,’ said he, ‘now we are
come into your town, you will not come to us; who are the butterflies
now?’ Then Ledger began to plead for the sabbath day; which made G.
Fox say, they kept markets on that which was the sabbath day, for that
was the seventh day of the week; whereas that day which the professed
Christians now meet on, and call their sabbath, was the first day of
the week. No leave for a public meeting being obtained, G. Fox got a
little meeting among his friends, and some friendly people at Gateside.
Travelling from thence and passing through Northumberland, and
Bishoprick, he came to Durham, where was a man come down from London,
to set up a college there, to make ministers of Christ, as they said.
G. Fox entering into discourse with this man, said that to teach men
Hebrew, Greek, and Latin, and the seven arts, was not the way to make
them ministers of Christ; for the languages began at Babel; and to the
Greeks that spake Greek as their mother tongue, the preaching of the
cross of Christ was foolishness; and to the Jews that spake Hebrew
as their mother tongue, Christ was a stumbling block. And as for the
Romans, who spake Latin, they persecuted the Christians; and Pilate,
one of the Roman governors, set Hebrew, Greek, and Latin, atop of
Christ when he crucified him. Thus the languages, which began at Babel,
had been set above Christ the Word. And John the Divine, who preached
the Word, that was in the beginning, said that the beast and the whore
had power over tongues and languages, and they were as waters, and in
the mystery Babylon, for they began at Babel; and the persecutors of
Christ set them over him, when he was crucified by them. ‘Dost thou
think,’ said G. Fox to the man, ‘to make ministers of Christ by these
natural confused languages, which sprang from Babel, are admired in
Babylon, and set atop of Christ, the life, by a persecutor?’ The man,
puzzled a little by this, confessed to many things spoken by G. Fox.
Then it was showed him further, that Christ made his ministers himself,
and gave gifts unto them, and bid them pray to the Lord of the harvest,
to send forth labourers: that Peter and John, though unlearnt and
ignorant as to school-learning, preached Christ the Word, which was in
the beginning before Babel was: and that Paul also was made an apostle,
not of man, nor by man, but by Jesus Christ, who is the same now, and
so is his gospel, as it was at that day. This discourse had such effect
upon the man, that he became very loving; and having considered the
matter further, he never set up his intended college.
From Durham G. Fox passed to Nottingham, where he gathered again a
scattered people, that having about eight years before been convinced
of the Truth, had been led aside by one Rice Jones.
From hence he went into Warwickshire, and passing through
Northamptonshire and Leicestershire, he came into Bedfordshire, and so
to John Crook’s house, where a general yearly meeting was appointed,
which lasted three days: and many of G. Fox’s friends from most parts
of the nation came to it, so that the inns in the towns thereabouts
were filled. Here was also William Caton, who after the meeting was
ended, went with Thomas Salthouse, formerly his fellow-servant in
the house of judge Fell, to Westmoreland, Cumberland, and Swarthmore
in Lancashire. In the said general meeting, G. Fox made a long
speech concerning the several states of man, but more especially for
instruction of the ministers of the word, exhorting them at large to be
circumspect in their station.
After the meeting was over, there came a party of horse with a
constable, to seize upon G. Fox, who then was walking in J. Crook’s
garden: and though somebody, when they came to the house, had told them
G. Fox was there, yet they were so confounded, that they came not into
the garden to look for him, but went away without him.
Parting from thence, he came to London, where he heard that a Jesuit,
who was come over with an ambassador from Spain, had challenged all the
Quakers, to dispute with them at the earl of Newport’s house. G. Fox
then let him know by some of his friends, that they would meet him:
whereupon the Jesuit sent word, he would meet with twelve of the wisest
learned men they had. A while after he sent word, he would meet with
but six; and after that, he sent word again, he would have but three
to come. Then G. Fox went, with Edward Burrough, and Nicholas Bond, to
the aforesaid house, and bade them to go up, and enter the discourse
with the Jesuit, whilst he would be walking in the yard, and then come
up after them. He had advised them to state this question, Whether the
church of Rome, as it now stood, was not degenerated from the true
church which was in the primitive times, from the life and doctrine,
and from the power and spirit that those believers were in? They having
stated the question accordingly, the Jesuit affirmed, that the church
of Rome now was in the virginity and purity of the primitive church.
By this time G. Fox being come in, the Jesuit was asked, whether they
had the Holy Ghost poured forth upon them, as the apostles had? And
he said, ‘No.’ Then said G. Fox, ‘If ye have not the same Holy Ghost
poured forth upon you, and the same power and spirit that the apostles
had, then ye are degenerated from the power and spirit which the
primitive church was in.’ And he asked the Jesuit, what Scripture they
had for setting up cloisters for nuns, abbeys and monasteries for men,
and for their praying by beads and to images, and for making crosses,
for forbidding of meats and marriages, and for putting people to death
for religion? ‘If,’ said he, ‘ye are in the practice of the primitive
church, in its purity and virginity, then let us see by Scripture,
wherever they practised such things?’ For it was agreed mutually, that
both the Jesuits and the Quakers, should make good by Scripture what
they said. Then the Jesuit said, there was a written, and an unwritten
word. Which made G. Fox ask, what he called his unwritten word? And
he answered, ‘The written word is the Scriptures, and the unwritten
word is that which the apostles spake by word of mouth, which are all
those traditions that we practise.’ Then G. Fox bid him prove that by
Scripture; and the Jesuit alleged the words of the apostle, 2 Thess.
ii. 5. “When I was with you, I told you these things:” ‘That is,’ said
he, ‘I told you of nunneries and monasteries, of putting to death for
religion, and of praying by beads and to images,’ &c. This he affirmed
to be the unwritten word of the apostles, which they told then, and
had since been continued by tradition unto these times. Then G. Fox
desired him to read that Scripture again, that he might see how he had
perverted the apostles words, since that which the apostle said there
he had told them before, was not an unwritten word, but was written
down there; namely, that the man of sin, the son of perdition, should
be revealed before the great and terrible day of Christ, which he was
writing of, should come. And therefore this was not telling them any of
those things the church of Rome practised. Besides, the apostle in the
third chapter of the said epistle told the church, of some disorderly
persons he heard were amongst them, busy bodies, who did not work at
all; concerning whom he had commanded them by his unwritten word, when
he was among them, that if any would not work, neither should he eat;
which now he commanded them again in his written word in this epistle,
2 Thess. iii.
The Jesuit now finding no other scriptural proof for the tradition of
the church of Rome, let that point fall, and came to the sacrament of
the altar, to prove the reality of which, he began with the paschal
lamb, and the showbread, and so came to the words of Christ, “This is
my body,” and to what the apostle writ to the Corinthians, concluding
from thence, that after the priest had consecrated the bread and wine,
it was immortal and divine, and that he who received it, received the
whole Christ. To this G. Fox said, that the same apostle told the
Corinthians, after they had taken bread and wine in remembrance of
Christ’s death, that they were reprobates if Christ was not in them.
But that if the bread they eat was Christ, he must of necessity have
been in them, after they had eaten it. Besides, if the bread and wine
which the Corinthians ate and drank, was Christ’s body, how then
(continued he,) hath Christ a body in heaven? And he also signified
to him, that both the disciples at the supper, and the Corinthians
afterwards, were to eat the bread and drink the wine in remembrance of
Christ, and to show forth his death till he came; which plainly proved
that the bread and wine which they took, was not his body. For if it
had been his real body that they ate, then he had been come, and was
then there present; and it would have been improper to have done such
a thing in remembrance of him, if he had been then present with them;
as he must have been, if that bread and wine, which they ate and drank,
had been his real body. And as to the words of Christ, “This is my
body,” G. Fox told him, ‘Christ calls himself a vine and a door, and is
called in Scripture a rock: is Christ therefore an outward rock, door,
or vine?’ ‘O,’ said the Jesuit, ‘the words are to be interpreted.’
‘So,’ said G. Fox, ‘are those words of Christ, “This is my body.”’ And
having thus stopped the Jesuit’s mouth, he made this proposal: that,
seeing he said the bread and wine was immortal and divine, and the very
Christ, and that whosoever received it, received the whole Christ; a
meeting might be appointed between some such Papists as the pope and
his cardinals should appoint, and some of those called Quakers: ‘And
then,’ said he, ‘let a bottle of wine, and a loaf of bread be brought,
and divided each into two parts, and let them consecrate which of
those parts they will; and then let the consecrated and unconsecrated
bread and wine be set in a safe place, with a sure watch upon it;
and let trial then be made, whether the consecrated bread and wine
will not lose its goodness, viz. the bread grow dry and mouldy, and
the wine turn dead and sour, as well and as soon as that which was
unconsecrated; for by this means the truth of this matter may be made
manifest. And if the consecrated bread and wine change not, but retain
their savour and goodness, this may be a means to draw many to your
church. But if they change, decay, and lose their goodness, then ought
you to confess and forsake your error, and shed no more blood about
it, as hath been done, especially in queen Mary’s days.’ To this the
Jesuit made this reply: ‘Take a piece of new cloth, and cut it into
two pieces, and make two garments of it, and put one of them upon king
David’s back, and the other upon a beggar’s, and the one garment shall
wear away as well as the other.’ ‘Is this,’ said G. Fox, ‘thy answer?’
‘Yes,’ said the Jesuit. ‘Then,’ said G. Fox, ‘by this the company may
all be satisfied, that your consecrated bread and wine is not Christ.
Dost thou now say that the consecrated bread and wine, which you have
told people was immortal and divine, and the real body and blood of
Christ, will wear away, or decay as well as the other? Then I must tell
thee, Christ remains the same to day as yesterday, and never decays;
but is the saints’ heavenly food in all generations, through which they
have life.’ To this the Jesuit replied no more, but let the thing fall;
for he perceived that those which were present saw his error, and that
he could not defend it.
Then G. Fox asked him, why the church of Rome did persecute, and put
people to death for religion? and he answered, it was not the church
did it, but the magistrates. G. Fox asked, whether those magistrates
were not counted and called believers and Christians? ‘Yes,’ said he.
‘Are they not members of the church?’ asked G. Fox. ‘Yes,’ said the
Jesuit. Then G. Fox left it to the people to judge, whether the church
of Rome did not persecute, and put people to death for religion. Thus
they parted; the Jesuit’s subtilty being comprehended by the simplicity
of G. Fox, and his friends.
Whilst G. Fox was at London, his friends, both in England and Ireland,
were under great sufferings, which made him write to the protector
about it: and there being much talk of making Cromwell king, he went to
him and warned him against it, because of the dangers that would attend
it; and which, if he did not avoid, would bring shame and ruin upon
him and his posterity. Which counsel Cromwell seemed to take well, and
thanked him for it: yet G. Fox wrote also concerning the same thing to
him in this manner:
‘_O Protector_,
‘Who hast tasted of the power of God, which many generations
before thee have not so much, since the days of apostacy from
the apostles, take heed that thou lose not thy power; but keep
kingship off thy head, which the world would give to thee; and
earthly crowns under thy feet, lest with that thou cover thyself,
and so lose the power of God. When the children of Israel went
from that of God in them, they would have kings as other nations
had, as transgressors had; and so God gave them one; and what
did they do then? and when they would have taken Christ, and
made him a king, he hid himself from them; he was hid from that
which would have made him a king, he who was the king of the Jews
inward. O Oliver, take heed of undoing thyself, by running into
things that will fade, the things of this world that will change.
Be subject and obedient to the Lord God.
GEORGE FOX.’
About this time G. Fox wrote also another letter to O. Cromwell,
wherein he signified to him, that if he had been faithful, and
thundered down deceit, he would yet have done many mighty things.
And he also advised him, not to slight sober men, and true hearts;
but to mind the law of God, and his fear and dread; to take heed of
flatteries, and to prize his time now he had it.
The lady Claypole, Cromwell’s most beloved daughter, being sick, and
much troubled in mind, so that none that came could minister any
comfort to her, G. Fox visited her with the following letter:
‘_Friend_,
‘Be still and cool in thy own mind and spirit from thy own
thoughts, and then thou wilt feel the principle of God, to turn
thy mind to the Lord God, from whom life comes; whereby thou
mayest receive his strength, and power to allay all blustering
storms and tempests. That is it which works up into patience,
into innocency, into soberness, into stillness, into stayedness,
into quietness, up to God with his power. Therefore, mind, that
is the word of the Lord unto thee, that the authority of God
thou mayest feel, and thy faith in that, to work down that which
troubles thee: for that is it which keeps peace, and brings up
the witness in thee, which hath been transgressed, to feel after
God with his power and life, who is a God of order and peace.
When thou art in the transgression of the life of God in thy
own particular, the mind flies up in the air, and the creature
is led into the night, and nature goes out of its course, and
an old garment goes on, and an uppermost clothing; and thy
nature being led out of its course, it comes to be all on a
fire, in the transgression; and that defaceth the glory of the
first body. Therefore be still awhile from thy own thoughts,
searching, seeking, desires, and imaginations, and be stayed in
the principle of God in thee, that it may raise thy mind up to
God, and stay it upon God, and thou wilt find strength from him,
and find him to be a God at hand, a present help in the time of
trouble, and of need. And thou being come to the principle of
God, which hath been transgressed, it will keep thee humble; and
the humble, God will teach his way, which is peace, and such
he doth exalt. Now as the principle of God in thee hath been
transgressed, come to it, that it may keep thy mind down low to
the Lord God; and deny thyself, and from thy own will, that is
the earthly, thou must be kept; then thou wilt feel the power
of God, which will bring nature into its course, and give thee
to see the glory of the first body. And there the wisdom of God
will be received, (which is Christ, by which all things were
made and created,) to be thereby preserved and ordered to God’s
glory. There thou wilt come to receive and feel the Physician of
value, who clothes people in their right mind, whereby they may
serve God, and do his will. For all distractions, unruliness,
and confusion, is in the transgression: which transgression
must be brought down, before the principle of God, which hath
been transgressed against, be lifted up; whereby the mind may
be seasoned and stilled, and a right understanding of the Lord
may be received; whereby his blessings enter, and are felt,
over all that is contrary, in the power of the Lord God, which
raiseth up the principle of God, within, and gives a feeling
after God, and in time gives dominion. Therefore keep in the fear
of the Lord God; that is the word of the Lord God unto thee;
for all these things happen to thee for thy good, and for the
good of those concerned for thee, to make you know yourselves,
and your own weakness, and that ye may know the Lord’s strength
and power, and may trust in him. Therefore let the time that
is past be sufficient to every one, who in any thing hath been
lifted up in transgression, out of the power of the Lord: for he
can bring down and abase the mighty, and lay them in the dust
of the earth. Therefore all keep low in his fear, that thereby
ye may receive the secrets of God and his wisdom, and may know
the shadow of the Almighty, and sit under it in all tempests,
storms, and heats. For God is a God at hand, and the Most High
rules in the children of men. So then, this is the word of the
Lord God unto you all, What the light doth make manifest and
discover, as temptations, distractions, confusions, do not look
at the temptations, confusions, corruptions, but at the light
which discovers them, and makes them manifest. And with the same
light you may feel over them, to receive power to stand against
them. The same light which lets you see sin and transgression,
will let you see the covenant of God, which blots out your sin
and transgression, which gives victory and dominion over it;
and brings into covenant with God. For looking down at sin and
corruption, and distraction, ye are swallowed up in it; but
looking at the light which discovers them, ye will see over them:
that will give victory, and ye will find grace and strength; and
there is the first step to peace. That will bring salvation, and
by it ye may see to the beginning and the glory that was with the
Father before the world began; and so come to know the seed of
God, which is the heir of the promise of God, and of the world
which hath no end, and which bruises the head of the serpent,
who stops people from coming to God. That ye may feel the power
of an endless life, the power of God which is immortal, which
brings the immortal soul up to the immortal God, in whom it doth
rejoice. So in the name and power of the Lord Jesus Christ, God
Almighty strengthen thee. G. F.’
The paper being read to the aforesaid lady, it staid her mind somewhat;
but she lived not long after, so that O. Cromwell met with almost
continual trouble, for discontent against him increased more and more.
Now, since the Protestants in the valley of Lucerne, and elsewhere,
were much persecuted, there came forth a declaration from the protector
to keep a fast, and one also for a collection for the relief of
distressed Protestant churches. On this occasion, G. Fox to show what
kind of fast it was that God requires and accepts, wrote the following
paper:
‘_To the heads and governors of this nation, who have put forth
a declaration, for the keeping of a day of solemn fasting and
humiliation, for the persecution, as you say, of divers people
beyond the seas, professing the reformed religion, which, ye
say, has been transmitted unto them from their ancestors._
‘A profession of the reformed religion may be transmitted to
generations, and so holden by tradition; and in that, wherein the
profession and tradition is holden, is the day of humiliation
kept; which stands in the will of man, which is not the fast that
the Lord requires, to bow down the head like a bulrush for a day,
and the day following be in the same condition as they were the
day before. To the light of Christ Jesus in your consciences do I
speak, which testifieth for God every day, and witnesseth against
all sin and persecution; which measure of God, if ye be guided
by it, doth not limit God to a day, but leads to the fast which
the Lord requires, which is, “To loose the bonds of wickedness,
to undo the heavy burdens, to break every yoke, and let the
oppressed go free.” Isa. lviii. 6, 7. This is the fast the Lord
requires; and this stands not in the transmission of times, nor
in the traditions of men: but this stands in that which was
before times were, and which leads out of time, and shall be,
when time shall be no more. And these that teach for doctrine the
commandments of men, are they that ever persecuted the life and
power when it came. And whereas ye mention a decree, or edict,
that was made against the said persecuted Protestants; all such
decrees or edicts, proceed from the ground of the pope’s religion
and supremacy; and therein stands his tyranny and cruelty, acted
in that will, which is in that nature, which exerciseth lordship,
over one another, (as you may read, Mark, x. 42. Luke, xxii.
25,) as all the heathen do, and ever did; and in the heathenish
nature is all the tyranny and persecution exercised, by them that
are out of the obedience to the light of Christ Jesus in the
conscience, which is the guider and leader of all who are tender
of that of God in the conscience. But who are not led by this,
know not what it is to suffer for conscience sake.
‘Now, whereas ye take into your consideration the said
persecution, tyranny, and cruelty exercised upon them, whom ye
call your Protestant brethren, and do contribute and administer
to their wants outwardly; this is good in its place, and we own
it, and see it good to administer to the necessities of others,
and to do good to all: and we who are sufferers by a law derived
from the pope, are willing to join, and to contribute with you,
to their outward necessities. “For the earth is the Lord’s, and
the fulness thereof;” who is good to all, and gracious to all,
and willing that all should be saved, and come to the knowledge
of the Truth. But in the meantime, while ye are doing this, and
taking notice of others cruelty, tyranny, and persecution, turn
your eye upon yourselves, and see what ye are doing at home. To
the light of Christ Jesus in all your consciences I speak, which
cannot lie, nor cannot err, nor cannot bear false witness; but
doth bear witness for God, and cries for equity, and justice, and
righteousness to be executed. See what ye are doing, who profess
the Scriptures, which were given forth by the saints in light,
who dwelt in the light and in the life of them. For them who do
now witness the same light, the same life, and the same power,
which gave forth the Scriptures, which ye in words profess, them
ye persecute, them ye haul out of your synagogues and markets,
them ye beat, stock, and imprison. Now let that of God in your
consciences, which is just and righteous, and equal, examine and
try, whether ye have any example or precedent to exercise this
persecution, which now many in this nation suffer under, who are
a people harmless and innocent, walking in obedience towards God
and man. And though ye account the way of Truth they walk in,
heresy; yet therein do they exercise themselves to have always a
conscience void of offence towards God and man, as ye may read
the saints of old did, (Acts, xxiv. 14, 15, 16,) not wronging
any man, neither giving any just cause of offence; only being
obedient to the commands of the Lord, or declare, as they are
moved by the Holy Ghost; and standing for the testimony of a
good conscience, speaking the truth in Christ, their consciences
bearing them witness that they lie not: for this do they suffer
under you, who in words profess the same thing for which they
suffer.
‘Now see if any age or generation did ever persecute as ye do:
for ye profess Christ Jesus who reveals the Father, and persecute
them that witness the revelation of the Father by Christ Jesus
unto them. Ye profess Christ Jesus, who is the light of the
world, “that enlightens every one that cometh into the world;”
and yet persecute them that bear witness, and give testimony to
this light. Ye profess that the Word is become flesh, and yet
persecute them that witness it so. Ye profess that whosoever
confesseth not that Jesus Christ is come in the flesh, is an
antichrist; and yet persecute them that do confess him come in
the flesh, and call them antichrists and deceivers. Ye profess
that the kingdom of Christ is come; and yet persecute them that
witness it come. Ye profess Christ Jesus the resurrection and the
life; and yet persecute them that witness him to be so. If ye
say, ‘How shall we know that these people who say they witness
these things, do so, or no?’ I answer, turn your minds to the
light which Christ Jesus has enlightened you withal, which is one
in all; and if ye walk in the light, ye shall have the light of
life, and then ye will know and see what ye have done, who have
persecuted the Lord of glory, (in his people,) in whom is life,
and the life is the light of men. To no other touchstone shall
we turn you, but into your own consciences, and there shall ye
find the truth of what we have declared unto you, and of what we
bear testimony to, according to the Holy Scriptures. And when
the books of consciences are opened, and all judged out of them,
then shall ye witness us to be of God, and our testimony to be
true, though now you may stop your ears, and harden your hearts,
“while it is called to-day.” But then ye shall know what ye have
done, and whom you have transgressed against; and then you will
see that no persecutors in any age or generation that ever went
before you, did ever transgress against that light and measure of
God made manifest, in such a manner as ye have done. For though
Christ and the Apostles were persecuted in their times, the Jews,
for the most part of them, did not know that he was the Christ,
when he came, notwithstanding that they had the Scriptures, which
prophesied of him; neither did they believe that he was risen
again, when the apostles preached his resurrection. But ye say,
ye believe he is come; and ye say, ye believe his resurrection,
and yet ye persecute those that witness him come in the flesh,
those that are buried with him in baptism, those that are
conformable to his death, and know the power of his resurrection;
those ye persecute, those ye haul before magistrates, and suffer
to be beaten in your synagogues; those ye cause to be whipped
and stocked, and shamefully entreated, and into prison cast, and
kept: as many jails in this nation, at this day testify to your
faces.
‘Therefore honestly consider what ye are doing, while ye are
taking notice of others’ cruelties, lest ye overlook your own.
There is some difference in many things between the Popish
religion, and that which ye call the Protestant: but in this
persecution of yours there is no difference; for ye will
confess, that the foundation of your religion is grounded upon
the Scriptures; and yet now ye are persecuting those, that
be in the same life which they were in who spake forth the
Scriptures; yourselves being the meanwhile under a profession
of the words they spake: and this ye shall one day witness. So
ye have a profession and form, and persecute them that are in
the possession, life, and power. Therefore know assuredly that
ye must come to judgment; for he is made manifest to whom all
judgment is committed. Therefore to the light of Jesus Christ
in your consciences, which searcheth and trieth you, turn your
minds, and stand still, and wait there to receive the righteous
law, which is according to that of God in the conscience, which
is now rising, and is bearing witness against all ungodliness
and unrighteousness of men; and they whom ye persecute, are
manifest to God, and that of God in all consciences shall bear
witness for us, that we are of God; and this ye shall one day
witness, whether ye will hear, or forbear. Our rejoicing is in
the testimony of our consciences, that in simplicity and godly
sincerity, (not with fleshly wisdom, but by the grace of God,)
we have had our conversation in the world; not handling the word
of God deceitfully, but, in the manifestation of the Truth,
commending ourselves to every man’s conscience in the sight of
God; and if our Gospel be hid, it is hid to them that are lost:
and for the witnessing the holding the mystery of faith in a pure
conscience, do we suffer, and are subject for conscience sake.
This is thankworthy, if a man for conscience sake endure grief
and suffering wrongfully. And in this is our joy and rejoicing,
having a good conscience, that whereas we are evil spoken of,
as evil-doers, they may be ashamed, that falsely accuse our
good conversation in Christ; which is not only the putting away
of the filth of the flesh, but the answer of a good conscience
towards God, by the resurrection of Jesus Christ. And this we
witness made manifest, (eternal praises to the living God,)
and bear testimony to that which spake it in the apostle in
life and power: and therefore do we bear witness, and testify
against those, who being got into a form and profession of it, do
persecute the life and power.
‘Therefore to the eternal light of Christ Jesus, the searcher and
trier of all hearts, turn your minds, and see what ye are doing,
lest ye overturn your foundation and bottom whereon ye pretend to
stand, while ye are professing the Scriptures, and persecuting
the life, light, and power, which they were in, who gave them
forth. For the stone cut out of the mountain without hands, is
now striking at the feet of the image, the profession which is
set up, and stands in the will of man. Now is that made manifest,
unto which all must answer, and appear before the judgment seat
of Christ; that every one may receive the thing done in his
body, according to that he hath done, whether it be good or bad.
Knowing therefore the terror of the Lord, we persuade men; but
we are made manifest unto God, and shall be made manifest in all
your consciences, which ye shall witness.
G. F.’
Divers times when a fast was proclaimed, G. Fox wrote on that subject;
and since commonly some mischief was then contrived against the
Quakers, no wonder that he would say, that these fasts were like unto
Jezebel’s.
Many of his friends being at this time in prisons and dungeons, several
others of them went to the parliament, and offered to lie in the same
prisons where their brethren lay; that so those that were in prison,
might not perish in stinking dungeons, and their persecutors thereby
bring innocent blood upon their own heads. But this could not be
obtained; for some of the parliament would threaten these compassionate
men that thus attended them, with whipping, if they did not desist.
And because the parliament then sitting, consisted mostly of such
who, pretending to be more religious than others, were indeed great
persecutors of those that were truly religious, G. Fox could not let
this hypocrisy go unreproved, but wrote the following lines to them:
‘O friends, do not cloak and cover yourselves; there is a God
that knoweth your hearts, and that will uncover you. He seeth
your way: “Wo be to him that covereth, but not with my Spirit,”
saith the Lord. Do ye contrary to the law, and then put it from
you? Mercy and true judgment ye neglect. Look, what was spoken
against such: my Saviour spake against such: “I was sick, and
ye visited me not; I was hungry, and ye fed me not; I was a
stranger, and ye took me not in; I was in prison, and ye visited
me not.” But they said, “When saw we thee in prison, and did
not come to thee?” “Inasmuch as ye did it not unto one of these
little ones, ye did it not unto me.” Friends, ye prison them
that be in the life and power of Truth, and yet profess to be
the ministers of Christ: but if Christ had sent you, ye would
bring out of prison, and out of bondage, and receive strangers.
Ye have lived in pleasure on the earth, and been wanton; ye have
nourished your hearts as in a day of slaughter: ye have condemned
and killed the just, and he doth not resist you.
G. F.’
It was not G. Fox alone who was grieved with the said hypocrisy, but
others of his friends also declared zealously against it. A certain
woman came once into the parliament with a pitcher in her hand, which
she breaking before them, told them, so should they be broken to
pieces; which came to pass not long after. And because, when the great
sufferings of G. Fox’s friends were laid before O. Cromwell, he would
not believe it, this gave occasion to Thomas Aldam and Anthony Pearson,
to go through all, or most of the jails in England, and get copies of
their friends commitment under the jailers’ hands, to lay the weight of
the said sufferings upon O. Cromwell, which was done; but he, unwilling
to give order for their release, Thomas Aldam took his cap from off his
head, and tearing it to pieces, said to him, ‘So shall thy government
be rent from thee and thy house.’
About the beginning of this year, E. Burrough wrote a letter to O.
Cromwell, and his council, complaining of, and warning them against
persecution, as being what would draw down God’s anger against them.
Several copies of the said letter were delivered to Oliver, and his
council: and some months after E. Burrough wrote the following letter
to him.
_To the Protector._
‘FRIEND,
‘The salutation of my life wisheth well unto thee in the Lord,
and most especially that thy precious soul may be redeemed out
of death to God, and live, that thou mayest have a rest and
habitation in him when this world is no more.
‘Now whereas it is a general outcry among the teachers and people
of this nation, and also is doubted, and hath been sometimes
objected by thyself, that the people called Quakers, are deluded
and deceived, and in error, and such like: and now, if it be
possible, that thyself and others may be resolved concerning
us; put therefore all thy objections and doubtings into plain
positions, or let the wisest of thy teachers do it for thee; that
whatsoever thyself, or any for thee; can object against us, or
what thou doubtest of, or stumblest at, either in respect of our
doctrines or practice, let the matter be stated in plain words,
in positions, or queries; and if God permit, a sufficient answer
thou mayest receive, to remove all conscientious scruples, and to
confound all subtle allegements and evasions; whereby hereafter
for ever thou mayest be altogether inexcusable of all doubting,
or speaking against us, or suffering evil to be done, or spoken
against us upon that account. And this I am moved to give forth
and send to thee, that thou mayest be satisfied; and all things
tried and made manifest in the sight of all men; and that all
rash judgment, and false supposition, which lodgeth in the hearts
of many, may be confounded and brought to nought; and let it
be left off, to cry out deceivers, and heresy, &c. and causing
any to suffer on suspicion thereupon; but bring all things to
light, and true judgment; that what is proved to be the Truth may
be owned and not persecuted any more; for we are willing to be
made manifest to all men; and if any thing be objected against
us, which may not be sufficiently answered, and resolved to
sober men, then our enemies are more free, and have whereof to
glory in against us; but if all occasion of stumbling be removed
by answers, according to the Scriptures, and our principles,
practices, and doctrines thereby vindicated, then let all the
teachers, and all our adversaries, shut their mouths from biting
at us, and railing against us, and accusing of us to thee; and
let thy ear be shut from believing lies against the innocent; and
let none suffer in thy dominion under the cruelty of men, upon
such a ground. Hereof I shall be glad to receive an answer, and
to join issue in this cause; and in the meantime, and always, am
a lover of thy soul, but a witness against all oppression.
E. B.’
This was delivered to his hands at
Hampton Court, in the Fourth Month,
1658.
I never understood that any thing of moment followed upon this; but
about two months after he wrote another letter to Cromwell, which was
delivered to him at Hampton Court, in the sixth month.
_To the Protector._
‘FRIEND,
‘Know that there is a God that doth whatsoever he will. All power
is in his hand, and he bringeth to pass the counsel of his own
heart, and he ruleth in the kingdoms of men, and bringeth down
and setteth up: he killeth and maketh alive; and he changeth
times, and seasons, and governments, and bringeth to nought the
counsels of men; for all power in earth and in heaven is in him,
and all his doings are right, and his ways are equal, and thou
and all mankind are as clay in the hand of the potter: he can
honour and exalt as he pleaseth, and he can mar, and break to
pieces, and dishonour whensoever he will; wherefore be humble,
and low in heart before him, for he is the highest power, that
subdueth all things under his feet. If he would, who can heal?
And if he kill, there is none can make alive; and know thou, it
is the Lord God Almighty that doth this, in whose hands are the
issues of life and death; and he it is who can break thee down,
and build thee up; who can wound thee, and restore thee; and
bring thee to destruction, and say unto thee, return; and to know
him that doth this, belongs to thy eternal peace, &c.
‘Be thou faithful in what the Lord calleth thee to, and thou
shalt have thy reward; and seek his honour, and he will honour
thee; and let thy mind be to the Lord in all things, and feel his
word and power, and presence in thee, to quench all that which is
contrary, and then thou wilt be blessed in this life, and in the
life to come; but if thou continuest in thy oppression, the Lord
will suddenly smite thee.
By a friend unto thee in the Lord,
E. B.’
That the Lord, according to this prediction did suddenly smite
Cromwell, time verified; for he lived but about a month after the
receipt of the said letter. And that E. Burrough tenderly loved him,
appears to me from several circumstances: and the ardent desire he had
for his eternal welfare, occasioned this plain language to him.
G. Fox also wrote to him, that it was not improbable, that because of
his wickedness, the Lord might once raise the royalists against him,
to be instruments of executing his wrath; as once Cromwell himself had
been an instrument to their overthrow. And a very short time before
his death, G. Fox went to Hampton Court, to speak with him about the
sufferings of his friends. With this intention, he met him riding
into Hampton Court park, and before he came to him, (according to his
relation,) he perceived a waft of death go forth against him; and
coming to him, he looked like a dead man. So after G. Fox had laid
the sufferings of his friends before him, and had warned him, Oliver
bid him come to his house; whereupon G. Fox went to Kingston, and the
next day came to Hampton Court again; but there he understood that the
protector was sick; and Dr. Harvey told, that the doctors were not
willing that he should speak with the protector. So he passed away,
and never saw Oliver Cromwell any more: who, since the death of his
daughter, the lady Claypole, had been distempered, and troubled with a
malignant humour in his foot; which, when his physicians endeavoured
to disperse, they drove upward, (as was said,) to his heart: and
being seized with a violent fever, he grew weaker and weaker; yet
his preachers endeavoured to conceal the danger he was in: and it is
reported that Dr. Goodwin, one of his chaplains, in a prayer during
the time of his sickness, made use of this expression, ‘Lord, we beg
not for his recovery, for that thou hast already granted, and assured
us of; but for his speedy recovery.’ Whilst the protector was sick, E.
Burrough wrote the following letter to his wife and children, &c.
‘_Friends_,
‘Remember, that by the Lord you were raised from a low state, and
when he will he can abase you, and bring you down; he gave you
the palace of princes, and threw out them before you.
‘O, remember this, every one of you, and come to the witness
of God in you, and be humble, and meek, and lowly, and let
the Lord’s fear be in your hearts; and be of a tender spirit,
having your minds exercised in purity, in holiness, and in
righteousness; and exalt not yourselves, nor be lifted up in your
hearts in the pride and vain glories, and honours of this world,
lest the Lord cast you down, and make your name and posterity a
reproach, as he hath done many before you; and if you walk in the
same steps, and do the same things, and become guilty of the same
abominations, and suffer the children and servants of the Lord to
be persecuted, (as many are at this day, some unto death,) shall
the Lord spare you? Nay, he will cause you to feel his hand of
judgment, and bring you down with sorrow, and he will vex you in
his wrath, and smite you with his rod more and more, till you
learn his fear, and depart from all your iniquities; and the Lord
will deface your glory, and pull down your crown; and he will
make you know, that he is Lord, that doth whatsoever he will.
‘Wherefore humble yourselves under the hand of God, and search
your own hearts, and cast out the abominations that vex the
Spirit of the Lord; and suffer not the people of the Lord’s
precious flock to be devoured, and made a prey to the wicked;
for because of this the rod of affliction cometh upon you, and
may suddenly break you to pieces; but mind the seed of God in
you, which is oppressed, and wait to know the power of the Lord,
which will redeem you out of sin and death, and reconcile you
to God, and bring you into fellowship with himself, to enjoy
peace and rest for your souls, that you may be made heirs of
the inheritance of an endless life: and this would make you
truly honourable, and will be more satisfaction to you, and joy,
and content, and true rejoicing, than all worldly crowns, and
worldly glories: which will waste and consume away, and leave
you miserable. And remember that you are now warned from the
Lord God, by whom I am moved to write this unto you, in dear and
tender love to you all; and one day you shall witness it.
‘And as concerning the Quakers, so called, who are accounted as
vile in the sight of men, and are cast out of all power and place
in the nation, being despised of all; and also are reproached,
persecuted, and imprisoned, and all manner of evil and injustice
unrighteously done and spoken against them, by wicked and corrupt
men in authority; yet are they the children and servants of the
living God, and greatly beloved of him, and are as dear to him
as the apple of his eye, and his power and presence is with
them; and the time is at hand that the Lord will make their
persecutors fall, and their enemies bow and tremble, though now
they suffer unjustly, and are trodden down, as not deserving a
place on the earth; yet it is for righteousness sake, and because
they show forth the image of the Father, and not for evil doing:
and will not their sufferings lie upon you? For many hundreds
have suffered cruel and great things, and some the loss of life,
though not by, yet in the name of, the protector; and about an
hundred at this present day, lie in holes, and dungeons, and
prisons, up and down the nation; and some at this time are sick,
nigh unto death, whose sufferings cry for vengeance, and the Lord
heareth the cry. Wherefore save yourselves, and let the innocent
be delivered, and the cruel bonds of oppression broken, and the
exercise of a pure conscience go free, without persecution; and
then the Lord will turn away his anger, and cease to smite you
with his rod, which hath been upon you: and he will give you
peace, and make you blessed, if you come to be led by his Spirit
into all Truth.
‘And though these innocent lambs of Christ suffer thus under
this present power, yet are they not enemies to you, but are
friends to your persons and families, and pity you, and love you,
and desire well for you in the Lord; that you may repent and
be healed, and even that your hearts may be opened to receive
refreshments to your souls; and that you may be established in
righteousness and truth over all your enemies, and may not be
confounded, nor your posterity brought into reproach, which is
hastening unto you: and though our love be despised, and we
accounted hateful in your sight, and looked upon with derision,
yet we bear all things in patience, truly desiring your returning
and repentance, and not your destruction. But if these doleful
sufferings of the Lord’s poor lambs be continued by this present
power, it will destroy you, and undo you, and break you, and
confound you; and the Lord will not cease to smite you with his
rod of sharp rebukes; and he will make you know his people’s
cause shall not be unpunished. Oh, did you but know how hundreds
have and do suffer! How the bodies of some have been tortured by
stocks and cruel whippings! And how some lie sick in stinking
holes and dungeons, on the ground, or a little straw at best;
ten, or often more, in a prison together, and sometimes their
own friends not suffered to come to visit them with necessaries!
Oh, did but your eyes behold, or your hearts perceive, the
greatness of the cruelty which some of the Lord’s dear servants,
and your faithful friends, undergo, it would make your hearts
ache, and your spirits to tremble! And all this is done in
the name and under the authority of--Protector; therefore how
should the Lord but lay it to your charge, and afflict him and
his family? He will make you know there is a God that can do
whatsoever he will, and that life and death are in his hands,
and all creatures are as clay in the hand of the potter; and he
rules in the kingdoms of men, and putteth down one, and setteth
up another, according to his pleasure: but if the love of God be
withholden from you, it is because of disobedience to him, and
your transgression. Wherefore be obedient to him, and love his
ways and judgments, that he may make you more happy with a crown
immortal, that never fades away. And remember once more the Lord
hath warned you, by a friend unto you in the Lord.
E. BURROUGH.’
Written the 1st day of September,
1658.
Cromwell was snatched away by death at unawares; however the day before
his decease this letter was delivered to his relations. It was not
but in the last period of his life that he named his son Richard to
be his successor. And when death looked in his face, remorse did not
stay behind; for, according to what Ludlow relates, he seemed above all
concerned for the reproaches, (he said,) men would cast upon his name,
in trampling on his ashes when dead. In this temper of mind he departed
this life about two in the afternoon, on the 3d of September, at the
age of about fifty-five years. The news of his death being brought to
those who were met together to pray for him, one Sterry stood up, and
said, ‘This is good news; because if he was of great use to the people
of God when he was amongst us, now he will be much more so, being
ascended to heaven, there to intercede for us.’ O horrid flattery! Thus
I call it, if he had been the greatest saint on earth; which he came
much short of, though he was once endued with some eminent virtues.
His dying day was remarkable by a most grievous tempest, not only in
England, but also in the Low countries, where trees were torn out of
the ground by the violence of the wind, and many ships foundered. ‘He
was,’ saith Edward, Earl of Clarendon, ‘one of those persons whom even
his enemies could not vilify without praising him.’ And I have heard
impartial men say, that in the beginning of his achievements, he was
indeed an excellent man; but being come to a high station, he soon lost
that zeal for the public welfare, by which at first he seemed to be
animated.
The body of the deceased was laid in Somerset House, in an apartment
enlightened only with wax tapers, the corpse being richly adorned.
After his death, Richard, eldest son to Oliver, was proclaimed
Protector of the Commonwealth; to whom E. Burrough wrote a letter,
superscribed to Richard Cromwell, chosen to be protector and chief
magistrate, &c. wherein he gave him some account of the most cruel
sufferings of his friends; and speaking of the rulers, he saith thus:
‘As for magistracy, it was ordained of God to be a dread and
terror, and limit to evil-doers, and to be a defence and praise
to all that do well; to condemn the guilty, and to justify the
guiltless; but the exercise thereof at this day in these nations
is degenerated, and some that are in authority are greatly
corrupted, and regard not the just and pure law of God, to judge
only thereby; but oppress the poor by injustice, and subvert
the good laws of God and men to a wrong end and use, abusing
authority, and turning the sword against the just, whereby true
judgment is turned backward, and the innocent made unjustly
to suffer for righteousness sake, through the corruption of
men in authority; and didst thou but know what we know in this
particular, it would pierce thy heart. Why? It is frequent
among some of the judges and magistrates, to commit a man to
prison, and impose some great fine upon him, and to cast him
into a dungeon, or hole, among thieves and murderers, for a long
season; for no other offence, or breach of any law, but because
he cannot put off his hat to them, and respect their persons, by
the hat or bowing the knee: and many others that fear God, and
for conscience sake cannot swear upon a book, by kissing it, and
laying hands upon it, because Christ saith, “Swear not at all;”
though they deny not to speak and do the truth in all things,
as in the presence of God and all men: and many others, that
because they are moved to cry against sin, and declare against
the iniquities of the times, in teachers, rulers, and people,
that highly abound; perhaps in a market or steeple-house, or
highway, or other places, as they are moved of God: and many
others, because for conscience sake they cannot pay tithes, nor
give money and wages to maintain a priest, or false teacher, that
they receive no profit by; or to maintain a steeple-house, where
the world worships in vain traditions, and not in the spirit and
power of God: and many have been taken out of peaceable meetings,
where they were waiting upon the Lord; and some out of their
inns and friends’ houses; and many have been taken on the way,
travelling about their lawful occasions; and some from their
callings and labours; and for these causes, through the envy of
wicked men, and without any just conviction of the breach of any
law, or any lawful trial or examination, have hundreds of just
men, being wholly innocent, been sent to prison, and lain many
months, and some for years; or whipped, or put in the stocks,
and grievously abused by cruel executioners of wicked men’s envy
and injustice. And upon such grounds only, and for such causes
mentioned, and without the transgression of any just law, have
and do at this day many hundreds of faithful subjects suffer hard
and cruel things, long and sore imprisonment, and cruel and sharp
whipping, and stocking, and unjust banishment out of towns and
cities; yea, friend, it is hard to be expressed, and large to be
declared, how many of the Lord’s servants do, and have suffered
great injustice in these nations, through the abuse of good
government, and degeneration of magistracy from its perfect state
and place, whereunto it was ordained of God in the beginning,’ &c.
This remonstrance, how powerful and large soever, had not its due
effect; but persecution continued, without being stopped by him: for
the churchmen fawned upon him, calling him not only their Joshua, but
the preachers of Suffolk said in their address to him, ‘Though our sun
is gone down, yet no night ensued.’ _Sol occubuit, nox nulla secuta
est._
About this time was given forth a paper, called, The Church Faith;
and G. Fox having got a copy of it before it was published, wrote an
answer to it; and when the book of the church faith appeared, his
answer was also in print. This so incensed some of the parliament men,
that one of them told G. Fox, they must have him to Smithfield. To
which he answered, that he was over their fires, and feared them not:
and further asked, whether all the people had been without a faith
these sixteen hundred years, that now the priests must make them one?
And since Christ Jesus was the author of the apostles’ faith, and of
the church’s faith in the primitive times, and of the martyrs’ faith;
should not all people look unto him to be the author and finisher of
their faith, and not unto the priests? Nothing material was answered to
this; but the priests called G. Fox’s friends, house-creepers, because
they met together in houses, and would not maintain the priests’
temples. One major Wiggan, that was present when G. Fox discoursed with
the parliament men, said, Christ had taken away the guilt of sin, but
had left the power of sin remaining in us. G. Fox told him this was
strange doctrine; for Christ came to destroy the devil and his works,
and the power of sin, and so to cleanse men from sin.
Now there was great persecution, both by imprisonment and breaking up
of meetings; and many died in prisons; for the priests speaking evil of
the Quakers, it did kindle the insolence of the rabble not a little,
so that they did not stick to throw squibs into the meetings, to cast
rotten eggs on those that were met, to beat on drums and kettles, and
so to make hideous noise, and to abuse people most grievously with
blows and violent pushes.
One day there being a meeting appointed near London, they beat and
abused about eighty persons that came out of the city to meet there,
tearing their coats and cloaks from off their backs, and throwing them
into ditches and ponds. The next First-day of the week after this, G.
Fox, though at that time very weak, went thither, and preaching with
the bible in his hand, he showed the rude people, their, and their
teachers’ fruits, and how disagreeable these mad actions were to the
doctrine contained in the Holy Scriptures. Many of his imprisoned
friends were now brought up to London to be tried by the committee;
where sir Henry Vane, being chairman, would not suffer them to come
in, except they would put off their hats. But since many of them had
been imprisoned upon contempts, (as the not putting off hats before
magistrates was called,) others signified that it must not be expected
that now they should comply; and so through the mediation of some
that persuaded Vane, they were at length admitted; where they so well
defended their cause, that several were set at liberty.
Sufferings now growing very sharp, G. Fox, to encourage his friends,
wrote the following lines to them:
‘My dear friends, every where scattered abroad, in prison, or out
of prison, fear not, because of the reports of sufferings; let
not the evil spies of the good land make you afraid, if they tell
you the walls are high, and that there be Anakims in the land;
for at the blowing of the ram’s horns did the walls of Jericho
fall down; and they that brought the evil report, perished in
the wilderness. But dwell ye in the faith, patience, and hope,
having the word of life to keep you, which is beyond the law;
and having the oath of God, his covenant, Christ Jesus, which
divides the waters asunder; and makes them to run all on heaps;
in that stand, and ye shall see all things work together for
good, to them that love God; and in that triumph when sufferings
come, whatever they be: your faith, your shield, your helmet,
your armour you have on; ye are ready to skip over a mountain, or
a wall, or an hill, and to walk through the deep waters, though
they be heaps upon heaps: for the evil spies of the good land
may preach up hardness, but Caleb, which signifies an heart, and
Joshua, a saviour, triumph over all.
G. F.’
There was at that time great discord among those that were at the
helm of government; and G. Fox relates, that he did then foresee the
king’s coming in again; and that therefore when some forward spirits,
who frequented the meetings of his friends, would have bought Somerset
House to keep meetings in, he dissuaded them from it. There came also
a woman to him, who having, (as she said,) had a revelation concerning
the restoring of king Charles, three years before he came in, said,
she must go to him to declare it: but G. Fox advised her to keep this
revelation to herself, since if she went on such a message, it would
have been counted treason.
How the corpse of Oliver Cromwell was laid in Somerset House to be
seen, hath been said already; but afterwards an image of him lying
there in state, was accompanied with trumpeters, who sounded over the
said image. This vanity so grieved G. Fox, that he wrote the following
lines to the authors thereof:
‘Oh friends, what are ye doing! And what mean ye to sound before
an image! Will not all sober people think ye are like mad people?
Oh, how am I grieved with your abomination! Oh, how am I wearied!
‘My soul is wearied with you,’ saith the Lord, ‘will I not be
avenged of you, think ye, for your abominations? Oh, how have ye
plucked down, and set up! Oh, how are your hearts made whole, and
not rent; and how are ye turned to fooleries! Which things in
times past ye stood over: therefore how have ye left my dread,’
saith the Lord. O, therefore, fear, and repent, lest the snare
and the pit take you all. The great day of the Lord is come upon
all your abominations, and the swift hand of the Lord is turned
against them all. The sober people in the nation stand amazed at
your doings, and are ashamed, as if you would bring in popery.
G. F.’
Sometime after this, the funeral of O. Cromwell was solemnized with
very great pomp, not at all agreeable to that condition he was once in;
for the time was when he would have abhorred such an idolatrous honour
as was now paid to his image. On the day of this pompous funeral, which
was the 23d of November, it happened that Edward Burrough came riding
from Kingston into London, not knowing any thing of what was done
there. As he entered at Charing-cross, he beheld a great multitude of
people thronging exceedingly, the streets being filled as far as he
could see, and abundance gazing at the windows, and upon the balconies,
and house tops. There were also guards of horse and foot that stopped
his horse, and it was told him, that he might not pass that way. Yet
he did not know what was the matter; but at length he perceived that
Cromwell’s image, richly adorned, was to be carried that way towards
Westminster. The consideration of this, was like an arrow which
pierced his breast: and because of this idolatry, he felt such a fire
kindled in him, that he was, as it were, filled with the indignation
of the Lord, whose fury ran through him, to cry, Plagues, plagues, and
vengeance against the authors of this abomination. Nay, so ardent was
his zeal, that if he had been moved to it, and it had been possible
to have done it, he could, (not at all minding his own life,) have
ridden through the guards and multitude, to have sounded the judgments
of God against the idolaters. And considering that all this sinful
idolatry, was about the funeral of Oliver Cromwell: ‘Alas, for him,’
said Burrough with himself, ‘who was once a great instrument in the
hand of the Lord, to break down many idolatrous images! Did not the
Lord once stir up his heart against all such things? And did not once
his children, officers, soldiers and army, pull down all the images and
crosses, and all such like popish stuff, wherever they met with it?
What grievous and abominable work is this? Have they now made a costly
image of him? And are such as were once his soldiers now guarding it,
and watching over it, and his children and officers following it, and
multitude of the inhabitants of London wondering and gazing after an
image of him? This is sad, and great pity: what a change is this in so
short a time?’
This zealous testimony E. Burrough caused to be printed, whereby he
raised to himself a more lasting monument, than by the erecting of
a statue was made to his quondam friend O. Cromwell. Now since the
persecution of E. Burrough’s friends, notwithstanding that he had
written to Richard Cromwell, did not cease, and that all exhortations
and warnings were rejected, E. Burrough in the month December, wrote
the following lines to Richard and his council:
_‘To the Protector and his Council._
‘The Lord God will shortly make you know that we are his people;
though we be accounted as sheep for the slaughter, yet our king
of righteousness will break you to pieces, if you harden your
hearts, and repent not. And though that love will not draw thee,
neither the gentle leadings of our God have any place in you, yet
judgments shall awaken you, and his heavy hand of indignation
shall lie upon your consciences, and you will be scattered and
distracted to pieces.
E. BURROUGH.’
How soon this prediction was fulfilled, we shall see in the next year;
for it was but a few months after the delivering of this letter, when
Richard laid down the government.
In the meanwhile we will take again a view of the persecution in New
England. There was, as hath been said already, a fine settled of five
shillings a week to be paid for not coming to church, as it was called.
And thus from time to time occasion was found to use cruelty against
the inhabitants, though none of those called Quakers came from abroad.
William Shattock, a shoemaker at Boston, being on a First-day of the
week, found in his house, instead of coming to the public worship, was
hauled to the house of correction; where, at his first entrance, he was
cruelly whipped, and then kept to work, whilst his wife and innocent
children were in want because of his absence. In the meantime the
deputy-governor, Richard Bellingham, did not stick to say to William’s
wife, that since he was poor, and could not pay five shillings a week
for not coming to church, they would continue him in prison. Thus was
verified that saying of Solomon, “cruel are the mercies of the wicked.”
Bellingham also endeavoured to persuade this woman, that what her
husband had done, was to be rid of her, and therefore advised her to
disown him. Now these persecutors began to have abundance of business;
and taking away of goods, and cruel whippings became almost daily work,
which was performed without regard of age or sex; all which to relate
would exceed my limits.
Two women, named Sarah Gibbons, and Dorothy Waugh, being come to
Boston, and having in the public meeting-place, after the lecture was
ended, spoken a few words, were brought to the house of correction, and
three days before their being whipped, and three days after, were kept
from victuals, though they had offered to pay for them. And when Sarah
afterward asked the governor, John Endicot, whether this was justice
or equity: adding, that by this all might see that God was with them,
that they were thus preserved without food; and if they perished, their
blood would fall heavy on those that were the occasion thereof; he
answered, that he mattered it not.
Not long after, Hored Gardner, an inhabitant of Newport, in Rhode
Island, came with her sucking babe, and a girl to carry it, to
Weymouth: from whence, for being a Quaker, she was hurried to Boston,
where both she and the girl were whipped with a three-fold knotted
whip. After whipping, the woman kneeled down, and prayed the Lord to
forgive those persecutors: which so reached a woman that stood by, that
she said, surely she could not have done this, if it had not been by
the Spirit of the Lord.
But when should I have done, if I would describe all the whippings
inflicted on the Quakers, so called, in those parts! For now a law
was made, which furnished continual work to the persecutors there.
The contents thereof were, that whosoever of the inhabitants should
directly or indirectly cause any of the Quakers to come into that
jurisdiction, he should forfeit an hundred pounds to the country, and
be committed to prison, there to remain till the penalty should be
satisfied. And whosoever should entertain them, knowing them to be
so, should forfeit forty shillings to the country for every hour’s
entertaining or concealment; and be committed to prison till the
forfeiture should be fully paid and satisfied. And further, that all
and every of those people that should arise among them there, should
be dealt withal, and suffer the like punishment as the laws provided
for those that came in, viz. That for the first offence, if a male,
one of his ears should be cut off, and be kept at work in the house
of correction, till he should be sent away on his own charge. For
the second, the other ear, and be kept in the house of correction
as aforesaid. If a woman, then to be severely whipped, and kept as
aforesaid, as the male, for the first; and for the second offence to
be dealt withal as the first. And for the third, he or she should have
their tongues bored through with an hot iron, and be kept in the house
of correction, close at work, till they be sent away on their own
charge.
In the latter part of the Fifth month, it came to pass, that William
Brend and William Leddra, having been at Salem, came to Newbury;
where, at the house of one Robert Adams, they had a conference with
the priest, in the presence of captain Gerish, who had promised that
they should not suffer; but after the conference was ended, the captain
would not let them go, but on promise presently to depart the town;
which, being loth to comply with, as they were on their way, they
were sent for back, and captain Gerish riding after them, commanded
them to return: which they refusing, he compelled them thereunto, and
sent them with a constable to Salem; where, being brought before the
magistrates, they were asked whether they were Quakers; to which
they answered, that they were such that were in scorn called so. Next
it was objected to them, that they maintained dangerous errors. They
asking what these were, it was told them, that they not only denied
that Christ at Jerusalem had suffered on the cross, but also that they
denied the Holy Scriptures. They boldly contradicted this, and said
they owned no other Jesus but he that had suffered death at Jerusalem,
and that they also owned the Scriptures.
Now, although nothing could be objected against this, yet they were
carried to the house of correction, as such who, according to the law
made at Boston, might not come into those parts. Some days after they
were carried to Boston, where in the next month they were brought
into the house of correction, to work there. But they unwilling to
submit thereto, the jailer, who sought his profit from the work of his
prisoners, would not give them victuals, though they offered to pay
for them. But he told them, it was not their money, but their labour
he desired. Thus he kept them five days without food, and with a
three-corded whip gave them twenty blows. An hour after he told them,
they might go out, if they would pay the marshal that was to lead them
out of the country. They judging it very unreasonable to pay money for
being banished, refused this, but yet said, that if the prison-door was
set open, they would go away.
The next day the jailor came to W. Brend, a man in years, and put him
in irons, neck and heels so close together, that there was no more room
left between each, than for the lock that fastened them. Thus he kept
them from five in the morning, till after nine at night, being the
space of sixteen hours. The next morning he brought him to the mill to
work, but Brend refusing, the jailer took a pitched rope about an inch
thick, and gave him twenty blows over his back and arms, with as much
force as he could, so that the rope untwisted; and then, going away, he
came again with another rope, that was thicker and stronger, and told
Brend, that he would cause him to bow to the law of the country, and
make him work. Brend judged this not only unreasonable in the highest
degree, since he had committed no evil, but he was altogether unable to
work: for he wanted strength for want of food; having been kept five
days without eating, and whipt also, and now thus unmercifully beaten
with a rope. But this inhuman jailer relented not, but began to beat
anew with his pitched rope, on this bruised body, and foaming at his
mouth like a madman, with violence laid fourscore and seventeen blows
more on him, as other prisoners that beheld it with compassion, have
told; and if his strength, and his rope had not failed him, he would
have laid on more; he threatened also to give him the next morning
as many blows more. But a higher power, who sets limits even to the
raging sea, and hath said, “hitherto thou shalt come, but no further,”
also limited this butcherly fellow; who was yet impudently stout
enough to say his morning prayer. To what a most terrible condition
these blows brought the body of Brend, who because of the great heat
of the weather, had nothing but a serge cassock upon his shirt, may
easily be conceived; his back and arms were bruised and black, and
the blood hanging as in bags under his arms; and so into one was his
flesh beaten, that the sign of a particular blow could not be seen;
for all was become as a jelly. His body being thus cruelly tortured,
he lay down upon the boards, so extremely weakened, that the natural
parts decaying, and strength quite failing, his body turned cold: there
seemed as it were a struggle between life and death; his senses were
stopped, and he had for some time neither seeing, feeling, nor hearing,
till at length a divine power prevailing, life broke through death, and
the breath of the Lord was breathed into his nostrils.
Now, the noise of this cruelty spread among the people in the town, and
caused such a cry, that the governor sent his surgeon to the prison, to
see what might be done; but the surgeon found the body of Brend in such
a deplorable condition, that, as one without hopes, he said, his flesh
would rot from off his bones, ere the bruised parts could be brought
to digest. This so exasperated the people, that the magistrates, to
prevent a tumult, set up a paper on their meeting-house door, and
up and down the streets, as it were to show their dislike of this
abominable, and most barbarous cruelty; and said, the jailer should be
dealt withal the next court. But this paper was soon taken down again
upon the instigation of the high-priest, John Norton, who having from
the beginning been a fierce promoter of the persecution, now did not
stick to say, ‘W. Brend endeavoured to beat our gospel ordinances black
and blue, if he then be beaten black and blue, it is but just upon
him; and I will appear in his behalf that did so.’ It is therefore not
much to be wondered at, that these precise and bigoted magistrates,
who would be looked upon to be eminent for piety, were so cruel in
persecuting, since their chief teacher thus wickedly encouraged them to
it.
In the meanwhile it pleased God, even miraculously to heal W. Brend,
and to keep him alive; but as if the hearts of these persecutors were
more hardened thereby, to show themselves obedient followers of their
teacher, they made an order, that the jailer, if the Quakers that
were in his custody refused to work, should whip them twice a week,
the first time with ten lashes, the next time with fifteen, and so at
each time with three more, till they would work. This was performed
on four persons, two of which were William Leddra and John Rous, who
may be mentioned hereafter. And to keep the passionate jailer within
due bounds, forsooth, it was ordered that each time he should warn two
constables to see the execution. But how little moderation was truly
meant, and that this was more like a jest, may appear in that the
jailer the first time laid fifteen lashes apiece on the said persons,
and so added five stripes to the first number of ten.
It happened about this time, that some of the people called Quakers
that lived there, being had before the magistrates, it was demanded by
one of them, how they might know a Quaker; to which Simon Broadstreet,
one of the magistrates, answered, ‘Thou art one, for coming in with
thy hat on.’ Which made the other reply, it was a horrible thing to
make such cruel laws, to whip and cut off ears, and bore through the
tongue, for not putting off the hat. Then one of the bench said, that
the Quakers held forth blasphemies at their meetings. To which one of
the others desired him to make such a thing appear, if it were so,
that they might be convinced: and further, that they should do well to
send some to their meetings, that they might hear, and give account of
what was done and spoken there; and not conclude of a thing they knew
not. ‘But,’ said major-general Denison, ‘if ye meet together, and say
any thing, we may conclude that ye speak blasphemy.’ A very strange
syllogism indeed. No better, (to prove persecution lawful,) was the
argument of Charles Chansey, chief teacher at the university, who in
a sermon at Boston, argued thus: ‘suppose you should catch six wolves
in a trap, and ye cannot prove that they killed either sheep or lambs:
and now you have them they will neither bark nor bite: yet they have
the plain marks of wolves, and therefore ye knock them down.’ A base
expression, thus to compare man to a beast; for God said in plain terms
to Noah, “Whoso sheddeth man’s blood, by man shall his blood be shed.”
But these persecutors thought there was stress enough in it to call
the Quakers wolves; and to make one pass for a Quaker, they counted it
a sufficient proof, when they saw he did not put off his hat to men;
‘Knock him down, it is a wolf.’
And if the hat was not found fault with, something else was thought on;
for at Salem twelve persons were fined forty pounds nineteen shillings,
for not coming to church; and of others much money was extorted,
because their wives absented themselves from the public worship.
William Marston, of Hampton, was fined ten pounds for two books found
in his house, viz. John Lilburn’s resurrection, and W. Dewsbury’s
Mighty Day of the Lord. Thus these people did whatever they would,
without any regard to the laws in Old England: and when once some
prisoners appealed to it, the governor, John Endicot, and his deputy
Bellingham, cried, ‘No appeal to England! No appeal to England.’ And
they seemed to fear nothing for what they did to the Quakers: according
to what major-general Denison said in open court, ‘This year you will
go and complain to the parliament, the next year they will send some
to see how things go, and in the third year the government will be
changed.’ Now they not at all caring for Old England, denied also the
prisoners their request of being tried according to the laws of that
realm, by a jury. And the rulers dealing thus arbitrarily, the jailer
of the house of correction did the like; for when some of his prisoners
showed themselves not unwilling to work, provided that their families
should have something of the gain, he would not allow that, unless they
paid him eight-pence for every twelve-pence gain: and when they refused
this, the whipping-post was his refuge.
But to go on: in the foregoing year mention was made of John Copeland,
and Christopher Holder, these coming in the sixth month to Dedham,
lodged there one night; but the next day, were taken up by a constable,
and carried to Boston, where being brought before the governor, he
said in a rage, ‘Ye shall be sure to have your ears cut off.’ Not long
after, John Rous came again to Boston, but was shortly after taken, and
committed to prison. On the 17th of September, he, with Holder, and
Copeland, were brought before the magistrates in the court, where the
deputy-governor told them, that they, in contempt of the magistrates
and ministers, being come there again to seduce the people, might know
that whatever befel them, whether the loss of their ears, or of their
lives, their blood would be upon their own heads. They denying this,
and saying, that the Lord had sent them hither, the governor, Endicot,
said, ‘You are greater enemies to us, than those that come openly;
since under pretence of peace, you come to poison the people.’ Being
asked for proof that the Lord had sent them they replied, that it was
some kind of proof that the Lord had sent them, because they met with
such entertainment as Christ had told his disciples would be meted to
them, for his name sake, viz. whipping, &c. To this, major-general
Denison said, ‘Then when malefactors are whipt, they suffer for
Christ’s sake.’ Then John Rous, whose father was a lieutenant-colonel
in Barbadoes, said, ‘If we were evil-doers, the judgments of God would
be heavier upon us than those we suffer by you.’ To which major Denison
replied, ‘Mr. Rous, (for so I may call you, having heard your father
is a gentleman,) what judgment of God do you look for greater than
is upon you, to be driven from your father’s house, and to run about
here as a vagabond, with a company of deceivers, except you look for a
halter?’ To this Rous said, ‘I was not driven from my father’s house,
but in obedience to the Lord I left it; and when the Lord shall have
cleared me of this land, I shall return to it again.’ Then Endicot
called to the secretary to read the law, who thereupon read this clause
in it, that if any that had suffered the law, should presume to return
again, they should have one of their ears cut off. Some more words were
spoken, and among the rest, Endicot said, ‘The Quakers have nothing to
prove their commission by, but the spirit within them, and that is the
devil.’ And when one of the prisoners said, ‘We have seen some of your
laws, that have many scriptures in the margin; but what example have
you in Scripture for cutting off ears?’ Endicot asked, ‘What Scripture
is there for hanging?’ To which Denison said scoffing, ‘Yes, they would
be crucified.’ Then Endicot called the three prisoners by name, and
said in great passion, ‘It is the sentence of the court, that you three
have each of you his right ear cut off by the hangman.’ Then they were
carried to the prison, and on the 16th of September, the Marshal’s
deputy came thither, letting as many come in as he thought meet; and
when the doors were made fast, the said marshal read the following
order:
‘To the marshal-general, or his deputy: you are to take with you
the executioner, and repair to the house of correction, and there
see him cut off the right ears of John Copeland, Christopher
Holder, and John Rous, Quakers; in execution of the sentence of
the court of assistants, for the breach of the law, intitled
Quakers.
EDWARD RAWSON, _Secretary_.’
Then the prisoners were brought into another room, where John Rous
said to the marshal, ‘We have appealed to the chief magistrate of
England.’ To which he answered, he had nothing to do with that. Holder
said, ‘Such execution as this should be done publicly, and not in
private; for this was contrary to the law of England.’ But captain
Oliver replied, ‘We do it in private to keep you from tattling.’ Then
the executioner took Holder, and when he had turned aside his hair,
and was going to cut off his ear, the marshal turned his back on him,
which made Rous say, ‘Turn about and see it; for so was his order.’ The
marshal then, though filled with fear, turned, and said, ‘Yes, yes,
let us look on it.’ Rous, who was more undaunted than his persecutor,
suffered the like, as well as the third, and they said, ‘those that do
it ignorantly, we desire from our hearts the Lord to forgive them; but
for them that do it maliciously, let our blood be upon their head; and
such shall know in the day of account, that every drop of our blood
shall be as heavy upon them as a millstone.’ Afterwards these persons
were whipt again; but this practice becoming so common in New England
as if it was but play, I will not detain my reader with it.
Persecution being now come to the cutting off of ears, did not stop
there, but went higher, and rested not, before it came to the taking
away of lives. But to compass that proved very difficult; for there
were many honest people who abhorred such a cruelty. Yet John Norton,
and the other priests, petitioned the magistrates, to cause the court
to make some law to banish the Quakers, upon pain of death. This gave
encouragement to the magistrates, for since the churchmen pushed on
so wicked a business, no scruple was made to go on with this bloody
work; and the court of magistrates voted it to be put in execution by a
country court, which three magistrates made up, the majority of which
might hang at pleasure, without trial by a jury; a thing not heard of
in Old England: but it served the purpose of Norton, and his fellow
preachers. The court where this law was made, consisted of twenty-five
persons; and when it was put to the vote it was carried in the
affirmative, the speaker and eleven being on the negative, but thirteen
on the affirmative, so that one vote carried it. This so troubled one
Wozel, when he heard it, having through illness been absent, that
he got to the court, and weeping for grief, that his absence should
occasion such a law to pass, said, if he had not been able to go, he
would have crept upon his knees, rather than it should have passed. But
what he said proved in vain; they had now passed the Rubicon, and what
was eagerly desired, was obtained. Yet there was a great difference
in the court, and the twelve that had voted in the negative, resolved
to enter their dissents to that law; which the others seeing, and
that so many difficulties would weaken their law, they admitted this
addition, to be tried by a special jury; though a standing law of the
country contained, that none be sentenced to death and banishment,
but by a special jury, and a court of assistants; and such a court
consisted of seven magistrates at the least. But it was now resolved,
to prosecute the Quakers to death; and all this trial, when it came
to it, was but, whether they were Quakers? Which they judged by their
coming in covered; and that they had been banished out of the country.
Now to enter upon this bloody business, the following act was made at a
general court, held at Boston, the 20th of October, in this year, 1658.
‘_An Act made at a general court, held at Boston,
the 20th of October, 1658._
‘Whereas there is a pernicious sect, (commonly called Quakers,)
lately risen, who by word and writing have published and
maintained many dangerous and horrid tenets, and do take upon
them to change and alter the received laudable customs of our
nation, in giving civil respect to equals, or reverence to
superiors, whose actions tend to undermine the civil government,
and also to destroy the order of the churches, by denying all
established forms of worship, and by withdrawing from orderly
church-fellowship, allowed and approved by all orthodox
professors of the Truth, and instead thereof, and in opposition
thereunto, frequently meeting themselves, insinuating themselves
into the minds of the simple, or such as are least affected to
the order and government of church and commonwealth, whereby
divers of our inhabitants have been infected, notwithstanding all
former laws, made upon the experience of their arrogant and bold
obtrusions, to disseminate their principles among us, prohibiting
their coming in this jurisdiction, they have not been deterred
from their impetuous attempts to undermine our peace, and hazard
our ruin.
‘For prevention thereof, this court doth order and enact, that
every person, or persons, of the cursed sect of the Quakers, who
is not an inhabitant of, but is found within this jurisdiction,
shall be apprehended without warrant, where no magistrate is at
hand, by any constable, commissioner, or select man, and conveyed
from constable to constable, to the next magistrate, who shall
commit the said person to close prison, there to remain, without
bail, unto the next court of assistants, where they shall have
a legal trial: and being convicted to be of the sect of the
Quakers, shall be sentenced to be banished upon pain of death:
and that every inhabitant of this jurisdiction, being convicted
to be of the aforesaid sect, either by taking up, publishing, or
defending the horrid opinions of the Quakers, or the stirring
up mutiny, sedition, or rebellion against the government, or by
taking up their absurd and destructive practices, viz. Denying
civil respect to equals and superiors, and withdrawing from our
church assemblies, and instead thereof frequent meetings of
their own, in opposition to our church order; or by adhering
to, or approving of any known Quaker, and the tenets and
practices of the Quakers, that are opposite to the orthodox
received opinions of the godly, and endeavouring to disaffect
others to civil government, and church orders, or condemning
the practice and proceedings of this court against the Quakers,
manifesting thereby their complying with those, whose design is
to overthrow the order established in church and state, every
such person, upon conviction before the said court of assistants,
in manner as aforesaid, shall be committed to close prison for
one month, and then, unless they choose voluntarily to depart
this jurisdiction, shall give bond for their good behaviour,
and appear at the next court, where continuing obstinate, and
refusing to retract and reform the aforesaid opinions, they
shall be sentenced to banishment upon pain of death; and any one
magistrate, upon information given him of any such person, shall
cause him to be apprehended, and shall commit any such person to
prison, according to his discretion, until he come to trial, as
aforesaid.’
Here endeth this sanguinary act, being more like to the decrees of
the Spanish Inquisition, than to the laws of a reformed Christian
magistracy, consisting of such who, to shun persecution themselves,
(which was but a small fine for not frequenting the public worship,)
had left Old England. This act was answered by Francis Howgill, and
the said answer published in print, wherein was plainly shown, that it
spoke the language of the ancient persecuting Jews and heathen. In the
sequel we shall see the bloody execution of it upon some persons.
THE FIFTH BOOK. 1659-1660.
1659.
In the forepart of the year 1659, there was great discord, and several
factions among the people in England; for some adhered to the protector
Richard, and others to the chief members of the long parliament; and
the royalists made also a party. G. Fox being under a concern lest some
young or raw people, who sometimes came amongst his friends, might be
drawn into some of those several interests, wrote an epistle, warning
such to be careful, and not at all to meddle with any plotting; but to
consider that their warfare was a spiritual one, and not at all wanting
the use of carnal weapons.
About this time William Caton came again into Holland, and finding
at Amsterdam some malicious people who endeavoured to bring his
fellow-believers there into trouble, and to stir up the mob against
them, that so the magistrates might take occasion to look upon the
Quakers as rioters, advised those of that persuasion to be circumspect,
and to avoid as much as possibly they could the impending storm. In
order thereto it was thought meet that their religious meetings, which
on the weekdays were kept pretty late at night, on the first days of
the week should not always be kept in one place, but sometimes in this,
and at other times in another house. Sometimes a meeting was kept
in an alley, at the town wall near the Regulars gate, where several
English people dwelt, from whence it was called the English Alley, and
has that name still: hither came very rude company, committing great
insolence. The time before that W. Caton was in Holland, he met with an
extraordinary rude encounter at the said place, insomuch that he seemed
in danger of his life; for some wicked people, not daring to do their
utmost in the house where he was, pushed him out of doors; but then a
woman pulled him into her house, where he was safe, though at first he
knew not whether he was among friends or foes. I yet well remember this
fact, being at that time with my parents in the said disturbed meeting.
Now Caton being a discreet and judicious person, and perceiving that
some of his friends there had more of a rash zeal than true wisdom,
advised the most moderate of them often to change meeting-places. In
the beginning a meeting was kept now and then in St. John’s street, so
called; and afterwards on Eland’s Graff, in an alley, at the house of
one Richard Langham; and also on the Angelier’s Graff, in the house of
my father; and some time after in the English alley abovesaid; and also
without the town, near the river Amstel, in Kuypers Padt, or Cooper’s
Lane; from whence the meeting was removed in the forepart of this year,
(if my memory doth not deceive me,) into the Verwers Padt, or Dyer’s
Lane; which was then without the city freedom, and the meeting-place
was in a large garret of a tanner’s house, where oftentimes came
abundance of people, and among these not a few of the rude rabble. Here
the meeting was continued till the year 1663, when that place came into
the possession of another owner.
W. Caton, after some stay in Holland, returned again to England. I
think it was in this year that William Ames went into Germany, where
being come into the Palatinate, he went to Heidelburgh, and came to
the court of the prince Elector, Charles Lodowick, who treated him
kindly, even at his own table, and seemed not to take offence at Ames’s
hat, which he kept on, though the lords and others that were in the
company, stood bareheaded. The baron of Helmont, who also was at that
court, was wont to tell afterwards, that Ames walking once with his hat
on, next to the prince in his garden, the courtiers asked the prince,
whether they should question Ames for this incivility; but the prince
said, ‘No, for I did expect that.’ At another time the prince made his
chaplain and Ames both dine with him, on purpose, as it seems, that
Ames, whom he knew to be a bold man, might find occasion to reprove
his chaplain; for at meat he suffered his jester to come, who playing
his tricks, the chaplain was silent; but Ames, who loved gravity, and
was averse to jesting, took occasion from thence to reprove such vain
actions; but chiefly he aimed at the chaplain, whom, because of his
silence at the lewd behaviour of the jester, he called a dumb dog;
which seemed to please the prince.
Now whilst William Ames was in the Palatinate, he got acquaintance
with the Baptists at Krieshiem, a town not far from Worms; and among
those people he found such entrance, that some families receiving the
doctrine he preached, bore a public testimony for it there, and so
continued till the settlement of Pennsylvania in America, when they
unanimously went thither, not as it seemed without a singular direction
of Providence; for not long after, a war ensued in Germany, where the
Palatinate was altogether laid waste by the French, and thousands of
people were bereft of their possessions, and reduced to poverty.
But to return to Ames, when some in the Palatinate began to give an
ear to his preaching, a fine was settled upon those that gave him
entertainment: but the prince Elector, being informed hereof, took off
that fine; and though those of the consistory did send for Ames, the
prince generously ordered them not to meddle with him. The prince’s
sister also behaved herself very kindly towards him, and received his
exhortations favourably.
A year after Ames came again into the Palatinate, with John Higgins,
and visiting the prince Elector, he understood from the captain of the
prince’s guard, that the prince was glad of Ames’s return thither.
Awhile after Higgins delivered to the prince Elector a book of G. Fox,
with a letter of Ames to the said prince, who was so well pleased with
it, that he bade Higgins to thank Ames on his behalf, saying also that
he took the coming of Ames and Higgins to him and his family very
kindly, and really believed that what they spoke was in love to their
souls.
Several years after this, some others of Ames’s friends from England,
visited the aforesaid prince Elector, and he always, (to his praise be
it said,) received them kindly. W. Ames, who was at sundry times in
Germany, came not only to Hamburgh, but travelled also through Bohemia
to Dantzick, and from thence to Poland. At Hamburgh and Dantzick he met
with some that received the Truth he preached; but in Poland people
were too rude and haughty, to get entrance among them.
In the forepart of this year, W. Ames being at Rotterdam in Holland,
was confined there in Bedlam; which having made a great a noise, I
will give a brief relation of it here. At Moordrecht, a village near
Gouda, lived at that time one Martin Martinson, a cooper by trade;
this man approving the doctrine preached by Ames at Rotterdam and
elsewhere, began to assert it as truth: and seeing now and then he
with some of his sober neighbours kept a meeting at his house, this
caused a great stir in the town, insomuch that sometimes he suffered
rude treatment from the people. Ames coming once there, and keeping a
meeting in Martin’s house, great insolence was committed by the wicked
rabble. And going from thence to pass over the water to Gouwerek, he
was followed by a multitude of riotous people, both young and old, with
a hideous cry of ‘Quake, Quake, Quake!’ And was pelted with stones and
clods, till he came to the boat that carried him over. The preacher
of Gouwerek hearing the noise, came to the boat, and asked what the
matter was, why people made such a sad noise? To which Ames answered,
‘It seems the people are not taught better.’ To which the preacher
returned, ‘They are not used to make such ado against honest people;
but I believe you to be a deceiving wolf, that comes among the sheep
to seduce them, and therefore they cry so.’ ‘Prove this,’ replied
Ames. ‘I do not know you,’ said the preacher. ‘Learn then,’ returned
Ames, ‘better manners, than to call one thou knowest not, a wolf and
deceiver.’ And so going his way, shortly after he wrote from Rotterdam
to Martin, and bade him go to the preacher, and desire him to appoint a
time to prove that Ames was a deceiving wolf. But to this the preacher
showed himself backward; yet to be rid of Martin, he said at length,
‘Come, I will prove it presently.’ But Martin replied, ‘I am not come
for that; but this must be done to Ames;’ and insisting thereon,
‘Well,’ said the preacher, ‘let him come next Sunday before noon, after
sermon; then I will prove it publicly before all the people.’
Of this Martin sent word to Ames; but things were managed so, that this
project of proof was quashed: for the preacher of Gouwerek went to
his colleague at Moordrecht, and consulted with him what to do in the
case; and Ames being come to Moordrecht on the first day of the month
called March, and the last of the week, though it was late at night,
was seen and known by some; who committed much violence upon the house
of Martin, where Ames was entered. The next day it was reported that
some of the sheriff’s men of Gouda were come to Gouwerek to apprehend
Ames when he came there; and at Moordrecht the dikegrave’s men came for
the same purpose; and so they took Ames prisoner, and carried him to
Rotterdam, where he was locked up in Bedlam, as a madman. And a week
after, Martin, for having kept meetings at his house, where not above
eight persons were come together, was also by the dikegrave’s men taken
prisoner in his house, and carried to Rotterdam, where he was locked up
with Ames. Who were the instigators of this business is plain enough,
though I do not mention them.
After Ames had not been much above three weeks in Bedlam, the
deputy-governor of the house, on the 27th of the month, about night,
came to him and Martin, and said, ‘If I was in your place, I would go
out.’ Which made Ames ask, whether he would suffer them to do so? To
which he answered, that he should not hinder them. Then Ames returned,
‘I will not be reputed as one that broke prison.’ To which the deputy
replied, ‘Nay, why should you be reputed so? You may go out freely; all
is unlocked, and the door will stand open for you; for the governors
are not minded that you should stay here.’ Then Ames said, ‘Well, I
intend to go out to-morrow.’ The next day Martin’s wife came to see her
husband; but the deputy told her, that he had an order in writing from
the dikegrave, that rather than to let Martin’s wife come to him, he
might let him and Ames go out together. The issue was, that they were
both let out that morning, it being the 28th of the month. But they
staid at Rotterdam, intending not to depart the town before they had
given notice to the dikegrave of their being let out; lest occasion
might be given for saying that they had broken prison. And it was not
without reason they were so cautious; for the next day, in the morning,
the deputy came to them, and said, ‘I desire that you will not bring
me into trouble, for I am an ancient man; and the dikegrave hath been
with me, and asked for you; to which I answered, that you were gone
out; but he took this very ill. I desire, therefore, that you would
say that you were gone out without my knowledge.’ But this was not to
be expected from Ames, whom I knew so well, that I truly believe that
he would rather have died, than to have spoken a lie: for in such a
case he was without question of the same mind as formerly Christian
Langedul, uncle to my grandmother by the mother’s side, who, when at
Antwerp, he, with others, martyrs, was led to the stake to be burnt,
cried out undauntedly, ‘If we would once but have told a lie, we might
have escaped this.’ But to return to Ames, he told the deputy, that
he himself intended to go and speak with the dikegrave; and if he was
displeased at their going out, he might put them in again where they
had been; for they would not have the name of prison-breakers.
Then they both went to the dikegrave, and told him after what manner
they were come out; saying also that they would not have it said, that
they broke out. ‘That name,’ said the dikegrave, ‘you would have had,
if you had departed the town; for the deputy hath told me that you
got out by breaking a window.’ After some other words were exchanged,
he further said, ‘I have nothing to object against your life and
conversation, having heard nothing concerning you but a good report;
neither do I seek to persecute you. But would you be willing to return
to Bedlam?’ Ames answered, ‘Here we stand before thee; thou mayest do
with us according to thy pleasure. And if thou desirest us to return
thither, we will do so.’ The dikegrave signifying that this was his
desire, said that they might go and walk in the gallery then, till
another order came. And so he caused his messenger to go along with
them. Being come thither, they not long retained the liberty to walk in
the gallery, but on the 31st of the month, they were locked up again,
each in a hole by himself. Now Ames acquainted the deputy that he heard
from the dikegrave, that he had been informed by him, that they were
got out by breaking a window. But the deputy denied to have said so.
They were detained there yet sometime, and were pretty much visited,
and this often by such as sought nothing but to scoff at them; and
among these a certain clergyman did not stick to say to Ames, that he
was a deceiver, because he wore pewter buttons, to make people believe
they were silver ones. Whilst Ames was confined here, he wrote some
papers which afterwards he published, and among these a reply to an
answer of one Jacob Koelman, to eighty-three queries given forth by the
said Ames; who now being set at liberty, travelled to Germany, as hath
been said before, and from thence going back to his native country,
after some time returned again into Holland, as did also William Caton.
But now I turn again to England, where an account was published in
print of the sufferings of the people called Quakers, which being
offered to the parliament, was delivered to the speaker, Thomas
Bampfield. This contained a relation of above one hundred and forty
persons, all distinguished by their names, who for keeping of meetings,
refusing to swear, not putting off their hats, not paying of tithes,
and their travelling up and down the country, had been taken up and
imprisoned, and many also had been deprived of their goods, and one
and twenty of these died either by sickness in prison, or by violent
abuses; among whom was Richard Sale, near West Chester, who being
constable, had a minister of the people called Quakers brought to
him, with a pass as a vagabond, whose conversation so convinced the
constable, that he gave him his pass and liberty. And because the said
Sale judged both priests and people to be exceedingly darkened, he
entered upon an extraordinary act, to show them by a sign that they
wanted to be enlightened, viz. he came in the day time with a lantern
and a burning candle into the steeple-house, during the sermon. But
this was resented to such a high degree, that by order of the mayor he
was put into prison, and thrust into a hole called Little Ease, which
was so strait, that it could not well receive his body; but he was
thrust in with such violence, that his body was bruised, and he spit
blood, and shortly after grew sick; and his body swelling, occasioned
by the squeezing it into the hole, he died in great pain. In the before
mentioned account it was also said that in the last six years, about
two thousand persons, for being Quakers, had suffered in their body and
goods. To this was added a paper, signed by more than one hundred and
sixty persons, (several of whom I knew,) whereby they offered to the
parliament to put themselves in the stead of their brethren, who were
confined either in prisons, or houses of correction, or in dungeons,
some being fettered, and others lying sick only on a little straw;
wherefore they declared themselves ready to change places with them out
of true love, that so they might go out, and not die by hardship, as
many had done already; to prevent which, they were willing to take upon
themselves the sufferings of their brethren, and lay down their lives
for them. Under their names they added, ‘If we had been of Esau’s race,
we should have fainted before this time; and if we had been of Cain’s
progeny, we should have fought with his weapons: but this never was,
neither is it the way of the righteous and chosen, of which we are,
from the foundation of the world.’ It was in the month called April,
that this paper was delivered to the parliament, but I do not find that
this offer was accepted, or any thing done for releasing the imprisoned.
About this time also Edward Burrough published a paper, containing a
very remarkable prediction of what followed the next year; when king
Charles the Second was placed on the throne. In it he saith, that as
he was travelling in Warwickshire, in the 1st month, his meditations
being upon the Lord, and considering what unjust and woful sufferings
had been inflicted upon the Lord’s people within these few years, a cry
went through him, ‘The Lord will be avenged, the Lord will be avenged
upon his enemies, and he will avenge the cause of his people.’ This cry
stuck close upon him, and his heart was even broken therewith, and his
spirit melted before the Lord, it being as it were said to him, ‘Write
unto the rulers, and yet once more warn them of that recompense, and of
that indignation, which is at hand upon them, even a just recompense
for all their deeds; and as they have done, even so shall it be done to
them; as they have sought to destroy the generation of the righteous,
even so shall they be destroyed from off the face of the earth; and as
they have unjustly judged and condemned the innocent, so shall they be
condemned, and justly judged of the Lord; and as they have cast the
bodies of the poor lambs of Christ into prison, and been a snare upon
them, even so shall they be insnared, and into captivity shall they go.
And as they have caused the goods and possessions of the innocent to
be spoiled, and made a prey, even so in like manner shall the curse of
the Lord spoil their substance. And as they have done, so shall it be
done unto them; and as they have meted to others, so shall it be meted
to them again.’ ‘And I saw a great misery and desolation nigh at hand,
even the sword of the Lord; and that it should slay them; and I beheld
it was made ready for the slaughter; and in the sense of these things
a sadness fell upon my spirit, considering the desolation and the
judgment that is at hand, to be executed upon the cruel oppressors.
‘Wherefore all ye rulers, and all ye that have trodden down the
heritage of God, and ye that have disregarded these many warnings
that ye have had; I say unto you all, in the power of the Lord
God, in his dominion, and by his Spirit, this is once more a
warning to you from the Lord, and that these things must surely
come to pass, and be fulfilled in their season, and no man shall
be able to deliver his brother; but every man shall bear his
own burden, and drink his own cup prepared for him: and though
it hath been counted a light thing amongst you, and you have
despised the reproof, and gone on without fear; yet in as much
as the Lord hath spared you, and not speedily executed judgment
upon you, but rather waited for your return; yet the dealing of
the Lord towards you, in sparing of you, you have not accepted;
and therefore shall his judgments be the greater upon you. For
if you do now come to the witness in your own consciences, what
evil hath this people done? Whose ox have they taken, or what
have they desired of you? Or what have they sought from you? Or
wherein have they been a burden to you? Saving that they have
reproved you for your iniquities, and desired your redemption?
Would you but now at last come to consider this, and confess the
Truth in your consciences, will not that tell you, that they
have patiently suffered all things that you have cruelly imposed
upon them? And have not they walked peaceably towards you, and
humbly, meekly, and justly among their neighbours? And have they
not been meek and innocent even as lambs, and as the sheep before
the shearers? And have they wrought offences towards any? Have
they sought the overthrow of the government, or have they sought
vengeance against their enemies? Or what injury have they done
to any man’s person, or estate, saving to satan and his kingdom?
Have they not sought to reform and reclaim the ungodly from their
ways? And have they not pitied and prayed for their enemies? And
have they not in all things walked in good conscience towards the
Lord, and towards all men? Yea, my friends, in the day of the
Lord, when the witness in your consciences shall not be limited,
but shall speak plainly, and when the impartial judge shall
appear upon his throne, then shall you acknowledge these things.
‘Wherefore I say unto you, receive the judgment of the Lord to
purify you, otherwise the judgment shall destroy you; and now
come to be more wise, that some of you may be as a brand plucked
out of the fire, and be reserved from being consumed; for the
visitation of the Lord is near an end, when his loving kindness
will be shut from you, and his long suffering turned into fury;
and he will make you know that we are his people, with whom you
have thus dealt; yea, you shall suddenly know it; the time is not
long till he will crown his people in the sight of his enemies;
he will crown them with praise and with righteousness, with
honour and majesty, and he will keep them in safety, even when
sorrow compasses you about; his mercy and loving kindness shall
extend towards them, even when his wrath and judgment smites you,
and confound you. O! What shall I say unto you; for the deep
sense thereof remains upon my heart; when I consider, how that
in all ages the Lord did avenge his people’s cause, and when
the time of their suffering was expired, he broke the bonds of
iniquity, and set them free. Thus did he with his people Israel
of old, and many times it was his way with his people, to bring
them low by suffering, and then to raise them up again in glory;
and he suffered their enemies for a season to glory over them,
that he might bring them down. And thus he did in England, in
the case between the bishops and their crew of persecutors, and
the poor people at that day called Puritans: did not he confound
that persecuting crew, and deliver his people? And is not he the
same to effect the same work at this very day? Yea, doubtless,
and much more will he do, in as much as the manifestation of
Truth is more clear than it was in their days; and in as much
as the rulers and people of this nation have rejected a more
clear testimony, than either the Papists in Queen Mary’s days,
or the bishops and prelates in their days; even so much the more
will the Lord God execute his vengeance with more violence, in a
more manifest way; and all shall know, that it is he that doth
it, and he will set his people free: for he hath regarded their
sufferings, and he hath said it is enough; for he hath tried
them, and found them faithful; and all this hath been suffered
to prove them, and not to destroy them: and like as he hath
preserved them in patience and peace through it all, even so will
he give them hearts to walk answerably to their deliverance; and
as they have abounded in patience in their sufferings, so shall
they abound in praises everlasting in the day of their freedom;
and the earth shall be glad, and shall yield the increase and
blessing: the heavens and earth shall rejoice, and the hearts
of the righteous shall leap for joy; when the Lord hath broken
the yoke of the oppressed, and set his people free, inwardly and
outwardly; and then shall they sing to the Lord over all their
enemies, who shall be tormented and vexed in the Lord’s sore
displeasure; for their reward cometh, and their recompense shall
be even as their work, and he will give unto them sorrow and
anguish, instead of rejoicing.
‘But again, when I considered the long-suffering, and patience,
and forbearance of the Lord’s innocent people under all their
sufferings; and when I looked at their innocency, and at their
righteousness, and spirit of holiness, with which the Lord hath
blessed them, my heart was made glad in the consideration of
this; and the more was my joy, the more I beheld their innocency,
and the guiltlessness of their cause; whereby the unjustness of
their suffering did the more appear: and withal, when I looked
and beheld their increase under all their sufferings, and how
that the Lord had turned all these things to their good, and to
the overthrow of all their enemies; how that by that way, wherein
their enemies intended to destroy them from being a people, even
thereby did the Lord most wonderfully increase them to be a great
people; for through all have they grown in life and power, and
in strength, and in number, and through it all have they been
encouraged to follow the Lord with more zeal and boldness. And in
the consideration of this I did rejoice, with magnifying the Lord
forever, that he had brought forth his praise, even through the
wickedness of the wicked, and he had increased his people, and
exalted them through the cruelty of all their enemies; and that
through all opposition they were attained unto a happy rest, and
through all the tempest of great trial, they were arrived into
the harbour of renown and great glory: and when I consider this,
how that the Lord hath given them dominion, and brought their
life to reign over all their enemies, these things were a joy
unto me; and looking back into ages, seeing there was nothing,
nor any people for generations, that had grown, and risen through
all opposition like unto these; wherefore it is a sign and
testimony that we are the Lord’s, and that these things are of
him, and from him, and by him alone, that he might be praised
forever.
‘Again, when I do consider, how that the Lord had raised his
people, even out of the dust; and them that were not a people,
are become a people, and the Lord hath provoked nations by them
that were not a people within these few years; and the Lord hath
carried on this work amongst his people, not by any thing of man,
nor by the arm of flesh; but in pure innocency and simplicity
hath it been accomplished; not by the wisdom of this world, nor
by men in places of honour, and of power in the nations; for all
that has been wanting to them; and what they are, it is through
the opposition of all this; for they have had none of the great
men of the earth on their side to defend them, and establish
them, but all have been against them; and even oppression and
tyranny executed upon them, rather than any approbation, or
justification from men in outward authority: so that truly it
may be said, there hath been nothing of man in this work, but
all of the Lord, by his own power; and in a contrary way to all
the false sects, and false churches, hath the beginning and
carrying on of these things been: for we know that all the false
sects in this nation, have risen and been established through
the countenance of men in place and power; and upon man, and the
wisdom of this world, and authority of the powers of the earth,
hath the rise and fall of all false churches depended; and as the
powers of the earth have sided with them, so have they been set
up; and at the displeasure of authority, have been cast down. But
as for this people, they are raised of the Lord, and established
by him, even contrary to all men; and they have given their power
only to God, and they cannot give their power to any mortal men,
to stand or fall by any outward authority, and to that they
cannot seek; but to the Lord alone, who heareth their cry, and
will avenge their cause.
‘Wherefore let all the persecutors bow before the Lord, and let
all the saints walk humbly in his sight, and let them continue in
that innocent life in which they have begun; and let them never
forget the mercies of the Lord, and what he hath brought to pass,
who hath manifested great things, and will do more and more to
the confounding of all his enemies, and to the praise of his
elect people. And all ye saints upon the earth, have ye the Lord
in respect continually, and turn you not unto idols, but let the
Lord be your joy for evermore.
E. B.’
Not long after the publishing of this paper, to wit, in the month
called May, Edward Burrough, and Samuel Fisher, went from Dover to
Dunkirk, where there was an English garrison. Being come there, it
quickly spread over the town. The governor, Lockhart, now not being
there, his deputy, colonel Alsop, with the council of officers, sent
for them; and they being come, were asked, what their business was
there? To which they gave answer, and the next morning signified in
writing, that their coming was to visit the jesuits, friars, and
priests, and other papists, to show them the errors of their ways, and
the falseness of their worship, &c. they being called to preach the
everlasting gospel to the nations. They were some hours in discourse
with the said deputy, and the officers, and not unkindly treated; but
the deputy however said, that it would be dangerous for them to stay
in the town: and therefore he desired them to depart. To which their
answer was, that if he desired them, they, could not receive any such
desire; and if he commanded them, they could not obey his command in
that case; because they could not depart the town but in the will of
God; according to which will they came thither. After much reasoning
they left them, and the next day went to the Capuchin friars, and had
some discourse with the chiefest of them in their garden, concerning
the light of Christ, that every man is enlightened withal; and told
them, that the mighty day of the Lord was at hand upon them; and that
the Lord was come to search and try them; and that he would hew down
their idolatrous ways, worships and works. The next day Burrough wrote
some queries to the friars and nuns, in and about that town, which were
sent to them in Latin. The introduction was thus:
‘The mighty day of the Lord is come, and coming upon you, and
all the world. Awake, awake, ye that sleep in the earth, for
the dreadful God is arising to plead with you, and to give
unto all the world the cup of his fierce indignation, because
of your idolatries, and hypocrisies, and abominations, which
have corrupted the earth, and are come up before him, and have
provoked him; and the cry of the just, who have been smitten, and
laid slain, is entered into the ears of the Most High, and his
sword, which is the word of his mouth, is awakened to wound and
destroy all his enemies. And the day of your visitation is now
come, wherein the Lord is searching you, and trying you, that he
may recompense you: and this is the word of the Lord to you.
‘Wherefore, I am moved of the Lord to propound some few queries
to you, for the trial of your spirits and ways; to which I demand
your answer, that all things may be brought to light and true
judgment, and that you may be judged justly, and by the spirit of
the Lord cleared or condemned according to your deeds.’
These queries were partly concerning the orders of friars and nuns,
whether any such were in the church in the apostles’ days; and
concerning the popish worship and ceremonies, demanding proof of their
lawfulness from the Holy Scriptures. After the delivering of these
queries to the Capuchins, Burrough and Fisher went also to the friars
of other orders, and entered into discourse with them: but their
plain speeches against the idolatrous rites and ceremonies, found no
entrance. After some stay in the town, they going to the college of
the jesuits, got into discourse with their chief rector; and after a
conference of about three hours, he grew weary, and pretending other
business, would stay no longer with them; and so they parted, asking
him, whether he would admit more discourse at some other time; but he
refused it. Burrough afterwards wrote a letter to him, which began thus:
‘Friend, thy wisdom and thy knowledge is earthly and sensual, and
thereby canst thou not know the things of the kingdom of God:’
and he concluded with this query: ‘What is that whore that hath
sat upon multitudes of people? and what is that golden cup in
her hand? and what are the abominations and fornication of which
her cup is full, which she hath caused the kings and people to
drink,’ &c.
But neither this query nor the others were answered. Burrough and
Fisher did also visit the nuns; and speaking to them through a grate,
they asked if they were of the order of those called Quakers; and soon
perceiving they were such, they said, they might not hear them, and so
presently passed away; whereby Burrough and Fisher were deprived of
any opportunity to speak to them; only they witnessed against them.
E. Burrough wrote also some propositions to the jesuits, priests, and
friars, wherein he particularly represented the tyranny of the church
of Rome in true colours; and these propositions were sent to them in
Latin. They staid yet some days in town, and had divers meetings among
the English soldiers: and Burrough also wrote to them, and bid them
be faithful to the Lord, and not to seek themselves in their service,
but the honour of God: he also showed them what their duty was in
their military station; and, (not to give them too rough a brush, but
to meet them somewhat in their own way; following therein the example
of John the Baptist, when he spoke to the soldiers, Luke iii. 14,)
told them, ‘What do you know but the Lord may have some good work for
you to do, if you be faithful to him?’ and he also signified to them,
that since the Lord one day would avenge the innocent blood shed in
the pope’s dominion, and appear against Babylon and Rome, the seat of
the whore, and the kingdom of antichrist, it seemed not improbable to
him, that the Lord would make way thereto by the English nation. ‘It
is,’ said he, ‘the Lord’s work, I know, to make men truly religious;
but yet he may work by you, to break down the briars and thorns, and
the rocks and hills that have set themselves against the Lord,’ &c. He
also advised them, if ever such a work fell to be their lot, not to
be ambitious, nor vain-glorious, but to make it their work to demand
the disannulling of the popish inquisition and cruel laws. And the
officers he charged, not to be as tyrants and oppressors over the poor
soldiers, but to be loving and meek, and examples of all goodness unto
them; to this he added: ‘and having no sin lying upon your consciences,
then shall ye face your enemies with courage, and not fear death, but
shall be ready to lay down your lives in a good cause.’ But lest any
might think he was for the bearing of arms, and not for harmlessness or
non-resistance, he told them also, that the Lord had a more honourable
work to work after them, viz. to destroy the kingdom of the devil, and
the ground of wars. And that there was a more honourable victory to be
waited for, to wit, the victory over sin, &c.
Burrough and Fisher being once sent for by the governor Lockhart, found
many officers with him; and after some friendly discourse, they advised
them to moderation, and the fear of God, and so parted from them: and
after having performed their service in the town, they returned to
England.
Not long after Burrough gave the aforesaid queries out in print, and
wrote also a paper to the parliament; exhorting those that were members
of that assembly, to fear God, and not to oppress honest people, but to
free them from oppression and tyranny; lest the Lord come suddenly upon
them and break them to pieces.
The power of the protector Richard Cromwell already declining, he was
prevailed upon by the officers of the army to dissolve this parliament,
which began to make inquiry how the subsidies were employed; and by
the direction of some of the chief republicans, the long parliament
was called again. This parliament set up a committee of safety,
for apprehending those that disturbed the peace, and for making an
alteration among the military officers, either by cashiering them, or
otherwise; and, increasing in power, erected also a council of state;
and word was sent to Richard Cromwell, who was now deprived of all
power, to remove from Whitehall, which at length he did, the parliament
allowing him two thousand pounds for the charges of removing, and
promising to pay his debts contracted for the public: and his brother
Henry, who was lord deputy of Ireland, was called back by the
parliament. Thus these two brothers were again reduced to the state of
private men.
E. Burrough now wrote a letter to the parliament, and seriously
exhorted them therein to desist from all persecution for religion,
and to take away that which gave occasion thereunto. About this time
there was an insurrection in Cheshire for king Charles, under sir
George Booth; who, having received a commission from that prince, got
such numbers of followers, that he seized the city of Chester. In the
meanwhile the parliament sent Edmund Ludlow to Ireland, to be commander
in chief of the army there, instead of Henry Cromwell, and general
Lambert was sent with an army against Booth. Now since some rash people
that went under the name of Quakers, were for taking up arms under
Lambert; and that the committee of safety offered great places and
commands to some of that persuasion, thereby to draw them off from
the truth they professed; G. Fox wrote a paper, wherein he showed the
unlawfulness of wars and fightings, representing it as a work not at
all becoming the followers of Christ: and he exhorted his friends not
to join with those that took up arms, but to fight only with spiritual
weapons, which took away the occasion of the carnal. This he also
recommended in his preaching, for an harmless and inoffensive life, was
that which he always asserted and practised.
As for Booth, he was defeated, and endeavouring to make his escape in
women’s clothes, was discovered in an inn, and taken into custody;
and being carried to London, by an order of the parliament, he was
committed to the Tower. The officers of the army, of which George
Fleetwood was now commander in chief, were very busy to get the upper
hand of the parliament; which caused great division and distraction in
the nation; for it was well known that if the supreme power was offered
up to the army, they then could do what they would; and thus the nation
would be governed by the sword. It was also fresh in memory, that
it was the army by which Cromwell had been advanced so as to become
protector, and supreme ruler of the nation: and therefore many opposed
the design on foot.
About this time also the military officers moved the taking off of the
burden of tithes, and to settle another maintenance for the national
preachers. But being unwilling that the parliament should be masters of
the army, they complained of having been deceived by the parliament;
and colonel Desborough said, that they had not performed any part of
the promises they had made to the army; that they had taken no care to
secure a liberty to tender consciences; and that their intention was to
remove the principal officers, and place others in their commands, who
were of different principles.
Now the council of officers was for calling a new parliament; but this
met with no small opposition. In this bustle the council of officers
began to insinuate with the clergy, and they agreed with them, that
their maintenance by tithes should not be taken away till another
revenue as ample and certain should be settled upon them; that some
provision should be made for those who differed in faith and worship
from the established church; but that the Quakers and some others,
whose principles they said tended to the destruction of civil society,
should not be tolerated at all. In this distracted state of affairs,
when some were for, and others against the parliament, so that it
was hardly well known in whom the supreme authority resided, Edward
Burrough wrote and published in print a large speech, which he stiled,
‘A message to the present rulers of England, whether committee of
safety, so called, council of officers, or others whatsoever.’ He
signified by way of introduction, that the contents had been upon him
to deliver by speech and word of mouth, to the men then in power; but
no way being made for him so to do, he had written what was upon him.
And then he begins thus with a majestic strain.
‘_Friends_,
‘My Master, is a high, and mighty, and powerful prince, and
very honourable; and fear, reverence, respect, and subjection
belong to him alone, from you and all mankind. He is wise, and
understanding, and of great strength, and his dominion is from
everlasting to everlasting; and he can do whatsoever he will
in heaven and earth, for he rules with his iron rod over the
world, and whatsoever he saith, it is done; for his word is an
everlasting command. If he saith to a man, live, it is so; if
he saith to a man, die, it cometh to pass; and if he give peace
to a man, or a nation, none can make war; and if he make war
with a person, or in a nation, no man is able to make peace.
For why? He hath all power in his hand, and to him all judgment
and authority is given; he is the Son of the living God, the
everlasting Creator. He was, and is, and is to come; his eye
beholdeth all things, and his arm compasseth heaven and earth;
and what his purpose is, he hath always and will ever bring it
to pass. If he set up rulers, they must rule; and if he pull
them down none can hinder: whom he will, he honoureth; and if
it be his pleasure, he bringeth men to shame. If he break a
nation down, none can build it up; and if he confound powers and
authorities in the kingdoms of men, they all fall as withered
grass before him. Behold, ye men! He is so great and mighty, and
of so great authority, that whatsoever he saith, it is done;
and whatsoever he willeth, it cometh to pass; and none is able
to resist him, and overcome his power, when his pleasure is to
accomplish a work. By him all things are that be, and all things
live that have life, and through him all things move, and of his
fullness, every creature in heaven and earth receive. And this,
my Master, is altogether honourable in birth, and otherwise, and
altogether mighty in all his works; he is just and merciful, full
of goodness, righteousness, and truth; all virtue dwells in him,
and his judgment and mercy, his authority and meekness, and his
wrath and his love, they are companions: and what are ye before
him? Or how shall ye be able to resist him, or to turn backward
what his purpose is, concerning you, and this nation? For ye have
no being nor breath without him. Behold ye men! Ye are verily as
the dust before the wind, so are ye to him, soon blown away, and
your place not found; as the grass before the mower, so are ye
before him, soon cut down, and whithered, and your beauty utterly
extinguished: as a potter’s vessel under an iron rod, even so are
you to him, he can immediately break you, never to be bound up;
as a drop to the fountain, so are you to him, soon dried up and
made nothing. Wherefore, ye men, ye mortal creatures, ye ignorant
persons, sons of a transgressor, ye dust and ashes: for thus you
are in comparison of him, this mighty prince; hearken to his
message, which cometh to you from him; hear and fear, and be not
stout-hearted against the Lord God, that is about to speak unto
you.
‘As for this little island of England, wherein your present place
and being is, it is an island which the Lord hath showed great
favour unto in ages past, and in this present time; and I must
tell you, he hath a purpose of love towards it, and to honour
it in the view of the world, though through great tribulations:
and he hath an intent of great good unto it; for he hath a seed,
a precious seed in it scattered abroad, and he hath a people
that fear his name, and have walked in his ways, and he hath
made them, and elected them, and what they are, it is by him;
that he may dwell among them, and have the whole government
over them all; yea, he hath a speedy purpose verily concerning
this nation, and he will purify it in judgment, and refine its
inhabitants through the fire of tribulations, that it may be
pleasant to him, and fit to do his will: he hath a purpose to
work some great thing in it, I must tell you, as he hath said
unto me so to do; he will have his name exalted and reverenced
in this island, and his terror shall be sent out of it through
the world, and his branch from it shall spread over the earth;
he doth purpose in his season to take it into his own hand,
and to sway the government thereof with his own sceptre, and
to set up righteousness alone, and to overthrow all oppressors
and oppressions; and the kingdoms of this world must become the
kingdoms of the Lord, and of his Christ.
‘True it is, such hath been the coming to pass of time, and
of things for many ages by-past, that my master hath been, as
it were, banished from the nation, and hath not been suffered
to enjoy his right; but hath been expelled, even, as it were,
by the force of satan and antichrist, who hath long usurped
authority over the inhabitants of this nation; and in my Master’s
absence, lamentable injustice, cruelty, unmercifulness, tyranny,
and oppression have been exercised upon the inhabitants; and
the poor creatures have been held in great slavery by their
rulers, that have ruled by the dragon’s power; and been kept
in great blindness and ignorance, and under great oppression,
both in body and spirit, by antichristian teachers, for this
many years; even while the great King hath been absent, and,
as it were, gone into a far country; even all this time hath
antichrist and the devil ruled and reigned, and have made and
executed oppression, and tyrannical laws and decrees, both in
church and state; and all the nation hath been out of right
order, and laid waste and barren of good fruit, and it hath been
as a wilderness by reason hereof; and men that have ruled for
many years, have not ruled singly by my Master’s authority, but
by another power; though not without the knowledge of my Lord,
neither as though he had not power to have done otherwise; but
for his own pleasure he hath suffered it thus to be, and let men
go on to rule and govern in their own wills, and after their
own lusts; and people have walked wickedly towards him, and
towards one another; and all this he hath suffered; not as if
he gave toleration for it; for his messengers now and then, and
his witness in people’s consciences, have been reproving their
ungodly ways; and he hath often showed his dislike by divers
ways, and tokens, and many judgments, and strange overturning, to
the way and proceedings of both rulers, prophets, and teachers
of this nation; but yet they have gone on against his mind, and
contrary to his will, notwithstanding his reproofs and judgments.
Not that he had not power to have executed his pleasure in wrath
upon them, and to have destroyed them altogether, and have
made the nation a heap, and as nothing long before this day;
for power was in his hand to have done it; but he hath been
long-suffering and of great patience, and borne all things, and
taken the injustice, and cruelty, and wickedness, and idolatry,
and all unrighteousness that hath abounded in the nation upon
himself, and suffered under it, and borne it for its season,
while woful and lamentable oppressions have been practised in
civil state, even hellish laws, and devilish executors of them;
merciless tyrants have borne the sceptre, and reigned for many
years over the inhabitants, and in church and state have been
heinous idolatry and superstitious vanities committed in a high
nature and measure, and even all men, and states of men, and
orders of men of every degree have been abominably corrupted in
the sight of my Lord, even from the prince to the beggar, even
rulers and subjects, teachers and people, judges and prophets.
They have been corrupted both in heart and hand, and they have
dealt falsely and wickedly towards him and towards one another;
even to the great displeasure and vexation of him, and his
blessed spirit, and to the high provocation of him to their
own destruction, if his long-suffering had not prevailed; and
all this while he hath lain as it were asleep, and at rest in
himself; and he hath left men to try them, what they will do, and
he hath given them a day; many kings and rulers, he hath let them
have a little time, to see how they would use it, but they have
abused it and not ruled for him, nor accomplished his work nor
fulfilled his will, but acted even in defiance of him and of his
power, and to his great dishonour.
‘Alack! I must be plain with you: my Lord hath been utterly
exiled, and greatly dishonoured, and highly provoked and vexed by
reason of such proceedings, as have been in this nation for this
many years, through the corruption of all sorts of men in place
and power, who have not ruled for him, but for the devil to their
own corrupted ends: only he hath suffered men to go on in their
course for a season; some as it were appearing on the stage for a
time, and suddenly cast down again for their iniquities sake; and
his hand hath been in all these things, though very privately and
secretly, not known and discerned by the sons of men, yet hath
he ruled over the kingdoms of men, and pulled down one, and set
up another. And to forbear the several actings and proceedings
of many by-passed ages, and to come to this generation, and to
speak of things that have happened within these few years, and of
the changing and overturning that hath happened in this nation;
such was the cruelty, tyranny, oppression and idolatry both in
church and civil state, that the people of this nation were held
under, in the days of papal power; such, I say, was the exceeding
height of the cruelty and tyranny of that time, that not any that
feared or reverenced my Lord, in any measure, could scarce live,
or have a being in the nation. Even against every man that did
but incline towards him, and desire the knowledge of his ways,
hell’s mouth was opened against them, and they were swallowed,
and many of their lives taken from the earth, by the hellish
power that had in that day usurped authority in this island; and
when thus it was, then he looked down from heaven, and his bowels
of compassion were opened, for the sake of the oppressed people
that desired after him, in so much that he broke and threw down
the power of their oppressors in some measure, as it stood in
papal authority, and when the iniquity of that power was filled
up, he took vengeance upon it; and I must tell you, it was he
that brought it about, even the destroying of that power in this
nation, and freeing the nation from it, though the men that were
instruments in the cause were not his servants, otherwise than
as Nebuchadnezzar served him; for he hath a secret way to have a
service from the wicked, and such is his power, that he can turn
the wickedness of the wicked to his glory, and he can make a rod
to whip his adversaries, and burn it when he hath done, and he
hath often destroyed one wickedness by another.
‘Well, but to leave that, though he did in some measure, free the
nation from much tyranny and cruelty, in the casting out popish
authority, yet alack! the nation in a few years was near as much
violated by injustice and cruelty, under the succeeding power,
as ever it was once under the papal power; though before, there
had been some small reformation and change in outward appearance,
though little in ground and nature; yet oppression, and idolatry,
and superstition, in church and state, and all profaneness and
wickedness among people were grown so high, like as it had
been under the papal power before; and all that desired after
the Lord, and were weary of iniquity, and of the then present
oppressions and idolatries, were persecuted, and slain, and
destroyed; and injustice and cruelty exercised upon them, even
almost to the rooting out of righteousness, and to the grieving
of the Lord’s spirit. Well then, because of the cry of the
people, and the oppression of the nation under that authority,
my Lord looked down again; and even for his name’s sake, and for
his seed’s sake, he had compassion on this nation, to set it
free, and to break off its oppressions; and in a great measure
he did deliver the people of this nation in many things, and
there was a part of reformation wrought, and much pretended and
looked for; and all this came to pass through him, and my Lord
did accomplish it, however the instruments by which he wrought
proved deceitful, and became oppressors, as others before them;
and though there was in this nation a day of great troubles, and
wars, and contention, and great strife, and the wasting of much
blood, and earthly treasure, and none of these things, I must
tell you, fell without the ordering of my Master’s hand; yet so
it was, and came to pass, that after this nation was restored to
peace, though much unrighteousness and injustice was removed,
yet there was much also left behind; and men that he had used as
instruments in his hand, in a good work, and to whom he had given
wisdom and understanding, and appeared in much mercy and in great
deliverance, yet they even turned to seek themselves, and became
corrupted in the spoils of their enemies. And when peace and
plenty abounded, the Lord was forgotten again; and then the land
fell under oppressors, and began again to cry out for freedom,
even when other horns of the first beast sprang up, and went on
each of them after his fellow. And though one horn hath striven
to break another, yet after one hath been cast down, another hath
risen, and made an image to the first; and ruled and reigned by
the same spirit, and authority, derived from the dragon’s power
in cruelty and oppression; and made laws and executed them to
the dishonour of the Lord, and to the great oppression of his
people, and to the filling of this island with injustice and
cruelty, even from one generation to another, until this day: and
thus up and down have times and seasons been altered, powers and
authorities changed and altered, statutes, laws, and decrees,
changeable and alterable; for as the iniquity of one power was
filled up, that was cast down, and another had its day, till the
measure thereof was also filled up, that it might partake of the
same judgments. And in all these overturnings, breakings-down,
and overthrowings, the very hand of my Lord hath been, though
secretly, and not discerned; yet his power hath brought about,
and suffered all these things to come to pass: and who shall
charge him with injustice? Or, who shall say, ‘What hast thou
done?’ Or, ‘Why hast thou done it?’ For, as I have said, he is
a high and mighty prince, and can do whatsoever he will; and he
is the supreme power and authority, which rules and reigns in
and over all the kingdoms of men. And what though he hath used
wicked men as an instrument to accomplish his work, and made the
wicked his rod; and even brought it to pass, that one wickedness
should destroy another, and one oppressor break down another, and
the kingdom of antichrist confound itself; yet what of all these
things? All flesh must be silent before him, and all people, and
the whole earth must be subject unto him; for the government
and dominion over heaven and earth is his, and all power and
dominion belongeth to him alone, and all judgment is in his hand,
to bring to pass whatsoever he will, and by whomsoever, as he
pleaseth.
‘But now, my friends, though I would not be tedious to you, yet
must I tell you the truth, and faithfully deliver the Lord’s
message unto you; and as concerning this last overturning, there
was something of the hand of my Lord in it; and he can, and will
bring forth his own work and praise by it, and it shall be for
the good of all his people, that wait upon him, though there was
much ambition and corrupted ends in the instruments, and neither
part were perfectly single to the Lord in their proceedings,
but their work was tainted with the false idolatrous spirit of
self-seeking; yet notwithstanding, the Lord may bring forth his
government, and his pleasant plant, through and beyond all this,
even out of another root, which yet appears not among either of
them; and righteousness may arise in the nation, contrary to both
of them, out of another stem, and he will set up his kingdom, and
in the meantime, leave one potsherd of the earth to break another.
‘And as for you, that now sit on the throne and bear rule,
whether committee of safety, so called, chiefly, though it is
not without my Master, for he hath the knowledge of it at least,
yet you are not the only men of his choice, truly called of
him to the place of government, neither is your government the
government of the Lamb, neither must it be forever established
by him; its foundation is not blessed, nor can its building be
prosperous. For why? Alas, it is but another horn of that fourth
beast, that hath been made to rule over the world, and upon the
earth for many generations, and it is but hitherto a very little
refined from the last, and is of the last, even as the eighth
was of the seventh, spoken of by that servant, Rev. xvii. 11,
and it may also make war with the Lamb and his followers for
a little season, and it may have a small measure of injustice
and persecution to bring forth in the land, even till the words
of God be fulfilled, and his kingdom be fully come, the way of
which is but yet preparing by all these overturnings. And this
your present government originally is leavened with the spirit
of the old dragon, that hath killed the saints, and drunk their
blood, and how should the Lord establish it? Nay, your kingdom
may prove but small and little, and full of uproars and troubles,
and little peace, and satisfaction and establishment in it to
yourselves, or the people under you; but confusion will attend
it, and fears will compass it about: though this I must tell
you, as you are men, you have your day of trial what you will
do, as many others have had before you; and something you may
and ought to do, if but to make the whore, (the false church,)
more naked, and to scourge her, more than some others have done;
and indeed my Lord requires something more of you, (as such,) to
do, than others before you could do; and you have a price put
into your hands, which you may improve to the Lord’s honour,
and to the nation’s good, and to your own happiness; which, if
you will be faithful to the Lord, to do what he requires of
you, and if you become meek and humble men, and fear his name,
and deny yourselves, and not seek your own honours, nor any
earthly advantage to yourselves; if you do thus, then my Lord
will show mercy to you, and you shall not suddenly fall before
your enemies, though many may rise up against you; but your days
shall be lengthened, and the purpose of the Lord may be turned
to your longer continuance, and not to your sudden destruction;
and if you walk in this way, and rule only for the Lord, then
shall you be honoured as men if not as an authority, and you
and the nation preserved in peace, and the force of the wicked
shall be turned backward, and you shall not suddenly fall. And
the late sundry overturnings in this nation may be examples to
you, that you follow not the steps of those that God hath cast
out, lest you come to the same end of confusion and misery:
for, as concerning that assembly of men, that last sat on the
throne, something was done by them in their day and time, and in
both their assemblings, in some things they served my Lord, and
they were a rod in his hand to smite his enemies; yet they were
not faithful to the end, till all his enemies were destroyed,
but rather joined themselves to fight against the Lord and his
people, and were hastening on towards the way of oppression and
persecution; and it was time for the Lord to remove them, and
to lay them aside as an empty vessel, sometime useful; and to
break them as a rod, sometime of service to be a scourge upon his
enemies. And when the day of their trial was over, which God gave
unto them, being any longer, (at present,) unfit instruments for
his hand, then he cast them into the fire; and this his purpose
came to pass upon them; so that they and the whole nation may
be contented, and yield themselves subject to what he hath done
concerning them; for they being entering into the very same
spirit of wickedness, of oppression and persecution, which the
Lord had once reproved through them, and cast out by them; then
was a rod raised up against them, even as they had been against
others, and they were dealt withal as they had done to others;
and this was in the justice of my Lord’s hand; and what hath
mortal man to question his proceedings? And though some of you,
(present rulers,) be looked upon as great traitors and tyrants in
your dealings towards them; and doubtless the men of that part
will seek vengeance against you, even by preaching and praying;
and they will curse you in the name of their God, and seek
continually your destruction, as such as have taken away part of
their strength, and cast down their idol; but alas! All this is
nothing; for the Lord doth not account as men; for these things
must needs thus come to pass, for the furtherance of the kingdom
and government of Jesus Christ, that it may arise through all;
and if you were but faithful to what the Lord requires of you,
in your proceedings, what you have done unto them should not be
reckoned on account against you, neither by God, nor good men.
But if you of the army be always treacherous and disobedient
towards him, and abuse your power, and disregard your price that
God hath given you, and trifle away your hour about places of
honour, and such self-seeking matters, and the cause of God be
neglected by you, and his people continued oppressed sufferers
under you, as they have long been; even then shall you be cast
aside with shameful disgrace, and the heavy hand of the Lord
shall be upon you in judgment, and you shall be smitten more
than any before you; your estates shall not be spared from the
spoiler, nor your souls from the pit, nor your persons from the
violence of men, no, nor your necks from the axe: for if you be
unfaithful, and continually treacherous to the cause of God,
then shall you be left to the will of your enemies, and they
shall charge treachery and treason upon you, and your persons and
estates shall be given for a prey to your enemies; and you shall
not deliver yourselves, neither will the Lord deliver you from
the execution of merciless men; for my Lord shall leave the cruel
hearted to plead with you.
‘Wherefore, that you may be warned, I advise you to be faithful;
let not the cause of God fall, nor the cause of his enemies
prosper before you; for there is no other way whereby you can
be preserved, nor no other defence shall you ever find from the
wrath of the Lord, and from the fury of your devouring enemies,
than your faithfulness in God’s cause; and therefore relieve
the oppressed, and take off all oppressions, break down all
unjust laws, and set all people free from unjust burdens, and
let all oppression cease, both in church and civil state; and
even all oppressive laws, and unjust judges, and evil men in
power, let all these be removed, and the nation clean quitted
and discharged, even from all men and laws whatsoever, that have
held under oppression the persons, estates, and consciences of
the good people of this land; and let the nation be corrected,
and all orders and places of men, and laws and decrees be
purified: for this my Lord, the great King, requireth, and he
will suddenly have it brought to pass in the nation, if not by
you, then contrary to you, and to your utter destruction. And
this is the very substance of my message to you, that my Master
hath given me to say unto you; and on his behalf I am come to
claim of you my Master’s long lost right: let him have his right,
from which he hath long been banished; I demand it of you, all
ye whatsoever, that seem to bear rule in the nation; I charge
you in his name let him have his title and prerogative, let him
be Lord and King wholly in his own kingdom, let him have the
exercise of his people’s consciences by his own Spirit in all
things relating to his worship and service; and let him have the
full authority by his Spirit in all things pertaining to church
and ministry, and faith, and religion; and let his Spirit have
the alone authority to persuade and dissuade people from, or to,
such or such ministry, worship, and practices of religion; and
let all forced maintenance to ministers, and tithes, be speedily
taken away; and let all laws and decrees whatsoever, made and
practised in the days of antichrist, upon the bodies, estates,
and consciences of the people, in oppression and unjustness about
church, and worship, and religion, be utterly repealed, and made
void, and never more be in force in this nation; but let my Lord
be sole ruler and governor, and have the full authority in his
own kingdom, in all things whatsoever pertaining thereunto. And
let no man henceforth hereafter be intrusted with the liberties
of the members of Christ’s kingdom, as they are such, nor to
judge over them in any matters of faith and worship, but give
that right and privilege wholly unto the Spirit of Jesus Christ;
for unto him only it pertaineth to be whole judge, and to have
full power in his own kingdom; and until you give him the right,
and deliver up unto him his own kingdom, and the exercise of
peoples’ consciences in all things about religion, you shall
never prosper, nor none that cometh after you, that shall in any
measure abridge my Master of his proper right, from which he hath
long been banished, as I have said; and till his right be given
him, in the case aforesaid, he will dash one man against another,
and none shall ever be established; but horn after horn shall be
broken, and one power after another brought into confusion.
‘And, therefore, ye men, do not strive with him in this matter,
but yield unto him the exercise of your own consciences by his
Spirit in you, and let him do so unto all others, even as ye
hope to prosper, and upon the penalty of his sore displeasure
upon you in this world, and in the world to come; and let just
men, and righteous men, and meek men, and men that have the
fear and wisdom of God in them, without acceptation of birth, or
otherwise; let such men have the power and judgment committed
to them, to determine in things between man and man. Down with
all the false-hearted flatterers, that have ruled for man and
not for God, and for themselves, and not for the good of the
people; cast all such out from you; for the good among you is
choaked by them: down with all that judge for rewards; and away
with all hireling rulers, that execute the law for money, and
will not plead the cause of the poor without great fees; and down
with all that will not serve places of trust without so large
stipends; away with all these things out of the land, for they
are heinous oppressions unto men, and great abominations in the
sight of God; and the land hath long groaned under the weight
and burden of these things, and the earth is weary of them, and
my Lord requires their utter dissolution, as being iniquities
fully ripe, and having the guilt of so much cruelty, injustice,
and oppression lying upon the nation because hereof; therefore
is the Lord’s season to destroy them, and remove them out of the
land; which if you be the instruments in such a work, it will be
your greatest crown, and your perpetual honour. For the Lord’s
purpose is one way or other to cleanse the land of all these and
other oppressions whatsoever, that the people of this land may
be a free people from all the heavy yokes of antichrist, which
have long sorely pressed them down; and the purpose of the Lord
is to break the yokes of oppression and tyranny from off the
necks of this people; and therefore it is that he overturneth,
yea, and will overturn, all men and authorities that shall oppose
his work, and none shall be able to stand before him; for the
presence of my Lord is more dreadful to a nation, when he shows
himself in wrath, than any multitude of armed men; and wo is unto
you, if you be found opposing of him; and if you seek to stop his
work, you shall not cumber the earth very long, nor oppress the
nations many days. Wherefore consider, cursed will you be, if
you be unfaithful in what you have to do on the Lord’s behalf;
for your hour passeth over, that is allotted you; and will be
suddenly expired, never to be recalled, and then you cannot work.
‘And whereas there is a great cry about ministry, for sending
forth and maintaining, and encouraging a godly ministry, as you
say.
‘Now to this I do answer on my Lord’s behalf, and I must tell you
plainly; as for a true godly ministry, truly called and sent of
God, such a ministry, and such ministers you can never be able
to hinder; but the Lord will send them out, maintaining them
and preserving them, whether you will or no; and while you are
troubling yourselves about such a matter, you are but meddling
with things above your line, and out of your jurisdiction, while
you act in such a case; for it belongs to his government to send
out ministers, whom, and as he will, and to maintain them and
defend them according to his own pleasure, and all this without
you; for such ministers, truly called thereunto, and sent of
the Lord, will not seek to you to be sent forth, or maintained
by you, they will not be beholden to you in such a case; but
even without you, and contrary to you, must they be sent out
and maintained; so that the Lord will have a ministry in this
nation purely of his own, and not of man, nor by man, and such a
ministry you shall not be able to hinder.
‘And I must tell you plainly, as for these men called ministers,
in this nation, the way of their setting up, and sending forth,
and the way of their maintenance, and the way of their standing
and defence, and in every particular of their being such, they
are the greatest and most woful oppression in the nation; even
the most abominable and unjust cruelties and tyrannies are acted
through them, as any other thing in the nation; and they are,
(as such aforesaid,) the woful cause of the nation’s groaning
under merciless dealing; and there is upon their account, the
guilt of blood, injustice, and oppression lying upon this nation;
their iniquities, their iniquities, cry for vengeance upon their
own heads; for they are full, they are full, and the measure
thereof is near finished, and God’s eternal vengeance is their
next reward from the eternal God. What shall I say of them, but
this? The earth is oppressed by them, the inhabitants groan
under them, and the righteous God is vexed through them, and
they are the very men of high indignation and fierce wrath, and
all their practices, (as such,) are the fuel of his anger, to be
consumed by the fire of his jealousy; the nation is weary, and
its inhabitants, and the Lord is weary, because of these men: and
is this the ministry cried up by you as godly and pious? &c. Are
these the men that the nation must be forced to maintain in their
pride and idolatry? Is this the ministry that must be encouraged?
Well, if these be the men, and this the ministry which must be
established and encouraged by you, in so doing you shall never
prosper, but thereby gain the displeasure of the Almighty unto
you, to bring a curse upon all your doings, even because hereof;
for I must tell you, the hand of my Lord is against them; and
whosoever shall seek to defend them, shall not prosper in their
doings, because their oppressions, cruelties, deceits, and
abominations, are nigh finished and fulfilled; wherefore take
heed unto yourselves, for this is my Master’s advice unto you;
let this ministry alone, and join not yourselves to Baal, lest
you perish, neither take part with antichrist any longer, neither
be ye fighters against the Lamb and his kingdom; but free the
nation, and let all its inhabitants be freed, from the cruel
tasks and yokes of such men, and such a ministry as aforesaid;
uphold it not against the Lord, for if you do, you shall never be
established, and this is from the mouth of my Lord unto you.
‘And, last of all, my Master hath a people in this nation, even a
suffering people, that have borne the burden of the cruelty and
injustice, and wickedness, both of rulers and teachers, who have,
as it were, trodden them down, and made them a very prey to their
devouring mouths; the very cry of their sufferings hath reached
unto heaven, and the very sound thereof your ears have heard;
and this people are greatly beloved, and my Lord will assuredly
honour them, and his hand shall be continued to preserve them and
defend them against all their enemies whatsoever; and he doth
reserve them to himself, and for a glorious work that he hath to
do by them; and he hath formed them for himself, and they cannot
join with any of the horns of the great beast, neither can a
place of honour pervert them from their perfect way; but my Lord,
he compasseth them about on every side, and hath kept them in the
midst of trials, reproaches, and sufferings, and covered them in
the heat, and in the storm, till his pleasure is to make further
use of them. They are his, and not their own; and they must
fulfil his will, and none besides; and they lie at rest in him,
while mountains are overturned, and while one potsherd of the
earth breaks another; and this must be even till the appointed
time: and to say no more of them, though much more might be said,
they are had in remembrance before the Lord, to do with them even
for his own glory, and for the nation’s perpetual good; and to
the authority of the Most High, through them, shall kings of the
earth, and nations of the world bow and tremble; wherefore, ye
men, touch them not, neither do ye afflict them, even as you hope
to prosper; remember their cause, and suffer it not always to be
rejected, as it hath long been, but keep yourselves free from
the injustice and cruelty of them that have gone before you, who
have been merciless, and oppressors of that people, even till
my Lord hath confounded them, and brought them into confusion;
for there is the weight of blood, tyranny, and oppression, lying
upon the nation in that people’s cause, and my Lord will revenge
them in his season; and though they are not weary of their
sufferings, but are in the patience which beareth all things, yet
the nation can never be happy, nor its government ever blessed,
while this people are held in bondage; and their sufferings are
deeply considered of the Lord, and the season thereof is expiring
towards an end; and when this cometh to pass, then wo unto the
kingdom of antichrist, and to the whore and false prophet, even
when their strength is dried up, by which they have made war
against the Lamb and his followers: yea, wo unto them; great
fearfulness shall be upon all the world when the king of that
people reigns upon the earth, and the time is at hand: blessed
is the man that waiteth for it, and blessed is he that is not
offended in his coming, but is prepared to receive him in his
appearing, which suddenly cometh upon all the world.
‘And thus I have told the Lord’s present message unto you, which
I received from him, and thus far I am clear; and whether you
accept it, or reject it, my peace and reward is forever with him,
who am a subject of his kingdom, and a friend to this nation,
however otherwise judged by ignorant men.
E. BURROUGH.’
_The Ninth month, 1659._
Now how soon after these sayings of Burrough, ‘Your estates shall not
be spared from the spoiler, nor your necks from the axe; your enemies
shall charge treason upon you, and if you seek to stop the Lord’s work
you shall not cumber the earth very long,’ were fulfilled, we shall see
shortly.
About this time also he wrote several epistles to his friends, wherein
he so powerfully exhorted them to faithfulness and steadfastness,
that thereby he hath procured to himself a name that will never die;
as living still in the remembrance of thousands, though he long ago
went the way of all flesh, having laid down his life in bonds for the
testimony of Jesus, as will be said in its due place.
There is also extant a piece of a letter written about this time to the
cavaliers, which, whether done by E. Burrough, or by George Fox the
younger, or by George Bishop, I cannot tell: but thus it speaks:
‘The very spirit of pride and oppression, and idolatry, is
entered into them, (viz. your enemies,) and now lives in them
in as high a measure as ever it lived amongst you; and their
iniquities are well nigh finished, and the Lord will one way or
other correct and reprove them; and they shall be dealt with in
like manner as they have dealt with you; for they were no more
than a rod in the hand of the Lord for a season, and they must
also be broken and cast into the fire; and whether the Lord
may ever make use of you to reprove them, as he did of them to
reprove you, this I determine not, but leave it to him who can
discover whatsoever he will, by what instrument he pleaseth. It
is true, you have made many attempts to be revenged upon them,
but you have not hitherto prospered; but could you be humbled,
and come into the meek Spirit of the Lord, then might you
prosper; hitherto the Lord hath always defeated you, and bowed
you down under a people as unworthy as others; but their time
will come to an end. Submit therefore unto the will of the Lord
in what is come to pass, and seek not vengeance to yourselves,
and then the Lord will avenge your cause; for the iniquities of
your adversaries are ripe. And Charles Stuart must either be
converted to God, and ruled by him, or else he can never rightly
rule for God in this nation; though this I believe, it is not
impossible but that he may be a rod upon them that once smote
him: and their oppressions and ambitions may receive a check
through him.’
Among several other eminent preachers, Stephen Crisp was now also
become a public minister of the word of God; and it was about this time
that he went to Scotland, to preach the gospel there, and to edify the
churches with his gift.
G. Fox the younger, this year wrote an exhortation to the military
officers, and the army, showing them how they were departed from their
first integrity, and fallen into pride and wantonness.
G. Fox the elder, about the Tenth month, was at Norwich, where a
meeting being appointed, and the mayor having got notice of it,
intended to have given out a warrant to apprehend him, but he having
heard of this, sent some of his friends to the mayor, to speak with
him about it. And his answer was, that he feared such a meeting would
cause tumults in the town. But being spoken to in a kind way, he
behaved himself moderately, and a large peaceable meeting was kept;
to which, among others, several priests also came, and among these
was one Townsend, who stood up and cried, ‘Error, Blasphemy,’ &c. G.
Fox desired him not to burden himself with that which he could not
make good. But he asserted it to be error and blasphemy, that G. Fox
had said that people must wait upon God by his power and Spirit, and
feel his presence when they did not speak words. On this G. Fox asked
him, whether the apostles and holy men of God, did not hear God speak
to them in their silence before they spake forth the Scriptures, and
before it was written? He replied ‘Yes,’ and confirmed it by saying
plainly, that David and the prophets did so. Then G. Fox showed people
how absurd it was, that Townsend, had called such a practice error
and blasphemy. This so puzzled Townsend, that he said, ‘O this is not
that George Fox I would speak withal; but this is a subtil man.’ Now
when some of the auditory called to the priest, and bade him prove
the blasphemy and error which he had charged G. Fox with, he went
away; and being afterwards spoken to by George Whitehead, and Richard
Hubberthorn, who were then also about Norwich, he was soon confounded
and brought down.
The committee of safety being now in power, Edmund Ludlow continued to
urge the restoring of the parliament; and general Monk, who commanded
the army in Scotland, aiming at the restoration of the king, yet wrote
to the speaker, Lenthal, that he would act for the parliament: and so
it was restored.
G. Fox the younger, wrote to this parliament a letter, wherein he
told them, that their day was turned into darkness; and that the sun
was gone down over them. Yea, that the decree was gone out, and sealed
against them, and it could not be recalled: with many other remarkable
expressions. He had written at other times to the army, and to the
parliament, as did also Richard Hubberthorn, which to avoid prolixity,
I pass by.
* * * * *
Let us now again take a view of the persecution in New England. I have
already made mention of Lawrence and Cassandra Southwick, and their
son Josiah, of whom more is to be said hereafter; but first I will
speak of Daniel and Provided, son and daughter of the said Lawrence and
Cassandra. These children seeing how unreasonably their honest parents
and brothers were dealt with, were so far from being deterred thereby,
that they rather felt themselves encouraged to follow their steps, and
not to frequent the assemblies of such a persecuting generation; for
which absence they were fined ten pounds, though it was well known
they had no estate, their parents being already brought to poverty by
their rapacious persecutors. To get this money, the following order was
issued in the general court at Boston.
‘Whereas Daniel Southwick, and Provided Southwick, son and
daughter of Lawrence Southwick, absenting themselves from the
public ordinances, have been fined by the courts of Salem and
Ipswich, pretending they have no estates, and resolving not
to work, the court upon perusal of a law, which was made upon
the account of debts, in answer to what should be done for the
satisfaction of the fines, resolves, that the treasurers of
the several counties are, and shall be fully impowered to sell
the said persons to any of the English nation, at Virginia, or
Barbadoes, to answer the said fines, &c.
EDWARD RAWSON, _Secretary_.’
The subject of this order was answered effectually at large in print,
by G. Bishop, who showed the unreasonableness of this work very plainly
from sacred writ; as from Amos, ii. 6, where the judgments of God are
denounced against those who sold the righteous for silver, and the
poor for a pair of shoes; and from Levit. xxv. 42, where the making
the children of Israel bondmen, is expressly forbidden; this being not
lawful, but in the case of theft, if the thief had nothing to make
satisfaction with. But to return to Daniel and Provided, there wanted
nothing but the execution of the said order against them. Wherefore
Edmund Butter, one of the treasurers, to get something of the booty,
sought out for passage, to send them to Barbadoes for sale; but none
were willing to take or carry them: and a certain master of a ship,
to put the thing off, pretended, that they would spoil all the ship’s
company. To which Butter returned, ‘No, you need not fear that, for
they are poor harmless creatures, and will not hurt any body.’ ‘Will
they not so,’ replied the shipmaster: ‘and will you offer to make
slaves of such harmless creatures?’ Thus Butter, maugre his wicked
intention, the winter being at hand, sent them home again, to shift for
themselves, till he could get a convenient opportunity to send them
away.
It happened also in this year, that a girl, about eleven years old,
named Patience Scot, whose religious mother had been cruelly whipt by
these people, bore witness against their wicked persecution; which so
incensed the persecutors, that they sent her to prison: and the child
having been examined, spoke so well to the purpose, that she confounded
her enemies; some of whom confessed, that they had many children, who
had been well educated, and that it were well if they could say half
so much for God, as she could for the devil. But this child not being
of years to be obnoxious to the law, how wicked soever they were, it
seems they could not resolve to proceed to banishment, as they did with
others.
All that hitherto I have said of the New England persecution, is but
cursorily, and only a very small part of those manifold whippings
that were inflicted there; besides the extortions of fines, which
were exorbitant to a high degree; as may appear by what was done to
William Maston, at Hampton, who was fined ten pounds for two books
found in his house, five pounds for not frequenting their church, and
three pounds besides, as a due to the priest: and he not being free
in conscience to pay this fine, had taken from him what amounted to
more than twenty pounds. I find also, that not long after this time,
above a thousand pounds was extorted from some, only because they
had separated themselves from the persecuting church: and it seems
they were deemed such as were shut out from the protection of the
law; insomuch that Thomas Prince, governor of Plymouth, did not stick
to say, that in his conscience the Quakers were such a people, that
deserved to be destroyed, they, their wives, and children, their houses
and lands, without pity or mercy. I find also that one Humphrey Norton
at Newhaven, for being a Quaker, was whipt severely, and burnt in the
hand with the letter H. to signify heretic.
This cruelty of the English did also stir up the Dutch to persecution:
for without inquiring what kind of people the Quakers were, they seemed
ready to conclude them to be men of pernicious opinions, since those of
their own nation, who pretended to more purity than other Protestants,
did so severely persecute them.
It happened that one Robert Hodshone, being in the Dutch plantation at
Hamstead, had a meeting with some of his friends that were English,
and lived there; but as he was walking in an orchard, an officer came
and took hold of him, and brought him before one Gildersleave, an
Englishman, and a magistrate there, who committed him to prison, and
rode to the Dutch governor to acquaint him therewith: and coming back
with a guard of musqueteers, the fiscal searched the prisoner, and
took away his knife, papers, and bible, and pinioned him, and kept him
so all night, and the next day. And making inquiry after those that
entertained him, he took into custody two women on that occasion, one
of whom had two small children, the one yet sucking at her breast.
Then they got a cart and carried the women away in it, and Robert was
fastened to the hinder part of the cart, pinioned, and so drawn through
the woods in the night season, whereby he was much torn and abused. And
being come to New Amsterdam, (now New York,) he was loosed, and led by
the rope, with which he had been fastened to the cart, to the dungeon,
being a filthy place, full of vermin; and the two women were carried to
another place. Some time after he was examined, there being one captain
Willet of Plymouth, who had much incensed the governor against him, who
before had been moderate. The conclusion was, that a sentence was read
in Dutch, to Robert, to this effect, that he was to work two years at
the wheelbarrow with a negro, or pay, or cause to be paid, six hundred
guilders. To this he attempted to make his defence in a sober way, but
was not suffered to speak, and sent to the dungeon again; where no
English were suffered to come to him. After some days he was taken out,
and pinioned, and being set with his face towards the court chamber,
his hat was taken off, and another sentence read to him in Dutch, which
he did not understand: but that it displeased many of that nation, did
appear by the shaking of their heads. Then he was cast again into the
dungeon, where he was kept some days.
At length, betimes in the morning, he was hauled out, and chained
to a wheelbarrow, and commanded to work: to which he answered, he
was never brought up, nor used to such a work. Upon which they made
a negro to take a pitched rope, nigh four inches about, and to beat
him; who did so, till Robert fell down. Then they took him up again,
and caused the negro to beat him with the said rope, until he fell
down the second time, and it was believed that he received about one
hundred blows. Thus he was kept all that day in the heat of the sun,
chained to the wheelbarrow; and his body being much bruised and swelled
with the blows, and he kept without food, grew very faint, and sat
upon the ground, with his mind retired to the Lord, and resigned to
his will, whereby he felt himself supported. At night he was locked
up again in the dungeon, and the next morning he was chained again to
the wheelbarrow, and a sentinel set over him, that none might come
so much as to speak with him. On the third day he was had forth, and
chained in like manner; and no wonder that he still refused to work,
for besides the unreasonableness of requiring such a servile work of
him who had committed no evil, he was not in a condition to perform
it, being made altogether unable by the cruel blows given him. In this
weak state he was brought before the governor, who demanded him to
work, otherwise he said, he should be whipt every day. Robert asked
him what law he had broken? And called for his accusers, that he might
know his transgression. But instead of an answer he was chained to the
wheelbarrow again, and threatened, that if he spake to any one, he
should be punished worse. Yet he did not forbear to speak to some that
came to him, so as he saw meet, and thought convenient. Then seeing
they could not keep him silent, they put him into the dungeon again,
and kept him close there several days, and two nights; one day and a
half of it, without bread or water.
After this, he was brought very early in the morning, into a private
room, and stript to the waist, and hung up by his hands, and a great
log of wood tied to his feet, so that he could not turn his body;
and then a strong negro was set to whip him with rods, who laid many
stripes upon him, which cut his flesh very much. Then he was let down
again, and put into the dungeon as before, and none suffered to come
to him. Two days after he was had forth again, and hung up as before,
and many more stripes were laid upon him by another negro. He almost
fainting, and not knowing but his life might be taken away, desired
that some English might be suffered to come to him: which was granted,
and an English woman came and washed his stripes, finding him brought
so low that she thought he would not live till the next morning. And
she telling this to her husband, it made such an impression upon him,
that he went to the fiscal and proffered him a fat ox, to suffer Robert
to be at his house until he was well again. But the fiscal would not
permit this, unless the whole fine was paid. And though there were
some that would willingly have paid the fine for him, yet he could not
consent to it; but within three days after he had thus been whipped, he
was made whole, and as strong as before, and was free to labour, that
he might not be burdensome to any. Some others of those called Quakers,
(who came thither from the plantations in New England to enjoy liberty
of conscience, and whose names and sufferings I pass by for brevity’s
sake,) met also with hard measure from the governor, by the instigation
of the aforesaid Captain Willet. Robert now though guiltless, being
kept like a slave to hard work, it raised compassion in many, and the
governor’s sister, who was much affected with his sufferings, became
instrumental in obtaining his liberty; for she so plied her brother,
that he at length set him free without paying one penny, or any body
for him; by which the governor showed, that though he had been too
easily wrought upon to commit evil, yet he was not come near to that
height of malice as the New England persecutors; who increased in
their hard-heartedness, and became inured to cruelty, insomuch that
if any one amongst them would not give his vote for persecution, he
was counted unworthy to be a magistrate: as appears by a letter of one
James Cudworth, written some time before to one of his friends in Old
England, wherein I meet with these words:
‘As for the state and condition of things amongst us, it is
sad. The antichristian persecuting spirit is very active, and
that in the powers of this world. He that will not whip and
lash, persecute, and punish men that differ in matters of
religion, must not sit on the bench, nor sustain any office in
the commonwealth. Last election Mr. Hatherly and myself left the
bench, and myself was discharged of my captainship, because I had
entertained some of the Quakers at my house, that thereby I might
be the better acquainted with their principles. I thought it
better to do so, than with the blind world to censure, condemn,
rail at, and revile them, when they neither saw their persons,
nor knew any thing of their principles. But the Quakers and
myself cannot close in divers things; and so I signified to the
court I was no Quaker, but must give my testimony against sundry
things that they held, as I had occasion and opportunity. But
withal, I told them, that as I was no Quaker, so I would be no
persecutor.’
Now shall I enter upon the narrative of their putting some to death,
who died martyrs; for this was yet wanting to complete the tragedy,
which it seems could not be done to the satisfaction of the actors,
without playing a murdering part.
The two first that sealed their testimony with their blood, were
William Robinson, merchant of London, and Marmaduke Stevenson, a
countryman of Yorkshire. These coming to Boston in the beginning
of September, were sent for by the court of assistants, and there
sentenced to banishment on pain of death. This sentence was passed also
on Mary Dyar, mentioned heretofore, and Nicholas Davis, who were both
at Boston. But William Robinson, being looked upon as a teacher, was
also condemned to be whipt severely; and the constable was commanded to
get an able man to do it. Then Robinson was brought into the street,
and there stript; and having his hands put through the holes of the
carriage of a great gun, where the jailer held him, the executioner
gave him twenty stripes with a three-fold cord whip. Then he and the
other prisoners were shortly released, and banished; which that it
was for no other reason but their being Quakers, may appear by the
following warrant:
‘You are required by these, presently to set at liberty William
Robinson, Marmaduke Stevenson, Mary Dyar, and Nicholas Davis,
who by an order of the court and council, had been imprisoned,
because it appeared by their own confession, words, and actions,
that they are Quakers; wherefore a sentence was pronounced
against them, to depart this jurisdiction on pain of death, and
that they must answer it at their peril, if they, or any of them
after the 14th of this present month, September, are found within
this jurisdiction, or any part thereof.
EDWARD RAWSON.’
Boston, September 12, 1659.
Now though Mary Dyar and Nicholas Davis left that jurisdiction for
that time, yet Robinson and Stevenson, though they departed the town
of Boston, could not yet resolve, (not being free in mind,) to depart
that jurisdiction, though their lives were at stake. And so they went
to Salem, and some place thereabout to visit and build up their friends
in the faith. But it was not long before they were taken, and put again
into prison at Boston, and chains locked to their right legs. In the
next month Mary Dyar returned also. And as she stood before the prison,
speaking with one Christopher Holder, who was come thither to inquire
for a ship bound for England, whither he intended to go, she was also
taken into custody. Thus they had three persons, who, according to
their sanguinary law, had forfeited their lives. And on the 20th of
October, these three were brought into the court, where John Endicot
and others were assembled. And being called to the bar, Endicot
commanded the keeper to pull off their hats: and then said, that they
had made several laws to keep the Quakers from amongst them; and
neither whipping, nor imprisoning, nor cutting off ears, nor banishing
upon pain of death, would keep them from amongst them. And further
he said, that he or they desired not the death of any of them. Yet
notwithstanding, his following words without more ado, were, ‘Give ear,
and hearken to your sentence of death.’ W. Robinson then desired that
he might be permitted to read a paper, giving an account of the reason
why he had not departed that jurisdiction. But Endicot would not suffer
it to be read, and said in a rage, ‘You shall not read it, nor will the
court hear it read.’ Then Robinson laid it on the table. He had written
this paper the day before, and some of the contents were, that he being
in Rhode Island, the Lord had commanded him to go to Boston, and to lay
down his life there. That he also had felt an assurance that his soul
was to enter into everlasting peace, and eternal rest. That he durst
not but obey, without inquiring further concerning it; believing that
it became him as a child, to show obedience to the Lord, without any
unwillingness. That this was the cause, why after banishment on pain
of death, he staid in their jurisdiction: and that now with sincerity
of heart he could say, Blessed be the Lord, the God of my life, who
hath called me hereunto, and counted me worthy to testify against
wicked and unjust men, &c. This paper being handed to Endicot, he read
it to himself, and after he had done, said to Robinson, ‘You need not
keep such ado to have it read; for you spoke yesterday more than here
is written.’ Yet this was not so; for it contained a circumstantial
relation of the divine operations on his mind; and that he was not
come there in his own will, but in obedience to his Creator: and that
travelling in Rhode Island, on the 8th of the Eighth month, he had
been moved thereto from the Lord, and therefore had submitted to his
divine pleasure without murmuring. W. Robinson desired again that the
paper might be read, that so all that were present might hear it, it
was denied him, and Endicot said, ‘W. Robinson hearken to your sentence
of death; you shall be had back to the place from whence you came, and
from thence to the place of execution, to be hanged on the gallows
till you are dead.’ This sentence was not altogether unexpected to W.
Robinson; for it was four months now that he had believed this would be
his share.
Robinson being taken away, M. Stevenson was called, and Endicot said
to him, ‘If you have any thing to say, you may speak.’ He knowing how
they dealt with his companion, was silent, though he had also written
in prison a paper, containing the cause of his being come there; but
he kept it with him, and found afterwards occasion to deliver it to
somebody. Then Endicot pronounced sentence of death against him,
saying, ‘M. Stevenson, you shall be had to the place from whence you
came, and from thence to the gallows, and there be hanged till you are
dead.’ Whereupon M. Stevenson spoke thus: ‘Give ear, ye magistrates,
and all who are guilty; for this the Lord hath said concerning you, and
will perform his word upon you, that the same day ye put his servants
to death, shall the day of your visitation pass over your heads, and
you shall be cursed for evermore. The mouth of the Lord of hosts hath
spoken it. Therefore in love to you all, I exhort you to take warning
before it be too late, that so the curse may be removed. For assuredly
if you put us to death, you will bring innocent blood upon your own
heads, and swift destruction will come upon you.’
After he had spoken this, he was taken away, and Mary Dyar was called:
to whom Endicot spoke thus: ‘Mary Dyar, you shall go to the place from
whence you came, (to wit, the prison,) and from thence to the place
of execution, and be hanged there until you are dead.’ To which she
replied, ‘The will of the Lord be done.’ Then Endicot said, ‘Take
her away, marshal.’ To which she returned, ‘Yea, joyfully I go.’ And
in her going to the prison, she often uttered speeches of praise to
the Lord; and, being full of joy, she said to the marshal, he might
let her alone, for she would go to the prison without him. To which
he answered, ‘I believe you, Mrs. Dyar: but I must do what I am
commanded.’ Thus she was led to prison, where she was kept a week, with
the two other, her companions, that were also condemned to die.
* * * * *
The paper of Marmaduke Stevenson, mentioned before, which he gave forth
after he had received sentence of death, was thus:
‘In the beginning of the year 1655, I was at the plough, in the
east parts of Yorkshire, in Old England, near the place where
my outward being was, and as I walked after the plough, I was
filled with the love and presence of the living God, which did
ravish my heart when I felt it; for it did increase and abound
in me like a living stream, so did the love and life of God run
through me like precious ointment, giving a pleasant smell, which
made me to stand still; and as I stood a little still, with my
heart and mind stayed on the Lord, the word of the Lord came to
me in a still small voice, which I did hear perfectly, saying to
me, in the secret of my heart and conscience,--I have ordained
thee a prophet unto the nations.--And at the hearing of the word
of the Lord, I was put to a stand, being that I was but a child
for such a weighty matter. So at the time appointed, Barbadoes
was set before me, unto which I was required of the Lord to go,
and leave my dear and loving wife, and tender children: for the
Lord said unto me immediately by his Spirit, that he would be as
a husband to my wife, and as a father to my children, and they
should not want in my absence, for he would provide for them when
I was gone. And I believed that the Lord would perform what he
had spoken, because I was made willing to give up myself to his
work and service, to leave all and follow him, whose presence and
life is with me, where I rest in peace and quietness of spirit,
(with my dear brother,) under the shadow of his wings, who hath
made us willing to lay down our lives for his own name sake, if
unmerciful men be suffered to take them from us; and if they do,
we know we shall have peace and rest with the Lord for ever in
his holy habitation, when they shall have torment night and day.
So, in obedience to the living God, I made preparation to pass to
Barbadoes, in the Fourth month, 1658. So, after I had been some
time on the said island in the service of God, I heard that New
England had made a law to put the servants of the living God to
death, if they returned after they were sentenced away, which
did come near me at that time: and as I considered the thing,
and pondered it in my heart, immediately came the word of the
Lord unto me, saying, ‘Thou knowest not but that thou mayest go
thither.’ But I kept this word in my heart, and did not declare
it to any until the time appointed. So, after that, a vessel
was made ready for Rhode Island, which I passed in. So, after a
little time that I had been there, visiting the seed which the
Lord hath blessed, the word of the Lord came unto me, saying,
‘Go to Boston with thy brother William Robinson.’ And at his
command I was obedient, and gave up myself to do his will, that
so his work and service may be accomplished: for he hath said
unto me, that he hath a great work for me to do; which is now
come to pass: and for yielding obedience to, and obeying the
voice and command of, the ever-living God, who created heaven and
earth, and the fountains of waters, do I, with my brother, suffer
outward bonds near unto death, and this is given forth to be upon
record, that all people may know, who hear it, that we came not
in our own wills, but in the will of God. Given forth by me, who
am known to men by the name of
MARMADUKE STEVENSON.
But having a new name given me, which
the world knows not of, written in
the Book of Life.
‘Written in Boston prison, in the 8th
Month, 1659.’
Mary Dyar being returned to prison, wrote the following letter, which
she sent to the rulers of Boston.
_To the General Court in Boston._
‘Whereas I am by many charged with the guiltiness of my own
blood; if you mean in my coming to Boston, I am therein clear,
and justified by the Lord, in whose will I came, who will require
my blood of you, be sure, who have made a law to take away the
lives of the innocent servants of God, if they come among you,
who are called by you, cursed Quakers; although I say, and am a
living witness for them and the Lord, that he hath blessed them,
and sent them unto you; therefore be not found fighters against
God, but let my counsel and request be accepted with you, to
repeal all such laws, that the Truth and servants of the Lord
may have free passage among you, and you be kept from shedding
innocent blood, which I know there are many among you would not
do, if they knew it so to be; nor can the enemy that stirreth you
up thus to destroy his holy seed, in any measure countervail the
great damage that you will, by thus doing, procure. Therefore
seeing the Lord hath not hid it from me, it lieth upon me, in
love to your souls, thus to persuade you. I have no self-ends
the Lord knoweth; for if my life were freely granted by you, it
would not avail me, nor could I expect it of you, so long as I
should daily hear or see the sufferings of these people, my dear
brethren, and the seed with whom my life is bound up, as I have
done these two years; and now it is like to increase, even unto
death, for no evil doing, but coming among you. Was ever the
like laws heard of among a people that profess Christ come in
the flesh? And have such no other weapons but such laws to fight
against spiritual wickedness withal, as you call it? Wo is me for
you! Of whom take ye counsel? Search with the light of Christ in
you, and it will show you of whom, as it hath done me and many
more, who have been disobedient and deceived, as now ye are:
which light as ye come into, and obeying what is made manifest to
you therein, you will not repent that you were kept from shedding
blood, though it were by a woman. It is not mine own life I seek,
(for I choose rather to suffer with the people of God, than to
enjoy the pleasures of Egypt,) but the life of the seed, which I
know the Lord hath blessed, and therefore seeks the enemy thus
vehemently to destroy the life thereof, as in all ages he ever
did. O hearken not unto him, I beseech you, for the seed’s sake,
which is one and all, and is dear in the sight of God, which
they that touch, touch the apple of his eye, and cannot escape
his wrath; whereof I having felt, cannot but persuade all men
that I have to do withal, especially you who name the name of
Christ, to depart from such iniquity as shedding blood, even of
the saints of the Most High. Therefore let my request have as
much acceptance with you, if you be Christians, as Esther’s had
with Ahasuerus, whose relation is short of that that is between
Christians; and my request is the same that her’s was: and he
said not that he had made a law, and it would be dishonourable
for him to revoke it; but when he understood that those people
were so prized by her, and so nearly concerned her, as in truth
these are to me, you may see what he did for her. Therefore I
leave these lines with you, appealing to the faithful and true
witness of God, which is one in all consciences, before whom we
must all appear; with whom I shall eternally rest, in everlasting
joy and peace, whether you will hear or forbear. With him is
my reward, with whom to live is my joy, and to die is my gain,
though I had not had your forty-eight hours warning, for the
preparation of the death of Mary Dyar.
‘And know this also, that if through the enmity you shall
declare yourselves worse than Ahasuerus, and confirm your law,
though it were but by taking away the life of one of us, that
the Lord will overthrow both your law and you, by his righteous
judgments and plagues poured justly upon you, who now, whilst ye
are warned thereof, and tenderly sought unto, may avoid the one,
by removing the other. If you neither hear, nor obey the Lord,
nor his servants, yet will he send more of his servants among
you, so that your end shall be frustrated, that think to restrain
them ye call cursed Quakers, from coming among you, by any thing
you can do to them. Yea, verily, he hath a seed here among you,
for whom we have suffered all this while, and yet suffer; whom
the Lord of the harvest will send forth more labourers to gather,
out of the mouths of the devourers of all sorts, into his fold,
where he will lead them into fresh pastures, even the paths of
righteousness, for his name’s sake. Oh, let none of you put this
good day far from you, which verily in the light of the Lord I
see approaching, even to many in and about Boston, which is the
bitterest and darkest professing place, and so to continue so
long as you have done, that ever I heard of. Let the time past,
therefore, suffice, for such a profession as brings forth such
fruits as these laws are. In love, and in the spirit of meekness,
I again beseech you, for I have no enmity to the persons of any;
but you shall know, that God will not be mocked; but what ye
sow, that shall ye reap from him, that will render to every one
according to the deeds done in the body, whether good or evil.
Even so be it, saith
MARY DYAR.’
A copy of this was given to the
general court after Mary Dyar had
received sentence of death, about
the 8th or 9th month, 1659.
The day appointed to execute the bloody sentence, was the 27th of
October, when in the afternoon the condemned prisoners were led to the
gallows by the marshal Michaelson, and captain James Oliver, with a
band of about two hundred armed men, besides many horsemen; as if they
were afraid that some of the people would have rescued the prisoners:
and that no actors on the stage might be wanting, the priest Wilson
joined the company, who, when the court deliberated how to deal with
the Quakers, said, ‘Hang them, or else’ (drawing his finger athwart his
throat,) as if he would have said, ‘Dispatch ’em this way.’ Now the
march began, and a drummer going next before the condemned, the drums
were beaten, especially when any of them attempted to speak. Glorious
signs of heavenly joy and gladness were beheld in the countenances
of these three persons, who walked hand in hand, Mary being the
middlemost, which made the marshal say to her, who was pretty aged,
and stricken in years, ‘Are not you ashamed to walk thus hand in hand
between two young men?’ ‘No,’ replied she, ‘this is to me an hour of
the greatest joy I could enjoy in this world. No eye can see, nor ear
can hear, no tongue can utter, and no heart can understand, the sweet
incomes, or influence, and the refreshings of the spirit of the Lord,
which now I feel.’ Thus going along, W. Robinson said, ‘This is your
hour, and the power of darkness.’ But presently the drums were beaten;
yet shortly after the drummers leaving off beating, Marmaduke Stevenson
said, ‘This is the day of your visitation, wherein the Lord hath
visited you.’ More he spoke, but could not be understood, by reason of
the drums being beaten again. Yet they went on with great cheerfulness,
as going to an everlasting wedding feast, and rejoicing that the Lord
had counted them worthy to suffer death for his name’s sake.
When they were come near the gallows, the priest said in a taunting way
to W. Robinson, ‘Shall such jacks as you come in before authority with
their hats on?’ To which Robinson replied, ‘Mind you, mind you, it is
for the not putting off the hat we are put to death!’ Now being come
to the ladder, they took leave of each other with tender embraces, and
then Robinson went cheerfully up the ladder, and being got up, said to
the people, ‘This is the day of your visitation, wherein the Lord hath
visited you: this is the day the Lord is risen in his mighty power, to
be avenged on all his adversaries.’ He also signified, that he suffered
not as an evil-doer: and desired the spectators to mind the light that
was in them; to wit, the Light of Christ, of which he testified, and
was now going to seal it with his blood. This so incensed the envious
priest, that he said, ‘Hold thy tongue; be silent; thou art going to
die with a lie in thy mouth.’ The rope being now about his neck, the
executioner bound his hands and legs, and tied his neckcloth about his
face: which being done, Robinson said, ‘Now ye are made manifest;’
and the executioner being about turning him off, he said, ‘I suffer
for Christ, in whom I live, and for whom I die.’ He being turned off,
Marmaduke Stevenson stepped up the ladder, and said, ‘Be it known unto
all this day, that we suffer not as evil-doers, but for conscience
sake.’ And when the hangman was about to turn him off, he said, ‘This
day shall we be at rest with the Lord;’ and so he was turned off.
Mary Dyar seeing her companions hanging dead before her, also stepped
up the ladder; but after her coats were tied about her feet, the halter
put about her neck, and her face covered with a handkerchief, which the
priest Wilson lent the hangman, just as she was to be turned off, a cry
was heard, ‘Stop, for she is reprieved.’ Her feet then being loosed,
they bade her come down. But she whose mind was already as it were in
heaven, stood still, and said, she was there willing to suffer as her
brethren did, unless they would annul their wicked law. Little heed was
given to what she said, but they pulled her down, and the marshal and
others taking her by the arms, carried her to prison again. That she
thus was freed from the gallows, this time, was at the intercession
of her son, to whom it seems they could not then resolve to deny that
favour. She, now having heard why she was reprieved, wrote the next
day, being the 28th of October, the following letter to the court.
_The 28th of the Eighth month, 1659._
‘Once more to the general court assembled in Boston, speaks Mary
Dyar, even as before. My life is not accepted, neither availeth
me, in comparison of the lives and liberty of the Truth, and
servants of the living God, for which in the bowels of love and
meekness I sought you: yet, nevertheless, with wicked hands
have you put two of them to death, which makes me to feel, that
the mercies of the wicked are cruelty. I rather choose to die
than to live, as from you, as guilty of their innocent blood:
therefore seeing my request is hindered, I leave you to the
righteous Judge, and searcher of all hearts, who, with the pure
measure of light he hath given to every man to profit withal,
will in his due time let you see whose servants you are, and of
whom you have taken counsel, which I desire you to search into:
but all his counsel hath been slighted, and you would none of
his reproofs. Read your portion, Prov. i. 24 to 32. For verily
the night cometh on you apace, wherein no man can work, in which
you shall assuredly fall to your own master. In obedience to
the Lord, whom I serve with my spirit, and pity to your souls,
which you neither know nor pity, I can do no less than once more
to warn you, to put away the evil of your doings; and kiss the
Son, the light in you, before his wrath be kindled in you; for
where it is, nothing without you can help or deliver you out of
his hand at all; and if these things be not so, then say, there
hath been no prophet from the Lord sent amongst you; though we be
nothing, yet it is his pleasure, by things that are not, to bring
to nought things that are.
When I heard your last order read, it was a disturbance unto me,
that was so freely offering up my life to him that gave it me,
and sent me hither so to do, which obedience being his own work,
he gloriously accompanied with his presence, and peace, and love
in me, in which I rested from my labour; till by your order and
the people, I was so far disturbed, that I could not retain any
more of the words thereof, than that I should return to prison,
and there remain forty and eight hours; to which I submitted,
finding nothing from the Lord to the contrary, that I may know
what his pleasure and counsel is concerning me, on whom I wait
therefore, for he is my life, and the length of my days; and as I
said before, I came at his command, and go at his command.
MARY DYAR.’
The magistrates now perceiving that the putting William Robinson and
Marmaduke Stevenson to death, caused great discontent among the people,
resolved to send away Mary Dyar, thereby to calm their minds a little.
And so she was put on horseback, and by four horsemen conveyed fifteen
miles towards Rhode Island, where she was left with a horse and a man,
to be conveyed the rest of the way: which she soon sent back, and so
repaired home. By the style of her letters, and her undaunted carriage,
it appears that she had indeed some extraordinary qualities; I find
also, that she was of a comely and grave countenance, of a good family
and estate, and a mother of several children: but her husband it seems
was of another persuasion.
Whilst I now leave her at home, I am to say that one John Chamberlain,
an inhabitant of Boston, having seen the execution of W. Robinson and
M. Stevenson, was so reached by their pious speeches, that he received
the doctrine of the Truth, for which they died: but his visiting those
in prison was so ill resented, that afterwards he was whipped several
times severely; as was also Edward Wharton, an inhabitant of Salem:
who having said that the guilt of Robinson and Stevenson’s blood was
so great and heavy, that he was not able to bear it, was, for this
his pretended sauciness, whipped with twenty lashes, and fined twenty
pounds.
But before I quite leave the persons that were hanged, I must say, that
being dead, their countenances still looked fresh; (for the terror
of death had not seized them.) But being cut down, they were very
barbarously used, none taking hold of their bodies: which so fell down
on the ground, that thereby the scull of W. Robinson was broken: and
even their shirts were ripped off with a knife, and their naked bodies
cast into a hole which was digged, without any covering. And when some
of their friends would have laid their bodies into coffins, it was
denied them. Neither would they suffer the place where the bodies were
cast, to be fenced with pales, lest ravenous beasts might prey upon
them.
When the people returned from the execution, many seemed sad and heavy;
and coming to the drawbridge, one end of it fell upon some, and several
were hurt, especially a wicked woman, who had reviled the said two
persons at their death; but now she was so bruised, that her flesh
rotted from her bones, which made such a noisome stink, that people
could not endure to be with her: in which miserable condition she
remained till she died. But the magistrates, instead of taking notice
of this, grew more hardened; and priest Wilson did not stick to make a
ballad on the executed.
1660.
Now I return again to Mary Dyar, who being come to Rhode Island, went
from thence to Long Island, where she staid the most part of the
winter: and then coming home again, she was moved to return to the
bloody town of Boston, whither she came on the 21st of the Third month,
1660, and on the 31st she was sent for by the general court. Being
come, the governor, John Endicot, said, ‘Are you the same Mary Dyar
that was here before?’ And it seems he was preparing an evasion for
her, there having been another of that name returned from Old England.
But she was so far from disguising, that she answered undauntedly,
‘I am the same Mary Dyar that was here the last general court.’ Then
Endicot said, ‘You will own yourself a Quaker, will you not?’ To which
Mary Dyar said, ‘I own myself to be reproachfully called so.’ Then the
jailer, (who would also say something,) said, ‘She is a vagabond.’ And
Endicot said, the sentence was past upon her the last general court,
and now likewise: ‘You must return to the prison, and there remain till
to-morrow at nine o’clock; then from thence you must go to the gallows,
and there be hanged till you are dead.’ To which Mary Dyar said, ‘This
is no more than what thou saidst before.’ And Endicot returned, ‘But
now it is to be executed; therefore prepare yourself to-morrow at nine
o’clock.’ She then spoke thus: ‘I came in obedience to the will of God
the last general court, desiring you to repeal your unrighteous laws of
banishment on pain of death; and that same is my work now, and earnest
request; although I told you, that if you refused to repeal them,
the Lord would send others of his servants to witness against them.’
Hereupon Endicot asked her, whether she was a prophetess? And she
answered, ‘she spoke the words that the Lord spoke in her; and now the
thing was come to pass.’ And beginning to speak of her call, Endicot
cried, ‘Away with her; away with her.’ So she was brought to the prison
house where she was before, and kept close shut up until the next day.
About the appointed time the marshal Michaelson came, and called her
to come hastily; and coming into the room where she was, she desired
him to stay a little; and speaking mildly, said, she should be ready
presently. But he being of a rough temper, said he could not wait
upon her, but she should now wait upon him. One Margaret Smith, her
companion, being grieved to see such hard-heartedness, spoke something
against their unjust laws and proceedings; to which he said, ‘You shall
have your share of the same.’ Then Mary Dyar was brought forth, and
with a band of soldiers led through the town, the drums being beaten
before and behind her, and so continued, that none might hear her
speak all the way to the place of execution, which was about a mile.
With this guard she came to the gallows, and being gone up the ladder,
some said to her, that if she would return, she might come down and
save her life. To which she replied, ‘Nay, I cannot, for in obedience
to the will of the Lord I came, and in his will I abide faithful to the
death.’ Then captain John Webb said, that she had been there before,
and had the sentence of banishment upon pain of death, and had broken
the law in coming again now; and therefore she was guilty of her own
blood. To which she returned, ‘Nay, I came to keep blood-guiltiness
from you, desiring you to repeal the unrighteous and unjust law of
banishment upon pain of death, made against the innocent servants
of the Lord; therefore my blood will be required at your hands, who
wilfully do it: but for those that do it in the simplicity of their
hearts, I desire the Lord to forgive them. I came to do the will of
my Father, and in obedience to his will, I stand even to death.’ Then
priest Wilson said, ‘Mary Dyar, O repent, O repent, and be not so
deluded, and carried away by the deceit of the devil.’ To this Mary
Dyar answered, ‘Nay, man, I am not now to repent.’ And being asked by
some, whether she would have the elders pray for her, she said, ‘I know
never an elder here.’ Being further asked, whether she would have any
of the people to pray for her? She answered, she desired the prayers
of all the people of God. Thereupon some scoffingly said, ‘It may be
she thinks there is none here.’ She looking about, said, ‘I know but
few here.’ Then they spoke to her again, that one of the elders might
pray for her. To which she replied, ‘Nay, first a child, then a young
man, then a strong man, before an elder in Christ Jesus.’ After this
she was charged with something which was not understood what it was,
but she seemed to hear it; for she said, ‘It is false, it is false; I
never spoke those words.’ Then one mentioned that she should have said,
she had been in paradise. To which she answered, ‘Yea, I have been in
paradise several days.’ And more she spoke of the eternal happiness
into which she was now to enter. In this well-disposed condition she
was turned off, and died a martyr of Christ, being twice led to death,
which the first time she expected with undaunted courage, and now
suffered with Christian fortitude.
Thus this honest, valiant woman finished her days: but so hardened were
these persecutors, that one of the court said scoffingly, ‘She did hang
as a flag for others to take example by.’ And putting to death for
religion did not yet cease, as will be related hereafter: but first
I will take a turn again to Old England, where there was now great
division, and a revolution in the state.
* * * * *
About the beginning of this year, E. Burrough wrote the following
letter to the parliament, which then had the power again in their hands.
‘_Friends_,
‘All these overturnings, and almost wonderful changings, were
effected through the justice of the Lord’s hand. You are now
again at the stern of government, and on the throne; and I dare
not but say it is of and by the Lord, and that he hath done it
contrary to the expectations of many; and what his end is in
it, remains with him. But I am sure one cause is, that you may
execute part of his wrath upon that treacherous generation
of hypocritical and deceitful men, some of the army I mean. I
need not say to you, how that many of them were raised up from
a low estate; and, instead of serving the nation, became their
lords and oppressors; they have abused the Lord’s mercy to them,
and exalted themselves, and became as great oppressors, and
as grievous to the nation, as ever they were that went before
them; and some of them took the very tithes and estates of their
enemies, and followed their evil spirit also, though the Lord was
long-suffering to them, and gave them a day, and put opportunity
into their hands, wherein they might have done good; but they
also neglected to serve God and the nation, to themselves; and
because of the ambition and pride of some of them, the Lord
suffered them to make this last interruption upon you, which was
great treachery in man’s account, that thereby their measure
might be filled up, and that he might give you occasion against
them, and suffer you to be filled with indignation towards
them, to break them to pieces: and what you do to some of them,
in casting them out, and afflicting them, you are but God’s
executioners therein; you are the executioners of his anger, in
what you do to them; and who shall prevent you, or forbid him to
go on? For they have long enough dissembled with this nation, in
professing more than others, and doing less, and their downfall
is now. And God hath looked upon you, to be hard-hearted and
cruel enough, and very fit executioners of vengeance upon such
men, as I have mentioned.
‘But now concerning you, and your present state, as you are in
present place and power, I have something to say to you; though
they are fallen, and you yet stand, and you have a little time
after them; but this I say, do not glory over their fall, neither
glory as though you should stand for ever; for they were not
greater sinners than you are, neither are you one whit more
righteous than some of them; but you are as sure to fall, as they
are fallen, with no less measure of dishonour and affliction than
is come upon them; and you are in your last hour; and I dare
not say, that God expects much more from you, than for the end
aforesaid, viz. to be the executioners of justice upon men as
sinful as yourselves; so do not glory over them that are fallen:
but know that your time also is but short, and your fall may
prove to your destruction, and theirs may prove to make them
better, and refine them: and if God hath chosen you to execute
some part of his wrath upon them, for their wickedness, he
will doubtless find instruments to execute his wrath upon you,
else he will do it with his own hands; for he purposeth not to
spare you; for your sins cry as loud as any other people’s, and
the oppressions are as great under you, as under them whom you
condemn. And I desire, if there be any good men amongst you, that
such who are wise may consider, and mind the hand of the Lord in
and through all these things that are come to pass; for God is
working as well as you, he is seeking to set up a kingdom as well
as you, and his government and your’s cannot stand together; and
he will make you know that he is stronger, and his government of
more force, and your kingdom cannot stand in place with his.
‘Therefore, Oh that you would take heed! Oh that you would be
wise, if so be some of you may be spared! and be not too zealous
in your way, nor too furious in your proceedings; do but to
others as you intend to receive from others, and from the Lord;
and go not beyond your commission; for a permission at least
you have had from God, even to scourge hypocrites, and to be a
judgment upon that hypocritical, seeming religious generation of
men aforesaid, which have many a time as it were mocked God, and
pretended love to him with their lips, when their hearts have
yearned after self-honour, and treasures of this world: I say,
your present hour and permission is for this end, but not to
persecute the people of the Lord, nor to destroy God’s heritage;
but if you shall extend your power unto such a work, and if you
do persecute the innocent without cause, and make war against the
Lamb and his followers, and make laws, and execute them to the
oppression of the saints of the Most High, then you go beyond
your commission; for God hath not called you unto this, but to
be instruments in another cause. And the children of Zion, they
trust in the living God, and fear not the terror of mighty men,
neither can they be afraid at the roaring of the sea, nor at
the present threatening of the heathen, for God is with them.
And I say unto you, the servant of the Lord hath pondered and
considered all these proceedings, and viewed the present state of
things at this day, and there is no vision from God unto you of
peace and comfort, nor of a happy and lasting government, as you
stand: if any prophet shall divine this unto you, he speaks what
he hath not from the Lord, but the vision of his own heart, and
he deceives you and himself; for you are not established upon a
right foundation, neither are you acted by a right spirit, which
can truly govern for God; but the spirit of wrath and fury is put
into you, for the work to which you are called. And I know not
how to warn you, that you do not persecute the people of God.
For why? It may be you must fill up your measure of wickedness
thereby, that God may break you perpetually; yet the less will be
your judgment, if you do it not: but and if you do it, the Lord
will take occasion against you, to wound you, and you shall never
be healed, and as you do afflict others, so and much more shall
it be done unto you from the Lord.
‘Wherefore, consider what I have said; for this is the vision of
the Almighty unto you, that shall not go unfulfilled: and what
you do, you must do it quickly; for your time is short, and your
power will God subdue; and his kingdom and power will he speedily
exalt over your heads, and make you and the nations know that
he is God, and that all power is with him, and that he can do
whatsoever he will; and it is his right alone to reign, and his
children’s portion to possess the kingdom with him. Let the whole
earth, and all the powers thereof, bow and tremble before him:
let not your hearts be stout and rebellious against him, for he
can grind you to powder, and sink you into confusion and misery,
as a stone into the sea.’
This was directed for the hands of the speaker in parliament, and
accordingly was given to William Lenthal, being inclosed to him
with these lines following
‘_Friend_,
‘The inclosed I do commend unto thee to present unto the house,
and to endeavour sincerely the reading of it in your assembly;
for it is of special concernment to you all; and in the name of
the Lord, and by his Spirit, I do charge thee not to be negligent
in this matter, as though it were not of worth to you; and I
do lay it upon thee, as thou wilt answer the contrary at the
dreadful day of God, when the King of Righteousness shall judge
thee and all mankind.
E. BURROUGH.’
The 24th of the Eleventh month, 1659.
This parliament did so lord it, that about fifteen hundred military
officers were cashiered, and others put into their places.
About this time George Fox the younger wrote also a letter to the
parliament and the army, which was as followeth:
‘Your day into darkness is turned; the sun is gone down over you.
You have had a large day, and power given unto you, to have done
the will of God, but you have abused the power, and slighted your
day; and you have refused to do the Lord’s work, and have sought
to serve yourselves, and not the Lord; therefore in justice and
righteousness, is the day wherein you might have wrought for God,
taken from you; and the thick dark night of confusion is come
upon you, wherein you are groping and stumbling, and cannot work;
the decree is gone out, and sealed against you, and it cannot be
recalled; you are not the men, (as ye stand,) in whom God will
appear to work deliverance for his people, and creatures; and yet
deliverance shall come, but not according to man’s expectations.
But as for you, ye have rejected the counsel of the Lord, and
grieved his Spirit, and he hath long borne you; yea, you are
departed from the Lord, and his presence is departed from you;
indeed he hath hewed with you, and if you had been faithful to
the end, he would have honoured and prospered you, and would
have been your sufficient reward: ye were his axe, but you have
boasted yourselves against him; therefore as you have beaten,
and hewed, and broken others, even so must you be beaten, hewed,
and broken; for you have grievously provoked the Lord; and if he
should now suffer that tree, which ye have cut, to fall upon you,
and to break part of you, it were just.
‘O ye treacherous, wilful, proud, self-seeking people, who have
despised the counsel of the Lord, and would not take warning,
though he hath sent his prophets and servants early and late
among you, some of whom you have imprisoned and despitefully
used; what will ye do now? Whom will ye now flee unto for help;
seeing ye are departed from the Lord, and are now rending and
tearing, biting and devouring one another, for proud, ambitious,
self ends? (Mark.) If you would now build again the thing that
you once destroyed, that shall not be able to hide or shelter
you from the wrath of the Lamb; that way whereby you think to
strengthen yourselves, thereby shall you make yourselves much
weaker, and help forward your own destruction; you are now but
a rod, remember your end, which hastens greatly. Now breach
upon breach, insurrection upon insurrection, overturning upon
overturning, heaps upon heaps, division upon division shall there
be, until he come to reign, whose right it is; and all nations
must bow before him, else he will break them with his iron rod.
‘They that trust in, or lean upon you for help, it is as if they
leaned upon a broken reed, which is not able to help itself,
nor others; indeed you have been made to do many good things,
but you would not go through with the work which God will have
accomplished, and therefore are these things come upon you;
therefore tremble and dread before the Lord, ye who have been as
strong oaks, and tall cedars, for now shall your strength fail
you, and you shall be weak, even as the weakest of men; but if
you would yet believe in the light, and truly submit to God’s
righteous judgments, many of you might come to witness your souls
saved, in the day of the Lord; though many of your bodies are
to be thrown by, because of your grievous backslidings, as not
counted worthy to be the Lord’s workmen.
‘There is a small remnant yet among you, for whom my soul
breathes, who may be winnowed out; and if they will own the
judgments of the Lord, and truly and thoroughly deny themselves,
and follow his leadings, he will heal their backslidings, and
purge them, that so they may be instruments in his hand: but they
that will continue with you in your sins, shall partake with you
of your judgments.
‘The rod of the wicked shall not always rest upon the back of
the righteous; yet even as gold is tried, so shall they be, that
they may be white, and without spot before the Lamb; but God will
avenge their cause, and wo then will be to their oppressors; and
then shall the majesty and the glory of the Lord fill his people,
who have long been trodden under, and they shall be the dread of
all nations; the zeal of the Lord of Hosts shall perform this.
GEORGE FOX, _the younger_.’
11th Month, (59.)
This letter being printed, a copy of it was given to each parliament
man, before Monk with his army came into London; and how soon the
predictions contained therein, as well as those of E. Burrough, in the
foregoing year, came to be fulfilled, when many of the great ones were
hanged and quartered, we shall see in the sequel.
General Monk came now, with part of the army he commanded, out of
Scotland; into England, and made great alterations among the officers,
putting in such as were believed to be no enemies to Charles Stuart;
for whatsoever Monk said of his resolution to be true and faithful to
the parliament, and to promote the interest of a commonwealth; yet it
appeared ere long that he aimed at something else; which he could do
the easier, because he wanted not adherents in the parliament; though
he did not stick to say to Edmund Ludlow, ‘We must live and die for,
and with, a commonwealth:’ and to others he declared, that he would
oppose to the utmost the setting up of Charles Stuart. In the meanwhile
he so ordered it, that many members of the parliament, that had been
long excluded as unqualified, took session again in that assembly; and
these brought it about, that sir George Booth, who was confined to the
Tower, for having carried on a design for Charles Stuart, was set at
liberty. Neither was the city of London in a condition to oppose Monk;
for he caused the port-cullies, and doors of the city gates, and the
posts to be pulled down; and the royalists were now become so bold,
that they printed a list of the names of the judges that condemned
king Charles the First to death; and some of them were secured, whilst
others fled away. General Lambert was also sent to the Tower, and Monk,
whose authority now increased, sent for the lords, who until the year
1648, had sat in parliament, and bade them return to the house where
they formerly used to sit.
In these overturnings G. Fox came to London, to wit, in the time when
they were breaking the city gates. He then wrote a paper to those
that were now sinking, and told them, that now the prophecies were
fulfilling upon them, which had been spoken to them; and that they
who used to call the Quakers fanatics, and giddyheads, now seemed
themselves giddy, and fugitives or wanderers.
From London G. Fox went to Sussex, and from thence to Dorsetshire. At
Dorchester he had a great meeting in the evening at the inn where he
lodged, and there came many soldiers, who were pretty civil. But the
constables and officers of the town came also, under pretence to look
for a Jesuit, whose head, they said, was shaved. So they took off G.
Fox’s hat, but not finding any bald place on his head, they went away
with shame. This was of good service among the soldiers and others, and
it affected the people, who were turned to the Lord Jesus Christ.
Then he passed into Somersetshire, where his friends meetings were
often disturbed. One time there came a wicked man, who having a
bear’s skin on his back, played ugly pranks in the meeting; and
setting himself opposite to the person that was preaching, lolled his
tongue out of his mouth, and so made sport for his wicked followers,
and caused great disturbance in the meeting. But as he went back
from thence, an eminent judgment overtook him; for there being a
bull-baiting in the way, he staid to see; and coming within his reach,
the bull pushed his horn under the man’s chin, into his throat, and
forced his tongue out of his mouth, so that it hung out in the same
manner as before he lolled it out in derision in the meeting: and the
bull running his horn into the man’s head, swung him about in a most
fearful manner.
G. Fox travelling through Somersetshire, came into Devonshire, and so
went into Cornwall, till he came to the Land’s End. Whilst he was in
Cornwall, there were great shipwrecks about the Land’s End. Now it
was the custom of that country, that at such times both rich and poor
went out to get as much of the wreck as they could, not caring to save
the people’s lives; and this custom so prevailed, that in some parts
of the country they called shipwrecks, God’s grace. This grieved G.
Fox not a little, considering how far these professed Christians were
below the heathen at Melita, who courteously received Paul, and the
others that had suffered shipwreck with him, and made him a fire. On
this consideration, he was moved to write a paper to the magistrates,
priests, and others, both high and low; in which he showed them the
wickedness of their deeds, and reproved them for such greedy actions,
telling them how they were ready to fight with one another for the
spoil, and spend what they got in taverns or ale-houses, letting those
that escaped drowning, go a begging up and down the country. Therefore
he seriously exhorted them, to do unto others, what they would have
done to themselves.
This paper he sent to all the parishes thereabouts: and after having
had many meetings in Cornwall, and several eminent people being
convinced of the Truth preached by him, he went to Bristol, where the
meetings of his friends were exceedingly disturbed by the soldiers.
Having heard this, he desired George Bishop, Thomas Gouldney, Thomas
Speed, and Edward Pyot, to go to the mayor and aldermen, and desire
them to let his friends have the town-hall to meet in, provided it
should not be on such days when the mayor and aldermen had business to
do in it; and that for this use they would give twenty pounds a year,
to be distributed among the poor. These four persons were astonished
at this proposal, and said, the mayor and aldermen would think them
mad; for the mayor and the commander of the soldiers had combined
together to make a disturbance in their meetings. But G. Fox so
encouraged them, that at last they consented to what he desired. Being
come to the mayor, he was moderate beyond expectation; and when they
had laid the thing before him, he said, for his part, he could consent
to it; but he was but one. So they left him in a loving frame of mind;
and coming back, G. Fox desired them to go also to the colonel that
commanded the soldiers, and to acquaint him of their rude carriage,
and how they disturbed the meetings. But the aforesaid four persons
were backward to go to him. Next morning being the First day of the
week, a meeting was kept in an orchard, where many people came; and
after G. Fox had been preaching a pretty while, there came several
rude soldiers, some with drawn swords, and some drunk, and among these
one that had bound himself with an oath to cut down, and kill the man
that spoke. But when he came pressing in through the crowd, and was
within two yards of G. Fox, he stopped at those four persons before
mentioned, and fell a jangling with them; but at length his sword was
put up again. The next day they went and spoke with the colonel, and
he having heard how mischievous his soldiers had been, sent for them,
and cut and slashed some of them. When this was told G. Fox, he blamed
those his friends, thinking they might have prevented the cutting of
the soldiers, if they had gone to the colonel when he would have had
them. Yet this had such effect, that the meeting there was kept without
disturbance a good while after.
G. Fox then also had a general meeting at Edward Pyot’s, near Bristol,
at which were several thousands of people; and so many of Bristol, that
some said, the city looked naked; and all was quiet.
But in other places, about this time, things were not so quiet; for
the soldiers, under general Monk’s command, were often very rude in
disturbing of meetings. But when complaint was made to him, who was
then at Westminster, he showed that he would not countenance such
wickedness, and did in that respect better than several other generals
had done, for he gave forth the following order.
‘_St. James’s, March 9, 1659-60._
‘I do require all officers and soldiers, to forbear to disturb
the peaceable meetings of the Quakers, they doing nothing
prejudicial to the parliament or commonwealth of England.
GEORGE MONK.’
Monk having thus long declared for a commonwealth, and against a king,
began now to take off the mask; for the old lords had now taken their
places again in the House of Peers, out of which they had been kept so
many years; and by the advice of Monk, Charles Stuart, (who for several
years had lived at Cologne, and, having made a voyage to Spain, was
from thence come, by France, to Brussels,) repaired to Breda: and in
England it being resolved upon to call him back, and to restore him,
he gave forth the following declaration at Breda; thereby to persuade
those that were yet backward to acknowledge him.
‘_Charles, R._
‘Charles, by the grace of God, king of England, Scotland,
France, and Ireland, defender of the faith, &c. To all our
loving subjects, of what degree or quality soever, greeting. If
the general distraction and confusion which is spread over the
whole kingdom, doth not awaken all men to a desire and longing
that those wounds which have for so many years together been kept
bleeding, may be bound up, all we can say will be to no purpose.
However, after this long silence, we have thought it our duty to
declare, how much we desire to contribute thereunto; and that
as we can never give over the hope, in good time to obtain the
possession of that right which God and nature has made our due;
so we do make it our daily suit to the Divine Providence, that he
will, in compassion to us and our subjects, after so long misery
and sufferings, remit, and put us into a quiet and peaceable
possession of that our right, with as little blood and damage to
our people as is possible. Nor do we desire more to enjoy what is
ours, than that all our subjects may enjoy what by law is theirs,
by a full and entire administration of justice throughout the
land, and by extending our mercy where it is wanted and desired.
‘And to the end that the fear of punishment may not engage any,
conscious to themselves of what is past, to a perseverance in
guilt for the future; by opposing the quiet and happiness of
their country, in the restoration both of king, peers, and
people, to their just, ancient, and fundamental rights; we do
by these presents declare, that we do grant a free and general
pardon, which we are ready upon demand to pass under our great
seal of England, to all our subjects, of what degree or quality
soever, who, within forty days after the publishing hereof, shall
lay hold upon this our grace and favour; and shall by any public
act declare their doing so, and that they return to the loyalty
and obedience of good subjects; excepting only such persons as
shall hereafter be excepted by parliament. Those only excepted,
let all our subjects, how faulty soever, rely upon the word of a
king, solemnly given by this present declaration, that no crime
whatsoever, committed against us, or our royal father, before the
publication of this, shall ever rise in judgment, or be brought
in question against any of them, to the least endamagement of
them, either in their lives, liberties, or estates; or as far
forth as lies in our power, so much as to the prejudice of their
reputations, by any reproach, or term of distinction, from the
rest of our best subjects; we desiring, and ordaining, that
henceforward all notes of discord, separation, and difference of
parties, be utterly abolished among all our subjects, whom we
invite and conjure to a perfect union among themselves, under our
protection, for the resettlement of our just rights, and theirs,
in a free parliament, by which, upon the word of a king, we will
be advised.
‘And because the passion and uncharitableness of the times have
produced several opinions in religion; by which men are engaged
in parties and animosities against each other, which, when they
shall hereafter unite, in a freedom of conversation, will be
composed, or better understood; we do declare a liberty to tender
consciences, and that no man shall be disquieted, or called in
question, for differences of opinion in matter of religion, which
do not disturb the peace of the kingdom; and that we shall be
ready to consent to such an act of parliament, as, upon mature
deliberation, shall be offered to us for the full granting of
that indulgence.
‘And because, in the continual distractions of so many years,
and so many and great revolutions, many grants and purchases of
estates, have been made to, and by, many officers, soldiers, and
others, who are now possessed of the same, and who may be liable
to actions at law upon several titles, we are likewise willing
that all such differences, and all things relating to such
grants, sales, and purchases, shall be determined in parliament;
which can best provide for the just satisfaction of all men who
are concerned.
‘And we do further declare, that we will be ready to consent to
any act, or acts of parliament, to the purposes aforesaid, and
for the full satisfaction of all arrears due to the officers, and
soldiers of the army, under the command of general Monk; and that
they shall be received into our service, upon as good pay and
conditions as they now enjoy.
‘Given under our sign manual and privy signet at our court at
Breda, this 14th day of April, 1660, in the Twelfth year of our
reign.’
The original of this declaration was sent to the House of Lords, and a
duplicate in a letter to the House of Commons; and repeated and sent in
a letter to General Monk, the council of state, and the officers of the
army. Hereupon it was resolved by the parliament, to prepare an answer;
and both in the House of Lords, and in the House of Commons, it was
voted to proclaim king Charles at Whitehall, and in London, as lawful
sovereign of his kingdoms, which was done on the 8th of the month
called May.
Now the king, who by the Spaniards was invited to return to Brussels,
and by the French to come to Calais, chose, at the pressing invitation
of the States-general of the United Provinces, to go by Holland: and
so he went, with the yachts of the States, to Rotterdam, and from
thence with coaches to the Hague; where having staid some days, he took
shipping at Schevelinghen for England, and made his entry at London on
the anniversary of his birth-day. Thus we see Charles the Second, (who
not long after was crowned,) restored, not by the sword, but by the
marvellous hand of the Lord.
About this time G. Fox the younger came to Harwich, where he was hauled
out of a meeting, and imprisoned under a pretence of having caused a
tumult. But to give to the reader a true sight of the matter, I must go
back a little.
About four years before this time, some of the people called Quakers,
being come into the said town, one of them spoke a few words by way of
exhortation to the people that came from the steeple-house; and passing
on, he and those with him went to an inn. The mayor hearing thereof,
sent to them, commanding that they should depart the town, which they
did after a short space; but about night they returned, and lodged at
their inn, and the next day passed away peaceably. Not long after, the
woman that kept the inn, was commanded to come before the magistrates;
who threatened to take away her license, unless she promised to lodge
no more such persons. But how eager soever they were for keeping out
the Quakers, yet it proved ineffectual; for it seems some of those
that had been spoken to in the streets, were so reached, that they
came to be obedient to the inward teachings of the Lord they had been
recommended to. And so a way was made for meetings there, whereby the
number of those of that society began to increase. And because they
could no longer comply with superstitious burials, they bought a piece
of ground to bury their dead in, but met with great opposition at their
burials; and once, when several came along to bury a corpse, it was by
force taken from them, and set by the sea side, where having lain above
ground part of two days and one night, it was privately covered by some
with small stones.
In the month called May, G. Fox the younger came to Harwich, to preach
the Truth there. The mayor of the town, whose name was Miles Hubbard,
having heard of this, stopt several that were going to the meeting.
The rude multitude seeing it, grew insolent, and made a hideous noise
before the house where the meeting was kept, and some were for pulling
it down. G. Fox hearing the noise, whilst he was preaching, grew
very zealous, and with a mighty power was made to say, ‘Wo, wo unto
the rulers and teachers of this nation, who suffer such ungodliness
as this, and do not seek to suppress it.’ Some that heard him thus
speaking, went and told the magistrates of it, perhaps not in the
self-same words as were uttered by him. The officers then coming, the
mayor commanded the constables to take the said G. Fox into custody;
who hearing this, said, ‘If I have done any thing worthy of death, or
bonds, I shall not refuse either; but I desire thee to show me what law
I have transgressed; which thou oughtest to do, before thou sendest me
to prison, that I may know for what I am sent thither.’ But the mayor
told him, he should know that afterward; and so he was carried to
prison. Robert Grassingham, who was shipwright of the admiralty in that
port, being at the meeting, out of which G. Fox was hauled, in love
went freely along with him to prison. This seemed to please the mayor,
who some days before had been heard to say concerning Grassingham,
‘If I could but get him out of the town, I should know what course to
take with the other Quakers.’ Some time after G. Fox was imprisoned, a
mittimus was sent to the jailer, in which the prisoner was charged with
causing a tumult in that borough, and disturbing the peace thereof.
This mittimus was signed by Miles Hubbard, mayor, Anthony Woolward, and
Daniel Smith; and these magistrates sent notice of what they had done,
to the parliament, under a specious pretence, that so they might not
fall into disgrace. The parliament receiving this information, issued
forth the following order:
‘_Monday, May 21, 1660._
‘The house being informed, that two Quakers, that is to say,
George Fox and Robert Grassingham, have lately made a disturbance
at Harwich, and that the said George Fox, who pretends to be a
preacher, did lately in his preaching there, speak words much
reflecting on the government and ministry, to the near causing of
a mutiny, and is now committed by the mayor and the magistrates
there.
‘Ordered that the said George Fox and Robert Grassingham be
forthwith brought up in custody; and that the sheriff of the
county of Essex do receive them, and give them his assistance for
the conveying them up accordingly, and delivering them into the
charge of the serjeant at arms attending this house.
‘Ordered, that the thanks of this house be given to the mayor and
magistrates of Harwich, for their care in this business.
WILLIAM JESSOP,
_Clerk of the Common House of Parliament_.’
By this it appeared that the magistrates of Harwich had special friends
in the parliament. R. Grassingham being at liberty, was gone to London;
and when this order came to Harwich, G. Fox was delivered to the
sheriff of Essex and his men: these went with him to London, and upon
the road they met Grassingham, who was coming from London to Harwich,
in pursuance of an order which he had received from the commissioner
of the admiralty and navy, for refitting one of the king’s frigates.
But notwithstanding Grassingham showed his order to the sheriff, yet
he brought him back to London with Fox, and delivered them into the
custody of the serjeant at arms attending the house, who committed
them to Lambeth house. They having been there about three weeks, wrote
a letter to the House of Commons, wherein they gave some account of
the manner of their imprisonment, and desired that they with their
accusers might be brought face to face before the parliament, saying,
that if any thing could be proved against them, worthy of punishment,
they should not refuse it. But they thought it to be unjust and
unreasonable, that a man should be hauled out of a peaceable meeting,
and sent to prison, without being examined, only for declaring against
the cursing and the wickedness of the rude people, and against such as
suffered such ungodliness, and did not seek to suppress it.
This was the chief contents of their paper, which they enclosed in a
letter to the speaker of the House of Commons in these words:
_For the Speaker of the House of Commons._
‘FRIEND,
‘We desire thee to communicate this enclosed to the House of
Commons, it being a few innocent, just, and reasonable words to
them though not in the eloquent language of man’s wisdom, yet it
is in the truth which is honourable.
We are friends to righteousness and truth,
and to all that are found therein.
ROBERT GRASSINGHAM,
GEORGE FOX.’
But the speaker did not deliver the paper, under pretence that it was
not directed with the ordinary title, ‘To the Right Honourable the
House of Commons.’ Therefore by the help of their friends they got it
printed, that so each member of parliament might have a copy of it. Now
after they had lain about fourteen weeks in Lambeth gate-house without
being examined, one of the members of parliament moved this business in
the house; whereupon the following order was made:
‘_Thursday, October 30th, 1660._
’Ordered that George Fox and Robert Grassingham, who by virtue
of a former order of this house, were taken into custody by the
serjeant at arms attending this house, for some disturbance at
Harwich, be forthwith released, and set at liberty, upon bail
first given to render themselves, when they shall be in that
behalf required.
WILLIAM JESSOP,
_Clerk of the House of Commons_.’
Shortly after this order was issued forth, the serjeant at arms sent
his clerk to demand fees and chamber rent of the prisoners, asking
fifty pounds for fees, and ten shillings a week for chamber rent. But
since no evil was laid to their charge, they could not resolve to
satisfy this unreasonable demand, yet offered to pay two shillings
and six pence a week, though the chamber where they had lain, was the
highest room in a lofty tower, and all the windows open, until they
had gotten them glazed, without any charge to the serjeant. Matters
standing thus, their cause was referred to the king’s privy council.
But it lasted yet a good while before they were released; for several
evasions were made use of to keep them in custody.
Whilst G. Fox was prisoner, he wrote a little book, which he called,
‘A Noble Salutation to king Charles Stuart,’ wherein he showed him how
matters had gone in England, viz. That his father’s party scorned those
that appeared in arms against them because of their meanness; for they
were tradesmen, ploughmen, servants, and the like; which contemptible
instruments God made use of to bring down the loftiness of the others.
But those of the parliament party growing from time to time successful,
and prevailing, got into the possessions of those they conquered,
and fell into the same pride and oppression which they had cried out
against in others; and many of them became greater oppressors, and
persecutors than the former had been. Moreover, the author exhorted the
king to observe the hand of the Lord in restoring of him. ‘Therefore,’
said he, ‘Let no man deceive thee, by persuading thee that these things
are thus brought to pass, because the kingdom was thy own proper right,
and because it was withheld from thee contrary to all right; or because
that those called royalists are much more righteous than those who
are now fallen under thee. For I plainly declare unto thee, that this
kingdom, and all the kingdoms of the earth, are properly the Lord’s.
And this know, that it was the just hand of God, in taking away the
kingdom from thy father and thee: and giving it unto others; and that
also it is the just hand of the Lord to take it again from them, and
bring them under thee: though I shall not say, but that some of them
went beyond their commission against thy father, when they were brought
as a rod over you; and well will it be for thee, if thou becomest not
guilty of the same transgressions.
The author further exhorts the king to consider, this his station was
not without danger, because of the changeableness of the people, a
great part of which were perfidious; since one while they had sworn for
a king and parliament; and shortly after they swore against a king,
single person, or house of Lords; and afterwards again they swore for
a single person. Some time after they cried up a parliament again. And
when O. Cromwell had turned out the parliament, and set up himself,
then the priests prayed for him, and asserted his authority to be just;
and when he died, they fawned upon his son Richard, and blasphemously
termed his father the light of their eyes, and the breath of their
nostrils; and they told him, that God had left him to carry on that
glorious work which his father had begun. Nay, some priests compared
Oliver to Moses, and Richard to Joshua, who should carry them into the
promised land. Thus they continually would flatter those that were
at the helm. For when George Booth made a rising, and they thought
there would be a turn, then some of the priests cried out against the
parliament, and cursed such as would not go out against them. But when
Booth was taken, then many began to petition the parliament and to
excuse themselves, that they had no hand in that rising.
Next the author set forth the wickedness of the people by excessive
drinking and drunkenness, thereby as it were to show their loyalty to
the king; and he relates also, how having preached at Harwich, against
the grievous wickedness of the people, he was hauled to prison in the
king’s name. Finally, he exhorts the king, to take heed of seeking
revenge; and to show mercy.
This paper, which was not a small one, for it took up several sheets,
was delivered in writing by Richard Hubberthorn, into the king’s hand
at Whitehall, and was not long after by the author published in print.
Now one of the most eminent royalists drew up divers queries to the
Quakers, desiring them to answer them, and to direct their answer
with this superscription, ‘_Tradite hanc amico Regis_,’ that is,
‘Deliver this to the king’s friend.’ For it was clearly seen, that
several of their predictions came to be fulfilled, of which those of
Edward Burrough were not the least. And therefore some, (as it seems,)
thought that by the Quakers they might get some knowledge whether any
stability of the king’s government was to be expected. By the queries
it appeared, that the author of them was a man of understanding, and of
some moderation also; and though I do not know who he was, yet I am not
without thoughts that Edward, earl of Clarendon, and high chancellor,
may have been the penman thereof. The tendency of these queries chiefly
was to know from the Quakers, what their judgment was concerning the
king’s right to the crown; and whether they ever did foresee his
return; and also whether they could judge that his reign and government
should be blessed or not. Moreover, whether he might justly forgive,
or avenge himself: and whether he might allow liberty of conscience
to all sorts of people, &c. Edward Burrough answered these queries,
and published his answer in print. It was directed to the king and the
royalists. In it he showed, that in some of their writings it had been
signified, that they had some expectations of the king’s restoration.
That the king’s coming to the throne was reasonable and equitable,
because through the purpose of the Lord. That his reign and government
might be blessed, or not blessed, according to his carriage. And that
he might justly forgive his, and his father’s enemies; for though he
and his father might have been injured, yet for as much as they had
applied to the sword to determine their controversy with the nation,
the sword went against them; and by that whereby they thought to stand,
they did fall; and who then should they blame for that which befel
them, seeing the sword, which they themselves did choose, destroyed
them. However, the author signified, that this was not meant of the
king’s death; that being quite another case. And if such, who had
destroyed kingly government in name and title, and pretended to govern
better, and did not make reformation, but became oppressors, having
broke their promises, came to be punished on that account with death
or otherwise, such could not be said to suffer for a good conscience,
nor for righteousness sake; but it was because they were oppressors;
and suffering for that cause could not be called persecution. ‘But none
of us, (thus ran Edward Burrough’s words,) can suffer for that cause,
as not being guilty thereof. If we suffer in your government, it is
for the name of Christ; because nothing can be charged against us in
this capacity as we now stand, and in this state into which we are now
gathered and changed, not in any matter of action or rebellion against
the king nor his father; nor in any thing but concerning the law and
worship of our God, and the matters of his kingdom, and our pure
consciences. And if any that are now amongst us were any way engaged
in the parliament service in the wars, it was not in rebellion against
the king or his father, as that we sought their destruction as men; but
upon sober and reasonable principles, and not for corrupt ends, nor
to get honour and riches to ourselves, as some others might do, who
went into the war for self ends, and continued in action, after the
cause which was once engaged for was utterly lost. And that principle,
which some time led some into action to oppose oppression, and seek
after reformation, that principle is still justified, though we are now
better informed than once we were. For though we do now more than ever
oppose oppression, and seek after reformation, yet we do it not in that
way of outward warring and fighting with carnal weapons and swords;
and you and the king ought to put a difference between such as some
time acted in the wars against you, in and upon sober and reasonable
principles, and that did not make themselves rich and high in the world
through your sufferings, and between such as have acted against you for
self ends, and have insulted over you, and have made themselves great
and rich in this world through your afflictions and sufferings.’ To
the query, whether the great afflictions sustained by the king divers
years, from subjects of his own nation, and the guilt thereof, did
lie upon all the subjects in general; or whether upon any, or some
particular sorts of people, who were such more than others; E. Burrough
made this answer, ‘So far as his sufferings were unjust, the guilt
thereof doth not lie upon all the subjects in general, but upon some
more than others; and such are easy to be distinguished from others,
if it be considered who they are that raised the war in this nation
against the king, and who first preached and prayed up the war, and
prosecuted it against the king’s father, and who cast out the bishops
and prelates from their places, and took their revenues and benefices,
and are become men as corrupted, as covetous and self-seeking, as proud
and ambitious, as unjust persecutors, as ever the men were which they
cast out: and who is it that hath gotten great estates in the nation,
and worldly honour, and raised themselves from nothing by the wars,
and by your sufferings; and who got the estates and titles of their
enemies, and pretended to free them from all oppressions, but have
not done it; but have continued the old oppressions, and have been
striving among themselves who should rule, and who should be great? And
as for us, who are called Quakers, we are clear from the guilt of all
the king’s sufferings. We have not cast out others, and taken their
places of great benefices, neither have we made war with carnal weapons
against any, ever since we were a people. Neither have we broken oaths
and engagements, nor promised freedom and deliverance, and for self
ends and earthly riches betrayed, as others have done, what we have
pretended to. And in many particulars it doth appear that we are clear
from his sufferings, for we have been a suffering people as well as
they, by the same spirit which caused them to suffer, which hath been
much more cruel, wicked, and unjust towards us, than it hath been
towards them, though our persecution hath been in another manner. But
what they have done against us we can freely forgive them, and would
have you to follow the same example. And if you could accuse them in
many things, so could we: but this is not a time to accuse one another,
but to forgive one another, and so to overcome your enemies. When they
had gotten the victory, they did not reform, but became oppressors, as
well as others, and became cruel towards others, that would not say and
do as they: and for this cause the Lord hath brought them down, and may
justly suffer others to deal with them as they have dealt with others.
Yet notwithstanding I must still say, and it is my judgment, that there
was very great oppression and vexation under the government of the late
king, and bishops under his power, which the Lord was offended with,
and many good people oppressed by; for which cause the Lord might and
did justly raise up some to oppose, and strive against oppressions
and injustice, and to press after reformation in all things. And
that principle of sincerity, which in some things carried them on in
opposing oppressions and pressing after reformation, I can never deny,
but acknowledge it; though many soon lost it, and became self-seekers,
forgetting the cause pretended to,’ &c.
* * * * *
This is but a small part of the queries, and the answers thereunto,
which E. Burrough concluded with a bold exhortation to the king, to
fear and reverence the Lord.
* * * * *
Now we return again to G. Fox the elder, whom we left about Bristol;
from whence he passed to Gloucester, Worcester, Drayton, (the place of
his nativity,) and Yorkshire. In that country at that time a Yearly
meeting was kept at Balby, in an orchard, where some thousands of
people were met together. At York, about thirty miles off, notice
being given of this meeting, a troop of horse came from thence; and
when G. Fox stood preaching in the meeting on a stool, two trumpeters
came riding up, sounding their trumpets pretty near him; and then the
captain bid him come down, for he was come, he said, to disperse the
meeting. G. Fox then speaking, told him, he knew they were peaceable
people; but if he did question that they met in an hostile manner, he
might make search among them; and if he found either sword or pistol
about any there, such may suffer. But the captain told G. Fox, he must
see them dispersed, for he came all night on purpose to disperse them.
G. Fox asked him, what honour it would be to him to ride with swords
and pistols amongst so many unarmed men and women? But if he would be
still and quiet, the meeting probably might not continue above two or
three hours; and when it was done, as they came peaceably, so they
should part: for he might perceive, the meeting was so large, that
all the country thereabouts could not entertain them, but that they
intended to depart towards their homes at night. But the captain said,
he could not stay so long. G. Fox desired then, that if he himself
could not stay to see the meeting ended, he would let a dozen of his
soldiers stay. To this the captain said, he would permit them an hour’s
time; so he left six soldiers to stay there, and then went away with
his troop: he being gone, the soldiers that were left, told those that
were met together, they might stay till night, if they would. This
they were not for, but parted about three hours after, without any
disturbance. But if the soldiers had been of such a temper as their
captain, perhaps the meeting would not have ended thus quietly: for
he was a desperate man, having once told G. Fox in Scotland, that he
would obey his superiors’ command; and if it were to crucify Christ,
he would do it; or execute the great Turk’s commands against the
Christians, if he were under him.
Now G. Fox went to Skipton, where there was a general meeting
concerning the affairs of the church. For many of his friends suffered
much, and their goods being taken from them, and some brought to
poverty, there was a necessity to provide for them. This meeting had
stood several years; for when the justices and captains came to break
them up, and saw the books and accounts of collections for relief of
the poor, and how care was taken that one county should help another,
and provide for the poor, they commended such practice, and passed away
in love. Sometimes there would come two hundred poor people, belonging
to other societies, and wait there till the meeting was done: and then
the Friends would send to the baker’s for bread, and give every one of
these poor people a loaf, how many soever there were: for they were
taught to do good unto all, though especially to the household of faith.
From hence G. Fox went to Lancaster, and so to Swarthmore, where he was
apprehended at the house of Margaret Fell, who was now a widow, judge
Thomas Fell, her husband, having been deceased about two years before.
Now some imagined they had done a remarkable act; for one said, he did
not think a thousand men could have taken G. Fox. They led him away
to Ulverstone, where he was kept all night at the constable’s house,
and a guard of fifteen or sixteen men were set to watch him; some of
which sat in the chimney, for fear he should go up the funnel. Next
morning he was carried to Lancaster, but exceedingly abused by the way;
and being come to town, was brought to the house of a justice, whose
name was Henry Porter, and who had granted the warrant against him.
He asked Porter, for what, and by whose order, he had sent forth his
warrant; and he complained to him of the abuse of the constables and
other officers: for they had set him upon a horse behind the saddle,
so that he had nothing to hold by; and maliciously beating the horse,
made him kick and gallop, and throw off his rider. But Porter would
not take any notice of that, and told G. Fox, he had an order; but
would not let him see it, for he would not reveal the king’s secrets.
After many words were exchanged, he was carried to Lancaster prison.
Being there a close prisoner in the common jail, he desired two of his
friends, one of which was Thomas Green, the other Thomas Commings, a
minister of the gospel, (with whom I was very familiarly acquainted,)
to go to the jailer, and desire of him a copy of his mittimus. They
went, but the jailer told them he could not give a copy of it; yet he
gave it them to read; and to the best of their remembrance, the matters
therein charged against him were, that G. Fox was a person generally
suspected to be a common disturber of the peace of the nation, an enemy
to the king, and a chief upholder of the Quakers’ sect: and that he,
together with others of his fanatic opinion, had of late endeavoured
to raise insurrections in these parts of the country, and to embroil
the whole kingdom in blood. Wherefore the jailer was commanded to keep
him in safe custody, till he should be released by order from the king
and parliament. No wonder that the jailer would not give a copy of
his mittimus, for it contained almost as many untruths as words. G.
Fox then wrote an apology, wherein he answered at large to all those
false accusations. And Margaret Fell, considering what injury was
offered to her, by hauling G. Fox out of her house, wrote the following
information, and sent it abroad.
‘_To all magistrates, concerning the wrong taking up,
and imprisoning of George Fox at Lancaster._
‘I do inform the governors of this nation, that Henry Porter,
mayor of Lancaster, sent a warrant with four constables to my
house, for which he had no authority nor order. They searched
my house, and apprehended George Fox in it, who was not guilty
of the breach of any law, or of any offence against any in the
nation. After they had taken him, and brought him before the said
Henry Porter, there was bail offered, what he would demand for
his appearance, to answer what could be laid to his charge: but
he, (contrary to law, if he had taken him lawfully,) denied to
accept of any bail; and clapped him up in close prison. After he
was in prison, a copy of his mittimus was demanded, which ought
not to be denied to any prisoner, that so he may see what is laid
to his charge: but it was denied him; a copy he could not have;
only they were suffered to read it over. And every thing that was
there charged against him, was utterly false; he was not guilty
of any one charge in it, as will be proved, and manifested to the
nation. So, let the governors consider of it. I am concerned in
this thing, inasmuch as he was apprehended in my house; and if he
be guilty, I am so too. So I desire to have this searched out.
MARGARET FELL.’
After this, Margaret determined to go to London, to speak with the
king about this matter: which Porter having heard of, said he would
go too; and so he did. But because he had been a zealous man for the
parliament against the king, several of the courtiers put him in mind
of his plundering of their houses. And this so troubled him, that he
quickly left the court, and returned home, and then spoke to the jailer
about contriving a way to release G. Fox. But in his mittimus he had
overshot himself, by ordering G. Fox to be kept prisoner, till he
should be delivered by the king or parliament. G. Fox also sent him a
letter, and put him in mind, how fierce he had been against the king,
and his party, though now he would be thought zealous for the king. And
among other passages he called to his remembrance, how, when he held
Lancaster Castle for the parliament against the king, he was so rough
and fierce against those that favoured the king, that he said, he would
leave them neither dog nor cat, if they did not bring him in provision
to his castle.
One Anne Curtis coming to see G. Fox, and understanding how he stood
committed, resolved also to go to the king about it; for her father,
who had been sheriff of Bristol, was hanged near his own door, for
endeavouring to bring in the king: upon which consideration, she was in
hopes to be admitted to the king’s presence to speak with him. Coming
to London, she and Margaret Fell went together to the king, who, when
he understood whose daughter Anne was, received her kindly. She having
acquainted the king with the case of G. Fox, desired, that he would be
pleased to send for him up, and hear the cause himself. This the king
promised her he would do, and commanded his secretary to send down an
order for the bringing up G. Fox. But it was long before this order was
executed, for many evasions were sought, as well by carping at a word,
as by other craft; whereby the sending up of G. Fox was retarded above
two months. He thus continuing prisoner, wrote several papers, and
among the rest also this.
_To the King._
‘KING CHARLES,
‘Thou camest not into this nation by sword, nor by victory of
war; but by the power of the Lord; now if thou dost not live
in it, thou wilt not prosper. And if the Lord hath showed
thee mercy, and forgiven thee, and thou dost not show mercy
and forgive, the Lord God will not hear thy prayers, nor them
that pray for thee: and if thou do not stop persecution, and
persecutors, and take away all laws that do hold up persecution
about religion; but if thou do persist in them, and uphold
persecution, that will make thee as blind as them that have gone
before thee: for persecution hath always blinded those that have
gone into it; and such God by his power overthrows, and doth his
valiant acts upon; and bringeth salvation to his oppressed ones:
and if thou dost bear the sword in vain, and let drunkenness,
oaths, plays, may-games, with fiddlers, drums, trumpets, to play
at them, with such like abominations and vanities be encouraged,
or go unpunished; as setting up of maypoles, with the image of
the crown atop of them, &c. the nations will quickly turn like
Sodom and Gomorrah, and be as bad as the old world, who grieved
the Lord till he overthrew them: and so he will you, if these
things be not suddenly prevented. Hardly was there so much
wickedness at liberty before now, as there is at this day; as
though there was no terror, nor sword of magistracy; which doth
not grace a government, nor is a praise to them that do well. Our
prayers are for them that are in authority, that under them we
may live a godly life, in which we have peace; and that we may
not be brought into ungodliness by them. So hear, and consider,
and do good in thy time, whilst thou hast power; and be merciful,
and forgive, that is the way to overcome, and obtain the kingdom
of Christ.
G. F.’
The sheriff of Lancaster still refused to remove G. Fox, unless he
would become bound, and pay for the sealing of the writing, and the
charge of carrying him up. But this he would not. Then they consulting
how to convey him, it was at first proposed to send a party of
horse with him. But he told them, if he were such a man as they had
represented him to be, they had need to send a troop or two of horse to
guard him. But considering that this would be a great charge to them,
they concluded to send him up guarded only by the jailer, and some
bailiffs. On further consideration, they found that this also would be
very chargeable, and thereupon told him, if he would put in bail, that
he would be in London such a day of the term, he should have leave to
go up with some of his own friends. G. Fox told them, he would neither
put in any bail, nor give any money: but if they would let him go up
with one or two of his friends, he would go up, and be in London such
a day, if the Lord did permit. So at last, when they saw they could
not make him bow, the sheriff consented that he should go up with some
of his friends, without any other engagement than his word, to appear
before the judges at London such a day of the term, if the Lord did
permit. Whereupon they let him go out of prison, and after some stay,
he went with Richard Hubberthorn and Robert Withers, to London, whither
he came on a day that some of the judges of king Charles the First,
were hanged and quartered at Charing Cross: for now what E. Burrough
and others had plainly foretold, was fulfilling on them.
The next morning G. Fox, and those with him, went to judge Thomas
Mallet’s chamber, who then was putting on his red gown, to sit upon
some more of the king’s judges, and therefore he told him he might come
another time. G. Fox did so, being accompanied by ---- Marsh, esq.
one of the king’s bed-chamber. When he came to the judge’s chamber,
he found there also the lord chief justice Foster, and delivered to
them the charge that was against him: but when they read those words,
that he and his friends were embroiling the nation in blood, &c. they
struck their hands on the table: whereupon G. Fox told them, that he
was the man whom that charge was against; but that he was as innocent
of any such thing as a newborn child; that he brought it up himself,
and that some of his friends came up with him, without any guard. As
yet the judges had not minded G. Fox’s hat, but now seeing his hat
on, they said why did he stand with his hat on? He told them, he did
not stand in any contempt to them. Then they commanded one to take it
off; and having called for the marshal of the King’s Bench, they said
to him, ‘you must take this man and secure him, but you must let him
have a chamber, and not put him amongst the prisoners.’ But the marshal
said his house was so full, that he could not tell where to provide a
room for him, but amongst the prisoners. Judge Foster then said to G.
Fox, ‘Will you appear to-morrow about ten of the clock at the King’s
Bench Bar, in Westminster Hall?’ ‘Yes,’ said he, ‘if the Lord give me
strength.’ Hereupon the said judge said to the other judge, ‘If he say
yes, and promises it, ye may take his word.’
So he was dismissed for that time, and the next day appeared at the
King’s Bench Bar at the hour appointed, being accompanied by Richard
Hubberthorn, Robert Withers, and esquire Marsh, before-named. And being
brought into the middle of the court, he looked about and turning to
the people, said, ‘Peace be among you.’ Then the charge against him
was read, and coming to that part which said, that he and his friends
were embroiling the nation in blood, and raising a new war, and that
he was an enemy to the king, &c. those of the bench lifted up their
hands. He then stretching out his arms, said, ‘I am the man whom that
charge is against; but I am as innocent as a child concerning the
charge, and have never learned any war postures. Do you think, that
if I and my friends had been such men as the charge declares, that I
would have brought it up myself against myself? Or that I should have
been suffered to come up with only one or two of my friends with me?
For had I been such a man as this charge sets forth, I had need to
have been guarded up with a troop or two of horse: but the sheriff and
magistrates of Lancashire had thought fit to let me and my friends come
up by ourselves, almost two hundred miles, without any guard at all,
which we may be sure they would not have done, if they had looked upon
me to be such a man.’ Then the judge asked him, whether it should be
filed, or what he would do with it? And he answered, ‘Ye are judges,
and able, I hope, to judge in this matter: therefore do with it what ye
will.’ The judges said, they did not accuse him, for they had nothing
against him. Whereupon esquire Marsh stood up and told the judges, it
was the king’s pleasure, that G. Fox should be set at liberty, seeing
no accuser came against him. Then they asked him, whether he would
put it to the king and council? He answered, ‘Yes, with a good will.’
Thereupon they sent the sheriff’s return, which he made to the writ of
habeas corpus, to the king, and the return was thus:
‘By virtue of his Majesty’s writ to me directed, and hereunto
annexed, I certify, that before the receipt of the said writ,
George Fox, in the said writ mentioned, was committed to his
Majesty’s jail, at the castle of Lancaster, in my custody, by a
warrant from Henry Porter, esq. one of his Majesty’s justices
of the peace within the county palatine aforesaid, bearing date
the 5th of June now last past; for that he, the said George Fox,
was generally suspected to be a common disturber of the peace
of this nation, an enemy to our sovereign lord the king, and a
chief upholder of the Quakers’ sect; and that he, together with
others of his fanatic opinion, have of late endeavoured to make
insurrections, in these parts of the country, and to embroil
the whole kingdom in blood. And this is the cause of his taking
and detaining. Nevertheless, the body of the said George Fox I
have ready before Thomas Mallet, knight, one of his Majesty’s
justices, assigned to hold pleas before his said Majesty, at his
chamber in Serjeants-Inn, in Fleet Street, to do and receive
those things which his Majesty’s said justice shall determine
concerning him in this behalf, as by the aforesaid writ is
required.
GEORGE CHETHAM, _Esq. Sheriff_.’
The king upon perusal of this, and consideration of the whole matter,
being satisfied of G. Fox’s innocency, commanded his secretary to send
the following order to judge Mallet for his release:
‘It is his Majesty’s pleasure that you give order for the
releasing, and setting at full liberty, the person of George Fox,
late a prisoner in Lancaster jail, and commanded hither by an
habeas corpus. And this signification of his Majesty’s pleasure
shall be your sufficient warrant. Dated at Whitehall, the 24th of
October, 1660.
EDWARD NICHOLAS.’
For Sir Thomas Mallet, knight, one of
the justices of the King’s Bench.
When this order was delivered to judge Mallet, he forthwith sent his
warrant to the marshal of the King’s Bench, for G. Fox’s release: which
warrant was thus:
‘By virtue of a warrant which this morning I have received from
the right honourable sir Edward Nicholas, knight, one of his
Majesty’s principal secretaries, for the releasing and setting
at liberty of George Fox, late a prisoner in Lancaster jail,
and from thence brought hither, by habeas corpus, and yesterday
committed unto your custody; I do hereby require you accordingly
to release, and set the said prisoner, George Fox, at liberty:
for which this shall be your warrant and discharge. Given under
my hand the 25th day of October, in the year of our Lord God,
1660.
THOMAS MALLET.’
To Sir John Lenthal, knight, marshal
of the King’s Bench, or his deputy.
G. Fox having been prisoner now above twenty weeks, was thus very
honourably set at liberty by the king’s command. After it was known
that he was discharged, several that were envious and wicked, were
troubled, and terror seized on justice Porter; for he was afraid G.
Fox would take the advantage of the law against him, for his wrong
imprisonment, and thereby undo him: and indeed G. Fox was put on by
some in authority, to have made him and the rest examples. But he said,
he should leave them to the Lord; if the Lord did forgive them, he
should not trouble himself with them.
* * * * *
About this time, Richard Hubberthorn got an opportunity to speak with
the king, and to have a long discourse with him, which soon after he
published in print. Being admitted into the king’s presence, he gave
him a relation of the state of his friends, and said,
‘Since the Lord hath called us, and gathered us to be a people,
to walk in his fear, and in his truth, we have always suffered
and been persecuted by the powers that have ruled, and been made
a prey of, for departing from iniquity; and when the breach of
no just law could be charged against us, then they made laws
on purpose to ensnare us; and so our sufferings were unjustly
continued.’
King. It is true, those who have ruled over you have been cruel,
and have professed much which they have not done.
R. H. And likewise the same sufferings do now abound in more
cruelty against us in many parts of this nation: as for instance,
one at Thetford in Norfolk, where Henry Fell, (ministering unto
the people,) was taken out of the meeting and whipt, and sent out
of the town, from parish to parish, towards Lancashire; and the
chief ground of his accusation in his pass, (which was shown to
the king,) was, because he denied to take the oath of allegiance
and supremacy; and so because that for conscience sake we cannot
swear, but have learned obedience to the doctrine of Christ,
which saith, “Swear not all;” hereby an occasion is taken against
us to persecute us; and it is well known that we have not sworn
for any, nor against any, but have kept to the truth, and our yea
hath been yea, and our nay, nay, in all things, which is more
than the oath of those that are out of the truth.
King. But why can you not swear? for an oath is a common thing
amongst men to any engagement.
R. H. Yes, it is manifest, and we have seen it by experience; and
it is so common amongst men to swear, and engage either for, or
against things, that there is no regard taken to them, nor fear
of an oath; that therefore which we speak of in the truth of our
hearts, is more than what they swear.
King. But can you not promise before the Lord, which is the
substance of the oath?
R. H. Yes, what we do affirm, we can promise before the Lord,
and take him to our witness in it; but our so promising hath not
been accepted, but the ceremony of an oath they have stood for,
without which all other things were accounted of no effect.
King. But how may we know from your words that you will perform?
R. H. By proving of us; for they that swear are not known to be
faithful, but by proving of them; and so we, by those that have
tried us, are found to be truer in our promises, than others by
their oaths; and to those that do yet prove us, we shall appear
the same.
King. Pray, what is your principle?
R. H. Our principle is this, “That Jesus Christ is the true
light, which enlighteneth every one that cometh into the world,
that all men through him might believe;” and that they were to
obey and follow this light as they have received it, whereby they
may be led unto God, and unto righteousness, and the knowledge of
the truth, that they might be saved.
King. This do all Christians confess to be truth; and he is not a
Christian that will deny it.
R. H. But many have denied it, both in words and writings, and
opposed us in it; and above an hundred books are put forth in
opposition unto this principle.
Then some of the Lords standing by the king, said, that none
would deny that every one is enlightened.
And one of the lords asked, how long we had been called Quakers,
or did we own that name?
R. H. That name was given to us in scorn and derision, about
twelve years since; but there were some that lived in this truth
before we had that name given unto us.
King. How long is it since you owned this judgment and way?
R. H. It is near twelve years since I owned this truth, according
to the manifestation of it.
King. Do you own the sacrament?
R. H. As for the word sacrament, I do not read of it in the
Scripture; but as for the body and blood of Christ I own, and
that there is no remission without blood.
King. Well, that is it; but do you not believe that every one is
commanded to receive it?
R. H. This we do believe, that according as it is written in the
Scripture, that Christ at his last supper took bread and brake
it, and gave to his disciples, and also took the cup and blessed
it, and said unto them, “And as often as ye do this, (that is, as
often as they brake bread,) you show forth the Lord’s death till
he come;” and this we believe they did; “and they did eat their
bread in singleness of heart from house to house;” and Christ did
come again to them according to his promise; after which they
said, “We being many are one bread, for we are all partakers of
this one bread.”
King’s friend. Then one of the king’s friends said, It is true;
for as many grains make one bread, so they being many members,
were one body.
Another of them said, if they be the bread, then they must be
broken.
R. H. There is a difference between that bread which he brake at
his last supper, wherein they were to show forth, as in a sign,
his death until he came; and this whereof they spake, they being
many, are one bread; for herein they were come more into the
substance, and to speak more mystically, as they knew it in the
spirit.
King’s friends. Then they said, it is true, and he had spoken
nothing but truth.
King. How know you that you are inspired by the Lord?
R. H. According as we read in the Scriptures, that “The
inspiration of the Almighty giveth understanding;” so by his
inspiration is an understanding given us of the things of God.
Then one of the lords said, How do you know that you are led by
the true spirit?
R. H. This we know, because the Spirit of Truth reproves the
world of sin, and by it we were reproved of sin, and also are led
from sin, unto righteousness, and obedience of truth, by which
effects we know it is the true spirit; for the spirit of the
wicked one doth not lead into such things.
Then the king and his lords said it was truth.
King. Well, of this you may be assured, that you shall none of
you suffer for your opinions or religion, so long as you live
peaceably, and you have the word of a king for it; and I have
also given forth a declaration to the same purpose, that none
shall wrong you or abuse you.
King. How do you own magistrates, or magistracy?
R. H. Thus we do own magistrates: whosoever is set up by God,
whether king as supreme, or any set in authority by him, who are
for the punishment of evil-doers, and the praise of them that
do well, such we shall submit unto, and assist in righteous and
civil things, both by body and estate: and if any magistrates
do that which is unrighteous, we must declare against it; only
submit under it by a patient suffering, and not rebel against any
by insurrections, plots, and contrivances.
King. That is enough.
Then one of the lords asked, Why do you meet together, seeing
every one of you have the church in yourselves?
R. H. According as it is written in the Scriptures, the church
is in God, Thes. i. 1. “And they that feared the Lord, did
meet often together in the fear of the Lord,” and to us it is
profitable, and herein we are edified and strengthened in the
life of Truth.
King. How did you first come to believe the Scriptures were truth?
R. H. I have believed the Scriptures from a child to be a
declaration of truth, when I had but a literal knowledge, natural
education, and tradition; but now I know the Scriptures to be
true, by the manifestation and operation of the Spirit of God
fulfilling them in me.
King. In what manner do you meet, and what is the order in your
meetings?
R. H. We do meet in the same order as the people of God did,
waiting upon him: and if any have a word of exhortation from
the Lord, he may speak it; or if any have a word of reproof or
admonition, and as every one hath received the gift, so they may
minister one unto another, and may be edified one by another;
whereby a growth into the knowledge of the Truth is administered
to one another.
One of the lords. Then you know not so much as you may know, but
there is a growth then to be admitted of.
R. H. Yes, we do grow daily into the knowledge of the Truth, in
our exercise and obedience to it.
King. Are any of your friends gone to Rome?
R. H. Yes, there is one in prison in Rome.
King. Why did you send him thither?
R. H. We did not send him thither, but he found something upon
his spirit from the Lord, whereby he was called to go to declare
against superstition and idolatry, which is contrary to the will
of God.
King’s friend said, There were two of them at Rome, but one was
dead.
King. Have any of your friends been with the great Turk?
R. H. Some of our friends have been in that country.
Other things were spoken concerning the liberty of the servants of the
Lord, who were called of him into his service, that to them there was
no limitation to parishes or places, but as the Lord did guide them in
his work and service by his spirit.
So the king promised that we should not any ways suffer for our opinion
or religion; and so in love passed away.
* * * * *
The king having promised Richard Hubberthorn over and again, that his
friends should not suffer for their opinion, or religion, they parted
in love. But though the king seemed a good-natured prince, yet he was
so misled, that in process of time he seemed to have forgot what he so
solemnly promised on the word of a king.
* * * * *
Now in this discourse mention being made of Rome, &c. I will say by the
bye, that one John Perrot and John Love being come to Leghorn in Italy,
and having been examined there by the inquisition, they answered so
well that they were dismissed. Being come afterwards to Venice, Perrot
was admitted to the doge, or duke, in his palace, spoke with him, and
gave him some books: and from thence he went with his fellow-traveller
to Rome. Here they bore testimony against the idolatry committed there,
in such a public manner, that they were taken into custody. John Love
died in the prison of the inquisition; and though it was divulged, that
he had fasted to death, yet some nuns have told that he was despatched
in the night, for fear he should annoy the church of Rome. However it
was, he died in sincerity of heart, and so was more happy than Perrot,
who though then perhaps he was in a pretty good frame of mind, yet
afterwards turned an eminent apostate, having continued prisoner at
Rome a great while, and at length got his liberty. He was a man of
great natural parts, but, not continuing in true humility, ran out into
exorbitant imaginations, of which more may be said hereafter. About
this time Samuel Fisher and John Stubbs were also at Rome, where they
spoke with some of the cardinals, and testified against the popish
superstition. They also spread some books amongst the friars, some of
whom confessed the contents thereof to be truth: but, said they, if we
should acknowledge this publicly, we might expect to be burnt for it.
Notwithstanding Fisher and Stubbs went free, and returned unmolested.
The case of Mary Fisher, a maiden, and one of the first Quakers, so
called, that came into New England, as hath been mentioned before, I
cannot pass by in silence. She being come to Smyrna, to go from thence
to Adrianople, was stopt by the English consul, and sent back to
Venice, from whence she came by another way to Adrianople, at the time
that Sultan Mahomet the fourth was encamped with his army near the said
town. She went alone to the camp, and got somebody to go to the tent
of the grand vizier, to tell him that an English woman was come who
had something to declare from the great God to the Sultan. The vizier
sent word, that next morning he should procure her an opportunity
for that purpose. Then she returned to the town, and repaired next
morning to the camp again, where being come, she was brought before
the sultan, who had his great men about him, in such a manner as he
was used to admit ambassadors. He asked by his interpreters, whereof
there were three with him, whether it was true what had been told him,
that she had something to say to him from the Lord God? She answered,
‘Yea.’ Then he bade her speak on: and she not being forward, weightily
pondering what she might say, and he supposing that she might be
fearful to utter her mind before them all, asked her, whether she
desired that any might go aside, before she spoke? She answered, ‘No.’
He then bade her speak the word of the Lord to them, and not to fear,
for they had good hearts, and could hear it. He also charged her, to
speak the word she had to say from the Lord, neither more nor less, for
they were willing to hear it, be it what it would. Then she spoke what
was upon her mind.
The Turks hearkened to her with much attention and gravity, till she
had done; and then the sultan asking her whether she had any thing more
to say? She asked him, whether he understood what she said? And he
answered, ‘Yes, every word,’ and further said, that what she had spoken
was truth. Then he desired her to stay in that country, saying, that
they could not but respect such an one, as should take so much pains
to come to them so far as from England, with a message from the Lord
God. He also proffered her a guard to bring her into Constantinople,
whither she intended. But she not accepting this offer, he told her
it was dangerous travelling, especially for such an one as she; and
wondered that she had passed so safe so far as she had: saying also,
it was in respect to her, and kindness that he proffered it, and that
he would not for any thing she should come to the least hurt in his
dominions. She having no more to say, the Turks asked her, what she
thought of their prophet Mahomet? She answered warily that she knew him
not; but Christ, the true prophet, the Son of God, who was the light
of the world, and enlightened every man coming into the world, him she
knew. And concerning Mahomet she said, that they might judge of him
to be true or false, according to the words and prophecies he spoke;
saying further, ‘If the word that a prophet speaketh, come to pass,
then shall ye know that the Lord hath sent that prophet; but if it come
not to pass, then shall ye know that the Lord never sent him.’ The
Turks confessed this to be true; and Mary having performed her message,
departed from the camp to Constantinople, without a guard, whither
she came without the least hurt or scoff. And so she returned safe to
England.
Concerning Catharine Evans, and Sarah Cheevers, two women, who at
this time lay in the prison of the inquisition at Malta, and were not
released till after three years confinement, where they suffered most
grievous hardships; I intend to speak hereafter, when I come to the
time of their deliverance; and then I propose to make a large and very
remarkable description concerning it.
In the meanwhile I return to the affairs of England, where the
government now was quite altered. Many of the late king’s judges
were now hanged and quartered: among those was also colonel Francis
Hacker, of whom, about six years before this time, it hath been said
that he took George Fox prisoner. But he now himself was in prison,
and impeached not only as one of those that kept the king prisoner,
but also that he signed the warrant for the king’s execution, and had
conducted him to the scaffold. To all which, and more, he said little,
but that what he did, was by order of his superiors; and that he had
endeavoured to serve his country. But this did not avail him, for he
was condemned for high treason, and hanged and quartered in October.
A day or two before his death Margaret Fell visited him in prison;
and when he was put in mind of what formerly he had done against the
innocent, he remembered it, and said, he knew well whom she meant,
and had trouble upon him for it. For G. Fox, (who had compared him to
Pilate,) bade him, when the day of his misery and trial should come
upon him, to remember what he said to him. And as Hacker’s son-in-law,
Needham, then did not stick to say, that it was time to have G. Fox
cut off, so it came to be the lot of Hacker himself to be cut off at
Tyburn, where he was hanged. Such now was the end of many, who were not
only guilty of the king’s death, and the putting to death of others who
were for king Charles the Second, but had also transgressed against God
by persecuting godly people. They had been often warned, and several
times told that God would hear the cries of the widows and fatherless,
that had been cruelly oppressed by them; and as they had made spoil
of the goods of those whom in scorn they called Quakers, so now fear
and quaking was brought upon them, and their estates became a spoil
to others. How plainly E. Burrough had foretold this, hath been said
before; and not to mention others, I will only say, that one Robert
Huntington came once into the steeple-house at Brough, near Carlisle,
with a white sheet about him, and a halter about his neck, to show
the Presbyterians and Independents there, that the surplice was to be
introduced again, and that some of them should not escape the halter.
Now how mad soever this was said to be, yet time showed it a presage of
the impending disaster of the cruel persecutors: for when king Charles
had ascended the throne, his most fierce enemies were despatched out of
the way.
The parliament sitting at this time, some of those called Quakers were
admitted to appear in the House of Lords, where they gave reasons
why they should not frequent the public worship, nor swear, nor pay
tithes; and they were heard with moderation. The king also about this
time showed himself moderate; for being solicited by some, and more
especially by Margaret Fell, he set at liberty about seven hundred of
the people called Quakers, who had been imprisoned under the government
of Oliver and Richard Cromwell. This passed the easier, because
those that were now at the helm, had also suffered under the former
government: there seemed likewise some inclination to give liberty of
conscience; but there being among those that were now in authority,
some also of a malicious temper, they always found means to hinder
this good work; and it just now fell out so that something started up,
which put a stop to the giving such a liberty as aforesaid; though it
was advanced so far, that an order was drawn up for permitting the
Quakers the free exercise of their worship; only the signing and seal
to it was wanting, when all on a sudden the Fifth Monarchy-men made an
insurrection. There was at that time a great number of this turbulent
people in England; who, perceiving that their exorbitant opinion was
inconsistent with kingly government, which now had taken place, thought
it not meet for their cause to sit still while the government, which
was yet but new, should be fully settled and established. Perhaps they
had also some intent to free some of the late king’s judges, who were
imprisoned; for among these was also sir Henry Vane, who having been
one of the chief of the commonwealth party, was likewise said to be
one of the heads of the Fifth Monarchy-men. It was in the night when
these people made a rising; which caused such a stir, that the king’s
soldiers sounded an alarm by the beating of drums.
The train-bands appeared in arms, and all was in an uproar, and both
the mob and soldiers committed great insolences for several days; so
that the Quakers, though altogether innocent, became the object of the
fury of their enemies, and many were hauled to prison out of their
peaceable meetings.
At that time George Fox was at London, and being lodged in Pall-mall,
at night a company of troopers came, and knocked at the door where he
was; which being opened, they rushed into the house, and laid hold
on him. One of these that had formerly served under the parliament,
clapped his hand to G. Fox’s pocket, and asked, whether he had any
pistol? G. Fox told him, he knew he did not use to carry pistols, why
then did he ask such a question of him, whom he knew to be a peaceable
man? Others of these fellows ran up into the chambers, and there found
esquire Marsh, before mentioned, in bed, who though he was one of the
king’s bed-chamber, yet out of love to G. Fox, came and lodged where
he did. When the troopers came down again, they said, ‘Why should we
take this man away with us? We will let him alone.’ ‘Oh,’ said the
parliament soldier, ‘he is one of the heads, and a chief ringleader.’
Upon this the soldiers were taking him away. But esquire Marsh hearing
of it, sent for him that commanded the party, and desired him to let
G. Fox alone, since he would see him forthcoming in the morning, and
then they might take him. Early in the morning there came a company of
foot to the house; and one of them drawing his sword, held it over G.
Fox’s head, which made him ask, wherefore he drew his sword at a naked
man? At which his fellows being ashamed, bid him put up his sword: and
sometime after they brought him to Whitehall, before the troopers came
for him. As he was going out, he saw several of his friends going to
the meeting, it being then the First day of the week; and he intended
to have gone thither himself, if he had not been stopped: but now
it being out of his power to keep them company, he commended their
boldness, and encouraged them to persevere therein. When he was come to
Whitehall, seeing the soldiers and people were exceeding rude, he began
to exhort them to godliness. But some great persons coming by, who
were envious to him, said, ‘What, do you let him preach? Put him into
such a place, where he may not stir.’ So he was put into that place,
and the soldiers watched over him; but G. Fox told them, though they
could confine his body, and shut that up, yet the word of life they
could not stop. Some then asked him, what he was? He told them he was
a preacher of righteousness. After he had been kept there two or three
hours, esquire Marsh spoke to the lord Gerard, who came, and bid them
set G. Fox at liberty. When he was discharged, the marshal demanded
fees. G. Fox told him he could not give him any: and he asked him, how
he could demand fees of him who was innocent? Nevertheless he told him,
that in his own freedom, he would give them two-pence, to make him and
the soldiers drink. But they shouted at that, which made him say, if
they would not accept it, they might choose; for he should not give
them fees. Then he went through the guards, and came to an inn, where
several of his friends at that time were prisoners under a guard, and
about night he went to the house of one of his friends.
This insurrection of the Fifth-Monarchy-men, caused great disturbance
in the nation; and though the Quakers did not at all meddle with
those boisterous people, yet they fell under great sufferings because
of them; and both men and women were dragged out of their houses to
prison, and some sick men off their beds by the legs; among which was
one Thomas Pachyn, who being in a fever, was dragged by the soldiers
out of his bed to prison, where he died.
This persecution going on throughout the nation, Margaret Fell went
to the king, and gave him an account how her friends, that were in
nowise concerned in the said insurrection and riots, were treated;
for several thousands of them were cast into prison. The king and
council wondered how they could have such intelligence, since strict
charge was given for the intercepting of all letters, so that none
could pass unsearched. But notwithstanding this, so much was heard
of the numbers of the imprisoned, that Margaret Fell went a second
time to the king and council, and acquainted them of the grievous
sufferings of her friends. G. Fox then wrote a letter of consolation
to his suffering friends; and also published in print a declaration
against all seditions, plotters, and fighters, wherein he manifested,
that they were an harmless people, that denied wars and fightings,
and could not make use of the outward sword, or other carnal weapons.
This declaration was presented to the king and his council, and was of
such effect, that the king gave forth a proclamation, that no soldiers
should go to search any house, but with a constable. When afterwards
some of the Fifth-Monarchy-men were put to death because of their
insurrection, they did the Quakers, so called, that right, that they
cleared them openly from having an hand in, or knowledge of their plot.
This and other evidences caused the king, being continually importuned
thereunto, to issue forth a declaration, that the Quakers should be set
at liberty without paying fees.
Many of the Presbyterian preachers now temporized, and for keeping
their benefices, joined with the Episcopalians, and did not stick to
put on the surplice. But this gave occasion to many of their hearers to
leave them, and join with the Quakers, so called, who could not comply
with the times. Others, who were a little more steadfast, made use of
their money to get liberty, though under the government of Cromwell
they would permit no liberty of conscience to others; insomuch that
one Hewes, an eminent priest at Plymouth in Oliver’s days, when some
liberty was granted, prayed that God would put it into the hearts of
the chief magistrates of the nation, to remove this cursed toleration.
But this Hewes, after the king was come in, being asked by one, whether
he would account toleration accursed now, answered only by shaking his
head.
Now though many of the Quakers, as hath been said, were released from
prison, yet they suffered exceedingly in their religious assemblies.
Once a company of Irishmen came to Pall-mall, when G. Fox was there;
but the meeting was already broke up; and he being gone up into a
chamber, heard one of those rude persons, who was a colonel, say, he
would kill all the Quakers. Whereupon G. Fox came down, and told him,
‘The law said, an eye for an eye, and a tooth for a tooth; but thou
threatenest to kill all the Quakers, though they have done thee no
hurt:’ but said he further, ‘Here is gospel for thee: here’s my hair,
here’s my cheek, and here’s my shoulder,’ turning it to him. This so
surprised the colonel, that he and his companions stood amazed, and
said, ‘If this be your principle as you say, we never saw the like in
our lives.’ To which G. Fox said, ‘What I am in words I am the same
in life.’ Then the colonel carried himself lovingly; though a certain
ambassador who stood without and then came in, said, that this Irish
colonel was such a desperate man, that he durst not come in with him,
for fear he should have done great mischief.
Notwithstanding such like rude encounters, yet by the change of the
government, some stop was put to the fierce current of persecution;
for the king being but newly settled on the throne, showed yet an
inclination to lenity. But this quiet did not last long, and was but a
time of respiration: for the churchmen, instigated, as it seems very
probable, by the favourers of popery, continued envious, and staid but
for an opportunity to show their malice. An instance of which hath been
seen already on the insurrection of the Fifth-Monarchy-men, and in
the sequel will be seen much clearer: since, though they did not seem
to persecute for conscience-sake, yet under a colour of justice, laws
were made use of, that had formerly been enacted for the suppression of
popery, and to secure the kingdom against Jesuits, and other traiterous
Papists; these being the laws, of which G. Fox in his letter to the
king had said, that they held up persecution about religion.
That it may be known what laws those were, and that it may also appear
what an unreasonable use hath been made thereof, I shall here set them
down, or abstracts of them; that so it may be more plainly seen, what
awkward means have been made use of, and how sinistrously the laws
were executed. Sometimes I may interweave among these abstracts, some
observations, or an account of a case, which, though not placed in due
time, may yet be serviceable to give a true notion of things. I now
repair to those laws.
* * * * *
In the 27th year of king Henry the eighth, a law was made for payment
of tithes: for that king having either given or sold many chapels and
abbeys to laymen, those laymen had no right, as priests claimed to
have, to summon to ecclesiastical courts those that failed in paying of
tithes. But for this a law was provided, by virtue of which, a judge of
an ecclesiastical court might be helpful to laymen, and in that law it
was said,
‘If the judge of an ecclesiastical court make complaint to
two justices of peace, (_quorum unus_,) of any contumacy, or
misdemeanor committed by a defendant in any suit there depending
for tithes, the said justices shall commit such defendant to
prison, there to remain till he shall find sufficient surety to
be bound before them by recognizance, or otherwise to give due
obedience to the process, proceedings, decrees, and sentences of
the said court.’
By this law, which is pretended to be still in force, many honest
people have suffered, and been kept very long in prison; for they
refusing to find surety for the payment of tithes, which for
conscience-sake they could not give to such ministers who lived from
a forced maintenance, and did not, as they judged, profit the people;
it was in the power of the priests to detain them prisoners, till the
pretended debt was paid; which the persecuted judged so unreasonable,
that some have therefore continued in prison for many years, choosing
rather to die in jail, than to uphold such preachers, by paying tithes
to them. And the Quakers, so called, have never offered resistance, but
suffering and forbearance have always been their arms, though they were
almost continually vexed with laws that were never made against them;
and more especially were they molested with the oath of supremacy,
which was made in the beginning of the reign of queen Elizabeth,
though, it may be, projected in the time of Henry the eighth, which
runs thus:
‘I _A. B._ do utterly testify and declare in my conscience,
that the [king’s] highness is the only supreme governor of
this realm, and of all other (his) highness’s dominions and
countries, as well in all spiritual or ecclesiastical things
or causes, as temporal. And that no foreign prince, prelate,
state, or potentate, hath, or ought to have any jurisdiction,
power, superiority, pre-eminence, or authority, ecclesiastical
or spiritual, within this realm: and therefore I do utterly
renounce, and forsake all foreign jurisdictions, powers,
superiorities, and authorities, and do promise, that from
henceforth I shall bear faith, and true allegiance to the
[king’s] highness [his] heirs and lawful successors; and to my
power, shall assist and defend all jurisdiction, privileges,
pre-eminences, and authorities, granted, or belonging to the
[king’s] highness [his] heirs and successors, or united and
annexed to the imperial crown of his realm. So help me God, and
the contents of this book.’
In the first year of queen Elizabeth, an act was made for uniformity of
common-prayer, and church-service, having this clause:
‘Every person shall resort to their parish church, or upon let
thereof, to some other, every Sunday and holiday, upon pain
to be punished by censures of the church, and also to forfeit
twelve-pence, to be levied by the church-wardens, there, for the
use of the poor, upon the offender’s goods, by way of distress.’
Here is to be noted, that some have prosecuted the pretended offenders
on this clause, to obviate greater severities; although this law was
made because of the Papists, thereby to force them to come to church;
for about that time there were not so many Protestant Dissenters
in England, as afterwards; but these appearing in time, were as
well under the lash of this law as the Papists; for their religious
assemblies were not reckoned to be churches as the steeple-houses by
a metonymy generally have been called; at the same rate as the Jews’
meeting-houses have been called synagogues, though the word itself
properly signifies the assembly of the people.
* * * * *
Now, since the aforesaid law was not strictly obeyed, not only by
Papists, but also by others, who aiming at a further reformation, could
not longer comply with the rites of the church of England, in the 23d
year of Elizabeth, a more severe law was made, with this clause:
‘Every person not repairing to church, according to the statute
of 1 Eliz. 2, shall forfeit twenty pounds for every month they
so make default; and if they so forbear by the space of twelve
months, after certificate thereof, made by the ordinary unto the
King’s Bench, a justice of assize, jail-delivery, or peace of
the county where they dwell, shall bind them with two sufficient
sureties in 200_l._ at least, to their good behaviour, from which
they shall not be released until they shall repair to church
according to the said statute.’
This law it seems was not thought severe enough; therefore in the 29th
year of the said queen, another law was made with this clause:
‘The queen may seize all the goods, and two-third parts of the
lands and leases of every offender not repairing to church as
aforesaid, in such of the terms of Easter and Michaelmas, as
shall happen next after such conviction, for the sum then due for
the forfeiture of twenty pounds a month, and yearly after that,
(in the same terms,) according to the rate of twenty pounds a
month for so long time as they shall forbear to come to church
according to the said statute of 23 Eliz. 1.’
Upon these acts many were prosecuted; but in the height of this
proceeding, George Whitehead, Gilbert Latey, and others, solicited
king Charles the Second in the behalf of their friends; which had such
effect, that the king ordered stay of process in divers counties; yet
afterwards the prosecution was continued till after his death, both as
to imprisonment, as well as seizing of goods: and other old laws were
also made use of: for in the 35th year of queen Elizabeth’s reign, when
the Papists sometimes were forming plots against the queen, an act was
made, containing the effect of this clause:
‘If any of above sixteen years of age shall be convicted to have
absented themselves above a month from church, without any lawful
cause, impugned the queen’s authority in causes ecclesiastical,
or frequented conventicles, or persuaded others so to do, under
pretence of exercise of religion, they shall be committed to
prison, and there remain until they shall conform themselves,
and make such open submission as hereafter shall be prescribed:
and if within three months after such conviction, they refuse
to conform, and submit themselves, being thereunto required by
a justice of the peace, they shall in open assize, or sessions,
abjure the realm: and if such abjuration happen to be before
justices of the peace in sessions, they shall make certificate
thereof at the next assize, or jail-delivery.’
‘And if such an offender refuse to abjure, or going away
accordingly, doth return without the queen’s license, he shall be
adjudged a felon, and shall not enjoy the benefit of clergy; but
if before he be required to abjure, he makes his submission, the
penalties aforesaid shall not be inflicted upon him.’
Though it may be supposed this act was made chiefly against Papists,
yet some few of the Quakers, so called, had been prosecuted thereupon,
which was for their lives; for if they had been willing to depart
the realm, yet such, who for conscience-sake could not swear at all,
could not oblige themselves by oath that they would do so. And this
being very well known, it once happened, that one William Alexander,
of Needham in Suffolk, being with several more indicted upon this act,
was asked, ‘Guilty or not guilty?’ He not being hasty to answer,
the judge said, ‘Why don’t you plead guilty or not guilty?’ To which
Alexander replied, ‘What would’st thou advise us to plead?’ The judge,
(who sometimes used to be severe enough,) said, ‘Do you ask my advice?’
‘Yes,’ said Alexander. ‘Then,’ returned the judge, ‘you shall have it;
and I’ll advise you to plead not guilty.’ So the prisoners accordingly
pleaded not guilty. Then said the judge to the prosecutors, ‘Now you
must prove these men, neither to have been at their own parish church,
nor at any other church or chapel, else they are not within this act,
which is a sanguinary law.’ Thus the judge carried on his discourse, to
a discharge of Alexander and his friends from that severe indictment:
for the prosecutors were not able to prove this with evidence, as
the law required. One William Bennet, had also been long in prison
at Edmondsbury in Suffolk, on this act, and one Richard Vickris near
Bristol. But now I go back again.
* * * * *
After the demise of queen Elizabeth, when James the First had ascended
the throne, the Papists still continued their wicked designs, of which
the gunpowder plot may serve for an instance. To suppress therefore
these malicious people, and for the better discovering of them, in
the third year of that king’s reign, an act was made, in which was
contained the following oath, which was to be taken by popish recusants:
‘I _A. B._ do truly and sincerely acknowledge, profess, testify,
and declare in my conscience before God and the world, that our
sovereign lord king James, is lawful and rightful king of this
realm, and of all other his majesty’s dominions and countries;
and that the pope, neither of himself, nor by any authority
of the church, or see of Rome, or by any other means, with
any other, hath any power or authority to depose the king, or
to dispose of any of his majesty’s kingdoms or dominions, or
to authorise any foreign prince to invade, or annoy him, or
his countries, or to discharge any of his subjects from their
allegiance and obedience to his majesty, or to give license or
leave to any of them to bear arms, raise tumults, or to offer
any violence or hurt to his majesty’s royal person, state,
or government, or to any of his majesty’s subjects, within
his majesty’s dominions. Also I do swear from my heart, that
notwithstanding any declaration, or sentence of excommunication,
or deprivation, made or granted, or to be made or granted, by the
pope or his successors, or by any authority derived, or pretended
to be derived from him or his see, against the said king, his
heirs, or successors, or any absolution of the said subjects
from their obedience, I will bear faith and true allegiance to
his majesty, his heirs and successors, and him and them will
defend to the uttermost of my power, against all conspiracies
and attempts whatsoever, which shall be made against his or
their persons, their crown and dignity, by reason or colour of
any such sentence or declaration, or otherwise: and will do my
best endeavour to disclose, and make known unto his majesty, his
heirs and successors, all treasons, and traiterous conspiracies,
which I shall know or hear of to be against him, or any of
them. And I do further swear, that I do from my heart abhor,
detest, and abjure, as impious and heretical, this damnable
doctrine and position, that princes which be excommunicated,
or deprived by the pope, may be deposed, or murdered by their
subjects, or any other whatsoever. And I do believe, and in my
conscience am resolved, that neither the pope, nor any person
whatsoever, hath power to absolve me of this oath, or any part
thereof, which I acknowledge by good and full authority to be
lawfully ministered unto me, and do renounce all pardons and
dispensations to the contrary. And all these things I do plainly
and sincerely acknowledge, and swear according to the express
words by me spoken, and according to the plain and common sense
and understanding of the same words, without any equivocation, or
mental evasion, or secret reservation whatsoever. And I do make
this recognition and acknowledgment, heartily, willingly, and
truly, upon the true faith of a Christian. So help me God.’
This oath, commonly called the oath of allegiance, was afterwards
called by the name of the test; and the introduction of it makes
mention of the gunpowder-plot, and signifies that this expedient was
contrived to discover Papists; and yet many of the people called
Quakers, have suffered thereby many years; for though they did not
refuse to declare their allegiance, yet because it was well known they
were not for swearing at all, this oath was continually made use of
as a snare to imprison them. Now the punishment stated against these
recusants, was a _premunire_: and how grievously many Quakers have been
oppressed on that account, though not easily related, yet I may give
instances in due places of several in the sequel. Other severe laws for
persecution have been made since, as will be seen in their proper time.
* * * * *
At the close of this year, E. Burrough wrote a consolatory epistle to
his fellow labourers in the ministry of the gospel, which I cannot omit
to insert here, because it shows very evidently how valiant he was in
the service of Truth, which epistle is as followeth:
‘Dearly and well-beloved brethren, in the heavenly relation,
and blessed immortal birth, of which we are born most dearly in
our Father’s love; my salutation extendeth unto you all, as one
with you perfectly in sufferings and in rejoicings, in faith and
patience, and even in all things which you do and suffer for
in the name of the Lord our God; and my soul greets you, and
embraces you, and fervently wishes peace, love, and unity, and
the increase of every good gift unto you all; for I am perfectly
one with you; if you receive of our father’s fulness, I am
refreshed; and if you rejoice, I am glad; and if you suffer, and
be in heaviness, I freely partake with you; whatsoever is yours,
whether liberty or bonds, whether life or death, I partake of the
same; and whatsoever I enjoy, the same also is yours; we are of
one birth, of one seed, of one line, even of the generation of
him who is without beginning of days, or end of life, who is an
high priest, made after the power of an endless life; and as he
was blessed of the Father, so are we, because we are of the same
birth, and are partakers of his nature, and he lives in us, and
we in him.
‘Well, my dear companions, I need not multiply words unto you,
as if you knew not these things; for what know I, that you know
not? Or, what can I say, but you know the same? Yet bear with
me, for my heart is very full, and my soul ready to be poured
forth, that I may once more express a little quantity of what is
abounding in my heart; for love, even perfect love, even that
love wherewith we are beloved of the Father, filleth my heart at
this time towards all of you, from the least to the greatest;
and I know nothing but love towards you all; and I doubt not but
in the same love you do receive this my salutation, which is from
the fountain of love, which at this time is opened in my heart.
‘Now, dearly beloved, the present considerations of my heart are
very many concerning the great love of the Father, which hitherto
hath been showed unto us; we all know, how that he called us by
his grace, and turned our hearts from the vanities and evil ways
of this world, and sanctified us by his word, and put his image
upon us, and called us by his name, and redeemed us unto himself,
and gave us the testimony of his holy Spirit in our own hearts,
that we should be his people, and he would be our God; he taught
us, and instructed us, and fed us, and gave us peace and rest in
himself, and freed us from the bondage of sin and corruption,
and from his terror because of sin; and he removed our
transgressions, and blotted them out, and ceased to smite us any
more, but brought us into the land of rest, flowing with mercy,
and peace, and knowledge, and all good things: this did the Lord
our God do for us in the days of our infancy, even when we were
yet in our sins he called us forth, and cleansed us from them:
and when we were strangers to him, he made himself known unto us;
and when we were wholly ignorant, he gave us knowledge; and when
we were not a people, he raised us up, and made us worthy to be
called by his name; and thus, after this manner, did the Father
love us, and show his love unto us: this you know, even as I do,
and the consideration of it causeth me thus to express it.
‘Again, when he had thus wrought for us, and showed his love unto
us, he was pleased to call us out into his work, to the turning
and converting of others unto the way of life; he put his Spirit
into us, and gave us gifts of knowledge and utterance, and armed
us with wisdom, and strength, and courage, and every way fitted
us for that work and service in which he hath carried us on; he,
I say, fitted us for his work, and called us into it, and carried
us on joyfully in it, and all this of his free love, and infinite
power; and what we have been, and what we have done, it hath been
only of the Lord, and not of ourselves, even of his love, which
to us may be admirable: for alas! what were we but children,
and neither prophets, nor prophets’ sons, and our education
unanswerable for these things, and to perform this calling? And
therefore it is the Lord, and only he that hath effected his own
purpose through us, and by us, as instruments mean of ourselves,
but by him very excellent.
‘Again, he hath mightily prospered us in his work, and a glorious
effect we have beheld of our labours, and travels, and testimony;
yea, the Lord hath been with us abundantly, and his arm hath
compassed us about, and he hath often given us great victory
over the wise and prudent of this world; he hath made his own
word often very powerful in our mouths, to the wounding of
the consciences of our enemies; and the Lord hath blessed our
testimony, to the confounding the wisdom of this world, and to
the gathering of many unto himself; and he hath gone forth before
us in his authority, and been always with us in his own work; and
our testimonies, labours, and travels have been very precious
and pleasant unto the Lord, and all his people; and the effect
thereof causeth my soul to rejoice, because the Lord hath been
with us, and prospered us into a great people, who have received
our witness, and accepted thereof unto their salvation; and unto
the Lord alone, the glory of all this appertaineth.
‘And for these eight years and upward, the hand of the Lord hath
carried us through great labours and travels in his service, and
many dangers, and persecutions, and afflictions have attended
us all this time; and ye know that many a time hath the Lord
delivered us from the hands of such as would have destroyed us;
and we have been delivered again and again, out of dangers and
difficulties, and the Lord hath been a present help unto us,
in the time of our trouble; for the plotting of the wicked,
for the purpose of ungodly men, hath often been broken for our
sakes, even many a time have we been delivered out of the snare
that hath been laid for us, and we have seen our enemies fall
before us on the right hand, and on the left, even the wise in
their worldly wisdom, and the foolish in their brutishness, both
professors and profane hath our God often cut short in their
desires and endeavours for our destruction; and we have been
wonderfully preserved unto this day; and all this I attribute to
the infinite love and power of the Lord God, who is blessed for
evermore.
‘And through all these things we are yet alive, and the Lord
doth not fail us unto this hour, but he lives and walks in us,
and his testimony is with us, even the seal of his good Spirit
in our hearts, that we are his sons and servants, and we are
confirmed by many tokens that he is our God, and we are his
people, and that great oppressions which we have met withal,
have not restrained us, but through it all, have we grown, and
prospered unto this day: and concerning the things whereof we
have testified these divers years, I am no way doubtful but our
God will fulfil them, neither can my confidence be shaken by what
is or can come to pass; for antichrist must fall, false ministry
and worship, false ways and doctrines, God will confound, false
power and false church the Lord will lay low, and truth and
righteousness must reign; and God will gather his people more and
more, and glorious days will appear; God will exalt his kingdom
upon earth, and throw down the kingdom of the man of sin; all
oppression must cease, and the oppressors shall be no more; and
God will free his people, and they shall be happy in this world,
and for ever: these things have we prophesied from day to day;
and my faith is constant and unmoveable, that God will effect
these things in his season: for the Lord never yet deceived me,
but what he hath said, will surely come to pass.
‘And therefore, brethren, let us be in hope and patience, and
live in the word of patience, and not be faint-hearted, as though
the Lord had forgotten us, or was unmindful of us, or as though
he would not perform what he had testified of by us; for he is
not a man, that he should lie, nor as a man, that he is given to
change: but lift up your heads, for the Lord is with us, even in
our greatest tribulations and afflictions, and he will accomplish
his purpose; for he is mighty to save his people, and to destroy
his enemies.
‘It is true, the gates of hell at this time seem to be open
against us, and we are a people like to be swallowed up of our
enemies, and floods of wickedness seem to overflow, and the
waves of the great sea seem to be void of mercy, and the hope
of our adversaries is to extinguish us from being a people, and
to destroy us from the face of the earth; and the hands of our
persecutors are highly exalted at this day, as though all that
we have done for the Lord, by our labours and travels, should now
be made of none effect.
‘Well, dear brethren, though it be thus, yet our God can deliver
us, and confound our adversaries; and we can appeal unto our
God, and can spread our cause before him: and he knows that our
sufferings and afflictions are altogether unjust, and unequal,
and unrighteous, and that our persecutors do afflict us out of
their envy, and without any just cause administered unto them by
us; our God knows it, angels and saints know it, that we are at
this day a persecuted people, for religion’s sake; and this our
present affliction is not any just punishment, either from the
justice of God, or from the justice of men.
‘For God hath given us the witness of his eternal Spirit, that
wrath is not in him towards us; his wrath be to his enemies, but
unto us is joy and peace for evermore: and the Lord clears us,
and he justifies us, who then shall condemn us? He chargeth no
guilt upon us, as if we were unto ourselves the cause, by our
evil deeds, of these our present sufferings, and as if this were
come to pass upon us, as punishment from the hand of God: I say,
it is not so; these our present sufferings are not out of God’s
anger towards us, for his love is to us, let his wrath be to his
enemies: and as I said, neither is this suffering in the justice
of men; for unto all the world we can say, (and God himself
shall plead our cause,) whom have we wronged or done evil to?
What evil have we done to any man’s person? Whose goods have we
falsely taken or coveted? Against whom have we designed mischief?
Even the Lord himself be judge between us and our persecutors
in this matter; for unto him we are known that we do desire
the good of all, and not the hurt of any, and yet we are dealt
with as evil-doers; when as the God of heaven is witness in our
consciences, that we neither plot nor contrive, nor agitate in
thought or word the hurt of any man’s person: but we walk justly
towards all, it being our principle to do to others as we would
be done unto; and we can plead our cause unto our God, and he
shall plead our cause with our enemies, and this is the present
state of our case; what we suffer at this time it is singly
in the cause of God, and for righteousness-sake, and for the
testimony of Jesus, which we hold; therefore freely let us commit
our cause unto the God of heaven, and if we die, it is for him,
and if we live, it is to him; and we seek not vengeance against
our enemies, but leave it to the Lord to plead with them.
‘And, dearly beloved, I hope I need not exhort you to be patient
and faithful in this day of our trial, knowing that the cause is
so excellent in which we are tried, it is God’s cause and not
our own; and I hope you all have the testimony of his Spirit in
your consciences, verifying the truth of the cause for which we
suffer; and having that evidence, we need not to be doubtful as
towards God, nor ashamed before men, if so be that every one
feels the evidence of the Spirit of God bearing witness, that we
suffer for righteousness-sake, and for the name of Christ Jesus.
‘And so dear brethren, lift up your heads, and be assured, that
we are the Lord’s, and in his cause we are tried, and he will
judge and avenge our persecutors in his season, and we shall be a
people when the Egyptians lie dead upon the sea-shore, and when
the raging sea is dried up, this same people shall be safe; for
hath the Lord done so excellent things for us? Hath he led us
forth, and blessed us unto this day? And hath he preserved us
hitherto through many tribulations and dangers? Hath he showed
infinite love and favour unto us to this hour? And will he now
suffer us to be destroyed from being a people? Surely no. Will
he give our enemies their heart’s desire to cut us all off,
that they may blaspheme his name? Surely no. And if it be the
pleasure of the Lord, that some of us should seal our testimony
with our blood, good is the will of the Lord; not ours, but his
will be done; for the testimony that we have borne for these
divers years, hath been so excellent in itself, and in its fruits
and effects, that the finishing of it deserves the best seal
that possibly we can sign it with, which is indeed our heart’s
blood; and this dwells upon my spirit; and yet, though it should
be thus, my confidence is sure, that the work of the Lord shall
prosper, and our testimony shall be glorious for ever, and this
people shall never be extinguished from being a people.
‘And I know not any thing that remains upon our part at this day,
but that we commit ourselves into the hand of the Lord, living in
the seed of God, wherein our election is sure, before the world
was, and for ever; and let us remember one another, and pray one
for another; and let us stir up all the children of our Father to
faithfulness and patience, while we have time; I say, let us walk
to the glory of the Lord, keeping faith and a good conscience to
our last end; our testimony shall never die, nor our memories
ever perish when we are ceased to be; and though we suffer now
the loss of life, and all we have, yet the effects thereof will
be glorious in ages to come, and our present sufferings will
hasten the glory of God’s work throughout the world: receive this
as my salutation to you all.
‘It is now eight days since I left Ireland, where my service hath
been precious for the Lord for full six months, all which time
the Lord carried me in much faithfulness and diligence in his
service, to the confirming of many in the truth of God, and to
the converting of others; and through and because of the presence
of the Lord which was with me, I had a very precious time, and
was wonderfully preserved through many dangers and trials; and I
travelled near two thousand miles to and fro in that land, and
had very free passage in the principal cities and towns, till my
work for the present was fully ended there, having more time than
could be expected to clear my conscience to all people. It would
be too large to mention every particular transaction, wherein I
perceived the eminent hand of God with me; and also many things
I observed concerning the present state of things which I shall
not mention; for what have we to do with the affairs of worldly
kingdoms? But as for friends, it was well with them, they grow
and increase in the blessings and fulness of the Father; and when
I came thence all was quiet, and very few in prison, though, I
suppose, the tidings of things as they are here, will produce
the same sufferings upon them: but I hope they will be bold and
valiant for the truth, in giving their testimony by faithful
sufferings, till these things be finished.
‘Thus I remain in life and death, and when I am no more, in
everlasting remembrance, your dear brother and companion, by
doing and suffering for the name of the Lord and his truth. I am
well, and at liberty, as yet.
E. B.’
11th of the Twelfth month, 1660.
THE SIXTH BOOK. 1661-1664.
1661.
The year 1661 being come, the government was altogether changed.
Charles the Second was now seated on the throne of England in peace,
and the power of persecution seemed somewhat restrained; so that there
was an appearance of some quiet and calm. Therefore I will now take a
turn to New England, to draw back the curtains of the bloody stage at
Boston. We have already seen in the foregoing relation, how William
Robinson, Marmaduke Stevenson, and Mary Dyar, were put to death by
their persecutors, but their blood-thirstiness was not yet quenched.
William Leddra, who was banished from Boston on pain of death, was
under such necessity of conscience, that he could not forbear returning
thither; where he came about the conclusion of the foregoing year; but
was soon taken prisoner, and being fastened to a log of wood, was kept
night and day locked in chains, in an open prison, during a very cold
winter; where we will leave him for the present, and in the meanwhile
insert here an apology of the Boston persecutors concerning their
cruel carriage, which may serve to confirm the truth of what hath been
already related of their wicked dealings. For it seems, that fearing
their bloody deeds would be disapproved by the court of England, they
thought it safest for them to gild their transactions with a specious
pretence; though this was of no other effect than that thereby they
yet more exposed their own shame to public view, and in process of
time they also incurred the King’s displeasure; for though Charles the
Second was inclined to voluptuousness, yet he was good-natured, and
the persecution in his reign proceeded chiefly from the instigation of
other malicious men. But to come to the apology or declaration of the
bloody persecutors, it was as followeth:
‘Although the justice of our proceedings against Wm. Robinson,
Marmaduke Stevenson, and Mary Dyar, supported by the authority
of this court, the laws of this country, and the law of God,
may rather persuade us to expect encouragement and commendation
from all prudent and pious men, than convince us of any
necessity to apologize for the same: yet for as much as men of
weaker parts, out of pity and commiseration, a commendable and
Christian virtue, yet easily abused, and susceptible of sinister
and dangerous impressions, for want of a full information, may
be less satisfied; and men of perverser principles, led to
calumniate us, and render us as bloody persecutors; to satisfy
the one, and stop the mouths of the other, we thought it
requisite to declare, about three years since, divers persons
professing themselves Quakers, (of whose pernicious opinions
and practices we had received intelligence from good hands from
Barbadoes and England,) arrived at Boston, whose persons where
only secured to be sent away the first opportunity, without
censure or punishment, although their professed tenets, turbulent
and contemptuous behaviour to authority, would have justified
a severer animadversion; yet the prudence of this court was
exercised, only in making provision to secure the peace and order
here established, against their attempts, whose design, (we were
well assured by our own experience, as well as by the example of
their predecessors in Munster,) was to undermine and ruin the
same.
‘And accordingly a law was made and published, prohibiting all
masters of ships, to bring any Quakers into this jurisdiction,
and themselves from coming in on penalty of the house of
correction, till they should be sent away. Notwithstanding which,
by a back door they found entrance, and the penalty inflicted on
themselves proving insufficient to restrain their impudent and
insolent obtrusions, was increased by the loss of the ears of
those who offended the second time; which also being too weak
a defence against their impetuous frantic fury, necessitated
us to endeavour our security; and upon serious consideration,
after the former experiments by their incessant assaults, a law
was made, that such persons should be banished upon pain of
death, according to the example of England, in their provision
against Jesuits; which sentence being regularly pronounced at
the last court of assistants, against the parties above named,
and they either returning, or continuing presumptuously in this
jurisdiction after the time limited, were apprehended, and owning
themselves to be the persons banished, were sentenced by the
court to death, according to the law aforesaid, which hath been
executed upon two of them. Mary Dyar, (upon petition of her son,
and the mercy and clemency of this court,) had liberty to depart
within two days; which she hath accepted of. The consideration
of our gradual proceeding will vindicate us from the clamorous
accusations of severity, our own just and necessary defence
calling upon us, (other means failing,) to offer the point,
which these persons have violently and wilfully rushed upon,
and thereby become felons _de se_; which, might it have been
prevented, and the sovereign law, _salus populi_, been preserved,
our former proceedings, as well as the sparing Mary Dyar upon
an inconsiderable intercession, will manifestly evince, that we
desire their lives absent, rather than their deaths present.
EDWARD RAWSON, _Secretary_.’
In this apology, wherein the Quakers, (who always were an harmless
people, and never made resistance with outward arms,) are compared to
the mutinous and riotous Anabaptists of Munster, it is also said of
them, that by a back door they found entrance. And this reflects on
some who unexpectedly came into New England by land, since they could
find no opportunity to come by sea, because the ship-masters fearing
the severity of the Boston laws, were unwilling to carry any Quakers
thither. This gave occasion to Thomas Thirstone, (who having been
already at Boston, was sent away on board a ship,) to think on other
means; for finding himself moved in spirit to go thither again, he and
Josiah Cole, of whom mention hath been made before, and who may be
further spoken of hereafter, went from England to Virginia, from whence
they, with one Thomas Chapman, travelled several hundreds of miles on
foot through vast wildernesses and woods, and so at length came into
New England, which made the persecutors there astonished; for they
thought this impossible, that way having been counted impassable for
other men than the Indians, many of whom in those parts are warlike
men, who behaved themselves well toward our travellers, whose journey
however was very hard; for they had not only hunger and cold, it being
winter time, to encounter with, but they were also in danger of being
devoured by wild beasts, or of perishing in unknown marshes or bogs.
But they were preserved by an Almighty hand; though this marvellous
passage was represented like a criminal sauciness, by these New England
persecutors.
It seems to me that the aforesaid apology, which was published in
print, and likewise answered, was given forth before Mary Dyar was
put to death; but after her death the general court of Boston sent
over an address to king Charles the Second, signed by their governor
John Endicot, to justify their cruel proceedings. Herein they said,
that they had chosen rather the pure Scripture worship, with a good
conscience, in that remote wilderness among the heathen, than the
pleasures of England, with subjection to the imposition of the then
so disposed, and so far prevailing hierarchy, which they could not do
without an evil conscience.
Concerning the Quakers, they said, that they were open capital
blasphemers, and seducers from the glorious Trinity, the Lord Christ,
the blessed gospel; open enemies to the government itself; and
malignant promoters of doctrines directly tending to subvert both
church and state.
Moreover they said, that at last they had been constrained for their
own safety, to pass a sentence of banishment against them on pain of
death, since the magistrate in conscience judged himself called for the
defence of all to keep the passage with the point of the sword held
towards them; and that this could do no harm to them that would be
warned thereby. But the Quakers rushing themselves thereupon was their
own act, and a crime, bringing their blood upon their own heads.
Could they have made the king believe this, they would willingly have
done it; but he had too much sense to be thus imposed upon, though
they did whatever they could to prevent his hearing the other party,
in order whereunto they said, ‘Let not the king hear men’s words; your
servants are true men, fearers of God and the king, and not given to
change, zealous of government and order; not seditious to the interest
of Cæsar.’
How smooth and plausible soever this seemed, yet it could not stand the
test; and E. Burrough, who answered it in print, addressed the king
thus:
‘O king, this my occasion to present thee with these
considerations is very urgent, and of great necessity, even in
the behalf of innocent blood, hoping that my work will find such
favour with thee, as to induce thee to the reading and serious
consideration thereof.’
E. Burrough then examining all their pretended reasons, represented
also to the king how some of these petitioners some time before had not
stuck to write in a letter from Boston to one Gordon: ‘There is more
danger in these Quakers, to trouble and overcome England, than in the
king of Scots, and all the popish princes in Germany;’ which plainly
denoted, that they reputed the king a troubler of England, whom they
numbered with the popish princes of Germany. What E. Burrough obtained
of the king for his friends, we may see hereafter.
But first I return to William Leddra, whom I left in prison: it was
on the 9th of the First month of this year, that he was brought into
the court of assistants, with his chains and log at his heels. And he
asking the jailer, when he intended to take off the irons from his
legs, the jailer roughly answered, ‘When thou art going to be hanged.’
W. Leddra then being brought to the bar, it was told him by the rulers,
speaking of their law, that he was found guilty, and so, that he was
to die. He said, ‘What evil have I done?’ The answer was, his own
confession was as good as a thousand witnesses. He asked, what that
was? To which they answered, that he owned these Quakers that were put
to death, and that they were innocent. Besides, that he would not put
off his hat in court, and that he said thee and thou. Then said William
to them, ‘You will put me to death for speaking English, and for not
putting off my clothes?’ To this major-general Denison returned, ‘A man
may speak treason in English.’ And William replied, ‘Is it treason to
say thee and thou to a single person?’ But none answered, only Simon
Broadstreet, one of the court, asked him, whether he would go for
England? To which he answered, ‘I have no business there.’ Hereupon
Broadstreet, pointing to the gallows, said, ‘Then you shall go that
way.’ To which William returned, ‘What, will ye put me to death for
breathing in the air in your jurisdiction? And for what you have
against me I appeal to the laws of England for my trial; and if by
them I am guilty, I refuse not to die.’ Of this no notice was taken,
but instead thereof, they endeavoured to persuade him to recant of
his error, (as they styled it,) and to conform; to which with a grave
magnanimity he answered, ‘What! to join with such murderers as you are?
Then let every man that meets me say, lo this is the man that hath
forsaken the God of his salvation.’
Whilst the trial of W. Leddra was thus going on, Wenlock Christison,
who was already banished upon pain of death, came into the court. This
struck a damp upon them, insomuch that for some space of time there
was silence in the court: but at length one of the bloody council
cried, ‘Here is another, fetch him up to the bar,’ Which the marshal
performing, the secretary Rawson said, ‘Is not your name Wenlock
Christison?’ ‘Yea,’ said Wenlock. ‘Well,’ said the governor, John
Endicot, ‘what dost thou here? Wast thou not banished upon pain of
death?’ To which Wenlock answered, ‘Yea, I was.’ And to the question,
‘What dost thou here then?’ he answered, ‘I am come here to warn you
that you should shed no more innocent blood; for the blood that you
have shed already, cries to the Lord God for vengeance to come upon
you.’ Whereupon it was said, ‘Take him away, jailer.’
It having been told W. Leddra, that at the last general court he
had liberty given him to go for England, or to go out of their
jurisdiction; and that promising to do so, and come there no more, he
might save his life; he answered, ‘I stand not in my own will, but in
the will of the Lord: if I may have my freedom, I shall go, but to make
you a promise I cannot.’ But this was so far from giving content, that
they proceeded to pronounce sentence of death against him; which being
done, he was led from the court to prison again, where the day before
his death he wrote the following letter to his friends:
‘_Most dear and inwardly beloved_,
‘The sweet influences of the morning star, like a flood
distilling into my innocent habitation, hath so filled me with
the joy of the Lord in the beauty of holiness, that my spirit
is as if it did not inhabit a tabernacle of clay, but is wholly
swallowed up in the bosom of eternity, from whence it had its
being.
‘Alas, alas, what can the wrath and spirit of man, that lusteth
to envy, aggravated by the heat and strength of the king of the
locusts, which came out of the pit, do unto one that is hid
in the secret places of the Almighty, or unto them that are
gathered under the healing wings of the Prince of Peace? under
whose armour of light they shall be able to stand in the day of
trial, having on the breastplate of righteousness, and the sword
of the spirit, which is their weapon of war against spiritual
wickedness, principalities, and powers, and the rulers of the
darkness of this world, both within and without. Oh, my beloved!
I have waited as a dove at the windows of the ark, and have
stood still in that watch, which the Master, (without whom I
could do nothing,) did at his coming reward with fulness of his
love, wherein my heart did rejoice, that I might in the love and
life of God speak a few words to you sealed with the spirit of
promise, that the taste thereof might be a savour of life, to
your life, and a testimony in you of my innocent death: and if I
had been altogether silent, and the Lord had not opened my mouth
unto you, yet he would have opened your hearts, and there have
sealed my innocency with the streams of life, by which we are
all baptized into that body which is in God, whom and in whose
presence there is life; in which, as you abide, you stand upon
the pillar and ground of truth; for, the life being the truth
and the way, go not one step without it, lest you should compass
a mountain in the wilderness; for unto every thing there is a
season.
‘As the flowing of the ocean doth fill every creek and branch
thereof, and then retires again towards its own being and
fulness, and leaves a savour behind it, so doth the life and
virtue of God flow into every one of your hearts, whom he hath
made partakers of his divine nature; and when it withdraws but a
little, it leaves a sweet savour behind it, that many can say,
they are made clean through the word that he hath spoken to them:
in which innocent condition you may see what you are in the
presence of God, and what you are without him. Therefore, my dear
hearts, let the enjoyment of the life alone be your hope, your
joy and consolation, and let the man of God flee those things
that would lead the mind out of the cross, for then the savour of
the life will be buried: and although some may speak of things
that they received in the life, as experiences, yet the life
being veiled, and the savour that is left behind washed away
by the fresh floods of temptation, the condition that they did
enjoy in the life, boasted of by the airy thing, will be like
the manna that was gathered yesterday, without any good scent or
savour. For, it was only well with the man while he was in the
life of innocency; but being driven from the presence of the Lord
into the earth, what can he boast of? And although you know these
things, and many of you, much more than I can say; yet, for the
love and zeal I bear to the truth and honour of God, and tender
desire of my soul to those that are young, that they may read me
in that from which I write, to strengthen them against the wiles
of the subtil serpent that beguiled Eve, I say, stand in the
watch within, in the fear of the Lord, which is the very entrance
of wisdom, and the state where you are ready to receive the
secrets of the Lord: hunger and thirst patiently, be not weary,
neither doubt. Stand still, and cease from thy own working, and
in due time thou shalt enter into the rest, and thy eyes shall
behold his salvation, whose testimonies are sure and righteous
altogether: let them be as a seal upon thine arm, and as jewels
about thy neck, that others may see what the Lord hath done for
your souls: confess him before men, yea, before his greatest
enemies; fear not what they can do unto you: greater is he that
is in you, than he that is in the world: for he will clothe you
with humility, and in the power of his meekness you shall reign
over all the rage of your enemies in the favour of God; wherein,
as you stand in faith, ye are the salt of the earth; for, many
seeing your good works, may glorify God in the day of their
visitation.
‘Take heed of receiving that which you saw not in the light,
lest you give ear to the enemy. Bring all things to the light,
that they may be proved, whether they be wrought in God; the
love of the world, the lust of the flesh, and the lust of the
eye, are without the light, in the world; therefore possess your
vessels in all sanctification and honour, and let your eye look
at the mark: he that hath called you is holy: and if there be an
eye that offends, pluck it out, and cast it from you: let not
a temptation take hold, for if you do, it will keep from the
favour of God, and that will be a sad state; for, without grace
possessed, there is no assurance of salvation: by grace you are
saved; and the witnessing of it is sufficient for you, to which I
commend you all my dear friends, and in it remain,
Your brother,
WILLIAM LEDDRA.’
Boston Jail, the 13th of the First
Month, 1660-61.
The day before he suffered.
* * * * *
The next day after this letter was written, the execution of W. Leddra
was performed, which was on the 14th of the First month. After the
lecture was ended, the governor, John Endicot, came with a guard of
soldiers to the prison, where W. Leddra’s irons were taken off, with
which he had been chained to a log both night and day during a cold
winter; and now they were knocked off, according to what the jailer
once said, as hath been related before. William then having taken his
leave of Wenlock Christison, and others then in bonds, when called,
went forth to the slaughter, encompassed with a guard to prevent
his speaking to his friends; which Edward Wharton an inhabitant of
Salem, and also banished on pain of death, seeing, and speaking
against, one amongst the company said, ‘O Edward it will be your
turn next!’ To which Captain Oliver added, ‘if you speak a word,
I’ll stop your mouth.’ Then W. Leddra being brought to the foot of
the ladder, was pinioned, and as he was about to ascend the same,
he took leave of his friend, E. Wharton, to whom he said, ‘All that
will be Christs’s disciples, must take up the cross.’ He standing
upon the ladder, somebody said, ‘William, have you any thing to say
to the people?’ Thereupon he spoke thus, ‘For the testimony of Jesus,
and for testifying against deceivers, and the deceived, I am brought
here to suffer.’ This took so much with the people, that it wrought
a tenderness in many. But to quench this, priest Allen said to the
spectators, ‘People, I would not have you think it strange to see a man
so willing to die; for that’s no new thing. And you may read how the
apostle said, that some should be given up to strong delusions, and
even dare to die for it.’ But he did not say where the apostle speaks
so, neither have I found it any where in the holy writ; though I know
that Paul saith, Rom. v. 7. “Peradventure for a good man some would
even dare to die.” But it seems it was sufficient for Allen, if he
could but render Leddra odious: who however continued cheerful: for as
the executioner was putting the halter about his neck, he was heard to
say, ‘I commit my righteous cause unto thee, O God.’ The executioner
then being charged to make haste, W. Leddra, at the turning of the
ladder, cried, ‘Lord Jesus receive my spirit;’ and so he was turned
off, and finished his days. The hangman cut down the dead body, and
lest it should be so barbarously used as those of William Robinson
and Marmaduke Stevenson, (which none holding when cut down, fell to
the ground to the breaking of W. Robinson’s skull,) Edward Wharton,
John Chamberlain, and others, caught the body in their arms and laid
it on the ground, till the hangman had stript it of its clothes; who
having done so, said, that he was a comely man, as indeed he was. The
body being stript, William’s friends took it, laid it in a coffin, and
buried it. For further confirmation of what hath been related, the
following letter of one of the spectators, that was there accidentally,
may be added:
‘_Boston, March 26, 1661._
‘On the 14th of this instant, there was one William Leddra, who
was put to death. The people of the town told me, he might go
away if he would; but when I made further inquiry, I heard the
marshal say, that he was chained in prison, from the time he was
condemned, to the day of his execution. I am not of his opinion:
but yet truly methought the Lord did mightily appear in the man.
I went to one of the magistrates of Cambridge, who had been of
the jury that condemned him, as he told me himself, and I asked
him by what rule he did it? He answered me that he was a rogue,
a very rogue. But what is this to the question, I said, where is
your rule? He said, he had abused authority. Then I goes after
the man, and asked him, whether he did not look on it as a breach
of rule to slight and undervalue authority? And I said that Paul
gave Festus the title of honour, though he was a heathen. (I do
not say that these magistrates are heathens) I said. Then, when
the man was on the ladder, he looked on me, and called me friend,
and said, know that this day I am willing to offer up my life for
the witness of Jesus. Then I desired leave of the officers to
speak, and said, Gentlemen, I am a stranger both to your persons
and country, and yet a friend to both: and I cried aloud, for
the Lord’s sake, take not away the man’s life; but remember
Gamaliel’s council to the Jews. If this be of man it will come
to nought, but if it be of God, ye cannot overthrow it: but be
careful ye be not found fighters against God. And the captain
said, why had you not come to the prison? The reason was, because
I heard the man might go if he would; and therefore I called him
down from the tree, and said, come down, William, you may go away
if you will. Then captain Oliver said, it was no such matter; and
asked, what I had to do with it? And besides, bade me be gone:
and I told them, I was willing; for I cannot endure to see this,
I said. And when I was in the town, some did seem to sympathise
with me in my grief. But I told them, that they had no warrant
from the word of God, nor precedent from our country, nor power
from his majesty to hang the man. I rest,
Your Friend,
THOMAS WILKIE.’
To Mr. George Lad, master of the
America of Dartmouth, now at
Barbadoes.
William Leddra being thus despatched, it was resolved to make an end
also of Wenlock Christison. He therefore was brought from the prison
to the court at Boston, where the governor, John Endicot, and the
deputy-governor, Richard Bellingham, being both present, it was told
him, ‘Unless you renounce your religion, you shall surely die.’ But
instead of shrinking, he said with an undaunted courage, ‘Nay, I shall
not change my religion, nor seek to save my life; neither do I intend
to deny my master; but if I lose my life for Christ’s sake, and the
preaching of the gospel, I shall save my life.’ This noble resolution
gave such a check to his persecutors, that they did not then go on
with the trial, but sent him away to prison again. And it being said
by somebody, that William Leddra was dead, a certain person said to
Wenlock, ‘O thy turn is next.’ To which he gravely replied, ‘The will
of the Lord be done,’ showing thereby his entire resignation.
Being now locked up again in prison, he was kept there till about the
Fourth month: but then the court being set, a spirit of confusion
appeared there, and a division among several of the members; for though
the greatest part were for taking the same course with him as with
those that were already put to death, yet several would not consent
to it. And as natural occurrences sometimes cause reflections among
observing people, so it happened here; for during their deliberations
how to deal with Wenlock Christison, which lasted for the space of
two weeks, the sun in the firmament shone not, a thing at that season
somewhat extraordinary; which gave occasion for some to say that the
sun abhorring this bloody business, hid itself from them. But after
many debates, the sanguinary council at length agreed, and Wenlock was
brought to the bar, where the governor, John Endicot, asked him, what
he had to say for himself, why he should not die? He answered, ‘I have
done nothing worthy of death; if I have I refuse not to die.’ To this
another said, ‘Thou art come in among us in rebellion, which is as the
sin of witchcraft, and ought to be punished.’ Hence it appears how
perversely these blood-thirsty persecutors applied the Holy Scriptures
to their cruel ends, and so made a wrong use of the prophet Samuel’s
words to Saul; to which false conclusion Wenlock answered, ‘I came not
in among you in rebellion, but in obedience to the God of heaven, not
in contempt to any of you, but in love to your souls and bodies; and
that you shall know one day, when you and all men must give an account
of the deeds done in the body. Take heed, (thus he went on,) for you
cannot escape the righteous judgments of God.’ Then said major-general
Adderton, ‘You pronounce woes and judgments, and those that are gone
before you pronounced woes and judgments; but the judgments of the
Lord God are not come upon us as yet.’ So insolent and hard-hearted
may man become, as not to stick even to defy the Most High. But
before we draw the curtains of this stage, we shall see the tragical
end of this Adderton, who now received this answer from Wenlock: ‘Be
not proud, neither let your spirits be lifted up: God doth but wait
till the measure of your iniquity be filled up, and that you have run
your ungodly race; then will the wrath of God come upon you to the
uttermost. And as for thy part, it hangs over thy head, and is near
to be poured down upon thee, and shall come as a thief in the night
suddenly, when thou thinkest not of it.’
Then Wenlock asked, ‘By what law will you put me to death?’ The answer
was, ‘We have a law, and by our law you are to die.’ ‘So said the Jews
of Christ, (replied Wenlock,) We have a law, and by our law he ought
to die. Who empowered you to make that law?’ To which one of the board
answered, ‘we have a patent, and are the patentees; judge whether we
have not power to make laws.’ Hereupon Wenlock asked again, ‘How!
have you power to make laws repugnant to the laws of England?’ ‘No,’
said the governor. ‘Then, (replied Wenlock,) you are gone beyond your
bounds, and have forfeited your patent; and that is more than you can
answer. Are you, (asked he,) subjects to the king, yea, or nay?’ ‘What
good will that do you,’ replied the secretary? ‘If you are, (answered
Wenlock,) say so; for in your petition to the king, you desire that
he would protect you, and that you may be worthy to kneel amongst his
loyal subjects.’ To which one said, ‘Yea, we are so.’ ‘Well, (said
Wenlock,) so am I, and for any thing I know, am as good as you, if not
better; for if the king did but know your hearts as God knows them, he
would see that you are as rotten towards him, as they are towards God.
Therefore seeing that you and I are subjects to the king, I demand to
be tried by the laws of my own nation.’ It was answered, ‘You shall be
tried by a bench and a jury:’ for it seems they began to be afraid to
go on in the former course of trial without a jury, this being contrary
to the laws of England. But Wenlock said, ‘That is not the law, but the
manner of it; for I never heard nor read of any law that was in England
to hang Quakers.’ To this the governor replied, that there was a law to
hang Jesuits. To which Wenlock returned. ‘If you put me to death, it is
not because I go under the name of a Jesuit, but of a Quaker: therefore
I appeal to the laws of my own nation.’ But instead of taking notice of
this, one said, that he was in their hands, and had broken their law,
and they would try him. Wenlock still appealed to the law of his own
nation: yet the jury being called over, went out, but quickly returned,
and brought him in guilty. Whereupon the secretary said, ‘Wenlock
Christison, hold up your hand.’ ‘I will not,’ said Wenlock, ‘I am here
and can hear thee.’ Then the secretary cried, ‘Guilty or not guilty?’
‘I deny all guilt,’ replied Wenlock, ‘for my conscience is clear in
the sight of God.’ But the governor said, ‘The jury hath condemned
thee.’ Wenlock answered, ‘The Lord doth justify me; who art thou that
condemnest?’
They then voted as to the sentence of death, but were in a manner
confounded, for several could not vote him guilty of death. The
governor seeing this division, said, ‘I could find in my heart to go
home:’ being in such a rage, that he flung something furiously on
the table; which made Wenlock cry, ‘It were better for thee to be at
home than here, for thou art about a bloody piece of work.’ Then the
governor put the court to vote again; but this was done confusedly,
which so incensed the governor, that he stood up and said, ‘You that
will not consent, record it: I thank God I am not afraid to give
judgment.’ Thus we see that to be drunk with blood, doth not quench the
thirst after blood; for Endicot the governor, seeing others backward
to vote, precipitately pronounced judgment himself, and said, ‘Wenlock
Christison, hearken to your sentence: You must return to the place from
whence you came, and from thence to the place of execution, and there
you must be hanged until you are dead, dead, dead.’ To which Wenlock
said, ‘The will of the Lord be done, in whose will I came amongst
you, and in whose counsel I stand, feeling his eternal power, that
will uphold me unto the last gasp.’ Moreover he cried thus: ‘Known be
it unto you all, that if ye have power to take my life from me, my
soul shall enter into everlasting rest and peace with God, where you
yourselves shall never come. And if ye have power to take my life from
me, the which I do question, I do believe you shall never more take
Quakers’ lives from them: note my words: do not think to weary out the
living God, by taking away the lives of his servants. What do you gain
by it? for the last man that you have put to death, here are five come
in his room. And if ye have power to take my life from me, God can
raise up the same principle of life in ten of his servants, and send
them among you in my room, that you may have torment upon torment,
which is your portion; for there is no peace to the wicked, saith my
God.’ The holy confidence with which he uttered these words show, and
the sequel made it appear plainly, that something supernatural was
contained in them: and it is remarkable, that among the imprisoned
Quakers, there were then several that had been banished on pain of
death; and among these also Elizabeth Hooton; and Edward Wharton staid
in his habitation contrary to his sentence of banishment.
Wenlock having received sentence of death, was brought to prison again,
where having been detained five days, the marshal and a constable
came to him with an order from the court for his enlargement with
twenty-seven more of his friends, then in prison for their testimony to
the Truth, saying they were ordered by the court to make him acquainted
with their new law. ‘What means this?’ said Wenlock, ‘Have ye a new
law?’ ‘Yes,’ said they. ‘Then ye have deceived most people,’ said
Wenlock. ‘Why?’ said they. ‘Because,’ said he, ‘they did think the
gallows had been your last weapon. Your magistrates said that your law
was a good and wholesome law made for your peace, and the safeguard of
your country. What, are your hands now become weak? The power of God is
over you all.’
Thus the prison doors were opened, and Wenlock, with twenty-seven more
of his friends, as aforesaid, set at liberty, save that two of them,
viz. Peter Pearson and Judith Brown, being stripped to the waist, and
fastened to a cart’s tail, were whipped through the town of Boston with
twenty stripes apiece.
Now though not long after an order came from the king, as will be said
anon, whereby these persecutors were charged to desist from putting
the Quakers to death, yet is seems they had got some scent of the
king’s displeasure, who had a mind to stop their bloody career: for
having got a book written by George Bishop, containing a relation of
the cruel persecution in New England, and reading a passage concerning
major-general Denison, who, to put off those that complained of their
wicked proceeding, said, ‘This year ye will go to complain to the
parliament, and the next year they will send to see how it is; and the
third year the government is changed.’ He took much notice of this, and
calling to the lords to hear it, said, ‘Lo, these are my good subjects
of New England: but I will put a stop to them.’
It was not long before an opportunity was offered; for the news of
William Leddra’s death being come into England, with an information of
the danger that others were in of going the same way, their friends
took it so to heart, especially Edward Burrough, that having got
audience of the king, he said to him there was a vein of innocent blood
opened in his dominions, which if it were not stopped would overrun
all. To which the king replied, ‘But I will stop that vein.’ Then
Burrough desired him to do it speedily; ‘for we know not,’ said he,
‘how many may soon be put to death.’ The king answered, ‘As soon as you
will. Call, said he to some present, the secretary, and I will do it
presently.’ The secretary being come, a mandamus was forthwith granted.
A day or two after, going again to the king, to desire despatch of
the matter, the king said he had no occasion at present to send a
ship thither; but if they would send one, they might do it as soon as
they could. E. Burrough then asked the king if it would please him to
grant his deputation to one called a Quaker, to carry the mandamus to
New England. The king answered, ‘Yes, to whom you will.’ Whereupon E.
Burrough named one Samuel Shattock, who being an inhabitant of New
England, was banished on pain of death, if ever he returned thither.
And the king accordingly granted the deputation to him, with full power
to carry the mandamus, which was as followeth:
‘CHARLES R.
‘Trusty and well-beloved, we greet you well.--Having been
informed that several of our subjects amongst you, called
Quakers, have been, and are imprisoned by you, whereof some
have been executed, and others, (as hath been represented unto
us,) are in danger to undergo the like: we have thought fit to
signify our pleasure in that behalf for the future; and do hereby
require, that if there be any of those people called Quakers
amongst you, now already condemned to suffer death, or other
corporal punishment, or that are imprisoned, and obnoxious to
the like condemnation, you are to forbear to proceed any further
therein; but that you forthwith send the said persons, (whether
condemned or imprisoned,) over into this our kingdom of England,
together with the respective crimes or offences laid to their
charge; to the end that such course may be taken with them here,
as shall be agreeable to our laws, and their demerits. And for
so doing, these our letters shall be your sufficient warrant and
discharge.
‘Given at our court at Whitehall, the 9th day of September, 1661,
in the 13th year of our reign.
By his majesty’s command,
WILLIAM MORRIS.’
The superscription was:
To our trusty and well-beloved John Endicot, Esq. and to all
and every other the governor, or governors of our plantations
of New-England, and of all the colonies thereunto belonging;
that now are, or hereafter shall be; and to all and every the
ministers and officers of our said plantations and colonies
whatsoever, within the continent of New England.
Thus favourable the king manifested himself; and in England persecution
for religion was a little at a stand; but it was but a kind of respite.
G. Fox the younger, a man of excellent qualifications, and great
boldness, foresaw an imminent storm; and lest any carelessness might
enter among his friends, in the Fourth month he wrote the following
exhortation to them:
‘What my heavenly Father hath determined for these men to do,
no man can stop it: O that patience might be abode in by all
that know his name, and his will submitted unto by them that he
hath called. O be still, strive not, but drink the cup which
our Father suffereth to be given; I know it will be bitter to
some; but whosoever striveth against it shall come to loss and
shame: for the Lord will yet further try his people, till it be
fully and clearly manifest who are the approved in his sight.
This he will certainly do; therefore let not the present calm
beget a wrong security in any, for lo the day hastens, and cometh
swiftly, that another storm must arise; and in vain will it be to
fly to the tall cedars and strong oaks for shelter; for nothing
but the name of the Lord can preserve in that day.
GEORGE FOX, _the younger_.’
That this G. Fox did not reckon amiss, when in this exhortation he said
the day hastens that another storm must arise, we shall see ere long:
but first we must take a view of things in America.
This mandamus to the rulers of New England being obtained, as hath been
said, quick despatch was thought necessary to send it thither. And
Samuel Shattock being empowered by the king to carry it, an agreement
was made with one Ralph Goldsmith, who was master of a good ship, and
also one of those called Quakers, for three hundred pounds, (goods or
no goods,) to sail in ten days. He then immediately made all things
ready to set sail, and with a prosperous gale arrived in about six
weeks time before the town of Boston in New England, upon a First-day
of the week. The townsmen seeing a ship come into the bay with English
colours, soon came on board, and asked for the captain. Ralph Goldsmith
told them he was the commander. Then they asked him whether he had any
letters; and he said ‘Yes.’ Whereupon they asked if he would deliver
them; but he said, ‘No, not to-day.’ So they went ashore, and reported
there was a ship full of Quakers, and that Samuel Shattock was among
them, who they knew was by their law liable to be put to death, for
coming in again after banishment: but they knew not his errand nor
authority.
All being thus kept close, and none of the ship’s company suffered to
go on shore that day, next morning Samuel Shattock, the king’s deputy,
and Ralph Goldsmith, the commander of the vessel, went on shore; and
sending the men that landed them back to the ship, they two went
through the town to the governor John Endicot’s door, and knocked. He
sending a man to know their business, they sent him word their business
was from the king of England, and that they would deliver their message
to none but the governor himself. Thereupon they were admitted to go
in, and the governor came to them, and commanded Shattock’s hat to
be taken off, and having received the deputation and the mandamus,
he laid off his hat; and ordering Shattock’s hat to be given him
again, he looked upon the papers, and then going out, went to the
deputy-governor, and bid the king’s deputy and the master of the ship
to follow him. Being come to the deputy-governor, and having consulted
with him about the matter, he returned to the two aforesaid persons and
said, ‘We shall obey his majesty’s command.’ After this, the master of
the ship gave liberty to the passengers to come ashore, which they did,
and met together with their friends of the town, to offer up praises to
God for this wonderful deliverance.
Now for as much as several of their friends were yet in prison at
Boston, the following order was given forth by the council not long
after.
‘_To William Salter, keeper of the prison at Boston._
‘You are required by authority, and order of the general court,
forthwith to release and discharge the Quakers, who at present
are in custody. See that you do not neglect this.
By order of the court,
EDWARD RAWSON, _Secretary_.’
Boston, 9th Dec. 1661.
They then consulted what to do that they might not incur the king’s
displeasure; and it was agreed to send a deputation to him. First,
colonel Temple was sent to acquaint the king with their having set the
Quakers at liberty; and he was followed not long after by the chief
priest John Norton, and Simon Broadstreet, one of the magistrates.
The year was now spent: but before I conclude it I must take notice, as
a pregnant instance of the marvellous vicissitude of mundane affairs,
that in the forepart of this year, the body of O. Cromwell, which had
been buried with great state in Westminster Abbey, was digged up, as
were also the bodies of Bradshaw and Ireton, which three corpses were
carried in carts to Tyburn, and there hanged on the gallows. Then the
executioner chopped off the heads, stamped with his foot on the bodies,
which were tumbled into a pit, dug near the gallows; and the heads
were exposed on the top of Westminster Hall, where I remember to have
seen them. And that now befel Cromwell which he said about seven years
before in his speech to the parliament, as hath been mentioned in its
due place, viz. That he would rather be rolled into the grave, and
buried with infamy, than give his consent to the throwing away one of
the fundamentals of that government, to wit, liberty of conscience. And
yet he suffered persecution to go on, as hath been related at large:
but now, according to his saying, he was rolled with infamy into the
grave; which may serve indeed for a remarkable instance of the justice
and equal judgments of God.
About this time a book came out at London, bearing the title of
Semper Idem, [i. e. Always the same,] or a Parallel of fanatics. The
author concealed his name; but he made it appear sufficiently that
he was a Papist, and it may be a jesuit: for he inveighed not only
against the Quakers and Baptists, but also against the Presbyterians,
and even Episcopalians, and consequently against all Protestants.
Nay, the martyrs that were burnt in the bloody reign of queen Mary,
eldest daughter to king Henry the Eighth, were no less vilified than
the Quakers, in the said book, by the scornful name of rebels, and
fanatics. This book was sold publicly, and it seemed that none durst
oppose it, for fear of displeasing the court. But E. Burrough, who was
of an undaunted courage, and so continued till his death, employed his
pen to refute it, and gave forth his answer in print, plainly showing
what the anonymous author aimed at, viz. That he would have the cruel
usage of fire and faggots revived, and wished to see the burning of
reputed heretics brought again into vogue. Which was the more to be
taken notice of, because such a publication of vilifying the martyrs
with calumnies, had not been seen at London for above an hundred years;
and all the groundless positions of the said author were very notably
answered by the said E. Burrough.
And since persecution in the latter end of this year began to appear
with open face again, he published a book, which he called Antichrist’s
government justly detected. This he dedicated to all the rulers, &c.
in the (so called) Christian world; and therein, with sound arguments,
manifested the unlawfulness and injustice of persecution, and from
whence it had its rise; and how dangerous it was to impose religion.
Next he treated at large concerning heresy, and what punishment
pertained to such as are truly convicted of it. But lest any might
think that he was for opposing the duty of the civil magistrate against
malefactors, he said concerning the punishment of heresy, (which he
stated to be only an ecclesiastical censure,) that he only intended
this, where the error of a man and his heresy in his mind and judgment,
did only extend to the hurt of his own soul, and against God, and not
to the harm of his neighbour’s person or estate. But, thus continued
he, if his error and heresy do extend further than only against God and
his own soul, even to outward wrongs, or evils, or violence, or visible
mischiefs committed, as murders, or other the like crimes against
men, to the injuring of others, then I forbid not outward external
punishment, to be corporally inflicted upon the person and estate of
such a man; but it ought to be done, and that by the laws of men,
provided for the same end; even such a man’s error, in such his wrong
dealing, may justly and lawfully be punished with death, banishment or
penalties, according to the desert of the crime, &c. The author also
wrote circumstantially concerning the government of antichrist, and
showed the deceit that was in it, and who were the subjects of his
kingdom.
It was somewhat before this time that George Fox the younger, being a
prisoner, and seeing an intent of promoting popery, wrote the following
letter to the king:
‘The King of kings hath beheld, yea, the King of kings hath seen
even all thy actings in the dark, and he hath traced thy walkings
in obscure places; and thou hast not hid thy counsels from the
almighty, but he hath seen all the intents of thy heart, and thy
good words have not at all deceived him, nor those that purely
stood in his counsels; for he hath seen the snares, and beheld
the pits which privily have been preparing for the innocent,
(even in the time when smooth words have been given,) and he
hath showed them unto others. Oh that thou wouldst have taken
counsel of the Lord, and obeyed the same! thou shouldest have
been prospered; but thou hast taken counsel of them which have
caused thee to err: thou hast also sought to exalt and establish
thyself, and thy own honour, and not the truth and honour of God
only; which if thou hadst truly done, (in the self-denial,) God
would have honoured thee: thou hast not taken the Lord for thy
strength and stay, but thou hast leaned to that which cannot
help thee, even to that which will prove a broken reed unto
thee, if thou comest to prove its strength. Thou hast greatly
dishonoured and grieved the Lord, by thy setting up ministers
which he loathes, and by thy providing a forced maintenance for
them by an unjust law, that so they may yet make a prey upon his
people, who for conscience-sake cannot put into their mouths,
being spiritually gathered therefrom by the word of the Lord.
Thou hast also grieved the Spirit of the Lord, in that thou
hast not put a difference betwixt that which the Spirit of the
Lord moved, and that which is moved by the evil lusts of men;
and hereby thou hast justified that which God hath condemned,
and condemned that which he hath justified, and will justify in
the sight of his enemies. O, friend, it is not the person of
any man which the Lord regards, but it is righteousness which
he hath respect to, and so far as man, (whatever he may be,)
by the drawing of the Truth comes into righteousness, and acts
therein, so far hath the Lord unity with him, and no further:
these things should have been considered by thee. Thou hast also
grieved the Holy Ghost by the suffering all these wicked and
profane shows and sports, which have abounded since thy coming
in, by which the Lord’s good creatures have been abused, wasted,
and devoured. Thou hast highly displeased the Lord God, by thy
suffering persecution to be acted in thy name, even whilst
thou in words hast promised liberty; yea, many are this day in
holes and prisons, for the testimony of a good conscience, and
obeying the doctrine of Christ. Oh! the Lord is grieved with
the pride and wickedness that is lived in, both in thy family
and dominions, and thou thyself hast not been such a pattern
and example amongst them as thou oughtest to have been. O,
friend! when I behold the wickedness, cruelty, and oppression,
that abounds in this nation in open view, and also the secret
abominations which are committed, and are plotting and lurking
in the chambers; verily my life is even bowed down because of
the fierce wrath of the Almighty, which I see is kindled; and
because of the great destruction which I see attends the wicked,
whose ends and counsels the Lord will frustrate, and upon whom he
will pour out everlasting contempt. Yea, and it hath been oft in
me, before thou camest last into the land, and also since, even
when it hath been shown me, what idolatry is intended in secret
to be brought in, that certainly it had been better for thee
that thou hadst never come, for I have seen it tending to thy
destruction. And when I have seen the abomination and cruelties
which are committed and intended, there hath a pity arose in me
towards thee for thy soul’s sake; and it hath been my desire, if
it might stand with the will of God, that he would put it into
thy heart to go out of the land again, that so thy life might
be preserved, and that thou mightest have time to repent; for
although many men flatter and applaud thee for self ends, yet I
see the Lord is displeased with thy ways. Let no man deceive thee
by feigned words; God will not be mocked: such as thou sowest,
such must thou reap. Thou canst not hide thyself from the Lord,
nor deliver thyself from the stroke of his hand: O consider how
soon hath the Lord taken away thy brother, who, according to
outward appearance, might have lived longer than thee! O, think
not that men can preserve thee, though all the nations about
promise to help thee! Yet when the Lord appears against thee,
thou must fall; verily there is a great desolation near, thy
hand cannot stay it; God hath decreed that he may exalt his own
kingdom: the nations are like a boiling pot, a little flame will
set them on fire; and the windy doctrine of the priests shall
help to kindle it; oh the day will be terrible, who may abide
it? The stubble will be consumed, and the chaff shall be burned;
the ungodly shall be abased, for they cannot stand in judgment;
but the seed shall be exalted. O what shall I say that might be
for thy safety? Verily I can say little; the Lord’s decree must
stand, the Lord is highly displeased, and his wrath is near to be
revealed: and he is swift in his goings, and he will shorten the
days of his enemies for his elect’s sake. O that thy soul might
be saved in the day of the Lord! my spirit is in suffering for
thee, my soul is afflicted within me because of the approachings
of the day of thy calamity, from which no man can deliver thee.
This is the Truth that must stand, and in love to thy soul it is
declared, by him who must deal uprightly with all men: though for
it I suffer outwardly, yet I have a witness in thy conscience,
unto which I am made manifest; and peace with the Lord is my
portion, which is better than an earthly crown.
GEORGE FOX, _the younger_.’
This was given him the 9th day of the
Eighth month, 1660.
This letter, (a clear evidence of the author’s innocent courage,) was
delivered to the king, who read it, and seemed to be reached thereby,
and touched at heart: but his brother, the duke of York, was displeased
with it, and being violently set against the author, advised the king
to use severity towards him; but the king being good-natured, said, ‘It
were better for us to mend our lives.’
Whilst the said G. Fox was prisoner in Lambeth-house, he wrote
also a small treatise, called, ‘England’s sad Estate and Condition
lamented.’ Herein he reproved the grievous abominations committed
among the inhabitants, oppression by persecution, and the hypocrisy
of the priests. He also predicted the pestilence, as may be mentioned
hereafter in due place; and signified not obscurely, that endeavours
would be used publicly to introduce superstition and idolatry; but that
those who intended to do so, should be frustrated by the Lord in their
attempts. And that others, whose worship also did displease the Lord,
should grind and waste one another: but that beyond their expectation,
he would pluck out from them, and preserve a holy seed. And that
after he should have executed his vengeance upon the rebellious and
treacherous dealers, he would then bring forth the remnant of his holy
seed, which should be preserved from their fury; and then they should
spread over all, and stand in dominion. ‘But,’ thus continued he,
‘although these things, touching the holy remnant, shall certainly be
fulfilled in their season, yet before they will be fully accomplished,
great will be the trials of many of the righteous, and there will be
great judgments executed in thee, O land, by him, who ofttimes maketh
a fruitful land barren, because of the wickedness of them that dwell
therein.’ This, and much more he wrote, and published it in print.
Several of his predictions we have seen fulfilled, as in the progress
of this history may appear: and this last we must refer to time. After
the writing of this treatise, he also gave forth the following prayer.
‘Surely it was thou, O Lord, that gave bounds unto the sea, that
the floods thereof could not overwhelm thy chosen: thou canst
let forth the winds, and suffer a storm; and thou canst make a
calm when thou pleasest. Have thou the glory of all, thou King
of saints, thou Saviour of Israel. Thou canst do whatever thou
pleasest, therefore will we trust in thy name, neither will we
fear what men can do unto us, because thou wilt not forsake us;
but thou wilt plead our cause in the sight of our adversaries,
and they shall know that thou art our God, who art able to save
to the uttermost. O Lord, our righteousness, we will praise thy
name; for thy mercies endure for ever. Our eyes, O God, are unto
thee, for we have no other helper. Our faith, O Lord, standeth
in thee, who canst not forget thy people. Thou hast revealed and
brought up Jacob, who wrestleth with thee, and prevaileth as a
prince, therefore must the blessing come. O Lord, the birth, the
birth, crieth unto thee, thy own elect, which long hath been
oppressed. Thou canst not deny thyself, therefore have we faith,
and hope, which maketh not ashamed. O Lord, how unsearchable are
thy ways! Thou hast even amazed thy people with the depth of thy
wisdom; thou alone wilt have the glory of their deliverance; and
therefore hast thou suffered these things to come to pass. O
Lord, thou art righteous in all thy judgments: only preserve thy
people which thou hast gathered, and wilt gather unto thyself, in
the day of trial; that so they may sing of thy power, and magnify
thy name in the land of the living.’
This G. Fox wrote also in prison several other papers and epistles,
for exhortation and consolation of his friends: but his work was soon
done, so that not long after he departed this life, which was in this,
or the next year. He was, as may be seen from his writings, a man of
extraordinary resignation and courage; and that he gave up his life, if
required, may appear from a small book that he wrote, being prisoner in
Lambeth-house, which he called, ‘The Dread of God’s Power uttering its
Voice through Man, unto the Heads of the Nation.’ Herein he exhorted
the rulers very earnestly to do justice; and said amongst the rest,
‘Friends, I must deal plainly with you in the sight of God, who hath
made me a prophet to the nation. I may not flatter any of you. My life
is in the hand of my Maker, and not one hair of my head can fall to the
ground without his providence. He hath redeemed my soul from hell,
and my mind from the earth; and he hath given me his good Spirit to
lead me. I am henceforth no more my own, but I am the Lord’s, who hath
formed me to his praise, and hath brought me forth, that I may sound
forth his powerful Truth amongst the people. Therefore must I not fear
man, neither must I be afraid of the sons of men.’
* * * * *
Thus undaunted he showed himself: but it was not long before he made
his exit, of which I cannot but say something. In his sickness I find,
that though he was weak in body, yet he was strong in spirit, so that
he would sing for joy of heart. He exhorted his friends to keep in
unity, foreseeing, it may be, that something would rise which might
give occasion for division: and then with much fervency of spirit, he
prayed God, and exhorted his friends, to keep their garments unspotted
of the world, because great was the day of trial that was at hand.
Afterwards recommending them to the Lord, he took his leave of them,
and slept in perfect peace with the Lord, being of sound memory to
the last. Now the dust was returned to the earth, and the spirit unto
God who gave it. Thus he was freed of all danger of losing the crown
of immortal life, which man by temptation, and the casualties of this
life, is liable unto, if he continueth not diligently watchful. But
this valiant was now beyond the reach of all temptations, and so I
leave him, that I may pass on to other matters.
In this year E. Burrough wrote a paper to the king and his council,
which he called, ‘A just and Righteous Plea,’ in which he proposed
at large, the reasons why the people called Quakers, refused to take
the oath of allegiance, viz. That it was not because they would not
be faithful to the king, but only for conscience-sake, since Christ
so expressly had commanded his followers, “Swear not at all,” which
command they durst not transgress. Yet to assure the government of
their faithfulness, he said thus:
‘We are now, and shall be faithful, innocent, and peaceable,
in our several stations and conditions, under this present
government of king Charles the Second, whom we acknowledge
supreme magistrate and governor over this kingdom; and for
conscience-sake we are obedient and submissive to him, as such,
in all his commands, either by doing and performing of what he
justly requireth, or by patient suffering under whatsoever is
inflicted upon us, in the matters for which we cannot be obedient
for conscience-sake, when any thing is required of us different
from the just law of God. And to this subjection to the king
and his government, we are bound by the law of righteousness;
and such hath ever been our principle and practice, and is unto
this day, even to be quiet, and peaceable, and patient, under
every authority that is set over us; and not in unrighteousness,
to plot, or contrive, or rebel, against any government, or
governors, nor to seek our own deliverance from injustice and
oppression in such a way. And we are persuaded to seek the
preservation of the king’s person and authority, by all just
and lawful means, and not to rebel against him with carnal
weapons; and so far as his government is in justice, mercy,
and righteousness, we declare true and faithful subjection and
obedience thereunto; and wherein it is otherwise, we shall be
subject by patient suffering what is unequally imposed upon
us, and yet not rebel in any turbulent way of conspiracies
and insurrections: for our principles are not for war, but
for peace with all men so much as in us lies; neither may we
render evil for evil to any, but are to be subject to the king
and his government, actively or passively, upon the conditions
aforementioned.
‘And we renounce all foreign authority, power, and jurisdiction
of the pope, or any else, from having any supremacy whatsoever
over the king, or any the good subjects of England. And this we
declare, acknowledge, and testify, in the fear and presence of
God, (to whom we and all mankind must give an account,) and that
without secret equivocation, or any deceitful mental reservation.’
Thus fully E. Burrough declared himself, and gave also a circumstantial
relation of the practice of his friends meeting together, or their way
of public worship, thereby to assure the government of their peaceable
behaviour and fidelity. But all this proved in vain; for it being well
known that the Quakers denied swearing, they continually were vexed and
persecuted, under a pretence of not giving due satisfaction of their
being faithful to the government, and so transgressing the laws.
Now the deputies of New England came to London, and endeavoured to
clear themselves as much as possible, but especially priest Norton, who
bowed no less reverently before the archbishop, than before the king;
and thus fawning upon the Episcopalians, they found means to keep in
a condition to vex the Quakers, so called, though they were forbidden
to put them to death: and that many of the bishops were great enemies
to the said Quakers, appeared plainly from the cruel persecution which
after a short calm arose in England.
But to return to the New England deputies, they would fain have
altogether excused themselves: and priest Norton thought it sufficient
to say, that he did not assist in the bloody trial, nor had advised
to it: but John Copeland, whose ear was cut off at Boston, charged
the contrary upon him: and G. Fox, the elder, got occasion to speak
with them in the presence of some of his friends; and asked Simon
Broadstreet, one of the New England magistrates, whether he had not a
hand in putting to death, those they nick-named Quakers? He not being
able to deny this, confessed he had. Then G. Fox asked him and his
associates that were present, whether they would acknowledge themselves
to be subjects to the laws of England; and if they did, by what laws
they put his friends to death? They answered, they were subjects to
the laws of England; and they had put his friends to death by the
same law, as the Jesuits were put to death in England. Hereupon G.
Fox asked, whether they did believe that those his friends, whom they
had put to death, were Jesuits, or jesuitically affected? They said,
‘Nay.’ Then replied G. Fox, ‘Ye have murdered them; for since ye put
them to death by the law that Jesuits are put to death here in England,
it plainly appears, you have put them to death arbitrarily, without
any law.’ Thus Broadstreet finding himself and his company ensnared by
their own words, asked, ‘Are you come to catch us?’ But he told them,
they had catched themselves, and they might justly be questioned for
their lives; and if the father of William Robinson, (one of those that
were put to death,) were in town, it was probable he would question
them, and bring their lives into jeopardy: for he not being of the
Quakers’ persuasion, would perhaps not have so much regard to the
point of forbearance, as they had. Broadstreet seeing himself thus in
danger, began to flinch and to sculk; for some of the old royalists
were earnest with the Quakers to prosecute the New England persecutors.
But G. Fox and his friends said, they left them to the Lord, to
whom vengeance belonged, and he would repay it. Broadstreet however,
not thinking it safe to stay in England, left the city, and with his
companions went back again to New England.
Not long before this time, G. Fox, with the help of John Stubbs and
Benjamin Furly, published a book called, ‘A Battledoor.’ In this
book were set forth examples of about thirty languages, to show that
every language had its particular denomination for the singular and
the plural number, in speaking to persons; and in every place where
the description began, the shape of a battledoor was delineated. This
work was promoted to public view by G. Fox, to show the learned, (if
possible to convince them,) that the custom of those called Quakers, to
say Thou to a single person, though it were to the king, and not You,
was not irregular nor absurd, but had been used anciently; and that
therefore they could not justly be charged with unmannerliness, because
they followed not the common custom, which was crept in by the pride
of men. Now though Ger. Croese doth disapprove in G. Fox, that he put
his name to this book as well as J. Stubbs and B. Furly, yet I do not
think it so improper as the said author doth; for G. Fox was a great
promoter of that work; and though he was not skilled in languages, and
some were for calling him an idiot, or a fool, yet I know him to have
been a man of good understanding, and of deep judgment. In his journal
he freely owns, that John Stubbs and Benjamin Furly took great pains in
the compiling of the said book, which he put them upon, and added also
some things to it; so that in some respect he might be esteemed author
too. At the end of the book he added:
‘The pope set up [You] to [One] in his pride, and it is pride
which cannot bear Thou and Thee to one, but would have You, from
the author of and their father in their pride, which must not
have the word Thou, which was before their father the pope was,
which was God’s language, and will stand when the pope is ended.
G. F.’
This book, (in which J. Stubbs and B. Furly gave also directions for
learners to read the Hebrew, Oriental, and other languages,) was
liberally disposed of; some of them were presented to the king and
his council, to the archbishop of Canterbury, and to the bishop of
London, and also one to each university. The king confessed that the
distinction between plural and singular, in regard of persons, was the
proper language of all nations; and the archbishop being asked what he
thought of it, was so at a stand, that he could not tell what to say to
it; for it appears he would not commend it, neither could he resolve
to disapprove it. Yet it did so inform and convince people, that many
afterward were not near so much offended at saying Thou and Thee to a
single person, as they were before.
Now many Papists and Jesuits began to fawn upon those called Quakers,
and said publicly, that of all the sects the Quakers were the best,
and most self-denying people; and that it was great pity that they did
not return to the holy mother church: and though they might have been
in hopes thereby to have gained proselytes from the Quakers, yet they
were disappointed. In the meanwhile they did but ill service to the
Quakers thereby; for this gave occasion to their enemies to divulge,
that there was an affinity and collusion between the Quakers and the
Papists. Some Jesuits signifying that they would willingly discourse
with the Quakers, G. Fox consented to it, and in order thereunto, time
and place were appointed: whereupon two of the loyalists came, being
dressed like courtiers, and they asked the names of G. Fox and those
with him. G. Fox then asked them the same question he had once before,
as hath been said already, asked a Jesuit, viz. whether the church
of Rome was not degenerated from the church in the primitive times;
from the spirit, and power, and practice, that they were in, in the
apostles’ time. The Jesuit to whom the question was put, said he would
not answer it. G. Fox asked him, why? but he would give no reason. His
companion then said they were not degenerated from the church in the
primitive times. Then G. Fox asked the other, whether he was of the
same mind; and he said, ‘Yes.’ G. Fox, to give no room to any excuses
of a mistake, repeated his question thus: Whether the church of Rome
now was in the same purity, practice, power, and spirit, that the
church in the apostles’ time was in. The Jesuits seeing how exact G.
Fox would be with them, said it was presumption in any to say, they had
the same power and spirit, which the apostles had. But G. Fox, told
them, it was presumption in them to meddle with the words of Christ
and his apostles, and make people believe they succeeded the apostles,
and yet be forced to confess, they were not in the same power and
spirit, that the apostles were in. ‘This,’ said he, ‘is a spirit of
presumption, and rebuked by the apostles’ spirit.’ Thereupon he showed
them how different their fruits and practices were, from the fruits
and practices of the apostles. This so displeased the Jesuits, that
one of them said, ‘Ye are a company of dreamers.’ ‘Nay,’ said G. Fox,
‘ye are the dreamers, who dream ye are the apostles successors, and
yet confess, ye have not the same power and spirit, which the apostles
were in.’ Then he began to tell them also, how they were led by an evil
spirit; and that this spirit had induced them to pray by beads, and to
images, and to put people to death for religion. He spoke yet more; but
the Jesuits soon grew weary of this discourse, and went away, giving
charge afterwards to those of their persuasion, not to dispute with the
Quakers, nor to read any of their books.
Sometime after G. Fox went to Colchester, where he had very large
meetings. From thence he went to Coggeshall; not far from which there
was a priest convinced of the truth of the doctrine held forth by him
and his friends; and he had a meeting in his house. And after having
visited his friends in their meetings thereabouts, he returned to
London, where he found more work: for John Perrot, of whom mention hath
been made already that he was at Rome, had so far complied with his
vain imaginations, that he thought himself further enlightened than G.
Fox, and his friends; and from this presumption he would not approve,
that when any one prayed in the meeting, others should put off their
hats, calling this a formality, and a common custom of the world,
which ought to be departed from. And since novelties often draw people
after them, so it was in this case, insomuch that he got a pretty many
adherents. But he did not stand here; for as one error proceeds from
another, so he made another extravagant step, and let his beard grow;
in which he was followed by some. In the meanwhile G. Fox laboured
both by word and writing, to stop his progress: and though most of his
friends also bore testimony against it, yet there passed several years
before this strange fire was altogether extinguished: to the quenching
whereof, it contributed not a little that Perrot, who now walked in an
erroneous path, grew worse from time to time, even to that degree, that
being come into America, he fell into manifest sensualities, and works
of the flesh: for he not only wore gaudy apparel, but also a sword; and
being got into some place in the government, he became a severe exactor
of oaths, whereas before he had professed that for conscience-sake he
could not swear. Before I leave Perrot, I will insert here a letter
wrote by him from Rome, when he was released from prison: and though
I believe he was then in a better state than afterward, yet in that
letter some sparks of spiritual pride may be seen, which though then
under some limitation, yet in process of time so broke forth, that it
caused his fall. The letter was thus:
‘O Israel: the host of the most high God; his majesty hath
fulfilled to me the vision of my head, having showed himself to
be the Holy One, and Just: he hath lately delivered me from the
prison of the city of Rome, besides the two lambs with me, whose
faces, through God, are turned to you-wards: for which I beseech
you in the holy spirit of meekness, to bless the name of the Lord
God. Give thanks to him for his power. The God of life promote
you all in the virtue of his mercy and forgiveness, and keep you
in the power of his everlasting love, unto the end.
JOHN.’
Written to you all without the gates
of Rome, the 2d day of the Fourth
month, 1661.
Send this forward and read my life in
your meetings.
He added not his sirname, in imitation, as it seems, of the apostle
John. He omitted it likewise in another letter he wrote from the prison
at Rome, which began thus:
‘I John the prisoner, being in the sense of the spirit of life
with you all,’ &c.
Who were the two lambs he mentions in his letter, I cannot tell;
whether they were persons that had been imprisoned with him in the
inquisition jail, and converted by him, as he thought; or whether he
meant John Stubbs and Samuel Fisher, I know not; it may rather be
supposed that he meant Charles Bayley and Jane Stoakes, who went to
Rome to procure his liberty: but J. Stubbs and S. Fisher came away
long before; yet if I am not mistaken, it was about this time that
these were at Rome, and they perhaps, having endeavoured to obtain his
liberty, departed before him towards England.
When Perrot afterward lived in America, about the beginning of the year
1665, John Taylor wrote thus from Jamaica concerning him:
‘One of the judges of this place told me, that he never had seen
one who so severely exacted an oath from people as John Perrot
did; for he saith, that if they will go to hell, he will despatch
them quickly. And another judge that was also present, said, that
Perrot had altogether renounced his faith, and aimed at nothing
but his profit.’
Such a one was John Perrot, though even some wise men admired him for
a time; but he became a man of a rough behaviour. Whether he ever
repented sincerely, I cannot tell. Robert Rich, who took too much part
in the extravagancies of James Nayler, as hath been related, did also
combine with Perrot, and became estranged from the Quakers, and in
that condition he died: but he was of the number of those, of whom the
apostle John said, “They went out from us, but they were not of us.”
Now since persecution continued in England, Edward Burrough, who
continually was laborious with the pen to oppose this evil, wrote also
a small book, which he called, ‘The Case of Free Liberty of Conscience
in the Exercise of Faith and Religion, presented unto the King and both
Houses of Parliament.’ In this treatise he showed, that to deprive
honest and peaceable people of liberty of conscience in the exercise of
worship to God, was unjust, an intrenching on God’s sovereignty, and an
usurpation of his authority. He also recommended it to consideration,
that to impose by force a religion upon men, was the way to fill
the land with hypocrites. And he showed with sound reasons, that to
persecute people for the exercise of religion and their worshipping
of God, must unavoidably tend to destroy trading, husbandry, and
merchandise. To which he added, that such as were called heretics were
punished, as malefactors, whereas drunkards and other vicious persons
were left unpunished; which to inculcate with more strength, he made
use of the words of Dr. Taylor, a bishop in Ireland, who said thus:
‘Why are we so zealous against those we call heretics, and yet great
friends with drunkards, and swearers, and fornicators, and intemperate
and idle persons? I am certain a drunkard is as contrary to the laws
of Christianity as an heretic: and I am also sure that I know what
drunkenness is; but I am not so sure that such an opinion is heresy,’
&c.
It happened about this time in England that some covetous persons,
to engross inheritances to themselves, would call the marriages
of those called Quakers in question. And it was in this year that
such a cause was tried at the assizes at Nottingham. A certain man
dying, and leaving his wife with child, and an estate in copyhold
lands: when the woman was delivered, one that was near of kin to her
deceased husband, endeavoured to prove the child illegitimate: and the
plaintiff’s counsel willing to blacken the Quakers, so called, asserted
the child to be illegitimate, because the marriage of its parents was
not according to law; and said bluntly, and very indecently, that the
Quakers went together like brute beasts. After the counsel on both
sides had pleaded, the judge whose name was Archer, opened the case
to the jury, and told them, that there was a marriage in Paradise,
when Adam took Eve, and Eve took Adam; and that it was the consent of
the parties that made a marriage. And as for the Quakers, said he, he
did not know their opinion; but he did not believe they went together
as brute beasts, as had been said of them, but as Christians; and
therefore he did believe the marriage was lawful, and the child lawful
heir. And the better to satisfy the jury, he related to them this
case: ‘A man that was weak of body, and kept his bed, had a desire in
that condition to marry, and did declare before witnesses that he did
take such a woman to be his wife; and the woman declared, that she
took that man to be her husband. This marriage was afterwards called
in question: but all the bishops did at that time conclude it to be a
lawful marriage.’ The jury having received this instruction, gave in
their verdict for the child, and declared it legitimate.
It hath been mentioned before, that G. Fox being prisoner at Derby, in
the year 1650, was exceedingly vexed and ill treated by the keeper of
the prison. But this man being struck with the terrors of the Lord,
became such a notable convert, that in the year 1662, he wrote the
following letter to G. Fox:
‘_Dear Friend_,
‘Having such a convenient messenger, I could do no less than give
thee an account of my present condition, remembering that to
the first awakening of me to a sense of life, and of the inward
principle, God was pleased to make use of thee as an instrument;
so that sometimes I am taken with admiration, that it should come
by such means as it did; that is say, that Providence should
order thee to be my prisoner, to give me my first real sight
of the Truth. It makes me many times to think of the jailer’s
conversion by the apostles. Notwithstanding my outward losses
are since that time such, that I am become nothing in the world,
yet I hope I shall find, that all these light afflictions, which
are but for a moment, will work for me a far more exceeding and
eternal weight of glory. They have taken all from me; and now
instead of keeping a prison, I am rather waiting when I shall
become a prisoner myself. Pray for me, that my faith fail not,
but that I may hold out to the death, that I may receive a
crown of life. I earnestly desire to hear from thee, and of thy
condition, which would very much rejoice me. Not having else at
present, but my kind love unto thee, and all Christian friends
with thee, in haste I rest
Thine in Christ Jesus,
THOMAS SHARMAN.’
Derby, the 22d of the Fourth month,
1662.
I have heretofore made some mention of the imprisonment of Catharine
Evans, and Sarah Cheevers, by the inquisition at Malta. It was about
this time that they were released: for G. Fox and Gilbert Latey, having
understood that the lord d’Aubigny could procure their liberty, went
to him, and having informed him concerning their imprisonment, desired
him to write to those in authority at Malta for their release. This he
promised to do, and told them if they would come again within a month,
perhaps they might hear of their discharge. They went again to him
about that time, but he said he thought his letters had miscarried; yet
he promised he would write again, and so he did; which had such effect,
that the said two women were discharged of their long imprisonment.
G. Fox had now opportunity to reason with this lord, (who was a Roman
Catholic priest in orders,) about religion, and he brought him to
confess that Christ had enlightened every man that cometh into the
world with his spiritual light; and that he had tasted death for every
man; and that the grace of God, which brings salvation, hath appeared
to all men; and that it would teach them, and bring their salvation if
they did obey it. Then G. Fox asked him what the Romanists would do
with all their relics and images, if they did own and believe in this
light, and receive the grace to teach them, and bring their salvation?
And he answered, those things were but policies to keep people in
subjection.
But leaving these discourses, I will now give a clear and
circumstantial relation of the imprisonment of the forementioned
Catharine Evans, and Sarah Cheevers, chiefly collected from letters and
papers, written by them in prison, and sent from thence to England,
where they were published in print, not long after their return, in the
year 1662.
In the year 1658, these women having drawings in their mind to travel
towards Alexandria, went in a ship from England to Leghorn in Italy,
and having been thirty-one days between Plymouth and Leghorn, they
at length safely landed at that city: where they found some of their
countrymen and friends, and stayed there several days, dispersing many
books when occasion offered. They spoke also with people of various
degrees, without being molested by any. From thence they got passage
in a Dutch ship bound for Alexandria, or Scanderoon; but the master of
the ship being in company with another ship going to Malta, went also
thither, though he had no business in the place: but before they came
there, Catharine fell into such an anguish of mind, that she cried out,
‘Oh! we have a dreadful cup to drink at that place!’ Being come into
the harbour, and standing on the deck of the ship, and looking upon the
people who stood on the walls, she said in her heart, ‘Shall ye destroy
us? If we give up to the Lord, then he is sufficient to deliver us out
of your hands: but if we disobey our God, all these could not deliver
us out of his hand.’ And so all fear of man was taken from them.
The next day, being the First-day of the week, they went on shore,
where the English consul met them, and asked them what they came there
for; they answered what they thought convenient, and gave him some
books. Then he told them there was an inquisition; and kindly inviting
them to his house, said all that he had was at their service while
they were there. They accepting of this invitation, went thither, and
many came to see them, whom they called to repentance, so that several
became tender. About night they went on ship-board, and the next day
came again into the city, and going to the governor he told them he
had a sister in the nunnery, who desired to see them. Thereupon they
went to the nunnery, and talked with the nuns, and gave them books:
and one of their priests, who brought them into the chapel, would have
them bow to the high altar, but they refused, being grieved because of
the idolatry committed there, and went to the consul’s again, where
they staid some weeks. During that time they once went into one of
the places of worship in the time of worship; and Catharine standing
in the midst of the people, turned her back to the high altar, and
kneeling down, she lifted up her voice in prayer to the Lord. The
priest that officiated, put off his surplice, and kneeled near her till
she had done. Then he reached forth his hand to them to come to him,
and offered her a token, which she taking to be the mark of the beast,
refused. Thereupon he put the piece into Sarah’s hand, but she gave it
him again, and showed him her purse that she had to give, if any had
need, and as yet was in no want. He then asked if they were Calvinists
or Lutherans? And they answered, ‘Nay.’ He asked if they would go to
Rome to the pope. They denying this, he asked if they were Catholics;
to which they said they were true Christians, servants of the living
God. But since they had yet learned but little of the language spoken
there, they expressed themselves very defectively; what they did
was partly in words and partly by signs, as well as they could: and
many that came about them were amazed: however at last they departed
peaceably. Some time after they went again to a mass-house, where the
sacrament, as they call it, was administered: there were many lights,
and great costliness and fineries; and being grieved because of their
idolatry, they stood about three quarters of an hour, weeping and
trembling, especially Catharine: and this so struck the congregation
with amazement, that some removed further from them for fear. At length
they both went out, but yet under such a trembling, that they went
along the street reeling and staggering, so that they became a wonder
to all that saw them.
They were about three months at the house of the English consul; and
he, for that reason, being under a suspicion, did not what he might
have done to save them; but in some respect he delivered them up to the
inquisition, though by his oath he was obliged to protect the English
there. In the meanwhile he kept them in his house, and suffered them
not to go abroad, though the governor had told him he might let them
go about their business; ‘For,’ said he, ‘they are honest women.’ The
consul might also have let them go free, before they came under the
power of the black rod. Now they perceiving that something to their
prejudice was in agitation, and making account already that a prison
would be their lot, they signified that they suspected him, and told
him that Pilate would do the Jews a service, and yet wash his hands in
innocency. He being at a loss, required a sign of them, if they were
the messengers of God. And they gave him to understand, that this might
serve for a sign: that it would be well with them; but that it should
not go off well with him.
Afterwards it happened that they were sent for by the inquisition:
and that day the consul’s wife brought them some victuals; but as she
passed by, Catharine was smitten, as with an arrow, to the heart, and
she seemed to hear a voice, saying, ‘She hath obtained her purpose.’
Then Catharine would not taste of the meat, but went aside, and wept
exceedingly. The consul having called her, told her, the inquisition
had sent for them, having received letters from Rome, but that he did
hope they should be set free; which however was not true, for he knew,
(as they understood afterwards,) there was a room prepared for them
in the prison of the inquisition. Neither was it long ere there came
the chancellor, the consul, and one with the black rod, who brought
them before the lord inquisitor; and he asked them whether they had
changed their minds; for it seems that had been required of them
before. But they answered, ‘No,’ and that they should not change from
the Truth. Then he asked what new light it was they talked of; they
answered it was no new light, but the same the prophets and apostles
bore testimony to. Next he asked how this light came to be lost since
the primitive times; they replied, it was not lost; men had it still in
them, but they did not know it, by reason that the night of apostacy
had overspread the nations. Then he said, if they would change their
minds, and do as they would have them, they should say so, or else they
would use them as they pleased. But they, signifying that they would
not change, said, ‘The will of the Lord be done.’ He then arose, and
went away with the consul, leaving them there: and the man with the
black rod, and the keeper, took and put them into an inner room in the
inquisition, which had only two little holes in it for light and air.
This place was so exceeding hot, that it seemed as if their intent was
to stifle them, as we may see in the sequel.
Not long after they were brought before the inquisitors to be further
examined, and they not only asked their names, but also the names of
their husbands and parents, and what children they had, and also why
they came thither? To which they answered, they were servants of the
living God, come there to call them to repentance. The next day they
were called again, but then examined asunder; and Sarah being asked
whether she was a true Catholic, said, that she was a true Christian,
worshipping God in Spirit and in Truth. Then they held forth a crucifix
to her, and would have her swear that she should speak the truth. To
which she said, she should speak the truth, but she would not swear;
for Christ had commanded, “Swear not at all.” The English consul who
was present, endeavoured to persuade her to swear, and said that none
should do her any harm. She having some books with her, they were
taken from her; and they asked her, wherefore she brought those books;
to which she answered, because they could not speak their language.
Then they asked her, what George Fox was? She answered, ‘A minister.’
Further they asked, wherefore she came thither? And she replied, to
do the will of God as she was moved of the Lord. The next question
was, how the Lord did appear unto her: to which she answered, ‘By his
Spirit.’ And being asked whether she did see his presence, and hear his
voice, her answer was, she heard his voice, and saw his presence. They
then asked what he said to her? She answered, that he required of her
to go over the seas to do his will. This made them ask how she knew
it was the Lord who required this of her? To which she answered, that
since he had signified to her, that his living presence should go along
with her, she found him to perform his promise, for she did feel his
living presence. After this they went away.
Two days after the inquisitors came and called for Catharine, and
offering her the crucifix, they told her, the magistrates commanded her
to swear, that she should speak the truth. To which she said, that she
should speak the truth, for she was a witness for God; but she should
not swear, since a greater than the magistrates said, “Swear not at
all; but let your yea, be yea, and your nay, nay; for whatsoever is
more, cometh of evil.” Then said they, ‘You must obey the justice; and
he commands you to swear.’ She returned, ‘I shall obey justice, but if
I should swear, I should do an unjust thing; for the just, (Christ,)
said, “Swear not at all.”’ Then they asked her whether she did own that
Christ that died at Jerusalem? She answered, ‘We own the same Christ
and no other; he is the same yesterday, to-day, and for ever.’ Next
they asked her, what she would do at Jerusalem: she answered, she did
not know that she should go thither; but she intended to have gone to
Alexandria. They asked what to do: her answer was, ‘The will of God:
and, (said she,) if the Lord opened my mouth, I should call people to
repentance, and declare to them the day of the Lord, and direct their
minds from darkness to light.’ They asked her also, whether she did
see the Lord: she answered, God was a spirit, and he was spiritually
discerned.
Now, though from the answers of these women little could be got to
blame them, yet they were kept close prisoners, which seemed to grieve
the English consul, for he came to them with tears in his eyes, and
said he was sorry as for his own flesh; for it seems he had received
something for delivering them up, which he would willingly have given
back, if thereby he could have obtained their liberty: but a slavish
fear possessed him, and he never had peace while he lived. Some days
after this came a magistrate, two friars, the man with the black rod,
a scribe, and the keeper of the inquisition to examine them; and they
were again required to swear: but they answered as before, that Christ
said, “Swear not at all;” and that the apostle James gave the same
charge. Hereupon the magistrate asked if they would speak truth: and
they said, ‘Yes.’ He then asked whether they believed the creed; to
which they said, they did believe in God, and in Jesus Christ, who
was born of the Virgin Mary, and suffered at Jerusalem under Pontius
Pilate, and arose again from the dead the third day, and ascended
to his Father, and shall come to judgment, to judge both quick and
dead. He further asked, how they did believe the resurrection: and
they answered, that they believed that the just and the unjust should
arise according to the Scriptures. Next he said, ‘Do you believe in
the saints, and pray to them?’ To which the answer was,‘We believe the
communion of saints, but we do not pray to them, but to God only, in
the name of Jesus.’ His next question was, whether they did believe
in the Catholic church: and they answered, they did believe the true
church of Christ, ‘but the word Catholic, said they, we have not read
in Scripture.’ He also asked if they believed in purgatory: to which
they said, ‘No; but a heaven and a hell.’ Then one of the friars,
who was an Englishman, said, we were commanded to pray for the dead;
for, those that are in heaven have no need; and for those that are in
hell, there is no redemption; therefore there must be a purgatory:
and he asked if they believed the holy sacrament; to which their
answer was, they never read the word sacrament in Scripture. The friar
replied,‘Where you read in your bibles sanctification, it is sacrament
in ours.’ And he said, their holy sacrament was bread and wine, which
they converted into the flesh and blood of Christ, by the virtue of
Christ. ‘Then,’ said the women, ‘ye work miracles, for Christ’s virtue
is the same as it was when he turned water into wine, at the marriage
in Cana.’ The friar said, ‘If we do not eat the flesh, and drink the
blood of the Son of God, we have no life in us.’ They replied, ‘The
flesh and blood of Christ is spiritual, and we do feed upon it daily;
for that which is begotten of God in us, can no more live without
spiritual food, than our temporal bodies can without temporal food.’
Then he said, ‘You never hear mass.’ ‘But we,’ said they, ‘hear the
voice of Christ; he only hath the words of eternal life; and that is
sufficient for us.’ He said, ‘Ye are heretics and heathens;’ to which
they replied, ‘They are heretics that live in sin and wickedness, and
such are heathens that know not God.’
Then it was asked them who was the head of their church: they told
him, ‘Christ.’ It was further asked what George Fox was: and they
said, ‘He is a minister of Christ.’ And it being asked whether he
sent them, their answer was, ‘No: the Lord did move us to come.’ Then
the friar said, ‘Ye are deceived, and have not the faith; though ye
had all virtues.’ And they replied, ‘Faith is the ground from whence
virtues proceed.’ Hereupon it was told them, if they would take the
holy sacrament they might have their liberty; or else the pope would
not leave them for millions of gold; but they should lose their souls
and bodies too. To this they said, ‘The Lord hath provided for our
souls, and our bodies are freely given up to serve him.’ Then it was
asked them if they did not believe marriage was a sacrament: and they
answered, it was an ordinance of God. It was further asked if they
did believe men could forgive sins: and their answer was, that none
could forgive sins but God only. After some other words to and fro,
the women asked, ‘Wherein have we wronged you, that we should be kept
prisoners all the days of our life? Our innocent blood will be required
at your hands.’ The friar said he would take their blood upon him. They
replied, the time would come he should find he had enough upon him
without it. Then it was told them the pope was Christ’s vicar, and what
he did was for the good of their souls. To which they answered, ‘The
Lord hath not committed the charge of our souls to the pope, nor to you
neither; for he hath taken them into his own possession: glory be to
his name for ever.’ Then it was said unto them they must be obedient.
And they returned, they were obedient to the government of Christ’s
Spirit or light. The friar said, ‘None have the true light but the
Catholics; the light that you have is the spirit of the devil.’ ‘Wo,
(said they,) to him that curseth Jesus; can the devil give power over
sin and iniquity? That would destroy his own kingdom.’ ‘You,’ replied
the friar, ‘are laughed at and mocked of every one.’ ‘But,’ said they,
‘what will become of the mockers?’ ‘It was no matter,’ he said: ‘you
run about to preach, and have not the true faith.’ They returned, ‘The
true faith is held in a pure conscience, void of offence towards God
and men. Every one hath the true faith, that believeth in God, and in
Jesus Christ whom he hath sent: but they that say they do believe,
and do not keep his commandments, are liars, and the truth is not in
them.’ The friar confessed this to be true, though he was continually
very troublesome to them with threats, to make them turn; and to this
end they were locked up in a room, so exceeding hot, that it was
said it was impossible they could live long in it. They were also so
exceedingly stung by gnats, when they lay in bed, that their faces
became swoln, as if they had been sick of the small-pox, so that many
began to be afraid of them; and the friar said to Sarah, he spied an
evil spirit in her face.
At another time being examined, they were asked, how many of their
friends were gone forth into the ministry, and into what parts: they
answering to that query what they knew, it was told them, all that
came where the pope had any thing to do, should never go back again.
But they said, the Lord was as sufficient for them, as he was for the
children in the fiery furnace, and their trust was in God. Catharine
being sickly, was asked why she looked so; whether her spirit was
weak: she answered, ‘Nay: my body is weak, because I eat no meat.’ The
friar hearing this, offered her a license to eat flesh; for it was
in their Lent. But she refused this, and said, she could not eat any
thing at all. And going afterwards to bed, she lay there night and day
for twelve days together, fasting and sweating, for she was in much
affliction, and great was her agony.
After having lain ten days, there came to her two friars, the
chancellor, the man with the black rod, a physician, and the keeper.
One of the friars commanded Sarah to go out of the room, and then
pulled Catharine’s hand out of the bed, and said, ‘Is the devil so
great in you, that you cannot speak?’ To which she said, ‘Depart from
me thou worker of iniquity: the power of the Lord is upon me, and dost
thou call him devil?’ Hereupon he took his crucifix to strike her on
the mouth; and she asked him whether it were that cross that crucified
Paul to the world, and the world unto him. This ignorant monk said it
was. But she denied it, and said, ‘The Lord hath made me a witness
for himself, against all workers of iniquity.’ He then bade her be
obedient, and went to strike her; at which she said, ‘Wilt thou strike
me?’ And he saying he would, she further said, ‘Thou art out of the
apostles’ doctrine, for they were no strikers. I deny thee to be any
of them who went in the name of the Lord.’ To which he said, he had
brought her a physician in charity: and she returned, ‘The Lord is my
physician, and my saving health.’ The monk growing angry, said she
should be whipped and quartered, and burnt that night at Malta, and her
mate too. But she told him modestly, she did not fear; the Lord was on
her side; and he had no power but what he had received; and if he did
not use it to the same end the Lord gave it him, the Lord would judge
him. At these words they were all struck dumb, and went away. Then the
friar went to Sarah, and told her that Catharine called him worker of
iniquity. ‘Did she,’ said Sarah, ‘art thou without sin?’ To which he
said he was. ‘Then,’ replied Sarah, ‘she hath wronged thee.’
Late in the evening, something was proclaimed at the prison gate,
by beating of a drum, and early in the morning some came again with
a drum, and guns. It seems to me that this was done on purpose to
frighten these poor women, and to make them believe that they should
be put to death; for indeed they looked for little else, having for
several weeks expected that they should be led to the stake: but they
were fully resigned, and given up to what the Lord might be pleased
to permit. In the meanwhile Catharine continuing sickly, the friar
came again with the physician. But she told him, she could not take
any thing, unless she felt freedom. He then said, they must never come
forth of that room while they lived: and pretending to be kind to them,
he further said, ‘You may thank God and me, that it is no worse; for it
was like to be worse.’ Thereupon they said, that if they had died, they
had died as innocent as ever any servants of the Lord. He then said, it
was well they were innocent; and turning to Sarah, bade her take notice
what torment Catharine should be in at the hour of death; saying,
thousands of devils would fetch her soul to hell. But Sarah told him,
she did not fear any such thing. He then asked Catharine if she did not
think it expedient for the elders of the church to pray over the sick.
And she said, ‘Yea, such as are moved of the Spirit of the Lord.’ He
then fell down on his knees, and did howl, and wish bitter wishes upon
himself, if he had not the true faith. The physician in the meanwhile
was enraged, because she did not bow to him.
Now whilst Catharine was sick, Sarah was not without great affliction:
for it grieved her to see her dear companion so ill; and she easily
foresaw, that if Catharine died, her own sufferings would be heavier.
But yet she was given up to the will of the Lord, and would not in the
least grudge at Catharine’s eternal rest. But in time Catharine began
to mend, and grow hungry; and eating, she was refreshed. But the room
wherein they were locked was so excessively hot, that they were often
fain to rise out of their bed, and lie down at the chink of the door
for air to fetch breath; and this heat was the greater, because it
came not only from without, but within also: which so affected them
that their skin was parched, the hair fell off their heads, and they
fainted often; and their afflictions were so great, that when it was
day they wished for night, and when it was night, they wished for day;
yea, through human weakness, they desired death, eating their bread
weeping, and mingling their drink with tears. Once Catharine asked the
monks, who came to her with a physician, and said it was in charity,
whether they did not keep them in that hot room to kill them, and bring
a physician, to keep them longer alive? To this the friar said, the
inquisitor would lose his head if he should take them thence; and it
was better to keep them there, than to kill them. Then they wrote to
the inquisitor, and laid their innocency before him; and said also, if
it were their blood they thirsted after, they might take it any other
way, as well as to smother them in that hot room. But this so incensed
him, that he sent the friar to them, who took away their ink-horns,
their bibles being taken from them before. They asked them, why their
goods were taken away: to which it was answered, ‘All is ours; and your
lives too, if we will.’ Then they asked, how they had forfeited their
lives: to which it was told them, ‘For bringing books and papers.’ They
replied, if there were any thing in them that was not true, they might
write against it. To this the monk said, they scorned to write to fools
and asses, that did not know true Latin. And it was further told them,
the inquisitor would have them separated, because Catharine was weak,
and she should go into a cooler room; but Sarah should abide there.
Then Catharine took Sarah by the arm, and said, ‘The Lord hath joined
us together, and wo be to them that part us. I had rather die here with
my friend, than part from her.’ This so struck the friar, that he went
away, and came no more in five weeks, and the door of their room was
not opened in all that time.
Then the monks came again to part them, but Catharine was sick, and
broken out from head to foot. They thereupon sent for a doctor, and
he said, they must have air, or else they must die. This was told the
inquisitor, and he ordered the door to be set open six hours in a
day. But ten weeks after they were parted; which was such a grievous
affliction, that they declared death itself would not have been so
hard to them. But the monks said they corrupted each other, and that
being parted, they would bow and submit. But they saw themselves
disappointed; for the women were stronger afterwards than before, the
Lord fitting them for every condition. Before they were parted, the
friars brought them a scourge of small hempen cords, asking them if
they would have it; and saying they were used to whip themselves till
the blood came. But the women said, that could not reach the devil, he
sat upon the heart. Then the monks said, ‘All the people of Malta are
for you; if ye will be Catholics, none but will like you.’ To which
they returned, ‘The Lord hath changed us into that which changeth not.’
The monks then said, ‘All our holy women do pray for you: and ye shall
be honoured of all the world, if ye will turn.’ They replied, ‘The
world lies in wickedness; and the honour and glory of the world we have
denied.’ To this the monks said, ‘Ye shall be honoured of God too; but
now ye are hated of all.’ ‘This,’ said one of the women, ‘is an evident
token whose servants we are. The servant is not greater than his Lord.’
Once, on a First-day of the week, the friars came, and commanded them
to kneel down with them to prayer. They signified they could pray but
as they were moved by the Lord. Then the friars commanded them the
second time, and kneeled down by their bed-side, and prayed after their
manner; which being done, they said to the women, ‘We have tried your
spirits; now we know what spirit ye are of.’ But they told them they
could not know that, unless their minds were turned to the light of
Christ in their consciences. The English friar then growing angry,
showed them his crucifix, and bade them look on it. But they told him,
the Lord saith, “Thou shalt not make to thyself the likeness of any
thing that is in heaven above, or in the earth beneath, or in the water
under the earth; thou shalt not bow down to them, nor worship them; but
I the Lord thy God am a jealous God.” The friar seeing Sarah speak so
boldly to him, called for the irons to chain her. She then bowed her
head, and said to him, ‘Not only my hands and feet, but my neck also
for the testimony of Jesus.’ The friar seeming appeased, said he would
do them any good he could; for he saw what they did was not in malice.
And the friars came often, and said to them, ‘If ye would do but a
little ye should be set at liberty; but you will do nothing at all, but
are against every thing.’ To which they returned, that they would do
any thing that might tend to God’s glory.
While they were imprisoned here, it happened that the inquisition house
was new built or repaired, which took up about the space of a year and
an half; and during this time, some of the great ones came often to see
the building, which gave opportunity to these women to speak to them,
and to declare the Truth in the name of the Lord.
Now, though they were threatened by the monks for preaching the light
of Christ so boldly, yet not only the magistrates, but the lord
inquisitor grew moderate towards them, and gave order they should have
pens, ink, and paper, to write to England. And they seemed inclined to
have them set at liberty; but the friars worked mightily against it;
and had laboured about three quarters of a year to part them, before
they could bring it to pass. And when at length they had effected it,
they told Catharine that they should never see one another’s faces
again.
In the meanwhile Catharine being sickly, had little stomach to eat,
and had no mind to eat any thing but what came from Sarah to her. And
having told one of the friars that she wanted somebody to wash her
linen, and to prepare some warm victuals for her, he sent to Sarah to
know if she would do it for her; and she said she would. And by that
means they for some weeks heard of one another every day; and the friar
said once to Catharine, ‘You may free yourself of misery when you will;
you may make yourself a Catholic, and have your freedom to go where you
will:’ to which she told him, ‘Thus I might have a name that I did live
when I was dead: thou hast Catholics enough already. Endeavour to bring
some of them to the light in their consciences, that they may stand in
awe and sin not.’ But he was so eager, that he said he would lose one
of his fingers if she and Sarah would be Catholics. Then she told him
that it was Babylon that was built with blood, but Sion was redeemed
through judgment.
Many ways were used to draw them off; and once they would have
persuaded her to set a picture at her bed’s head, for a representation:
but she said, as with abhorrence, ‘What, do ye think I want a calf to
worship? Do ye walk by the rule of Scriptures?’ To which the friar
said, ‘We do; but we have traditions too.’ She replied, ‘If your
traditions derogate or dissent, from the fundamentals of Christ’s
doctrine, the prophets, and apostles, I deny them in the name of the
Lord.’ But he asserted that they did not. Then she asked what rule they
had to burn those that could not join with them for conscience-sake:
and he returned, ‘St. Paul did worse, for he gave them to the devil:’
and further said, that they did judge all damned that were not of their
faith. Then she objected to him several of the superstitious rites of
the church of Rome, and mentioned also the forbidding of marriage,
which, said she is a doctrine of devils, according to the saying of
the apostle. The friar being put to a nonplus, told her that St. Peter
was the pope of Rome, and did build an altar there, and the pope was
his successor, and he could do what he would. But she refuted this
with sound reason. He then boasting of the antiquity of their church,
she signified that the church she was of was yet older; ‘For,’ said
she, ‘our faith was from the beginning; and Abel was of our church.’
The friar being at a loss, and no longer able to hold out against
Catharine, went to Sarah, and talked with her at the same rate; and
she also told him Abel was of our church: to which he said, ‘Abel was
a Catholic;’ and quite overshooting himself, he said likewise, ‘And
Cain and Judas were so.’ To which Sarah returned, ‘Then the devil was a
Catholic; and I will not be one: I will not turn; though ye would tear
me to pieces, I believe the Lord would enable me to endure it.’
At another time the said friar, whose name was Malachy, came again to
Catharine, and told her if she would be a Catholic, she should say so;
otherwise they would use her badly, and she should never see the face
of Sarah again, but should die by herself, and a thousand devils should
carry her soul to hell. She then asked him if he were the messenger of
God to her: and he said ‘Yes.’ ‘Why, what is my sin,’ said she, ‘or
wherein have I provoked the Lord, that he doth send me such a message?’
‘It is,’ returned the monk, ‘because you will not be a Catholic.’
Whereupon she said, ‘I deny thee and the message too, and the spirit
which speaks in thee; for the Lord never spoke so.’ He growing angry,
said that he would lay her in a whole pile of chains, where she should
see neither sun nor moon. She intimating how resigned she was, said
he could not separate her from the love of God in Christ Jesus, lay
her wherever he would. And he further saying he would give her to the
devil, she resumed, ‘I do not fear all the devils in hell; the Lord is
my keeper. Though thou hadst the inquisition, with all the countries
round about it on thy side, and I was alone by myself, I do not fear
them; if they were thousands more, the Lord is on my right hand; and
the worst they can do, is but to kill the body, they can touch my life
no more than the devil could Job’s.’ Then the monk said she should
never go out of the room alive. To which she courageously said, ‘The
Lord is sufficient to deliver me; but whether he will or no, I will
not forsake the living fountain, to drink at a broken cistern. And ye
have no law to keep us here, but such a law as Ahab had for Naboth’s
vineyard.’ The monk then cursing himself, and calling upon his gods,
ran away; and as he was pulling the door, he said, ‘Abide there, member
of the devil.’ To which she said, ‘The devil’s members do the devil’s
works; and the woes and plagues of the Lord will be upon them for it.’
He then went and told the inquisitor of it, who laughed at him; and
before he came again, Catharine was moved out of that room: when he
came he brought one of the inquisitor’s men with him, and two very good
hens, and said, the lord inquisitor had sent them in love to her. To
which she said, she received his love, but yet she showed herself not
very ready to accept them; and signified that she was willing to pay
for them, being loath to be chargeable to any, whilst she had of her
own. The friar, who it seems would have had them lay down their money
at his feet, said they must not count any thing their own, for in the
primitive times they sold their possessions, and laid them down at
the apostles’ feet. He further said, ‘You shall not want any thing,
though we should spend a thousand crowns. But you are proud, because
you will not take the inquisitor’s hens which he sent you in charity.’
She then asking what kind of charity this was, since he kept her in
prison; the friar said, it was for the good of their souls he kept them
in prison; further adding, ‘If you had not been going to preach, ye
might have gone where ye would.’ She returned, ‘Our souls are out of
the inquisitor’s reach. Why should your love extend more to us than to
your own family: for they commit all manner of sin, which you cannot
charge us with. Why do not ye put them into the inquisition, and bid
them turn?’ He then said, ‘You have not the true faith;’ and showing
her his crucifix, asked her, if she thought he did worship that: and
she asked him, what then did he with it: to which he answered, it was
a representation. And she replied, it did not represent Christ, for he
was the express image of his Father’s glory, which is light and life.
‘But,’ continued she, ‘if thou canst put any life in any of thy images,
then bring them to me. What representation had Daniel in the lion’s
den, or Jonah in the whale’s belly? They cried unto the Lord, and he
delivered them.’ The friar, who could not abide to hear her speak so
much against idols, said she talked like a mad woman, adding, ‘I will
give you to the devil.’ She not fearing this, said, ‘Give thy own, I
am the Lord’s.’ He then stood up, and said, ‘I will do to you as the
apostles did to Ananias and Sapphira.’ She then standing up also, said,
‘I deny thee in the name of the Lord, the living God, thou hast no
power over me.’ Then away he went with the hens to Sarah, and told her
that Catharine was sick, and the lord inquisitor had sent two hens,
and she would be glad to eat a piece of one, if she would dress one of
them presently, and the other to-morrow. Sarah no less circumspect and
cautious than Catharine, and unwilling to receive this gift before she
knew what might be expedient, answered him accordingly as Catharine
did. Then he carried the hens away again, saying, ‘You would fain be
burnt, because you would make the world believe, you love God so well
as to suffer in that kind.’ Catharine hearing this, said, ‘I do not
desire to be burnt; but if the Lord should call me to it, I believe he
will give me power to undergo it for his Truth; and if every hair of my
head was a body, I could offer them up all for the testimony of Jesus.’
The friar coming afterwards, again asked Catharine whether she had
not been inspired of the Holy Ghost to be a Catholic, since she came
into the inquisition: she said, ‘No:’ but he maintaining the contrary,
said, ‘You are those who call the Spirit of the Holy Ghost the Spirit
of the devil.’ ‘No:’ replied they, (who though they were parted could
hear one another,) ‘the Spirit of the Holy Ghost in us will resist the
devil; and the inspiration of the Holy Ghost is not wrought in the will
of man, nor in man’s time; but in God’s will and time.’ More discourse
they had about this matter, and then asking for their bibles, which
had been taken from them, he said they should never see them again, for
they were false.
Thus they were often troubled and importuned by the friars, who
generally came two at a time, though sometimes but one. One of these
often lifted up his hand to strike them, but did not: for they not
being moved by fear, he was put out of countenance, and would say they
were good women, and he would do them any good. As indeed sometimes he
did work for them, and would say it was for God’s sake, and that they
ought to thank him for it; to which they replied, those that did any
thing for God, did not look for a reward from man; which once made him
so angry, that he said they were the worst of all creatures, and that
they should be used worse than the Turks, Armenians, and Lutherans.
Whereupon one of them said, ‘The pure life was ever counted the worst;
and if we suffer, we are the Lord’s, and can trust him. Do what ye will
with us, we do not fear any evil tidings: we are settled and grounded
in Truth; and the more ye persecute us, the stronger we grow.’ For
this they experienced indeed, according to what they signified in
their letters, though they were separated a year from each other. The
friars coming once to Sarah, told her if she would she might go out of
the prison, and say and do nothing. And she saying she would on that
account, they said they would come next morning. But Sarah perceived
their deceit, and therefore when they came, she, to avoid the snare,
could not resolve to go forth, though the friars behaved themselves
friendly, and told her that the inquisitor had said, if they wanted
linen, woollen, stockings, shoes, or money, they should have it.
Once it happened that an Englishman who lived there, having heard that
Sarah was in a room with a window next the street, got up by the wall,
and spoke a few words to her; but he was violently hauled down, and
cast into prison upon life and death; for he was one they had taken
from the Turks, and made a Papist of him. The friars coming to them to
know whether he had brought them any letters, they said ‘No.’ Neither
had Catharine seen him; yet it was told them, he was like to be hanged.
Of this Sarah gave information to Catharine, by writing a few lines
to her, (for it seems they then could not hear one another,) and she
told her, she thought the English friars were the chief actors of this
business. This grieved Catharine, and she wrote to Sarah again, (for
they had a private way to send to each other.) In this letter, after
her salutation, she said to Sarah, that she might be sure the friars
were the chief actors; but that she believed the Lord would preserve
that poor Englishman for his love, and that she was made to seek the
Lord for him with tears; and that she desired her to send him something
once a day, if the keeper would carry it; that she herself was ravished
with the love of God to her soul, and her beloved was the chiefest of
ten thousands; and that she did not fear the face of any man, though
she felt their arrows: moreover that she had a prospect of their safe
return into England. And in the conclusion, she bade Sarah take heed,
if she was tempted with money. But this letter, (by what means they
never knew,) came to the English friar’s hands, who translating it into
Italian, delivered it to the lord inquisitor; and afterwards came with
the inquisitor’s deputy to Catharine, and showed her both the papers,
and asked her if she could read it: viz. the English one: ‘Yea,’ said
she, ‘I wrote it.’ ‘O, did you indeed?’ said he. ‘And what is it you
say of me here?’ ‘Nothing but what is true,’ replied she. Then he
said, ‘Where is the paper Sarah sent? Give it, or else I will search
your trunk, and every where else.’ She then bidding him search where
he would, he said, she must tell him who it was that brought her ink,
or else she should be tied with chains presently. And she returned she
had done nothing but what was just and right in the sight of God; and
what she did suffer on that account would be for Truth’s sake. And she
would not meddle with the poor workmen. Then he said, ‘For God’s sake
tell me what Sarah did write.’ And she told him something, and said,
what she spoke was truth. ‘But,’ returned he, ‘you say it is much we
do not tempt you with money.’ And this indeed happened afterwards. The
deputy then took Catharine’s ink, and threw it away; and so they went
also; and the poor Englishman was released the next morning. They now
coming to Sarah, told her that Catharine honestly had confessed all,
and that she had best to confess too: and they threatened her with a
halter, and that they would take away her bed and trunk, and her money
too: to which Sarah said, it may be she might not send to Catharine any
more: and she asked the deputy, whether he was a minister of Christ,
or a magistrate; if he were a magistrate, said she, he might take her
money, but she would not give it him. He then growing angry, said she
was possessed; to which she replied, if so, then it was with the power
of an endless life.
Thus from time to time they suffered many assaults; and sometimes it
so happened that those who came to see them, were struck to the heart,
which offended the friars. Now at length their money was almost gone,
they having sometimes employed it for victuals. But the friars told
them they might have kept their money for other services; for they
should have maintained them whilst they kept them prisoners. To this
they said they could not keep their money and be chargeable to others.
Then it so fell out that their stomachs were taken away, and they did
eat but little for three or four weeks, till at length they found
themselves obliged to fasting for several days together: which made
the friars say, that it was impossible that people could live with so
little meat as they did. And it was told them the lord inquisitor had
said, they might have any thing they would. To which they signifying
that it was not in their own will they fasted, said they must wait
to know the mind of the Lord, what he would have them to do. They
continued weak, especially Sarah, who apprehending her death near, did
therefore dress her head as she would lie in the grave. They both were
so feeble that they could not put on their clothes, neither put them
off, being also unable to make their beds. And though they desired to
be together in one room, yet the friars would not permit it. In this
condition they concluded they were like to die; but heaven had provided
otherwise.
Catharine about that time, being exercised in supplication to the Lord,
that it might please him to put an end to their trial, which way it
seemed good in his sight, thought she heard a voice saying, ‘Ye shall
not die:’ and she took this to be a heavenly voice: and from that
time they felt themselves refreshed with the living presence of the
Lord, to their great joy and comfort, so that they felt freedom to eat
again: and then they were provided with good victuals; but yet they
were under a fear of eating any thing which in some respect might be
counted unclean; and therefore they cried unto the Lord, and said,
‘We had rather die than eat any thing that is polluted and unclean.’
And Catharine believed it was said to her from the Lord, ‘Thou mayest
as freely eat, as if thou hadst wrought for it with thy hands.’ And
Sarah, who sometimes wrought for others in the inquisition house, was
persuaded that it was told her by inspiration, ‘Thou shalt eat the
fruit of thy hands, and be blessed.’ And so they did eat, and for
eight or ten days they got whatever they did call for. But afterwards
they were so straitened for want of food, that it did them more hurt
than their fast. Yet they being preserved alive, the friar said, ‘The
Lord keeps them alive by his mighty power, because they should be
Catholics.’ To which they returned, it should be known one day the
Lord had another end in it. But the friars told them plainly there was
no redemption for them. Whereupon they said, With the Lord there was
mercy and plenteous redemption: and they bade them take heed, ‘ye be
not found fighters against God.’ To which the friars returned, ‘Ye are
foolish women.’ ‘Then we are,’ replied they, ‘the Lord’s fools; and
they are dear and precious in his sight.’ The friars then showing their
shaven crowns, said that they were the Lord’s fools; and, pointing to
their gowns, said they did wear them for God’s sake to be laughed at
by the world. One of the friars about this time did what he could to
send Catharine to Rome; and not succeeding, he said they should go
both. But this not taking effect, the friar was sent thither with a
paper, containing matter of charge against Catharine; but she speaking
zealously to the scribe, pronounced wo against it, and defied it in
the name of the Lord. Before the friar departed, he told Sarah that
Catharine was a witch, and that she knew what was done elsewhere. He
said this, because once telling Catharine abundance of lies, she told
him she had a witness for God in her, which was faithful and true; and
she believed this witness.
After he was gone, the English consul came to her with a dollar from
the master of a ship, who came from Plymouth. She told him she did
receive her countryman’s love, but could not receive his money. He
then asked her what she would do if she would take no money; to which
she answered, ‘The Lord is my portion, and thus I cannot want any good
thing. We were in thy house near fifteen weeks, didst thou see any
cause of death and bonds in us?’ And he saying No, she signified to
him, that in some respect he had been accessory to their imprisonment,
and had not been ignorant of the intent: ‘Thou knewest,’ said she,
‘that a room was provided for us in the inquisition; and had we not
been kept alive by the mighty power of God, we might have been dead
long since.’ Endeavouring to excuse himself, he said, ‘how could I help
it?’ Then she put him in mind of what happened at his house, when they
were there, and how they called them to repentance, and forewarned
them. To which he said, ‘However it be, it will go well with you.’
Then she told him how he required a sign of her, when they were at his
house, if they were the servants of the Lord God: and she asked him
whether that was not true they spoke to him: ‘Thou art a condemned
person, and standest guilty before God; yet nevertheless repent,
if thou canst find a place.’ While she thus spoke to him, his lips
quivered, and he trembled, so that he could scarce stand upon his legs:
and though otherwise a very handsome man, and in his prime, yet he now
looked as one that was pining away; and this was a sufficient sign for
the whole city, if they had duly taken notice of it. Catharine having
refused the piece of money, he went to Sarah with it: but she likewise
told him she could not take it; but if he had a letter for them she
should be free to receive it. He saying he had not any, asked her what
she did want; and she answered, the Lord was her shepherd, she could
not want any good thing; but she did long for her freedom. He, not
willing to discourage her, said, ‘That you may have in time.’ But he
did not live to see it, for the next time they heard of him he was dead.
Whilst the friar was gone to Rome, it was told them they were also to
be sent thither; and there was indeed great workings about it; but it
seems they could not agree in the matter. In the meanwhile Catharine
and Sarah remained separated, and there were five doors between them
with locks and bolts; and yet Sarah sometimes found an opportunity
either by the carelessness of the keeper, or that it was done on
purpose, to come where she could see Catharine; and how much soever the
friars did watch them, yet she came to Catharine’s door by night. But
being once discovered, she was locked up again; yet not long after the
doors were again open, so that they sat in sight of each other.
Sometimes there were of divers nations brought prisoners into the
inquisition; and the friars, and other great men, endeavoured in their
way, to make Christians of them. Then these women would often show the
errors of popery, and declare the Truth, for which they were willing to
suffer death, if required: but this was taken very ill. At length it
happened that two Englishmen came into that city, and tried to obtain
their liberty, but in vain. Yet a little while after, the magistrates
sent for and asked them whether they were sick; or whether they did
want any thing; saying they might write to England, ordering the scribe
to give them ink and paper.
Not long after came one Francis Steward, a captain of a ship, and a
friar of Ireland, who both took great pains to get them released; and
their friends in England had not been wanting in any thing that might
procure their liberty. But the time for it was not yet come. The said
captain, and the new English consul, endeavoured much to procure their
liberty; but it was not in the magistrates power, for the inquisitor
said, he could not set them free, without an order from the pope.
Yet Catharine and Sarah were brought into the court chamber, and the
English consul asked them if they were willing to go back to England,
and they said, Yes, if it were the will of God they might. The captain
of the ship, who also was there, spoke to them with tears in his eyes,
and told them what he had done in their behalf, but in vain. ‘It is the
inquisitor,’ said he, ‘who will not let you go free: you have preached
among these people.’ To which they said, that they had witnessed
the Truth, which they were willing to maintain with their blood. He
replied, if they could be set free, he would freely give them their
passage, and provide for them. And they returned, his love was as well
accepted of the Lord, as if he did carry them. He also offered them
money, but they refused to take any. They then gave him a relation
of their imprisonment and sufferings, and said they could not change
their minds, though they were to be burnt to ashes, or chopped in small
pieces. The friar then drawing near, said they did not work: but this
was not true, for they had work of their own, and did work as they were
able. They also told him their work and business was in England. He
confessing this was true, said they had suffered long enough, and too
long, and that they should have their freedom within a short time, but
that there wanted an order from the pope. In the meanwhile it grieved
the captain that he could not obtain their liberty; and going away, he
prayed God to comfort them; and they besought the Lord to bless and
preserve him unto everlasting life, and never to let him, nor his, go
without a blessing from him, for his love. For he ventured himself
exceedingly in that place, by labouring to get their freedom.
After he was gone, they met with worse usage, and the inquisitor
coming, looked upon them with indignation; for the taking away of their
lives was again on foot, and their doors were shut up for many weeks.
After some time the inquisitor came again into the tower where they
sat; and Sarah called to him, and desired the door might be opened for
them to go down into the court to wash their clothes. He then ordered
the door to be opened once a week: and not long after it was open
every day. And since it had been said, that they could not be released
without the pope’s leave, Sarah said to him, ‘If we are the pope’s
prisoners, we appeal to the pope: send us therefore to him.’ But those
that had their abode in the inquisition, especially the friars, were
their mortal enemies, although they would sometimes have fed them with
the best of their victuals, and given them whole bottles of wine, if
they would have received it; and it troubled them exceedingly, that
they refused to eat and drink with them; which they did, because they
looked upon them as their fierce persecutors.
Once there came two or three English ships into the harbour, and the
English consul telling them of it, said, that he did what he could
for them, but that they would not let them go, unless they would turn
Catholics, and that therefore they must suffer more imprisonment yet.
Before Sarah knew these ships were come thither, she saw them in the
night in a dream, and heard a voice saying that they could not go
yet. When the ships were gone, they were sent for, and it was asked
them if they would be Catholics; to which they answered, they were
true Christians, and had received the Spirit of Christ. One of the
magistrates showing them the cross, they told him, they did take up the
cross of Christ daily, which was the power of God to crucify sin and
iniquity. Knowing that there was a friar, who, as the captain had told
them, took a great deal of pains for them, but not seeing him there,
(for he secretly favouring them, was now absent,) they said to those
that were present, ‘One of your fathers hath promised us our liberty.’
But this availed nothing. Yet they acknowledged his kindness, and told
him afterwards, he would never have cause to repent it. A friar once
coming to them, said, ‘It is God’s will ye should be kept here, or else
we could not keep you.’ On which Catharine told him, ‘The Lord suffers
wicked men to do wickedness, but he doth not will them to do it; he
suffered Herod to take off John the Baptist’s head, but he did not will
him to do it: he suffered Stephen to be stoned, and Judas to betray
Christ; but he did not will them to do so; for if he had, he would not
have condemned them for it.’ The friar hereupon asking, ‘Are we then
wicked men?’ She answered, ‘They are wicked men that work wickedness.’
‘But,’ said he, ‘you have not the true faith.’ To which she answered,
‘By faith we stand, and by the power of God we are upheld. Dost thou
think it is by our own power and holiness we are kept from a vain
conversation, from sin and wickedness?’ He then saying that was their
pride, she told him, ‘We can glory in the Lord, we were children of
wrath once as well as others; but the Lord hath quickened us that were
dead, by the living word of his grace, and hath washed, cleansed, and
sanctified us in soul and spirit, in part, according to our measures;
and we do press forward towards that which is perfect.’ He then said,
‘Ye are good women: but yet there is no redemption for you, except ye
will be Catholics.’ This was the old lesson of the friars, who, at
another time, said, ‘Ye may be Catholics, and keep your own religion
too, and yet shall not be known to be Catholics, except ye were brought
before a justice.’ To which they returned, ‘What, should we profess a
Christ we should be ashamed of?’
Some of those that came to see them would pity them for not turning
Catholics; but others showed their hatred, by crying that they must
be burnt, and by bawling, ‘Fuoco, fuoco, (fire, fire.)’ Whilst they
were separated from each other, Catharine was often much concerned for
Sarah, and afraid that she should be ensnared; for one of the friars
many times accosted her with fawning words: but they both continued
steadfast, and were often ravished by the inward joy and consolation
they felt. Catharine in one of her letters said, that the spirit of
prayer was once upon her, but that she was afraid to speak to the Lord,
for fear she should speak one word that would not please him. And then
it was returned from the Lord, ‘Fear not, daughter of Sion; ask what
thou wilt, and I will grant it thee, whatsoever thy heart can wish.’
But she desired nothing of the Lord, but what would make for his glory,
whether it were her liberty, or bondage, life or death. And in this
resignedness she found herself accepted of the Lord.
Sometimes they spoke so effectually to those that came to them, that
they could not gainsay them, but were made to confess that God was with
them; though others would make a hideous noise, and cry, ‘Jesu Maria,’
and run away, as people that were struck with fear. Catharine’s prison
being so near the street, that she could be heard of those that went
by, she was moved sometimes to call them to repentance, and to turn
to the light wherewith they were enlightened, which would lead them
out of all their wicked ways and works, to serve the true and living
God, in spirit and in truth. This so reached some, that they did sigh
and groan, and stay to hear her; but not long, it being forbidden upon
great pain. Yet some that passed by to their worship-houses were so
wicked, that they threw stones at her window, and often made a sad
noise, and howled like dogs.
Thus they were assaulted both from abroad, and within doors from the
friars, who fiercely threatened them for their bold testimony against
idolatry. Once when they showed Sarah the Virgin Mary and her babe
pictured against a wall, and would have her look upon it, she, to show
her zeal against idol-worship, stamped with her foot, and said, ‘Cursed
are all images, and image-makers, and those that fall down to worship
them.’
It happened that some French and Spanish ships came to join with the
cavaliers of Malta, to fight against the Turks; Sarah hearing this,
said, ‘God is angry, God is angry; go not forth to kill one another;
Christ came not to destroy life, but to save it.’ This she told many
who were persuaded of obtaining a victory; but it fell out otherwise,
for their fleet was beaten by the Turks, and they returned with great
damage.
A friar coming once to Catharine, asked her why she did not work;
which made her say to him, ‘What work dost thou?’ He answered, ‘I
write.’ To which she returned, ‘I will write too, if thou wilt bring me
pen, ink, and paper.’ He not willing she should write, said, ‘St. Paul
did work at Rome; and by knitting she might get about three half-pence
a day.’ She told him, ‘If we could have that privilege among you, which
Paul had at Rome under Cæsar, who was a heathen prince, we would have
wrought, and not have been chargeable to any; for he lived in his own
hired house two years, preaching the gospel, and doctrine of the Lord
Jesus Christ.’ She asked him also, whether he knew the holy war of
God? ‘And if thou knowest it,’ said she, ‘then thou canst not but know
that we cannot be without exercise day nor night.’ This stopped his
mouth; besides it was well known that they spent not their time idly;
for they knit stockings for those that were serviceable to them; they
made garments for the poor prisoners, and mended their clothes; though
they were not willing to work for the friars, who sometimes coming to
her, kneeled down, and would have Catharine to say after them the words
they spoke. But this she refused to do, though it made these men grow
more angry. Such and the like occurrences so grieved her, that once in
anguish of spirit she cried out to God, ‘It were better for me to die
than to live thus.’ For being almost continually constrained to testify
against idolatry and superstition, she would have been willing to have
laid down her life for a testimony against it, if it had been required
of her. And when once the friars told her that Sarah was to be carried
to Rome, whilst she should stay at Malta, it so grieved her, that with
supplication, she asked the Lord if he did not count her worthy to
go to Rome also, and to offer up her life there for the testimony of
Jesus: because, if she was at liberty to choose, she would rather do
so, than return without her to England.
At another time, when it was told them that their bibles were false,
Catharine asked the friar that said so, ‘Wherein are they false?’ He
replied, because the books of the Maccabees were not in them. To which
she answered, that though something might be wanting, yet the rest
might be good for all that: but if something were added, then the bible
was corrupted. This struck at some additions she had seen in the bibles
there. Then he asked her whether she did not think that every one must
bow at the name of Jesus; and she answering, ‘Yea,’ he said, ‘Jesus,’
and bade her to kneel down, or to bow herself. To which she said, that
her heart and whole body was bowed down under the name of Jesus; but
that she would not bow at the will of him, or any body else. ‘He that
departs from iniquity, (thus she continued,) bows before the name of
Jesus; but they that live in sin and wickedness, do not bow before the
Son of God.’ Then he said, that he and his companions stood in the same
power, and were led by the same spirit as the apostles. Which made
her ask, why then they abused that power, and used carnal weapons? He
answered, they did not do so, for their inquisition, nay, even their
chains and fetters were spiritual. Then he asked her, whether she did
not think all those damned that were not of her persuasion; she said,
‘No, Christ hath not taught us so; for those that are to-day in a state
of reprobation, the Lord, if it please him, can call to-morrow out of
it.’ He then said, ‘We think you damned, and all those that are not of
our belief.’ To which she returned, ‘The judgment of man doth not hurt
us.’
Sometimes some came to the prison upon their saints’ days, and asked
them what day it was: and they not being acquainted with those saints,
would answer, ‘We do not know it.’ When the others then told them, that
it was such or such a saint’s day, and that this saint would punish
them that night, because they did not observe his day; they answered,
that they knew the saints to be at peace with them, and that therefore
they did not fear them. Another time a friar came and told them, it
was seventeen days to Christmas, and that the Virgin Mary conceived
that present day. On which Catharine made this remark, that indeed this
was very singular, that she did go with child but seventeen days. Such
like occurrences grieved her exceedingly, when she considered the gross
darkness these people were in: and as she was crying to the Lord in
prayer, that it seemed that all their travail and labour was fruitless,
she felt this answer: ‘Be not grieved, though Israel be not gathered,
the seed of Malta is to increase into multitude; that which ye have
sown shall not die, but live.’
1662.
After Catharine and Sarah had been imprisoned at Malta about three
years, there came one Daniel Baker, who did whatever he could, and
went also to the inquisitor, to obtain their liberty, but in vain; for
he required that some English merchants at Leghorn, or at Messina,
should engage for four thousand dollars, that they being released,
should never return into those parts. But they were unwilling to enter
into those terms, as not knowing what the Lord one time or other might
require of them. Daniel, seeing he could not obtain their deliverance
this way, offered himself to be imprisoned instead of them; and this
not being accepted, he went yet further, and signified, that he was
willing to lay down his life for their liberty, if it was not to be
purchased otherwise. Great love indeed! of which but few instances are
to be found. And they hearing of this, were touched with exceeding
great admiration. In the meanwhile, he found a way to get some letters
delivered to them, and wrote also himself, both to comfort and exhort
them to steadfastness. At length he found means also to speak to them:
for on a time, as they stood at the prison gates, he being come in
their sight, saluted them in those words: ‘The whole body of God’s
elect, right dearly beloved, own your testimony, and ye are a sweet
savour unto the Lord and his people.’ To which one of them answered,
that it was a trouble to them that they could not be more serviceable.
This made his heart melt with pity and compassion, considering the
wonderful mercy of the Lord in preserving them without fainting in that
sharp trial: and they beholding one another at a distance through the
iron grates, were mutually refreshed at that season. They afterwards
wrote to him, and signified with the most tender expressions, how
highly they valued his great love; and also sent him letters for their
friends and relations in England; and he neglected not to write back
again to them during his stay, which was in the forepart of the year
1662. But he was forced to leave them prisoners there: yet the time of
their redemption drew nigh, which was brought about at the instance of
George Fox and Gilbert Latey, by writing to the lord Aubigny, as hath
been said already.
Some time before Daniel Baker came to Malta, it had been told them,
that if they would turn Catholics, they might dwell at Malta. To which
their answer was, that they were true Catholics. One of the magistrates
said, that if they would not turn Catholics, they must yet suffer
long imprisonment by the pope’s order. And yet it was not true that
there was such an order. It was also told them, if they would kiss the
cross, they should be released; and they might stay at the house of the
English consul, until an opportunity offered to carry them to England.
In the meanwhile they heard that the pope had given order to let them
pass to England without doing them any hurt. But however it was, they
were preserved well contented, and they said resolutely, that they
would not kiss the cross, nor purchase their liberty at that rate. It
seems the consul aimed at some advantage by their releasement; for he
told them that the inquisitor had said, if any one would engage for
three or four thousand dollars to be paid, if ever they came thither
again, they should be set at liberty. This he said also to D. Baker,
and added, that if none would engage, they must die in prison, and
that this was the pope’s order. After Baker’s departure, word was sent
to some English merchants, concerning such an engagement, but none
appeared willing to enter into it; and the prisoners were so far from
desiring, that they spoke against it. Yet there were many that sought
to obtain their liberty, showing themselves willing to engage for what
was reasonable; but all their endeavours were in vain.
Once they fasted three days, and though it was a cold season, they
sat upon the ground, with a very little clothes, without stockings
or shoes, having nothing upon their heads but ashes. The inquisitors
seeing it, wondered exceedingly; and Sarah began to speak zealously
against superstition and idolatry. And when the time of their fast was
expired, Catharine composed the following
HYMN TO GOD.
All praise to him that hath not put
Nor cast me out of mind,
Nor yet his mercy from me shut,
As I could ever find.
Infinite glory, laud, and praise.
Be given to his name,
Who hath made known in these our days.
His strength and noble fame.
Oh none is like unto the Lamb!
Whose beauty shineth bright,
O glorify his holy name,
His majesty and might.
My soul praise thou the only God,
A fountain pure and clear,
Whose chrystal streams spread all abroad,
And cleanseth far and near.
The well-springs of eternity,
Which are so pure and sweet,
And do arise continually,
My bridegroom for to meet.
My sweet and dear beloved one,
Whose voice is more to me
Than all the glory of the earth,
Or treasures I can see.
He is the glory of my life,
My joy and my delight.
Within the bosom of his love
He clos’d me day and night.
He doth preserve me clean and pure
Within his pavil’lon,
Where I with him should be secure,
And saved from all wrong.
My soul praise thou the Lord, I say,
Praise him with joy and peace;
My sp’rit and mind both night and day,
Praise him and never cease.
O magnify his majesty,
His fame and his renown,
Whose dwelling is in Sion high,
The glory of his crown.
O praises, praises to our God,
Sing praises to our King;
O teach the people all abroad,
His praises for to sing.
A Sion song of glory bright,
That doth shine out so clear;
O manifest it in the sight
Of nations far and near;
That God may have his glory due,
His honour and his fame,
And all his saints may sing anew
The praises of his name.
After Catharine had joyfully sung thus, she went to the well in the
court, and drank much water in the sight of the prisoners, as did Sarah
also: for they were very dry, and Sarah washing her head also in cold
water, they cried out in their language, ‘Ye will kill yourselves, and
go to the devil.’ But this they did not fear, neither caught they any
cold, and so became a wonder to others.
About half a year after Daniel Baker was gone, it came into Catharine’s
heart, that if she could speak with the inquisitor, he would grant
them their liberty. And it was not long after that he came to the
inquisition court chamber, which they hearing, desired to speak with
him, which was granted, and being admitted into his presence, they told
him they had not wronged or defrauded any, but had suffered innocently
almost four years for conscience-sake, &c. After this the inquisitor
was very courteous to them, and promised their liberty in a few days,
saying he would send for the consul, and get him to engage for five
hundred dollars, to be paid for them if ever they came again. And in
case the consul denied this, he would send to Rome to the pope, to set
them at liberty without any obligation.
Not many days after the inquisitor came with his lieutenant, the
chancellor, and others, and after some discourse, asked them whether
they would return back again to their husbands and children, if it were
the will of God: to which they answered, it was their intent in the
will of God so to do. Hereupon they were released, and the inquisitor
took his leave very courteously of them, and wished them a prosperous
return to their own country; so likewise did the magistrates, and the
inferior officers, not requiring one pennyworth for fees or attendance;
yet in their own freedom they gave something to the keeper and some
poor men.
Being thus set at liberty, they kneeled down and prayed God never to
lay to their charge what they did unto them, because they knew them
not. And then they were delivered into the consul’s hands, who told
them that he had engaged for them to get them free; but they could
never find that it was true. Now they were kept eleven weeks at the
consul’s house, before they could get a passage from thence. Catharine
in the meanwhile, being under a great concern, because of a judgment
that was impending over the city, wrote a paper to the rulers of Malta,
in which she said, that on the 25th of the month called August, it
came upon her from the Lord to write thus to them in his name, ‘My
wrath is kindled against you, and my judgment is set up amongst you,
because of your hard-heartedness and unbelief. I the Lord, who desire
the death of no man, but that all should return unto me and live, have
cast my servants amongst you, contrary to their will, and without their
knowledge, to go and forewarn you of the evil that was coming upon you.
For all the wicked shall be brought to judgment. I will establish my
beloved Son upon his throne, and he shall rule in his princely power,
and reign in his kingly majesty, whose right it is over all; and his
own spiritual government shall he set up in all places, righteous rule
and pure worship in Spirit and in Truth. There is nothing that can
prevent the Lord, who saith, If ye will not hear my servant, which
speaketh my word, whom ye proved almost these four years, whose life
hath been harmless and spotless, in pure innocency amongst you, then
will I bring wo upon wo, and judgment upon judgment upon you, till the
living shall not be able to bury the dead. My mouth hath spoken it,
and my zeal will perform it; and every man’s hand shall be upon his
loins for pain; for the day of recompence is come. But if you will hear
my servant which speaketh in my name, and return in your minds to the
light in your consciences, which convinceth of all evil, and deny all
evil thoughts, words, and actions, then will I pour out my spirit upon
you, and will soon cure you of your diseases, and heal you of your
pain.’
This, and more she wrote, and delivered to the consul to give it to
the grand master, and the rest of the governors; but the consul not
being pleased with it, threatened her with imprisonment again. What
further became of the paper I do not find, but this, that on the 8th
of October, there was great thunder and lightning, which set on fire
and blew up one of the powder-houses about a mile out of the city, and
another powder-house was thrown down; and in the city, five houses were
overthrown, most of the glass windows of the palaces and other houses
broken, the doors lifted off their hooks, the walls torn, and the whole
city terribly shaken, so that being at midnight, a cry went through
the whole city, and the bells were rung. At the bed’s feet where
Catharine and Sarah lay, was a glass window, which also was broken,
but they received no hurt, though the house was so shaken that they
did exceedingly fear and quake; but being given up unto the Lord to
live and die, their fear was soon taken from them, and turned into joy
in the Lord. When it was day the consul came to them, and they being
still and quiet, he asked whether they were not dead: and while he was
speaking others came in, telling what was done in the city; and he told
them that even the ships in the harbour had suffered damage. Then they
said, ‘One wo is past, and behold another wo cometh quickly, if ye do
not repent.’
Some days after Sarah fasted, sitting upon the ground with ashes upon
her head, her neck and shoulders bare; and she spoke to the consul to
desire the grand master to proclaim a fast, and to make the people to
meet together to wait upon the Lord, with their minds turned to him,
that so he might turn away his judgments from them; for the hour of
his judgments was come, wherein the painted harlot should be stripped
naked, and receive a cup of trembling from the hand of the Lord. The
consul performed this message to the magistrates, and the friars said
the woman had a good intent. Sometime after the inquisitor came, and
talking with them, said, ‘Your intent is good, but the devil hath
deceived you.’ And they asked him whether the devil could give power
over sin: to which he said, the devil could transform himself into an
image of light. This they assented to, but yet said he could not hide
himself from the children of light; though they that were in the dark
could not discern him. He could not abide to hear this, but went away,
and the consul, who was present, wrought against them to get them into
bondage again, but in vain. Many now died in the town of a violent
fever: whether any other disaster followed upon their prediction, I
cannot tell.
At length there came one of the king of England’s frigates, called
the Sapphire, commanded by captain Samuel Titswel, who took them in,
together with some knights of Malta; among them was the inquisitor’s
brother, who often spoke to the captain, that they might not want any
thing that was in the ship, and he told them, if they came to Malta
again, they should not be persecuted so. And to the captain he said,
‘If they go to heaven one way, and we another, yet we shall all meet
together at last.’ But they told him that Christ Jesus, the light of
the World, was the only way to the Father.
Departing from Malta, after some time they came to Leghorn, where
the merchants showed them great kindness, and sent wine and other
things for their refreshment, proffering them also money; but they
were unwilling to accept it. From thence they came to Tangier, which
the king of England had in marriage with the daughter of the king
of Portugal. This place was at that time besieged by the Moors, yet
Catharine and Sarah entered the town, and many came flocking into the
house where they were lodged, for they boldly exhorted the people
to depart from wickedness. They also went to the governor, who was
courteous to them, and took their admonition in good part, and promised
to follow their counsel. And he would have given them money, but they
took none, though they accepted his love; for he commanded that none
of the garrison should abuse them either in word or deed, upon pain of
severe punishment: yet the Portuguese and Irish were ready enough to
have done them mischief. They being inclined to go out to the Moors,
desired the governor to let them go forth, but he told them they must
expect from that savage people nothing but cruel death, or bonds
forever: and though they signified to him that they believed the Lord
would preserve them, since they were persuaded that he required of them
to go to the Moors, yet the governor in a friendly manner withheld them
from going. Being thus stopped, they believed that the Lord accepted of
their good will. When they went aboard again, though in another ship,
several took shipping with them, from a belief, that on their account,
they should have a safe passage. The captain and others that were in
the ship, behaved themselves very civilly towards them; and though they
met with tempests, yet at length they arrived safe in England.
Catharine afterwards related, that when, (in the inquisition,) she
was for many days together in expectation that they should be burnt,
she saw in a dream in the night, a large room, and a great wood fire
in the chimney, and she beheld one sitting in the chair by the fire,
in the form of a servant, whom she took to be the Eternal Son of God:
likewise she saw a very amiable well-favoured man-child, sitting in a
hollow chair over the fire, (not appearing to be above three-quarters
of a year old, and having no clothes on but a little fine linen about
the upper parts,) and the fire flamed about it; yet the child played,
and was merry. She would then have taken it up, for fear it should have
been burnt; but he that sat in the chair bid her let it alone. Then
turning about she saw an angel, and he that sat in the chair bid her
take up the child, which she did, and found it had no harm; and then
awaking, she told her dream to Sarah, and desired her not to fear,
since the heavenly host thus followed them.
I have collected this relation of the occurrences of these women at
Malta, from several papers and letters, which not long after their
return home were published in print. And since no due order was
observed there, and many things mentioned, which to avoid prolixity I
have passed by, as not very material, I may have haply missed in some
case or other, as to the order or series of time, but yet I think the
matters of fact are not mutilated. Now to give the reader an idea of
the frame of these women’s minds, and their sufferings, I will insert
some of their letters: among those which they wrote to their friends in
England was this following:
‘O dearly beloved friends, fathers, and elders, and pillars of
God’s spiritual house, and brethren and sisters in the Lord Jesus
Christ, in the measure of love and life of our God, do we salute
you all, and do embrace you in that which is eternal, and we do
greatly rejoice, and glorify the name of our heavenly Father,
that he hath counted us worthy to be partakers of the death and
sufferings of his blessed Son with you; though we be the least
of God’s flock, yet we are of the true fold, whereof Christ
Jesus is shepherd; and he hath had as tender a care over us, as
he hath had of any of his lambs which he hath called forth in
this the day of his power, and hath carried us through and over
as great afflictions as most of our brethren and sufferers for
his name, both in mockings, scoffings, scornings, reproaches,
stripes, contradictions, perils at land, perils at sea, fiery
trials, cruel threatenings, grief of heart, sorrow of soul, heats
and colds, fastings, and watchings, fears within, and fightings
without; terrible temptations and persecutions, and dreadful
imprisonments, and buffetings of Satan; yet in all these our
trials, the Lord was very gracious unto us, and did not absent
himself from us, neither suffered his faithfulness to fail us,
but did bear us up, and keep us from fainting in the midst of
our extremity. We had not another to make our moan to, but the
Lord alone; neither could we expect a drop of mercy, favour, or
refreshments, but what he did distil from his living presence,
and work by his own strength; for we sat one in one room, and the
other in another, near a year; as owls in deserts, and as people
forsaken in solitary places. Then did we enjoy the presence of
the Lord, and did behold the brightness of his glory, and we
did see you, our dear friends, in the light of Jesus, and did
behold your order and steadfastness of your faith and love to
all saints, and were refreshed in all the faithful-hearted, and
felt the issues of love and life which did stream from the hearts
of those that were wholly joined to the fountain, and were made
sensible of the benefit of your prayers.
‘O the sorrows, the mournings, the tears! “But those that sow in
tears, shall reap in joy.” A true sorrow begets a true joy; and
a true cross a true crown: for when our sorrows did abound, the
love of God did abound much more: the deeper the sorrows, the
greater the joys; the greater the cross, the weightier the crown.
‘Dear friends and brethren, marvel not that Israel is not
gathered, our judgment remains with the Lord, and so do our
labours; for it was not for want of travail, nor pain, nor love
to their souls; for we could have been contented to have fed
upon the grass on the ground, so we might have had our freedom
amongst them: for, had it not been for the great opposition,
they would have followed after us, as chickens after a hen,
both great and small. But oh! the swelling seas, the raging and
foaming waves, stormy winds and floods, and deep waters, and
high mountains and hills, hard rocks, rough ways, and crooked
paths, tall cedars, strong oaks, fruitless trees, and corrupted
ones, that cumber the ground, and hinder the righteous seed to
be sown, and the noble plants from being planted. Oh! they shut
up the kingdom against the simple-hearted, and hide the key of
knowledge from the innocent ones, and will not enter into the
kingdom themselves, nor suffer them that would enter, but stir
up the magistrates to form carnal weapons, thinking to prevent
the Lord of taking to him his inheritance, and to dispossess his
Son, who is heir of all, that he might not have a dwelling-place
among them, nor a habitation nigh them; because that his light
will discover their darkness, and his brightness will burn up
all their abominations, and mar their beauty, and stain their
glory, their pomp, and their pride, that it may perish as the
untimely figs, and fall as the flower of the field, and wither
as the grass upon the house-top. Oh! the belly of hell, the jaws
of Satan, the whole mystery of iniquity is at the height, and
all manner of abomination that makes desolate, stands where it
ought not, and is upholden by a law, that upon pain of death none
must speak against it, nor walk contrary to it. But praises to
our God, he carried us forth to declare against it daily. Oh!
the blind guides, the seducing spirits, that do cause the people
to err, and compel them to worship the beast and his image, and
have his mark in their foreheads, and in their hands, and to bow
to pictures and painted walls, and to worship the things of
their own hands, and to fall down to that which their own fingers
have fashioned, and will not suffer them to look towards Sion
upon pain of death, nor to walk towards Jerusalem upon pain of
faggot and fire, but must abide in Babel, and believe whatsoever
they speak or do to be truth. But oh! the ways, the worships,
the fashions, forms, customs, traditions, observations, and
imaginations, which they have drawn in by their dark divinations,
to keep the poor people in blindness and ignorance, so that they
perish for want of knowledge, and are corrupted, because the way
of Truth is not made known among them; they are all in the many
ways, out of the one true living way, and their ways be so many
and so monstrous, that they are unrehearsable; but the Lord our
God hath kindled a fire in the midst of them, that will consume
all forms, fashions, customs, and traditions of men, and will
burn up the briers, thorns, and tares, stubble, and fruitless
trees, and corrupted ones; and will blast all the fruits, works,
and labours of wicked and ungodly men, with the mildews of his
wrathful indignation, and will scatter all his enemies with the
whirlwinds of his displeasure. They do not know the Scriptures:
their bibles would grieve any honest heart to behold them,
because of the corruption.’
This letter was signed by both of them, though perhaps Catharine was
the writer, who also wrote a letter of exhortation to the popish
inquisitor at Malta, and another to friar Malachy. Among the letters
she wrote to her husband and children, I count the following really
worthy to be delivered to posterity:
‘_For the hands of John Evans, my right dear, and precious
husband, with my tender-hearted children, who are more dear and
precious to me than the apple of my eye._
‘Most dear and faithful husband, friend, and brother, begotten
of my eternal Father, of the immortal seed of the covenant of
light, life, and blessedness, I have unity and fellowship with
thee day and night, to my great refreshment, and continual
comfort. Praises, praises be given to our God for evermore, who
hath joined us together in that which neither sea nor land can
separate or divide.
‘My dear heart, my soul doth dearly salute thee, with my dear
and precious children, who are dear and precious in the light of
the Lord, to thy endless joy, and my everlasting comfort; glory
be to our Lord God eternally, who hath called you with a holy
calling, and hath caused his beauty to shine upon you in this
the day of his power, wherein he is making up of his jewels, and
binding up of his faithful ones in the bond of everlasting love
and salvation, among whom he hath numbered you of his own free
grace; in which I beseech you, dear hearts, in the fear of the
Lord, to abide in your measures, according to the manifestation
of the revelation of the Son of God in you. Keep a diligent watch
over every thought, word, and action, and let your minds be staid
continually in the light, where you will find out the snares and
baits of Satan, and be preserved out of his traps, nets, and
pits, that you may not be captivated by him at his will. Oh, my
dear husband and children, how often have I poured out my soul to
the everlasting Father for you, with rivers of tears night and
day, that you might be kept pure and single in the sight of our
God, improving your talents as wise virgins, having oil in your
vessels; and your lamps burning, and clothed with the long white
robe of righteousness, ready to enter the bed-chamber, and to
sup with the Lamb, and to feed at the feast of fat things, where
your souls may be nourished, refreshed, comforted, and satisfied,
never to hunger again.
‘My dear hearts, you do not want teaching; you are in a land
of blessedness, which floweth with milk and honey, among the
faithful stewards, whose mouths are open wide to righteousness,
to declare the eternal mysteries of the everlasting kingdom, of
the endless joys and eternal glory; whereunto all the willing and
obedient shall enter and be blessed for ever.
‘My dear hearts, the promises of the Lord are large, and are all
Yea and Amen to those that fear his name; he will comfort the
mourners in Sion, and will cause the heavy-hearted in Jerusalem
to rejoice, because of the glad tidings: they that do bear the
cross with patience, shall wear the crown with joy; for it is
through the long-suffering and patient waitings, the crown
of life and immortality comes to be obtained. The Lord hath
exercised my patience, and tried me to the uttermost, to his
praise, and my eternal comfort, who hath not been wanting to us
in anything in his own due time; we are witnesses he can provide
a table in the wilderness, both spiritual and temporal. Oh, the
endless love of our God, who is an everlasting fountain of all
living refreshment, whose crystal streams never cease running to
every thirsty soul, that breatheth after the springs of life and
salvation.
‘In our deepest affliction, when I looked for every breath to be
the last, I could not wish I had not come over sea, because I
knew it was my eternal Father’s will to prove me, with my dear
and faithful friend. In all afflictions and miseries the Lord
remembered mercy, and did not leave nor forsake us, nor suffer
his faithfulness to fail us; but caused the sweet drops of his
mercy to distil upon us, and the brightness of his glorious
countenance to shine into our hearts, and was never wanting to
us in revelations or visions. Oh, how may I do to set forth
the fulness of God’s love to our souls: no tongue can express
it, no heart can conceive it, nor mind can comprehend it. Oh,
the ravishments, the raptures, the glorious bright shining
countenance of our Lord God, who is our fulness in emptiness,
our strength in weakness, our health in sickness, our life in
death, our joy in sorrow, our peace in disquietness, our praise
in heaviness, our power in all needs or necessities; he alone
is a full God unto us, and to all that can trust him. He hath
emptied us of ourselves, and hath unbottomed us of ourselves, and
hath wholly built us upon a sure foundation, the rock of ages,
Jesus Christ, the Light of the World, where the swelling seas,
nor raging, foaming waves, nor stormy winds, though they beat
vehemently, can be able to remove us. Glory, honour, and praise,
is to our God for ever, who, out of his everlasting treasures,
doth fill us with his eternal riches day by day; he did nourish
our souls with the choicest of his mercies, and doth feed our
bodies with his good creatures, and relieve all our necessities
in a full measure. Praises, praises be to him alone, who is our
everlasting portion, our confidence, and our rejoicing, whom we
serve acceptably with reverence and godly fear; for our God is a
consuming fire.
‘Oh, my dear husband, and precious children, you may feel issues
of love and life, which stream forth as a river to every soul
of you, from a heart that is wholly joined to the fountain. My
prayers are for you day and night without ceasing; beseeching
the Lord God of power to pour down his tender mercies upon you,
and to keep you in his pure fear, and to increase your faith, to
confirm you in all righteousness, and strengthen you in believing
in the name of the Lord God Almighty, that you may be established
as Mount Sion, that can never be moved. Keep your souls unspotted
of the world, and love one another with a pure heart fervently;
serve one another in love, build up one another in the Eternal,
and bear one another’s burdens for the Seed’s sake, and so fulfil
the law of God. This is the word of the Lord unto you, my dearly
beloved.
‘Dear hearts, I do commit you into the hands of the Almighty, who
dwelleth on high, and to the word of his grace in you, who is
able to build you up to everlasting life and eternal salvation.
By me, who am thy dear and precious wife, and spouse, in the
marriage of the Lamb, in the bed undefiled,
C. E.’
‘My dearly beloved yoke-mate in the work of our God, doth dearly
salute you. Salute us dearly to our precious friends in all
places. I do believe we shall see your faces again with joy.’
This was written in the Inquisition
at Malta, in the 11th month, in the
year 1661.
_The following letter was written by Sarah to her
husband, Henry Cheevers, and Children._
‘My dear husband, my love, my life is given up to serve the
living God, and to obey his pure call in the measure of the
manifestation of his love, light, life, and Spirit of Christ
Jesus, his only begotten Son, whom he hath manifested in me, and
thousands, by the brightness of his appearing, to put an end
to sin and satan, and bring to light immortality, through the
preaching of the everlasting gospel, by the Spirit of prophesy,
which is poured out upon the sons and daughters of the living
God, according to his purpose; whereof he hath chosen me, who
am the least of all: but God, who is rich in mercy, for his own
name-sake hath passed by mine offences, and hath counted me
worthy to bear testimony to his holy name, before the mighty
men of the earth. Oh the love of the Lord to my soul! My tongue
cannot express, neither hath it entered into the heart of man, to
conceive of the things that God hath laid up for them that fear
him.
‘Therefore doth my soul breathe to my God for thee and my
children, night and day, that your minds may be joined to the
light of the Lord Jesus, to lead you out of satan’s kingdom,
into the kingdom of God, where we may enjoy one another in
the life eternal, where neither sea nor land can separate; in
which light and life do I salute thee, my dear husband, with my
children, wishing you to embrace God’s love, in making his truth
so clearly manifest amongst you; whereof I am a witness, even of
the everlasting fountain that hath been opened by the messengers
of Christ, who preach to you the word of God, in season and out
of season, directing you where you may find your Saviour, to
purge and cleanse you from your sins, and to reconcile you to his
Father, and to have unity with him and all the saints, in the
light, that ye may be fellow-citizens in the kingdom of glory,
rest, and peace, which Christ hath purchased for them that love
him, and obey him. What profit is there for to gain the whole
world, and lose your own souls? Seek first the kingdom of God and
the righteousness thereof, and all other things shall be added
to you. Godliness is great gain, having the promise of this life
that now is, and that which is to come; which is fulfilled to
me, who have tasted of the Lord’s endless love and mercies to my
soul; and from a moving of the same love and life do I breathe to
thee my dear husband, with my children; my dear love salutes you
all; my prayers to my God are for you all, that your minds may
be joined to the light, wherewith you are lightened, that I may
enjoy you in that which is eternal, and have communion with you
in the spirit. He that is joined to the Lord, is one spirit, one
heart, one mind, one soul; to serve the Lord with one consent.
I cannot by pen or paper set forth the large love of God, in
fulfilling his gracious promises to me in the wilderness, being
put into prison for God’s truth, there to remain all the days of
my life, being searched, tried, examined, upon pain of death,
among the enemies of God and his Truth; standing in jeopardy for
my life, until the Lord had subdued and brought them under by
his mighty power, and made them to feed us, and would have given
us money or clothes; but the Lord did deck our table richly in
the wilderness. The day of the Lord is appearing, wherein he
will discover every deed of darkness, let it be done never so
secretly; the light of Christ Jesus will make it manifest in
every conscience; the Lord will rip up all coverings that are not
of his own spirit. The God of peace be with you all. Amen.
Written in the Inquisition prison by
SARAH CHEEVERS.’
Several other letters both she and Catharine wrote to their husbands,
and relations. But since great part of my narrative was fetched from
thence, I pass them by. But by these inserted, one may see that they
were not women of a dull temper, but ingenious and cheerful.
* * * * *
In a letter of Sarah’s to her friends in Ireland, I find these words:
‘My life is given up to the service of the Lord: bonds, chains,
bolts, irons, double doors, death itself, is too little for the
testimony of Jesus, and for the word of God; so the seed be
gathered, it is but a reasonable sacrifice. Bonds and afflictions
betide the gospel of Christ. Those that will live godly in Christ
Jesus, must suffer persecution.’
And in a letter to Daniel Baker, Catharine said,
‘The time is too little for me to disclose the twentieth part
of the terrible trials; but whensoever we were brought upon any
trial, the Lord did take away all fear from us, and multiplied
our strength, and gave us power and boldness to plead for the
Truth of the Lord Jesus, and wisdom of words to stop the mouths
of the gainsayers; but then they would say, we had not the true
faith, but we had all virtues. Dearly beloved, pray for us, that
we fall not, nor fail; whereby our enemies may have any advantage
to rejoice, and say, we served a god that could not serve us,
and called upon a god that could not deliver us; as if we were
like them, to call upon stocks, stones, pictures, and painted
walls, and dead things that cannot hear, see, nor speak. We do
beseech thee to tell all our dear friends, fathers, and elders,
the pillars of our spiritual building, with all the rest of our
Christian brethren, that we do desire their prayers, for we have
need of them.’
This letter they concluded with the following Poem:
How strong and pow’rful is our King
To all that do believe in him?
He doth preserve them from the snare,
And teeth of those that would them tear.
We that are suff’rers for the seed,
Our hearts are wounded, and do bleed
To see th’ oppression, cruelty,
Of men that do thy Truth deny.
In prisons strong, and dungeons deep,
To God alone we cry and weep:
Our sorrows none can learn nor read,
But those that in our path do tread.
But he whose beauty shineth bright,
Who turneth darkness into light,
Makes cedars bow, and oaks to bend
To him that’s sent to the same end.
He is a fountain pure and clear,
His crystal streams run far and near,
To cleanse all those that come to him
For to be healed of their sin.
All them that patiently abide,
And never swerve nor go aside,
The Lord will free them out of all
Bondage, captivity, and thrall.
They composed several others, which fell into the hands of their
enemies, and copies of them were given to the inquisitor. But now I
leave them; and yet before I return to transactions in England, I shall
relate a singular case of Daniel Baker, who being come to Smyrna,
with intent to travel from thence to Constantinople, was stopped by
the English consul, and sent to the Isle of Zant, where a ship lay
bound for Venice, in which he embarked, and coming into that city, he
staid there a week, and went from thence to Leghorn, with intent to
take shipping there for England: but during his stay in that place,
he inwardly felt drawings towards Malta, to try whether he could be
helpful to Catharine and Sarah, that were prisoners there, since he
had several times been stirred up thereto; and though the difficulty
of the matters had kept him back, yet he could not have peace in his
mind, before he gave himself up to that service; and so he embarked
in a French ship for Sicily: and coming to Syracuse, he staid there
five days, and then set sail for Malta; where being arrived, he got
admitted to the pope’s inquisitor, to whom he spoke in the Italian
tongue on this wise: ‘I am come to demand the just liberty of my
innocent friends, the English women in prison in the inquisition.’ The
inquisitor asked him if he were related to them as husband or kinsman,
and whether he came out of England on purpose with that message. To
this Daniel answered, that he came from Leghorn for that same end. But
the inquisitor told him they should abide in prison till they died,
except some English merchants, or others that were able, would engage
for the value of three or four thousand dollars, that they should
never return into those parts. His request being thus denied, he went
to the English consul, and spoke with him and several others: but all
his endeavours proved vain; and he himself was threatened with the
inquisition; and the pope’s deputy would have had him bound, that he
should neither speak good nor evil to any body, while he was on the
island, save to him and the consul.
After a stay here of three weeks, he passed again to Italy, and from
thence took shipping for England: but being come into the Streights of
Gibraltar, he saw that the high mountain there, was the same place he
had seen the foregoing year in a dream, when prisoner in Worcester jail
in England. Here the ship wherein he was, with several other vessels,
lay about a month, because of the contrary wind, so that they could not
set sail. In the meanwhile being under a burden, he perceived there
was a service for him ashore; but, considering this to be dangerous,
he wished to have been excused of it; but felt no peace before he
fully gave up, whatever, either bonds or death, might ensue. Whilst
the fleet lay here wind-bound, divers ships attempted to pass through,
but could not: and the like temptation attended him as that of Jonah,
viz. to flee from the place, and so to escape the burden under which he
laboured. But he found, as afterwards signified in a printed relation,
that obedience was his duty, though it was required of him to be a sign
against the idolatry of the church of Rome. He then told the master of
the ship in which he was a passenger, something of the matter, and said
that he believed that God would soon give opportunity for the fleet to
pass away, after his service was performed. The master was hard to be
persuaded to put him ashore, yet at length he suffered it, upon the
day they used to call Maundy Thursday. Being now landed, he went to
the town, and so into the mass-house, where he found the priest at the
high altar, upon his knees, in his white surplice, adoring the host.
After he had awhile been viewing this idolatry, he felt the indignation
of God kindled in his heart against it: and turning his back upon the
priest and his dead god, he set his face towards the people, and saw
the multitude upon their knees also, worshipping they knew not what.
In this posture, spreading forth his arms, he slipped off his upper
garment, and rent it from top to bottom in divers pieces, which he cast
from him with indignation: then he took his hat from off his head, as
being the uppermost covering of man, and casting it down, stamped upon
it with his feet, and appearing in sackcloth covering, he with a loud
voice, thrice sounded repentance, and said that the life of Christ and
his saints was arisen from the dead. And so he passed away unmolested,
sounding the same message with repentance through the streets, till he
came to the sea-side, where he kneeled down to pray, and gave thanks
to the Lord for his wonderful preservation, and that he had suffered
no man to touch or do him any harm. Being on shore, he delivered a
paper, written in the Spanish tongue, to the governor and inhabitants
of Gibraltar, with some Latin books. That to the governor, &c. was as
followeth:
‘Behold, behold, the great day of God is come, and of his wrath,
and of the wrath of his Lamb. The hour of his judgment is come.
Wherefore, O inhabitants of the earth, repent, repent, repent!
Fear God, and give glory and honour to him that made heaven and
earth and the fountains of waters. Wo, wo, wo to the inhabitants
of the earth. John heard another voice from heaven saying, “Come
out of her my people, that ye partake not of her sins, and that
ye receive not of her plagues.” These are the words of the power
of Christ, that is contrary to the false church. Behold, behold,
plagues, plagues, plagues are coming upon the church of Rome, and
upon her heads in all parts of the world.’
Daniel being now come again on ship-board, the next day the Lord gave
them a fair wind, and all the fleet set sail; and after some time he
arrived safe in England. But being come to London, it was not long, ere
he, who had travelled without hurt in foreign parts, was imprisoned
by his countrymen, as will be related hereafter: and being shut up
in prison, he wrote a narrative of his travels, from which I took my
relation.
About this time John Stubbs returned into England, having been in
the dominions of the great Turk. But I do not find that he met with
any singular occurrences, but that he had spread some books. He and
Alexander Parker coming to London, found G. Fox there, with whom they
travelled towards Bristol: by the way they had several meetings, and
being come to Bristol, they understood that the officers were likely
to come and disturb the meeting. Yet on the First day of the week they
went thither, and A. Parker stood up first to preach; but while he
was speaking, the officers came and took him away. Then G. Fox stood
up and preached undisturbed, so that the meeting ended peaceably. And
he, staying in town that week, visited his friends, and was visited
by them. The next First-day some of his friends came to him, and
endeavoured to persuade him not to go to the meeting that day; ‘For,’
said they, ‘the magistrates have threatened to take thee away, and in
order thereto, have raised the trained bands.’ G. Fox desired them to
go their way to the meeting, without telling them what he intended to
do. Yet not long after he went thither: but being met by some of his
friends, they did what they could to stop him; and, ‘What,’ said one,
‘Wilt thou go into the mouth of the beast?’ ‘Wilt thou go into the
mouth of the dragon?’ said another. But G. Fox would not suffer himself
to be thus prevented, but went on. Being come thither he perceived a
concern and fear upon his friends for him, but his preaching there was
so powerful, that all fear departed from them; and having concluded
his sermon with a prayer, he stood up again and told the auditory, now
they might see there was a God in Israel that could deliver: for the
officers and soldiers had been breaking up another meeting, which had
taken up their time; and they were in a great rage that they had missed
him; for it was resolved on now to persecute the Quakers, and, if
possible to root them out.
G. Fox, after having tarried yet some days at Bristol, went through
Wiltshire and Berkshire, back again to London; yet he did not stay long
there, but travelled towards Leicestershire, and passing by Barnet
Hills, he found there one captain Brown, a Baptist, whose wife belonged
to the society of those called Quakers. This captain, for fear his wife
should go to meetings and be cast into prison, had left his house at
Barrow, and taken a place on the said hills, thinking himself more safe
there. G. Fox going to see the wife, and being come into the house,
asked him how he did; ‘How I do!’ said he, ‘the plagues and vengeance
of God are upon me, a runnagate, a Cain, as I am: God may look for a
witness for me, and such as me; for if all were no faithfuller than I,
God would have no witness left in the earth.’ In this condition Brown
lived there on bread and water, and thought it too good for him; but at
length he returned with his wife to his own house at Barrow, where he
came to be convinced of the Truth professed by those called Quakers,
and died in it; and a little before his death, he said that though
he had not borne a testimony for Truth in his life, he would bear a
testimony in his death; desiring to be buried in his orchard in a plain
way.
But I return to G. Fox, who being come into Leicestershire, went to
Swanington, to the house of a widow woman, where at night came one
called the lord Beaumont, and a company of soldiers, who took him out
of the hall where he was, and brought him to the said lord who asked
him his name: to which he answered, ‘My name is George Fox, and I am
well known by that name.’ ‘Aye,’ said Beaumont, ‘you are known all the
world over.’ Then he put his hands into George’s pockets to search
them, and pulled out his comb-case, and afterwards commanded one of the
officers to search for letters: which made G. Fox say, that he was no
letter carrier, asking him why he came amongst a peaceable people with
swords and pistols without a constable; since this was contrary to the
king’s proclamation; and it could not be said there was a meeting; for
G. Fox had been talking in the hall only with the widow woman and her
daughter. Beaumont sending then for the constables, gave them charge
to watch G. Fox, and some that were with him that night; accordingly
the constables set a watch upon them, and next morning brought them to
Beaumont’s house, who then told them they met contrary to the act: for
not long before this time the parliament, by the instigation of the
clergy, had made an act against conventicles, containing that if any
were convicted of having been at a conventicle, they should incur a
fine not exceeding five pounds, or imprisonment not above three months.
G. Fox saying to the lord Beaumont, that he did not find them in a
meeting, and so there was no transgression of the said act, Beaumont
asked him, whether he would take the oaths of allegiance and supremacy:
to which G. Fox answered, ‘I never took any oath in all my life.’ And
desired him to show that oath, that they might see whether it was not
for the discovery of Popish recusants. But Beaumont being unwilling,
caused a mittimus to be made, which mentioned that they were to have
had a meeting: a cunning artifice indeed to vex an innocent people.
And with the mittimus he charged the constables to convey them to
Leicester jail. The constable who was charged to bring G. Fox and his
friends to prison, was loath to do it himself, and being harvest time,
it was hard to get any body to go with them; and therefore he would
have given them the mittimus to carry it themselves to the jailer.
This they refused, though sometimes some of their friends had done so:
for the constables had such experience of their fidelity, that they
durst trust them even in such a case, without fearing the bird would
escape. Then the constable hired a poor man, who was loath to go with
them on this errand. Yet they rode with him through the country, being
five in number, and some carried their bibles open in their hands,
and passing through towns, they told people they were the prisoners
of the Lord Jesus Christ, going to suffer bonds for his name’s sake.
Being come to Leicester, and going into an inn, the master of the house
seemed somewhat troubled that they should go to prison; but they being
unwilling to consult with lawyers, to which they were advised, suffered
themselves to be had to prison; where being come, G. Fox asked whether
the jailer or his wife was master: and it was told him, ‘The wife,’ who
though she was lame, and not able to go without crutches, yet, would
beat her husband when he came within her reach, if he did not do as she
would have him.
G. Fox perceiving from this that without her leave he should not be
able to agree with her husband, got somebody to bargain with her for a
room, for him and his friends, and to leave it to them to give her what
they would; to which she consented. But then it was told the prisoners,
the jailer would not suffer them to fetch any drink out of the town
into the prison; but what beer they drank they must take it of him, and
that, as was easily to be guessed, would be at a dear rate.
This made G. Fox say, he could remedy that; for since the jailer could
not deny them water, he would get a pail of it once a day, and put
some wormwood into it, and that might serve their turn. So long as
G. Fox was in prison there, he and his friends had a meeting every
First-day of the week in the yard, to which came not only the debtors
and felons that were prisoners, but also several people out of the town
and country; whereby many were convinced of the truth he preached, and
continued to be faithful witnesses for it.
Whilst G. Fox was confined there, several more of his friends were sent
to prison; to the number of about twenty. And when the sessions came
they were brought before the justices, who tendered to them the oaths
of allegiance and supremacy: for this was the ordinary snare, when no
other thing could be found to lay hold on. But G. Fox told them he
never took any oath in his life; ‘And ye know we cannot swear because
Christ and his apostles forbade it; and therefore this is but as a
snare to us; yet if ye can prove that after Christ and his apostles
forbade swearing, they ever did command Christians to swear, then we
will take these oaths; otherwise we are resolved to obey Christ’s
command, and the apostle’s exhortation.’ To this it was returned that
they must take the oath to manifest their allegiance to the king. G.
Fox, to show that he was not unfaithful to the king, told them that
formerly he had been sent up a prisoner by colonel Hacker, from that
town to London, under pretence that he held meetings to plot for
bringing in king Charles. Then he desired that their mittimus might
be read, which set forth the cause of their commitment to be, that
they were to have a meeting. And he said also, that the lord Beaumont
could not by the act send them to jail, unless they had been taken at
a meeting; and therefore he urged the reading of the mittimus, that
it might be seen how wrongfully they were imprisoned. But whatever he
said, they would not take notice of the mittimus, but called a jury,
and indicted the prisoners for refusing to take the oaths of allegiance
and supremacy. When the jury was sworn and instructed, as they were
going out, one that had been an alderman spoke to them, and recommended
them to have a good conscience: but one of the jury being a peevish
man, told the justices there was one affronted the jury. Whereupon he
was called up, and to try whether he was a Quaker, the oath was also
tendered to him, and he took it; and thus the snare intended against
him did not hold.
Whilst the prisoners stood waiting, a cut-purse had put his hand into
the pockets of some of them, which they told the justices of, and
showed them the man. They then called him up, and upon examination
he could not deny the fact, yet they let him go free, just as if the
robbing of those called Quakers was no crime.
It was not long before the jury returned, and brought the prisoners in
guilty. And then the justices whispered together, and bade the jailer
take the prisoners and carry them back to jail. But a little after they
were in prison again, the jailer came to them and said, ‘Gentlemen, it
is the court’s pleasure that ye should all be set at liberty,’ &c. Thus
they were released on a sudden, which was indeed remarkable, because
the jury had brought them in guilty; on which passing of sentence must
have followed. But G. Fox’s liberty seems to have been owing to the
following cause: he had a letter from the lord Hastings, who having
heard of his imprisonment, had written from London to the justices
of the sessions to set him at liberty. This letter he had not as yet
delivered to the justices, who perhaps had some knowledge of the said
lord’s mind from another hand, which made them resolve on this sudden
discharge. G. Fox being now free, carried this letter to the lord
Beaumont, who having opened and read it, seemed somewhat troubled;
and yet threatened him, if he had any more meetings at Swanington, he
would disperse them, and send him to prison again. But notwithstanding
these threatenings, he and his friends went to Swanington, and had a
meeting there without being disturbed. From thence he travelled to
London, where we will leave him, and in the meanwhile see what happened
elsewhere.
Some time before, Thomas Goodair and Benjamin Staples were imprisoned
at Oxford, and being brought into the court of judicature before Sir
William Walter, who sat there as judge, and Goodair being examined
and nothing found against him, the oath of allegiance was tendered,
to which he answered, that he acknowledged the king as supreme ruler
in civil temporal matters, and that he was willing to obey him in all
just commands. ‘But,’ said he, ‘if king Charles and those who are in
authority under him, enjoin me to any thing contrary to the command of
Christ, then I will rather obey Christ than king Charles, or those in
authority under him. It is for conscience-sake that I cannot swear,
though I could gain the whole world thereby; for Christ hath forbidden
it, and said “Swear not at all;” and James saith, “Above all things
swear not.”’ But whatever Goodair said was in vain, for they would
needs have him swear. He continuing to refuse swearing, justice Walker
asked those that were with him on the bench, whether they had any
thing to say against his passing sentence against them: to which they
having said no, he spoke thus to Goodair, ‘Hearken to your sentence:
you are out of the king’s protection. All your lands, real estate, and
chattels, are forfeited, and shall be seized for the king’s use: and
you are to remain prisoner during the king’s pleasure.’ Then he bid
the jailer take Goodair away, who asked whether the jailer had charge
to fetter him, for he had been fettered as thieves and felons, before
he had been brought into the court. Whereupon the judge answered, ‘The
jailer may do with you what he will: for you are now out of the king’s
protection.’ Then he was led away, and B. Staples brought to the bar,
to whom the oath being also tendered, and he refusing to take it, the
same sentence was passed on him. Both being returned to prison, the
jailer said to the other prisoners that were there for evil or debts,
‘If ye want coats, ye may take those of the Quakers, for they are now
out of the protection of the law.’ But one of the prisoners was so
honest as to say he would rather go naked, than take away those men’s
coats. How long they were in prison, and whether they died there, or
were at length released, I know not.[21]
[21] They both were supposed to be discharged at the next
general jail delivery: for T. Goodair in 1666, had been prisoner
some years at Warwick, being premunired without legal trial or
judgment. At length he died at Selby in Yorkshire, 1693.--J.
Whiting’s Account.
But now I return to Ambrose Rigge, who being come to Hurst Pierpoint in
Sussex, had a meeting there at the house of his father-in-law, captain
Thomas Luxford; this so displeased the priest Leonard Letchford, that
Rigge was taken and brought before the Justices, Walter Burril, Nisel
Rivers, and Richard Bridger, who being minded to bring him under
sufferings, tendered him the oath of allegiance; and he, saying that
for conscience-sake he could not swear, was forthwith sent to Horsham
prison, and at the time of the assizes brought into the court, where
judge Samuel Brown then sat, and passed the sentence of premunire upon
him. Then he was carried back, and by the instigation of the said
Leonard Letchford, committed close prisoner, where he continued above
ten years, and suffered during that time much hardship by the malice of
the jailers, since such prisoners as he was, are shut out of the king’s
protection. In the meanwhile the aforesaid priest Letchford summoned
Rigge’s wife for tithes, and she refusing payment, was also imprisoned
at the prosecution of this priest; and then he seized her goods, taking
away also that which her husband had earned in prison by his hard
labour, not leaving him and his wife a bed to lie on; nay, he also took
away a pot they had borrowed from other prisoners to boil victuals in,
and vaunted he had Rigge so fast, that it was not in the King’s power
to release him. But notwithstanding this wicked boast, yet to his great
disquiet and vexation, he lived to see Rigge released by the king under
the great seal. And Thomas Luxford, A. Rigge’s father-in-law, being
also become one of the society of those called Quakers, and refusing to
pay him tithes, felt likewise the effects of his fury; for he caused
him also to be cast into jail, where he kept him six years: and the
prisoners being then released by the sheriff, he was excommunicated by
Letchford, and afterwards at his suit, by virtue of the statute _De
Excommunicato capiendo_, shut up again in prison, from which he was set
at liberty by an act of parliament.
Not long after, Letchford got a warrant to sue also some others of the
Quakers, so called, belonging to his parish, for not paying tithes: but
before he could get them imprisoned, it happened, that having at night
gone to bed healthy, in the morning he was found stiff dead in his bed,
according to the testimony of his neighbours; and this prevented the
stroke he had levelled against others.
Not being willing to finish this relation abruptly, I am advanced in
time, but now I return to the year 1662. In the middle of this year,
Sir Henry Vane and John Lambert, both vigorous champions against king
Charles the First, and having been in great authority under the former
government, were brought to their trial. Vane behaved himself with very
great presence of mind: how far he was guilty I am not to inquire; but
he was declared guilty, and afterwards beheaded on Tower-Hill. He was
reputed to be a man of great knowledge, having been one of the chief
members of the long parliament, and also an opposer of Cromwell: for he
was an entire republican, and had a great share in the administration
of state affairs. Lambert, who had been an eminent general, saved
his life: for since Vane, as Ludlow saith, pleaded for the lives and
liberties of his country, and Lambert for his own, he evaded the storm
which took away Vane. Lambert now, though condemned to death, begged
mercy, and was confined to perpetual imprisonment, and carried to a
small isle near Plymouth, where he finished his days.
Seeing, on the insurrection of the Fifth-monarchy-men, occasion was
taken to make an act against plotting, and seditious meetings, the
persecution against the Quakers increased, under a pretence that their
meetings were dangerous, and to the terror of the king’s subjects, and
an act was made against those who refused to take an oath, as appeared
by the title of it, viz:
‘_An act for preventing mischiefs and dangers that may
arise by certain persons called Quakers, and others
refusing to take lawful oaths._
‘Whereas of late times, certain persons under the name of
Quakers, and other names of separation, have taken up, and
maintained sundry dangerous opinions and tenets, and among
others, that the taking of an oath, in any case whatsoever,
although before a lawful magistrate, is altogether unlawful,
and contrary to the word of God; and the said persons do daily
refuse to take an oath, though lawfully tendered, whereby it
often happens, that the truth is wholly suppressed, and the
administration of justice much obstructed: and whereas the said
persons, under a pretence of religious worship, do often assemble
themselves in great numbers in several parts of this realm, to
the great endangering of the public peace and safety, and to
the terror of the people, by maintaining a secret and strict
correspondence amongst themselves, and in the meantime separating
and dividing themselves from the rest of his majesty’s good and
loyal subjects, and from the public congregations, and usual
places of divine worship:
II. ‘For the redressing therefore, and better preventing the many
mischiefs and dangers that do, and may arise by such dangerous
tenets, and such unlawful assemblies, (2) Be it enacted by the
king’s most excellent majesty, by and with the advice and consent
of the lords spiritual and temporal, and commons assembled in
parliament, and by authority of the same, that if any person or
persons, who maintain that the taking of an oath, in any case
soever, (although before a lawful magistrate,) is altogether
unlawful, and contrary to the word of God, from and after the
four-and-twentieth day of March, in this present year of our
Lord, one thousand six hundred and sixty-one, shall wilfully
and obstinately refuse to take an oath, where, by the laws of
the realm he or she is, or shall be bound to take the same,
being lawfully tendered, (3) or shall endeavour to persuade any
other person, to whom any such oath shall in like manner be
duly and lawfully tendered, to refuse and forbear the taking of
the same, (4) or shall by printing, writing, or otherwise go
about to maintain and defend that the taking of an oath in any
case whatsoever, is altogether unlawful; (5) and if the said
persons, commonly called Quakers, shall at any time after the
said four-and-twentieth day of March, depart from the places of
their several habitations, and assemble themselves to the number
of five or more, of the age of sixteen years or upwards, at any
one time, in any place under pretence of joining in a religious
worship, not authorized by the laws of this realm, (6) that
then in all and every such cases, the party so offending, being
thereof lawfully convicted, by verdict of twelve men, or by his
own confession, or by the notorious evidence of the fact, shall
lose and forfeit to the king’s majesty, his heirs and successors,
for the first offence, such sum as shall be imposed upon him
or her, not exceeding five pounds; (7) and if any person or
persons, being once convicted of any such offence, shall again
offend therein, and shall in form aforesaid be thereof lawfully
convicted, shall for the second offence forfeit to the king, our
sovereign lord, his heirs and successors, such sum as shall be
imposed upon him or her, not exceeding ten pounds: (8) the said
respective penalties to be levied by distress, and sale of the
party’s goods so convicted, by warrant of the parties before whom
they shall be so convicted, rendering the overplus to the owners,
if any be: (9) and for want of such distress, or non-payment of
the said penalty within one week after such conviction, that
then the said parties so convicted shall for the first offence
be committed to the common jail, or house of correction, for
the space of three months; and for the second offence during
six months, without bail or mainprize, there to be kept to hard
labour: (10) which said moneys so to be levied, shall be paid to
such person or persons, as shall be appointed by those before
whom they shall be convicted, to be employed for the increase
of the stock of the house of correction, to which they shall be
committed, and providing materials to set them on work: (11)
and if any person after he, in form aforesaid, hath been twice
convicted, of any the said offences shall offend the third time,
and be thereof, in form aforesaid, lawfully convicted, that then
every person so offending, and convicted, shall for his or her
third offence, abjure the realm; or otherwise it shall and may
be lawful to, and for his majesty, his heirs and successors, to
give order, and to cause him, her, or them, to be transported in
any ship or ships, to any of his majesty’s plantations beyond the
seas.
III. ‘And it is ordained and enacted by the authority aforesaid,
that all and every justice of _Oyer_ and _Terminer_, justices of
assize, and jail-delivery, and the justices of the peace, shall
have full power and authority, in every of their open and general
quarter-sessions, to inquire, hear, and determine all and every
the said offences, within the limits of their commission to them
directed, and to make process for the execution of the same, as
they may do against any person being indicted before them of
trespass, or lawfully convicted thereof.
IV. ‘And be it also enacted, that it shall and may be lawful to,
and for any justice of peace, mayor, or other chief officer, of
any corporation, within their several jurisdictions, to commit
to the common jail, or bind over, with sufficient sureties to
the quarter-sessions, any person or persons offending in the
premises, in order to his or their conviction aforesaid.
V. ‘Provided always, and be it hereby further enacted, that
if any of the said persons shall, after such conviction as
aforesaid, take such oath or oaths, for which he or she stands
committed, and also give security that he or she shall for the
time to come forbear to meet in any such unlawful assembly as
aforesaid, that then, and from thenceforth, such person and
persons shall be discharged from all the penalties aforesaid: any
thing in this act to the contrary notwithstanding.
VI. ‘Provided always, and be it ordained and enacted by the
authority aforesaid, that all and singular lords of the
parliament, for every third offence committed against the tenor
of this act, shall be tried by their peers, and not otherwise.’
This act caused E. Burrough to write a small book, called, ‘The Case
of the People called Quakers, stated, to show the falsehood of the
accusations charged upon them.’ First he showed in this treatise, that
suppose the Quakers were heretics and erroneous people, which was never
yet proved; yet we found no examples in Scripture that such should be
imprisoned, or afflicted with corporal punishments. Having treated of
this matter at large, he laid down the state of their way of meeting
and worship, appealing to others on this account, with these words:
‘What judgment do our neighbours give in this case? They say,
concerning our meetings, that they have known us to meet together
in such manner, for divers years, in towns and villages, and
never knew, nor understood of any harm or danger therein, nor
ever were any way prejudiced, either in their persons or estates,
in our meetings. The very witness of God in all our neighbours
does testify, and give judgment, that our meetings have always
been peaceable and quiet, and that we come together in peace and
good order, and part in the same, and no person hath been harmed
by such our meetings; inquire of the neighbourhood, and they will
tell you they believe in their consciences, our meetings are for
good, and have good effects, and are not evil, nor bring forth
any evil, to any.
‘And as for the manner of our meeting and sitting together, it
is orderly and decently, and of good report among men; and for
any doctrine that ever was there held or heard by any, none can
truly accuse it to be either error, or heresy, or sedition; but
on the contrary, they know it witnesseth against all sin and
iniquity, and tends to the turning of people from ungodliness
and unrighteousness to truth and holiness: and many can tell,
this is effected by our doctrine preached in our meetings; and
our neighbours can witness that we part again in peace and good
order, and in convenient time; and they can show you they are not
terrified, nor the peace of the land disturbed, (on our part,) by
our meetings, which are in God’s fear, and to the glory of his
name, which all sober men know are according to the law of God,
and gospel, and primitive Christian example.
* * * * *
‘We are accused as heinous offenders, and imprisoned, because it
is supposed we do not submit to obey the known laws of the land,
but break them, and will not conform to the church, pay tithes,
take oaths, have meetings together, &c. though we know the laws
of the land command these things.
‘Plea first, as to submitting to all known laws of the land;
this is known to God and our neighbours, that our principle
and practice is, and ever hath been, to submit to every
government, and to submit to all laws of men, either by doing
or by suffering, as at this day we resist not the greatest of
afflictions and tribulations that can be imposed on us; and
this is well known to our neighbours and all people, that we
are submissive to all laws of men, by patient suffering without
resistance: even when any law requires any thing of us, which
we cannot perform for conscience-sake, that law we fulfil by
patient suffering, resisting no man, nor rendering evil for evil
to any. And the judgment of the Scriptures, which are according
to both law and gospel, and the precedents of saints justify
us in this case, in choosing patiently to suffer the greatest
penalties of the law, rather than to obey, (by doing,) any such
law as requires things contrary to our pure consciences; as in
the example of the three children, Dan. iii. who were commanded,
to fall down and worship the golden image, at what time soever
they heard the sound of the music, upon the penalty of being cast
into the midst of the burning fiery furnace: which commandment
they could not obey, nor could they fall down to worship the
image; but rather chose to suffer the penalty of being cast
into the midst of the burning fiery furnace, which accordingly
was done unto them. Again in the case of Daniel, chap. vi. who
was commanded to make no petition to any god or man for thirty
days, save to king Darius, upon the penalty and affliction of
being cast into the lion’s den: but Daniel did rather choose to
suffer the penalty, to be cast into the den of lions, than to
obey the commandment; and was cast into the lion’s den. By these
examples of holy men, with many more that might be given out of
the Scriptures, it is evident, that righteous men will rather
choose to suffer than to obey any law of man contrary to their
consciences. So the law of God, and example of saints, and Holy
Scriptures, give judgment for us in this case, of rather choosing
to suffer, than to obey laws contrary to our consciences; and
consequently must needs condemn such that persecute and imprison
us, because they require obedience of us in things against our
consciences.
Secondly. ‘Though we disobey laws, and cannot actively obey every
law of man, when it requireth and commandeth things contrary to
a good conscience; yet herein also are we justified by the law
of God, example of saints and Holy Scriptures, and they give
judgment for us, and consequently against our enemies in this
case; and in particular in the two examples before-mentioned in
Daniel, the three children were expressly commanded to fall down
and worship the golden image: and Daniel was also required by
the king’s decree, not to pray to any God or man, save to king
Darius; yet all these holy men of God did absolutely disobey
the law and decree so requiring of them, and did contrary to
the commandment: for the three children did not bow, nor Daniel
cease to pray to God, but prayed as at other times, and yet were
justified of God in so doing. Also the apostles of our Lord Jesus
Christ, (Acts iv. 18,) were commanded to preach no more in the
name of Jesus; but the apostles did disobey their commandment,
and went on and preached in the Spirit and power of Christ,
contrary to the commandment of the rulers; and appealed to them,
whether it were not better to obey God than man. Many examples
we might collect out of the Scriptures, that the servants of God
did disobey the commands of kings and rulers, and could not
obey, (by doing,) any command contrary to God, but rather chose
to suffer afflictions, and death itself, than to obey such laws
and decrees, as required any thing contrary to a pure conscience:
and this is our case at this day: we cannot obey, (by doing,) any
thing against our consciences, but must break the laws of men,
and disobey their commandments, rather than break the law of God,
and sin against our own consciences, whatsoever we suffer because
hereof; and the examples of saints and Scriptures justify us in
this behalf.
* * * * *
‘And let our enemies cease to cry out, ‘Rebellious and
disobedient to laws and government;’ for we are not such as
do wilfully and obstinately disobey any laws of men, but for
conscience-sake, and that we may not sin against God, nor offend
his witness in us; therefore we cannot obey laws contrary to our
consciences, whatsoever we suffer, which we resist not, nor rebel
against any in this case: so that our principles and practices
are to obey every law and government, either by doing or
suffering. And though we disobey such laws as are not according
to the law of God, and rather do choose to suffer, yet herein we
are justified by the law of God, and the Holy Scriptures.
Thirdly. ‘And as for our conversations among men, in respect
of our daily walking and converse with them in our dealing, in
respect of honesty and faithfulness, and truth and justness in
works and words, our neighbours shall give witness for us. We
will not justify ourselves, it is God that justifies us, and the
law of God, gospel of Christ, Scriptures, examples of holy men,
our neighbours, and the witness of God in all men’s consciences
shall bear witness to us; and all these do give judgment for us
in these cases, to whom we do appeal for judgment. And O Lord God
everlasting, do thou judge our cause; do thou make it manifest in
thy due season to all the world, that we are thy people; that we
love thee above all; that we fear thy name more than all; that we
love righteousness and hate iniquity; and that we now suffer for
thy holy name and truth, and for thy honour and justice, and for
thy truth and holiness. O Lord, thou knowest we are resolved to
perish, rather than to lose one grain hereof. Amen, Amen.
* * * * *
‘Our accusations and answers truly compared, and weighed in the
balance of justice and truth in every man’s conscience, let
all the world judge of the case: do we deserve to be ruined,
destroyed, imprisoned and banished, and to be devoured of wild
beasts, as our enemy threatens us he will do? Is it so? Are we
heretics? Are we seditious? Are we drunkards? Are we double
dealers? Are we such as the law of God condemns? What evil have
we done in the land? Do we hurt any body? Are we not innocent
before the Lord and men? We appeal to the just witness of God
and men. Let it be answered; and though no man will hear and
consider our cause this day, yet the Lord will plead our cause
in his time, and season, and make the world to know we are his
people; in the meantime we are willing to suffer the reproaches
of ungodly men, till the Lord works deliverance in the earth.
‘But now it may be objected by the magistrates and rulers, that
we have now a law against you, and you must suffer, for we cannot
but put the law in execution, according to our oaths and offices;
and it is not we that persecute you, but it is the law of the
land by which you now suffer; and we cannot be blamed for your
suffering, we only execute the law. And after this manner is the
reasoning of some at this day,’ &c.
* * * * *
Answer. ‘To all which I do answer: It is true there is a law now
enacted against us, which is pretendedly made the ground of our
suffering; but whether that law be in itself just or unjust, I
shall not now demonstrate, but shall leave it to the judgment
of all Christian men that know us, our principles, doctrines,
ways, conversations; and let them judge whether we deserve the
penalties and punishments therein described, for any principles
or practice held and maintained by us. And though there be a
law against us, yet the magistrates that are executors thereof,
may execute the same with moderation or with violence; with
discretion, or too much rigour; and it will be well for them to
use moderation and discretion in this case: hereby may they save
themselves from that weight of anger and indignation of the Lord
God, that will come upon all violent-doers, who seek to destroy
the innocent, and rejoice in the occasion administered.
* * * * *
‘And though this law be enacted against meetings, not ours I may
say, but such meetings as are dangerous to the public peace, and
to the terror of the people: but our meetings are not such, and
therefore this law may not justly extend in its execution to the
breaking of our meetings, nor to banish us because of our meeting
together, which is for the worship of God, and are peaceable and
of good report among all good men; and are not for disturbance of
the peace, nor terror of the people, and therefore justly free
from this law as aforesaid.
‘And though this law is pretended against us, for to banish us,
and to rid the land of us, as some vainly suppose; yet must it
needs be executed to the height of it, without limitation or
restriction? Must this law be executed to its height more than
some others laws that are as truly enacted, and as fully in
force as this act can be? Yet some such laws there are, which
better deserve execution than this, yet they lie dormant, as it
is visibly apparent at this day, as in 4 Jac. c. 5, in these
words: ‘Be it enacted, &c. that all and every person or persons,
which after forty days next following the end of this present
session of parliament, shall be drunk, and of the same offence
of drunkenness shall be lawfully convicted, shall for every such
offence, forfeit and lose five shillings, &c. to be paid to the
hands of the church-wardens of that parish where the offence
shall be committed, who shall be accountable therefor to the
use of the poor of the same parish. And if the said person or
persons so convicted, shall refuse or neglect to pay the said
forfeiture, then the same shall be levied off the goods of every
such person or persons, by warrant of precept from the court,
judge, or justices, before whom the same conviction shall be; and
if the offender be not able to pay the sum of five shillings,
then he shall be committed to the stocks for the space of six
hours.’ I pray you read the statute at large; it is worth a
sober man’s pains to read over, and then judge whether that law
be duly executed at this day: and also whether it deserves not
more strict execution than the present act against us. Also
the 1 Jac. c. 7, in these words: ‘That all persons calling
themselves scholars, going about begging; all idle persons
going about in any country, either begging or using any subtle
craft, or unlawful games or plays, or feigning themselves to
have knowledge in physiognomy, or pretending that they can tell
fortunes, or such other like fantastical imaginations; all
fencers, bear-wards, common players of interludes and minstrels,
wandering abroad, shall be taken, adjudged, and deemed as rogues,
vagabonds, and sturdy-beggars, and shall suffer such pains and
punishments as are expressed, 39 Eliz. c. 4. viz. That every
such person shall be stripped naked from the middle upwards, and
shall be openly whipped, until his or her body be bloody, &c.
and shall be forthwith sent from parish to parish,’ &c. Read the
statute at large, and then consider how duly it is executed now,
and whether it deserve not the execution as much as the late act
against us, though in some places the one is more executed than
the other, where many of our friends being honest sober persons,
and of good conversation, yet are hauled out of their meetings,
where they are met only to worship God, and for no other end, and
sent to prison, and persecuted to the very height of the said
act; whereas idle persons following unlawful games and plays, and
bear-wards, common players of interludes and minstrels of divers
kinds, do wander up and down city and country, and having their
play-houses public, where their wickedness is acted; such persons
and such things, though appearing publicly, yet are permitted,
and little or no notice taken of them by some of the magistrates,
so as to punish them for breach of the laws, for the preventing
of these evils; but such wickedness is too much suffered, though
there be divers acts of parliament against such persons and such
actions, as well as there is one against our meetings; yet the
act against us is more put in execution in some places, for the
breaking of our meetings, which are for the worship of God, than
the good laws for suppressing of wickedness, though there is
better law for the one than for the other. Divers other laws and
statutes made for good ends, for the suppressing of wickedness in
the land there are, which are but easily executed at this day;
but here is one act against peaceable meeting together for the
worship of God, which is violently prosecuted and executed upon
innocent men; let all just men judge of these things. Though
there be a law enacted against our meetings, so there is against
drunkards and drunkenness, and unseasonable tippling in taverns
and ale-houses, and against minstrels, fiddlers, pipers and
players, common players, and stage players that go up and down
the countries, and have their play-houses in public cities; which
statute ought rather to be executed, though they are not: but
these things we shall leave to all sober people to judge of.
‘And seeing that the law against us is more put in execution than
those other laws, it doth appear that there is more envy against
us and our peaceable religious meetings than there is against
profaneness, and wickedness, drunkenness, and stage-playing, and
such like: and such magistrates wheresoever they are, are not
excusable in the sight of God, though there is a law against us,
while they prosecute it against us, and not those other good
laws, against profane and ungodly persons and practices; and
therefore seeing we do suffer, we must say it is not only because
there is a law against us, but it is also, or rather, because
there is enmity, and wrath, and wickedness in the hearts of men
against us, which is the main cause of our sufferings at this
day.’
Thus was E. Burrough always laborious, and like a faithful and diligent
minister of Christ, he was so totally devoted to the service of God
and the church, both in preaching and writing in the defence of the
gospel, that he scarce reserved any time for himself, and seldom took
rest, but continued to work incessantly till the time of his departure
drew near; plainly manifesting that it really was his meat and drink to
do the will of his heavenly Father; and this he endeavoured unweariedly
to the end of his days.
Now I turn again to New England, where though the murdering part was
acted to the full, yet their blood-thirstiness was not quenched, as may
appear from the following relation I shall give of the cruel whippings
inflicted on some. If I should relate all of that kind that happened
there, it would make up a pretty big volume by itself; and therefore I
will mention some few instances only.
Among these, I meet with Josiah Southwick, (whose father and mother,
Lawrence and Cassandra, had been of the first that were banished
from Boston because of their religion, as hath been said before;
and whose brother and sister had been ordered to be sold for bound
slaves,) who, having been in Old England, and had found himself obliged
notwithstanding the severe law, to return to Boston, was sentenced to
be whipped at a cart’s tail, first at Boston, and then at Rocksbury and
Dedham, when with out-stretched arms, he said to those who sentenced
him, ‘Here is my body; if ye want a further testimony of the Truth
I profess, take it, and tear it to pieces; it is freely given up;
and for your sentence, I matter it not:’ adding further, ‘it is no
more terrifying unto me, than if ye had taken a feather and blown it
up in the air, and had said, take heed it hurt thee not: for surely
tongue cannot express nor declare the goodness and love of God to his
suffering people.’ Then he was stripped and tied to the cart’s tail in
Boston, where the hangman scourged him with what vehemency he could.
It is remarkable that the whip used for those cruel executions, was
not of whip-cord, as those in England, but of dried guts, and every
string with three knots at the end, which, being fastened to a stick,
the hangman many times laid on with both his hands, which must cause
violent torture to the body. But all this cruelty was not able to make
Josiah faint; for as he was led through the streets of Boston at the
cart’s tail, he sung aloud, and was heard to utter these words: ‘They
that know God to be their strength, cannot fear what man can do.’ The
same day he was whipped also at Rocksbury, and the next morning, it
being very cold, at Dedham, where he was discharged and turned into the
wilderness; for so inhuman were these furious New England professors,
that they seemed to think that whatever it was, there was nothing done
amiss to the Quakers. Nay, it hath happened that being shut up with
thieves, and endeavouring to turn them from their wicked lives, they
have been ill-treated on that account, and the thieves set at liberty,
lest they should turn Quakers.
At Dover, in New England, Anne Coleman, Mary Tomkins, and Alice
Ambrose, were sentenced to very cruel whipping, only for being come
there: the warrant was as followeth:
‘_To the constables of Dover, Hampton, Salisbury, Newbury,
Rowley, Ipswich, Wennam, Linn, Boston, Roxbury, Dedham,
and until these vagabond Quakers are carried out of this
jurisdiction._
‘You and every of you, are required in the king’s majesty’s name,
to take these vagabond Quakers, Anne Coleman, Mary Tomkins,
and Alice Ambrose, and make them fast to the cart’s tail, and
driving the cart through your several towns, to whip them upon
their naked backs, not exceeding ten stripes apiece on each of
them, in each town; and so to convey them from constable to
constable, till they are out of this jurisdiction, as you will
answer it at your peril; and this shall be your warrant.
Per me,
RICHARD WALDEN.’
At Dover, dated December 22, 1662.
Cruel indeed was this order; because to whip these three tender women
through eleven towns, with ten stripes apiece at each place, through a
length of near eighty miles, in bitter cold weather, would have been
enough to have beaten their bones bare, and their lives out of their
bodies.
Now in a very cold day the deputy Walden, at Dover, caused these women
to be stripped naked from the middle upward, and tied to a cart, and
then whipped them, while the priest looked on, and laughed at it; which
some of their friends seeing, and taking notice of Walden’s cruelty,
testified against him; for which Walden put two of them in the stocks.
The women being thus whipped at Dover, were carried to Hampton,
and there delivered to the constable, William Fifield, who having
understood by the constable of Dover what work he had in bringing them
through a deep road, thought to have daunted them, and said, ‘I profess
you must not think to make fools of men.’ To which they answered, they
should be able to deal with him as well as the other. This constable
the next morning would have whipped them before day, but they refused,
saying that they were not ashamed of their sufferings. Then he would
have whipped them on their clothes when he had them at the cart; but
they said, ‘Set us free, or do according to thy order;’ which was to
whip them on their naked backs. He then spoke to a woman to take off
their clothes; but she said she would not do it for all the world.
‘Why,’ said he, ‘I profess I will do it myself.’ So he stripped them,
and then stood trembling with the whip in his hand, and so he did the
execution, though at first he professed himself so stout. Then he
carried them to Salisbury, through dirt and snow, half the leg deep,
and here they were whipped again. Among the rest of the spectators,
Edward Wharton accidentally passing along that way, came to be one; and
beholding this whipping, one Thomas Broadberry, clerk of the courts of
Salisbury and Hampton, said to him, ‘Edward Wharton, what do you here?’
‘I am here,’ answered he, ‘to see your wickedness and cruelty, that
so if ye kill these women, I may be able to declare how ye murdered
them:’ for indeed their bodies were so torn, that if Providence had
not watched over them, they might have been in danger of their lives.
But it fell out so that they were discharged: for the constable at
Salisbury, who must have carried them to Newberry, was desired by
one Walter Barefoot, to make him his deputy, who thus receiving the
warrant, set them at liberty; though John Wheelright, the priest,
advised the constable to drive on, as his safest way.
These three women being thus unexpectedly released, went to New
Quechawanah, where they had a meeting, and Shubal Drummer, the priest
of the place, came also thither, and sat quiet. And the meeting being
ended, he stood up and said, ‘Good women, ye have spoken well, and
prayed well; pray what is your rule?’ They answering, ‘The Spirit of
God is our rule, and it ought to be thine, and all men’s, to walk
by:’ he replied, ‘It is not my rule, nor I hope ever shall be.’ A
clear evidence how prejudice may bias even discreet people; for
being prepossessed thereby, men will speak sometimes rashly, without
considering what.
Not long after these women returned to Dover to visit their friends,
and being in a meeting the next First-day of the week, the constables,
Thomas Roberts, and his brother John, rushed in, and laid hands on
Alice Ambrose, as she was in prayer, and taking her, one by the one
arm, and the other by the other, they dragged her out of doors, almost
a mile, with her face towards the snow, which was near knee deep, over
stumps and old trees, having put on their old clothes on purpose not to
dirty their better suits. They then locked her up in a certain house,
and so went back to fetch Mary Tomkins, whom they dragged in the same
manner, which their father, old Thomas Roberts seeing, lamented, and
cried, ‘Wo that ever I was father to such wicked children.’ But they
seemed not to matter what their father said, who had been, a member
of the church at Dover above twenty years; but because he no longer
frequented their worship for their degeneracy, they took away his cow,
which with its milk, helped to support him and his wife. Mary Tomkins
being brought into the house where Alice was, Anne Coleman was also
fetched. Next morning they got a canoe, and threatened the women they
would now do so with them, that they should be troubled with them no
more; by which saying they seemed to signify that they would give them
up to the mercy of the sea, which made the women unwilling to go to the
water-side. Then one Edward Weymouth took Mary by the arms, and dragged
her on her back over the stumps of trees, down a very steep hill, by
which she was much bruised, and often died away. They also laid hold
on Alice, whom they plucked violently into the water, and kept her
swimming by the canoe, so that she was in danger of being drowned or
frozen to death. Anne Coleman was also rudely dealt with, and all this
in the presence of one Hate-evil Nutwel, a ruling elder, who stirred
up the constables to this wicked action, and so showed that he bore
a wrong name. But the wicked intention of these men was stopped by a
power from on high, for on a sudden a great tempest arose, so that they
brought the women back again to the house, and about midnight they
turned them all out of doors in the snow, the weather being so frosty
that Alice’s clothes were frozen like boards. How barbarously soever
these women were treated, yet the Lord was pleased to preserve and
support them.
Afterwards it happened that Anne Coleman and four of her friends
were whipped through Salem, Boston, and Dedham, by order of William
Hawthorn, who before he was a magistrate, had opposed compulsion for
conscience; and when under the government of Cromwell it was proposed
to make a law that none should preach without license, he publicly
said at Salem, that if ever such a law took place in New England, he
should look upon it as one of the most abominable actions that were
ever committed there, and that it would be as eminent a token of
God’s having forsaken New England, as any could be: and yet afterward
this man became a fierce persecutor of those who asserted liberty of
preaching: though formerly it may be, if any one had foretold him
how he would be given to persecution, he would have said as Hazael
to the prophet Elisha, ‘What, is thy servant a dog that he should do
this great thing?’ But to return to Anne Coleman, when she was to be
whipped at Dedham, and fastened to a cart, deputy Bellingham having
seen Hawthorn’s warrant, said, ‘The warrant is firm;’ and then bade
the executioner go on; who, thus encouraged, laid on so severely, that
with the knot of the whip he split the nipple of her breast, which so
tortured her, that it had almost cost her her life; and she, who was a
little weakly woman, thinking this would have been her lot, said once,
that if she should happen to die thus, she was willing that her body
should be laid before Bellingham’s door, with a charge from her mouth
that he was guilty of her blood.
The usage Elizabeth Hooton met with, I cannot pass by in silence,
because of her age, being about sixty, who hearing of the wickedness
committed by those of New England, was moved to make a voyage to
America.
In order thereto she went from England in the year 1661, having one
Joan Broksup with her, a woman near as aged as herself, who freely
resolved to be her companion: and because they could not find a master
of a ship that was willing to carry them to New England, because of
the fine for every Quaker that was brought thither, they set sail
towards Virginia, where they met with a ketch which carried them part
of the way, and then they went the rest by land, and so at length came
to Boston. But there they could not soon find a place of reception,
because of the penalty on those that received a Quaker into their
houses. Yet at length a woman received them. Next day they went to the
prison to visit their friends; but the jailer altogether unwilling
to let them in, carried them to the governor Endicot, who with much
scurrilous language called them witches, and asked Elizabeth what she
came for: to which she answered, ‘To do the will of him that sent me.’
And he demanding what was that: she replied, ‘To warn thee of shedding
any more innocent blood.’ To which he returned that he would hang
more yet; but she told him he was in the hand of the Lord, who could
take him away first.[22] This so displeased him, that he sent them
to prison, where many more of their friends were. After consultation
what to do with them, they were carried two days’ journey into the
wilderness, among wolves and bears; but by Providence they got to
Rhode Island, where they took ship for Barbadoes, and from thence
to New England again, and so they returned to Boston. But then they
were put into a ship, which carried them to Virginia, from whence
Elizabeth departed to Old England, where she staid some time in her own
habitation.
[22] Which was fulfilled, for after that he never took away the
lives of any more of those called Quakers.
But it came upon her to visit New England again; and so she did, taking
her daughter Elizabeth along with her. And being arrived, those of the
magistrates that were present, would have fined the master of the ship
an hundred pounds, for bringing her over contrary to their law. But he
telling them that Elizabeth had been with the king, and that she had
liberty from him to come thither to buy her a house, this so puzzled
these snarling persecutors, that they found themselves at a loss, and
thus were stopped from seizing the master’s goods.
Elizabeth being come to Boston, notwithstanding the rulers, went to
them, and signified that she came thither to buy a house for herself
to live in. She was four times at the court for that purpose, but it
was denied her; and though she said that this denial would give her
occasion if she went to England again, to lay it before the king, it
was in vain, and had no influence upon them.
Departing then, and passing through several places, she came to
Cambridge, and was thrust into a stinking dungeon, where there was
nothing to lie down or sit on. Here they kept her two days and two
nights, without affording her any thing to eat or drink; and because
a certain man in compassion brought her a little milk, he was also
cast into prison and fined five pounds. Being brought to the court,
they ordered her to be sent out of their coasts, and to be whipped at
three towns with ten stripes at each. So at Cambridge she was tied to
the whipping-post, and lashed with ten stripes, with a three-stringed
whip, with three knots at an end. At Water Town she had ten stripes
more with willow rods; and to make up all, at Dedham, in a cold frosty
morning, she received ten cruel lashes at a cart’s tail. And being thus
beaten and torn, she was put on horseback and carried many miles into
the wilderness, and towards night they left her there, where were many
wolves, bears, and other wild beasts, and many deep waters to pass
through; but being preserved by an invisible hand, she came in the
morning into a town called Rehoboth, being neither weary nor faint;
and from thence she went to Rhode Island, where coming to her friends,
she gave thanks to God for having counted her worthy, and enabled her
to suffer for his name’s sake, beyond what her age and sex, morally
speaking, could otherwise have borne.
After some stay there, she returned to Cambridge, about eighty miles,
to fetch her linen and clothes, which the inhuman persecutors would not
suffer her to take with her after they had whipped her. Having fetched
these things, and going back with her daughter and Sarah Coleman,
an ancient woman, she was taken up by the constable of Charlestown,
and carried prisoner to Cambridge; where being asked by one of the
magistrates, whose name was Daniel Goggin, wherefore she came thither,
seeing they had warned her not to come there any more: she answered
that she came not there of her own accord, but was forced thither,
after she had been to fetch her clothes, which they would not let
her take with her when she was whipped and sent away; but that now
returning back, she was taken up by force out of the highway, and
carried thither. Then the other old woman was asked whether she owned
Elizabeth and her religion: to which she answered, she owned the Truth.
And of Elizabeth’s daughter he demanded, ‘Dost thou own thy mother’s
religion?’ To which she was silent: and yet they were sent to the house
of correction, with order to be whipped. Next morning the executioner
came betimes before it was light, and asked them whether they would be
whipped there: which made Elizabeth ask whether he was come to take
away their blood in the dark: and whether they were ashamed that their
deeds should be seen: but not heeding what she said, he took her down
stairs, and whipped her with a three-stringed whip. Then he brought
down the ancient woman, and did the like to her. And taking Elizabeth’s
daughter he gave the like to her also, who never was there before, nor
had said or done any thing. After this Elizabeth the mother was whipped
again at the cart’s tail at Boston and other places, where she came to
see her friends: since which I have several times seen her in England
in a good condition.
I could relate many more severities of the New England persecutors; but
I long to come to an end, and therefore shall make a large step, and
outrun some space of time.
1664.
In the year 1664, it happened that Mary Tomkins and Alice Ambrose
came again to Boston, having been in Virginia, where for their
religion they had not only been pilloried, but whipped also each of
them with thirty-two stripes, with a whip of nine cords, and every
cord with three knots; and they were handled so severely, that the
very first lash drew blood, and made it run down from their breasts.
Being afterwards arrived at Boston, Mary grew so sick, that she was
thought to be near death; which made Edward Wharton with Wenlock
Christison come from Salem to visit her. But after they had been there
a little time, two constables came in, and notwithstanding Mary’s weak
condition, forced them all to the governor’s house. Now though Mary
seemed to be a little on the mending hand, yet she was so ill, that she
fell down as it were dead in the way. But one of the constables staid
with her till she came to herself again, and then brought her before
the governor, where were also deputy Bellingham and Thomas Daufort,
one of the magistrates; who ordered all four of them to be whipped;
but because Mary was so weak, and lest probably she might die under
their hands, they gave order that she and Alice should not be whipped
at Boston, but at the towns beyond. And this was to have been executed,
but that colonel Temple coming in, interceded and prevailed for three
of them. And now Edward became the mark of their fury, on whom they
vented their passion, though they had nothing to charge him with, but
that he was come from Salem to Boston to visit his sick friend; and for
this pretended crime the following warrant was framed:
‘_To the constables of Boston, Charlestown,
Malden, and Lynn._
‘You are required to take into your custody respectively,
Edward Wharton, convicted of being a vagabond, from his own
dwelling-place; and the constable of Boston is to whip him
severely with thirty stripes on his naked body. And from
constable to constable you are required to convey him until he
come to Salem, the place where he saith he dwelleth: and in so
doing this shall be your warrant.
JOHN ENDICOT.’
Dated at Boston, the 20th of June,
1664.
Pursuant to this warrant, Edward, (who therein was called a vagabond,
for no other reason but that he was gone from his dwelling-place,) was
led away to the market place, and there being stripped, his arms were
bound to the wheel of a great gun. Then the constable John Loel, bade
the hangman to do his work severely; which he did so cruelly that it
was testified pease might lie in the holes that the knots of the whip
had made in the flesh of his arms and back. And his body was swelled
and very black from the waist upwards. Such was the doings of those,
who to enjoy the free exercise of their worship, had left Old England;
and thus they treated a man that was of good repute, and had lived in
that country above twenty years; and was once by the governor himself
acknowledged to be his friend, when he supplied him with necessaries
in his want, saying then, that if ever it lay in his power he would
requite him; which now he did, but in what an inhuman and barbarous
manner! That this governor Endicot once had been a man of but a mean
condition, appears from a letter written to him shortly after the death
of Mary Dyar, by one John Smith, because he had not only caused his
wife to be whipped severely, but had also kept her prisoner a whole
winter, separate from her children, and had been assisting in the
making of an order that no man or woman should bring any thing to the
imprisoned Quakers, or carry any thing from them, upon the penalty of
five pounds for the first time, and ten pounds for the second. In this
letter John Smith said:
‘O my spirit is grieved for thee, because that the love I did
once see in thee is departed from thee, and there remaineth
in thee a spirit of cruelty, of hard-heartedness to thy poor
neighbours, which thou hast formerly been much beholden to, and
helped by, in time of want, when thou hadst no bread to eat. O
consider of these times, and forget them not, and of the love
thou didst find among poor people in thy necessity, and how
evil thou hast dealt with, and requited some of them now; and
how thou dost walk and act contrary to what thou didst formerly
profess: yea, I have heard thee say that all the armies on earth
cannot subdue one lust in man or woman. And now thou pronouncest
sentence of death upon some, because they cannot submit to your
wills, nor worship as ye do.’
But I return to Edward Wharton, who after his whipping was not led the
direct way to Salem, but by Charlestown, and so about the country,
as if they had a mind to make a show of him: yet at Charlestown the
constable was so compassionate, that he entertained him in his house,
and anointed his stripes; and the next day he was conveyed to his home.
Since that time the said Wharton was whipped again severely; but I pass
by particulars to avoid prolixity. Yet I cannot forbear to say, that
before he was whipped at Boston, as hath been said, it was told him
that if he would promise the governor to come no more to the Quakers’
meeting in Boston, then it was likely the governor would let him have
his liberty: to which Edward returned, ‘Not for all the world. And
friends, I have a back to lend to the smiter, and I have felt your
cruel whippings before now, and the Lord hath made me able to bear
them; and as I abide in his fear, I need not fear what you shall be
suffered to do unto me.’
The case of one Anne Needham being also very remarkable, I will give
a short hint of it. She was fined at Boston for being one of those
called Quakers; but her husband refused to pay the fine, asking
them, seeing the law for adultery was death, whether if his wife had
committed adultery, he must by that law have suffered death. She
then was sentenced to be whipped, which the constable, Thomas Roots,
performed with great cruelty; for seeing she kept silent whilst he
lashed her, he did whatever he could with his tormenting whip, to make
her cry out; but all his endeavours proved in vain; which made him say
that the Quakers were a hard-hearted people: though this epithet much
better fitted himself, and all those cruel persecutors that were really
become hard-hearted to the highest degree, insomuch that they had not
only shaken off humanity, but all true sense of piety, which I shall
prove by instances whereof some are even blasphemous.
One Barlow, who formerly had been a preacher at Exeter, afterwards
turned lawyer, and at length being become a marshal, would boast that
when he went to distrain for fines, he would think what goods were most
serviceable to the Quakers, and then he would take them away. By such
doings he encouraged others to vice; for a certain Indian taking a
knife from an Englishman’s house, and being told he should not steal,
answered that he himself had thought so, but now he saw that Barlow
and the magistrates did so by the Quakers. This Barlow in the days of
Cromwell being grown rich with the spoils of the innocent, grew poor
after king Charles was restored; which made Barlow say that he hoped
for a good time again: and took the shameful liberty to add, he thought
the Quakers would not let him want.
At Hampton, priest Seaborn Cotton, understanding that one Eliakim
Wardel had entertained Wenlock Christison, went with some of his herd
to Eliakim’s house, having like a sturdy herdsmen put himself at the
head of his followers, with a truncheon in his hand. Wenlock seeing
him in this posture, asked him what he did with that club: to which
he answered, he came to keep the wolves from his sheep. Wenlock then
asking whether those he led were his sheep, got no answer, but instead
thereof was led away by this crew to Salisbury. This same Cotton having
heard that major Shapleigh was become a Quaker, said he was sorry for
it, but he would endeavour to convert him. And afterwards drinking in
a house in an isle in the river Piscataway, and hearing the major was
there in a warehouse, he went thither; but going up stairs, and being
in drink, he tumbled down, and got such a heavy fall, that the major
himself came to help this drunken converter.
When Edward Wharton was told once by governor Endicot, that every soul
ought to be subject to the higher power; he thereupon asked whether
that which set up the golden image, and required all to fall down and
worship it, was the higher power: he answered, ‘Yea.’ Then Edward
queried whether the power that required Daniel to be cast into the
lion’s den, for praying to any besides the king for thirty days, was
the higher power: the governor said, ‘Yea.’ The next question Edward
asked, was, whether the three children that were cast into the fiery
furnace for not falling down to, and worshipping the golden image, did
well: and whether Daniel for praying to his God contrary to what the
said higher power did command, did well: the governor replied, ‘Yea,’
also. But secretary Rawson seeing how the governor had talked himself
into a noose, to help him out said, they did obey the higher power by
suffering: to which Edward returned, ‘So do we too.’
Another of these magistrates whose name was Brian Pembleton, was
asked by George Walton and his wife Alice, who was reputed one of the
most godly women thereabout, what the anointing was which the apostle
John exhorted the saints unto in that day: but what a wicked man this
Pembleton was, may appear by the abominable answer he gave, viz. that
John was either a fool or a madman, or else he did not know what he
said. And blasphemous in a very high degree was what he said to the
question, ‘What was that light which shone about Paul?’ For his answer
was, ‘It was the light of the devil for aught he did know.’
Joshua Scotaway, also one of the magistrates, asked Mary Tomkins in the
court at Boston, where she dwelt: to which she answered in the words of
the apostle, ‘In God; for in him we live and move, and have a being.’
To which Scotaway did not stick to say, ‘So doth every dog and cat.’ No
wonder truly, that men thus darkened in their minds, grew also quite
hardened in persecuting, so as to glory in it; as did Thomas Daufort, a
magistrate of Cambridge, who in the governor’s house at Boston, laying
his hand on Wenlock Christison’s shoulder, said to him, ‘Wenlock I am a
mortal man, and die I must, and that ere long; and I must appear at the
tribunal seat of Christ, and must give an account for my deeds done in
the body; and I believe it will be my greatest glory in that day, that
I have given my vote for thee to be soundly whipped at this time.’ This
made Wenlock say, ‘O wicked man, if thou hast nothing to glory in that
day, but in drawing the blood of the innocent, and in laying stripes
upon the servants of the living God, thy glory will be turned into
shame, and wo will be thy portion.’
But no exhortation, how extraordinary soever, seemed to take any hold
on these persecutors: for once a girl of thirteen or fourteen years of
age, called Hannah Wright, whose sister had been banished for religion,
was stirred with such zeal, that coming from Long Island, some hundreds
of miles from Boston, into that bloody town, she appeared in the court
there, and warned the magistrates to spill no more innocent blood. This
saying so struck them at first, that they all sat silent; till Rawson
the secretary said, ‘What, shall we be baffled by such a one as this?
come, let us drink a dram.’
Here we see the religion of these men, who were once so precise that
they would not join with the worship of the church of England. But it
seems not improbable that they fell away to this hardness of heart,
because being convinced in their understandings of some superstitious
ceremonies that were yet remaining in the church of England, they were
not faithful to testify against those things, and to set their light on
the candlestick; but that to shun the cross and avoid sufferings, they
chose to go into a strange country. And yet they were so presumptuous
as to say they were the purest church on earth, and their magistrates
and preachers very godly men, and it may be some of their cruel
executioners seeing how their magistrates, (as hath been said of Thomas
Daufort,) did glory in cruelty, have been foolish enough to persuade
themselves that their excessive whipping was some kind of meritorious
work. But whatever these English people thought, they were worse than
others, for in some places of America lived also Swedes, who in regard
of their worship were no less despised by the English, than were the
old Samaritans by the Jews; and yet these Swedes entertained the
Quakers when they came amongst them, far better than the English did:
and thus they made it appear that they surpassed them in life, if not
in possession. But the precise New Englandmen seemed to place great
virtue in a sturdy severity, of which the following is an instance.
A Dutchman, an Ostender, whose name was John Lawrence, was committed
for adultery, and brought before the court at Boston, where the
governor John Endicot, asked him whether he was guilty or not guilty:
to which the prisoner, who it seems spoke but bad English, said ‘No
guilt.’ On which Endicot said in a scoffing manner, ‘No gelt; there’s
no money:’ for gheld signifies money in Dutch. Thus the Dutchman’s
words and meaning were scoffingly perverted; and though there was no
clear evidence against him, yet he was condemned to be hanged; but he
denying the fact, the execution was deferred; and in the meanwhile
the priests, John Wilson and James Mayo, came to him in prison to see
what they could get out of him; and Mayo told him his time was near at
an end, and that he must shortly die: and therefore he would have him
now confess. To which the prisoner returned, ‘What will you have me to
confess that which I never did?’ But Mayo did not desist, but said,
‘Confess, my son, and give glory to God.’ Yet the prisoner continued in
denying the charge, and affirmed he was clear. But, said the priest,
‘You cannot be clear; for our Lord and Saviour saith. “Whosoever
looketh upon a fair woman, and lusteth after her, he hath committed
adultery with her already in his heart.”’ Truly a very perverse use of
the Scripture for compassing a false end. But the Dutchman seeing how
they came to betray him, was cautious, and at length, after a long and
tedious imprisonment, found means to break prison, and thus escaped
from those who grew accustomed to be merciless; so that sometimes
others as well as Quakers, felt the weight of their severity.
As it happened about the time that William Leddra was put to death,
one Elizabeth Nicholson and her two sons, Christopher and Joseph,
were charged with the death of her husband and their father Edmund
Nicholson, who was found dead in the sea; and information being given
that these people did show love to those they called cursed Quakers,
they were all three fetched from their habitation at Salem and carried
to Boston, and were tried for their lives merely on suspicion; but
nothing of murder was proved against them; yet the mother was fined a
great sum, and her two sons were sentenced to stand under the gallows
certain hours, with ropes about their necks, and to be whipped in the
market place, which was performed accordingly. And because these young
men were not daunted, priest Wilson standing by, said, ‘Ah, cursed
generation.’ And at Salem they were whipped also, which was done so
mercilessly that one of the young men sunk down, or died away under the
torture, though he was raised up and came to life again.
By this we may see how these New England persecutors were become inured
to excessive severity. But before I leave them, I must also mention the
dreadful exit of some of them.
The last act of governor Endicot’s bloody part that occurs, was the
cruel whipping of Edward Wharton at Boston, related before; for the
time was now come that he must go off the stage, to give an account
of his extravagant severity before another tribunal than that of his
sanguinary court. The measure of his iniquity was now filled up, and
he was visited with a loathsome disease, insomuch that he stunk alive,
and so died with rottenness, his name being like to give a bad savour
through ages to come.
Yet more remarkable was the death of major-general Adderton, who when
Mary Dyar was hanged, said scoffingly, and in an insulting way, that
she hung as a flag, for others to take example by; and who also, when
Wenlock Christison being condemned to death, warned the persecutors
because of the righteous judgments of God, presumptuously said, ‘You
pronounce woes and judgments, and those that are gone before you
pronounced woes and judgments; but the judgments of the Lord God, are
not come upon us as yet.’ But how he himself was struck by these
judgments, and served for an example to others, we are to see now.
He, upon a certain day, having exercised his soldiers, and riding
proudly on his horse towards his house, when he came about the place
where usually they loosed the Quakers, so called, from the cart, after
they had whipped them, a cow came and crossed the way, at which his
horse taking fright, threw him down so violently, that he died, his
eyes being started out of his head, his brains out of his nose, his
tongue out of his mouth, and his blood out of his ears. Thus God’s
judgments came upon him suddenly and unawares.
And John Norton, the chief priest of Boston died likewise on a sudden.
It was he who promoted the putting to death of those martyrs that died
at Boston, as hath been related; and when he saw the magistrates paused
upon the execution of W. Robinson and M. Stevenson, he encouraged them
thereto, especially because John Winthrop, governor of Connecticut,
earnestly dissuaded the shedding of innocent blood. He it was also, who
when William Brend was beaten so barbarously with a rope, as hath been
related in its due place, did not stick to say, since William Brend
endeavoured to beat their gospel ordinances black and blue, it was but
just upon him if he was beaten black and blue also. But this Norton
was now struck with a blow that made him sink: for having been at his
worship-house in the forenoon, and intending to go in the afternoon, as
he was walking in his house he fetched a great groan, and leaning his
head against the mantle tree of the chimney, he was heard to say, ‘The
hand, or the judgments of the Lord are upon me.’ These were his last
words, and he sunk down, and had fallen into the fire if he had not
been caught by somebody that was present. More examples of this nature
I could produce, but these may suffice.
What I have related of these cruelties and much more, was published in
print about that time, that so the king and parliament of England might
know what happened there; for those actions were come in public view,
and known there all about the country. All that they did was to set a
false colour upon their severity, and to disguise matters: and it was
their happiness that they had not to do with revengeful people, else
they might have been involved in great straits: but the friends of the
persecuted committed vengeance to God; though some of the great ones
in England advised them to sue the persecutors, which according to law
they might have done.
Richard Bellingham, a fierce persecutor, and governor after John
Endicot, went distracted ten years after, and so died. Not long before,
William Coddington, governor of Rhode Island, wrote a letter to him,
wherein he put him in mind of the former times; for he, (the said
Coddington,) had been one of the first erectors of colonies in New
England, and the first that built a house at Boston, and afterwards
was a magistrate seven years, but when persecution arose he declared
against it; and the case was debated three days in the court, but the
moderate party was the weakest, and was opposed by all the priests,
except one John Cotton, who said he remembered how at their departure
from England he had preached on Acts, iv. 11, and had showed from that
text that there was an inward grace which was to be minded, and that
therefore he would not give his vote for persecuting the asserters
of that doctrine; showing thereby much more sense of religion than
the other persecuting priests. Now though Coddington was one of the
greatest merchants or traders in that country, and in all probability
might have acquired great riches there, yet seeing his good counsel was
not hearkened to, he resolved to depart that place, and to go and live
somewhere else. But whatever he said in his letter to Bellingham, this
man remained hardened like Pharaoh, having showed himself cruel, even
when Mary Fisher and Anne Austin first came to Boston, where he treated
them in a barbarous manner.
Yet one thing remarkable I may mention here, which when I first heard,
I could not fully give credit to; but thinking it worth the while to
make a narrow inquiry into it, I did so, not only by writing, but also
from the mouths of persons that had been eye-witnesses, or had been
informed by such; and from these I got this concurring observation,
viz. that the country about Boston was formerly a very fruitful soil
that produced excellent wheat; but that since the time this town had
been stained with the blood of the Quakers, so called, no wheat, &c.
would grow to perfection within twenty miles, though the ground had
been ploughed and sown several times; for sometimes what was sown was
spoiled by vermin or insects; at other times it grew up, but scarce
yielded more than was sown, and so could not countervail the charge;
and in another year the expected harvest was quashed by another
accident; and these disappointments continuing many years, the people
at length grew weary of making further trial, and so left the ground
untilled; notwithstanding that twenty miles off from Boston the soil
is fruitful, and yields very good corn. But there having been so many
reiterated instances of unfruitfulness nearer the town, ancient people
that are alive still, and remember the first times, generally agree
in their opinion that this is a judgment from heaven, and a curse on
the land, because of the shedding of innocent blood at Boston. This
relation I had from so many credible persons, (though the one knew
nothing of the other, as differing much in time,) yet what they told me
did so well agree in the main, that I could not but believe it, though
I do not use to be credulous; and therefore I have been the more exact
in my inquiry, so that I can no longer question the case; but it seems
to me as a punishment on that blood-thirstiness which now hath ceased
long ago.
In the island of Barbadoes those called Quakers suffered also much by
the people, instigated not a little by the priests, Samuel Graves,
Mathew Gray, Thomas Manwaring, and Francis Smith; for these being
often drunk, gave occasion thereby to be reproved: and one Thomas
Clark coming once into the place of public worship, and exhorting the
auditors to desist from lewdness, and to fear God, was so grievously
beaten with sticks, that he fell down in a swoon; and Graves who had
preached then, went to the house of the said Clark, pulled his wife out
of doors, and tore her clothes from her back. And Manwaring, who had
threatened Clark that he would procure a law to be made, by which his
ears should be cut off, once wrote in a letter to him, ‘I am sorry that
your zeal surpasseth your moderation, and that a club must beat out of
you what the devil hath inspired.’ And this was because Clark had told
him that his conversation was not becoming a minister of the Gospel.
Other rough treatment Clark met with I pass by, though once he was set
in the stocks and imprisoned. But now I leave America, and return to
England.
THE SEVENTH BOOK. 1662-1663.
1662.
Having now left America, and being returned to England, let us go and
see the state of persecution at London, where desperate fury now raged;
though it was not in that chief city alone the Quakers, so called,
were most grievously persecuted: for a little before this time there
was published in print a short relation of the persecution throughout
all England, signed by twelve persons, showing that more than four
thousand and two hundred of those called Quakers, both men and women,
were in prison in England; and denoting the number of them that were
imprisoned in each county, either for frequenting meetings, or for
denying to swear, &c. Many of these had been grievously beaten, or
their clothes torn or taken away from them; and some were put into such
stinking dungeons, that some great men said, they would not have put
their hunting dogs there. Some persons were crowded full both of men
and women, so that there was not sufficient room for all to sit down at
once; and in Cheshire sixty-eight persons were in this manner locked
up in a small room; an evident sign that they were a harmless people,
that would not make any resistance, or use force. By such ill-treatment
many grew sick, and not a few died in such jails; for no age or sex
was regarded, but even ancient people of sixty, seventy, and more
years of age, were not spared: and the most of these being tradesmen,
shopkeepers, and husbandmen, were thus reduced to poverty; for their
goods were also seized, for not going to church, (so called,) or for
not paying tithes. Many times they were fain to lie in prison on cold
nasty ground, without being suffered to have any straw; and often they
have been kept several days without victuals: no wonder therefore that
many died by such hard imprisonments as these.
At London, and in the suburbs, were about this time no less than five
hundred of those called Quakers, imprisoned, and some in such narrow
holes, that every person scarcely had convenience to lie down; and the
felons were suffered to rob them of their clothes and money. Many that
were not imprisoned, nevertheless suffered hardships in their religious
meetings, especially that in London, known by the name of Bull and
Mouth. Here the trained bands came frequently, armed generally with
muskets, pikes, and halberds, and conducted by a military officer,
by order of the city magistracy; and rushing in, in a very furious
manner, fell to beating them, whereby many were grievously wounded,
some fell down in a swoon, and some were beaten so violently, that
they lived not long after it. Among these was one John Trowel, who was
so bruised and crushed, that a few days after he died. His friends
therefore thought it expedient to carry the corpse into the aforesaid
meeting-place, that it might lie there exposed for some hours, to be
seen of every one. This being done, raised commiseration and pity
among many of the inhabitants; for the corpse, beaten like a jelly,
looked black, and was swoln in a direful manner. This gave occasions
to send for the coroner, and he being come, empannelled a jury of the
neighbours, and gave them in charge, according to his office, to make
true inquiry upon their oaths, and to present what they found to be the
cause of his death. They viewing the corpse, had a surgeon or two with
them, to know their judgment concerning it; and then going together in
private, at length they withdrew without giving in their verdict, only
desiring the friends to bury the corpse, which was done accordingly
that evening. And though the coroner and jury met divers times together
upon that occasion, and had many consultations, yet they never would
give in a verdict; but it appeared sufficiently, that the man was
killed by violent beating. The reasons some gave for the suspense of
a verdict were, that though it was testified that the same person,
now dead, was seen beaten and knocked down; yet it being done in such
a confused crowd, no particular man could be fixed upon, so that any
could say, that man did the deed. And if a verdict was given that the
deceased person was killed, and yet no particular person charged with
it, then the city was liable to a great fine at the pleasure of the
king, for conniving at such a murder in the city in the day-time, not
committed in a corner, but in a public place, and not apprehending the
murderer, but suffering him to escape. In the meanwhile the friends of
the deceased were not wanting to give public notice of the fact, and
sent also a letter to the lord mayor, which afterwards they gave out in
print, together with a relation of this bloody business. In this letter
it was said, ‘It may be supposed thou hast heard of this thing, for it
was done not in the night, but at the midtime of the day; not suddenly,
at unawares, or by mishap, but intendedly, and a long space of time a
doing; and not in a corner, but in the streets of the city of London;
all which circumstances do highly aggravate this murder, to the very
shame and infamy of this famous city, and its government.’
A certain person who spread some of these printed relations, was
imprisoned for his pains; nevertheless another brought one of them to
the king, and told him how the thing had been done; at which the king
said, ‘I assure you it was not by my advice that any of your friends
should be slain: ye must tell the magistrates of the city of it, and
prosecute the law against them.’ This saying of the king was not long
after also published in print: but violence prevailed still; for the
person that was apprehended for spreading the said books, was sent to
prison, by the special order of Alderman Brown, of whom, since mention
may be made several times in this work, it gives me occasion to say
something of what kind of man he was.
In the time of Cromwell he had been very fierce against the royalists,
especially at Abingdon, not far from Oxford; for this error he
endeavoured now to make compensation by violently persecuting the
harmless Quakers; otherwise he was a comely man, and could commit
cruelty with a smiling countenance. But more of his actions may be
represented hereafter.
The Quakers, so called, seeing that they could not obtain justice, let
the matter of the murdered persons alone; for suffering was now their
portion, and therefore they left their cause to God. Oftentimes they
were kept out of their meeting-houses by the soldiers; but then they
did not use to go away, but stood before the place, and so their number
soon increased; and then one or other of their ministers generally
stepped upon a bench, or some high place, and so preached boldly. Thus
he got sometimes more hearers than otherwise he might have had. But
such an one sometimes was soon pulled down, which then gave occasion
for another to stand up and preach, and thus often four or five one
after another, were taken away, as innocent sheep, and carried to
prison with others of their friends, it may be forty or fifty at once.
This puts me in mind of what I heard my mother Judith Zinspenning say,
who in the year next following being gone for England, with William
Caton and his wife, who lived at Amsterdam, to visit her friends there,
and coming to London, went with others to the Bull and Mouth meeting;
but entrance being denied, they stayed in the street, where she saw one
preacher after another pulled down, at the instant cry of some officer
or other, ‘Constable, take him away.’ Several being thus led away, the
constable came also to her, and perceiving by her dress that she was
a Dutch woman, pulled her by the sleeve, and said with admiration,
‘What a Dutch Quaker!’ but meddled no further with her. This keeping
of meetings in the streets became now a customary thing in England;
for the Quakers, so called, were persuaded that the exercise of their
public worship was a duty no man could discharge them from, and they
believed that God required the performing of this service from their
hands. And by this meeting in the streets, it happened sometimes that
more than one, nay, it may be three or four at a time, did preach, one
in one place, and another in another, which in their meeting places
could not have been done conveniently. But thus they got abundance of
auditors, and among these sometimes eminent men, who passing by in
their coaches, made their coachmen stop. At this rate they found there
was a great harvest, and thus their church increased under sufferings;
and in those sharp times they were pretty well purified of dross, since
the trial was too hot for such as were not sincere: for by frequenting
their meetings in such a time, one was in danger of being imprisoned,
or beaten lame, or unto death; but this could not quench the zeal of
the upright.
Now the taking away of one preacher, and the standing up of another,
became an ordinary thing in England, and it lasted yet long after, as
I myself have been an eye-witness of there. And when there were no
more men preachers present, it may be a woman would rise, and minister
to the meeting; nay, there were such, who in years being little more
than boys, were endued with a manly zeal, and encouraged their friends
to steadfastness. In the meanwhile many also were imprisoned, without
being hauled out of their meetings; for some have been apprehended for
speaking only something on the behalf of their friends; as Rebecca
Travers, who, going to the lieutenant of the Tower, desired him
to have compassion on some who were imprisoned for frequenting of
meetings. But he grew angry at this; and when she went away, one of
the keepers gave her ill language: on which she exhorting him, to be
good in his place, whilst it was the Lord’s will he had it, he was so
offended, that going back to the lieutenant, he complained that she had
spoken treason, and thereupon she was apprehended, and sent to prison.
Nay, the rude soldiers were encouraged to cruelty by officers who were
not a whit better, for they themselves would sometimes lay violent
hands on peaceable people; as amongst the rest of the aforementioned,
alderman Richard Brown, who formerly had been a major-general under
Cromwell, and now behaved himself with such outrageous fierceness, that
even the comedians did not stick to expose him, by an allusion to his
name Brown, and saying, ‘The devil was brown.’
A book was also printed, wherein many base abuses, and also his furious
behaviour were exposed to public view; and this book was dedicated to
him with this small epistle:
‘_Richard Brown_,
‘If thou art not sealed up already for destruction, and if
repentance be not utterly hid from thy eyes, the Lord convert
thee, and forgive thee all thy hard and cruel dealings towards
us: we desire thy repentance rather than thy destruction; and the
Lord God of heaven and earth give judgment of final determination
between thee and us, that all the earth may know whether thy
cause against us, or our cause be just before him, who only is
the righteous judge.’
The said book, though published without the author’s name, yet one of
them was not only sent to Brown, but as a sign that the Quakers, so
called, owned it, others were, by about thirty of them, delivered to
the lord mayor, and the sheriffs of London, that so they might know
what was acted under their authority; for some, though not authorized,
yet being favourites at court, made bold to act against the Quakers
whatever their malice prompted them to. Among these was one Philip
Miller, who, though not an officer, yet in the month called May of
this year, came into a meeting of the said people, in John’s street,
in the parish of Sepulchres, at London, without any order or warrant,
and having a cane in his hand, commanded the rabble who attended him to
secure whom he pleased; and then he fetched a constable, whom he forced
by his threats to go along with him, and five persons he apprehended,
among whom was John Crook, of whom further mention is like to be made
again. Some days after, this Miller came to the said meeting place
again, and struck several persons with his cane, because they would
not depart at his command; and then he charged the constables, whom he
brought along with him, to secure and take into custody whom he pleased.
About the latter end of the aforesaid month, on a First-day of the
week, one captain Reeves, and some soldiers with muskets and drawn
swords, came violently rushing into the Bull and Mouth meeting, where
they pulled down him that was preaching, and presently laid hold of
another, who desired Reeves to show his order for this his doing:
to which he answered, he would not in that place; but it appeared
afterwards that he could not, as having no warrant. Yet he caused his
soldiers to take away about forty persons, (some of whom were not at
the meeting, but had been taken up in the streets,) and have them into
Paul’s yard, where they were kept till the public worship was ended
there; and then alderman Richard Brown came into the place where the
prisoners were guarded, and with great rage and fury laid hands first
on a very aged person, and pulled him down twice by the brim of his
hat, whereby he lost it. Then he served another in like manner, and a
soldier struck this person a great blow with a pistol on his bare head:
two others Brown used in the like manner, and then he sent them all to
Newgate, guarded by soldiers.
The same day some soldiers came to a meeting in Tower street, and
without any warrant, took away twenty-one persons, called Quakers,
and carried them to the Exchange, where they kept them some time, and
then brought them before the said Richard Brown, who in a most furious
manner struck some, and kicked others; which made one of the prisoners,
seeing how Brown smote one with his fist on the face, and kicked him
on the shin, say, ‘What Richard, wilt thou turn murderer? Thou didst
not do so when I was a soldier under thy command at Abingdon, and thou
commandedst me with others, to search people’s houses for pies and
roast meat, because they kept Christmas as a holy time; and we brought
the persons prisoners to the guard, for observing the same.’ For such
a precise man the said Brown was at that time, that he pretended to
root out that superstitious custom; though there is reason to question,
whether his heart were sincere in this respect: however, such blind
zeal was unfit to convince people of superstition; and Brown well
knowing that by his former carriage, he had very much disobliged those
of the church of England, endeavoured now to make amends for it, by
his fierce brutality against the harmless Quakers, and so to come into
favour with the ecclesiastics and courtiers. One of Brown’s family
having heard what was said to him, replied, ‘There is an Abingdon
bird.’ To which Brown, returned, ‘He is a rogue for all that,’ and
struck him with his fist under the chin; which made another prisoner
say, ‘What, a magistrate and strike!’ Upon which Brown with both his
hands pulled him down to the ground by the brim of his hat, and then
commanded the soldiers to take them all away, and carry them to Newgate.
Upon a First-day of the week, in the month called June, a company
of soldiers came into the Bull and Mouth meeting, with pikes, drawn
swords, muskets, and lighted matches, as if they were going to fight;
though they knew well enough they should find none there but harmless
people. The first thing they did was to pull down him that preached,
whom they hauled out of the meeting, rejoicing as if they had obtained
some great victory: then they brought him to the main guard at Paul’s,
and returned to the Bull and Mouth, where they apprehended some more,
whom they also carried to Paul’s. After some hours, these prisoners
were carried to the house of the fore-mentioned Brown, and he, asking
the names of the prisoners, and hearing that of John Perrot, said,
‘What, you have been at Rome to subvert,’ but recalling himself, said,
‘to convert the Pope.’ On which Perrot told him, ‘He had suffered at
Rome for the testimony of Jesus.’ Whereupon Brown returned, ‘If you had
converted the Pope to your religion, I should have liked him far worse
than I do now.’ To which Perrot replied, ‘But God would have liked him
better.’ After some more short discourse, Brown committed them all to
Newgate.
After this manner, the meetings of those called Quakers were disturbed
at that time, of which I could produce, if necessary, many more
instances. Once, one Cox, a wine-cooper, came with some soldiers into
a meeting, where, after great violence used, they took up two men of
those called Quakers, whom they beat most grievously, because they
refused to go along with them, though they showed no warrant for it.
At length the soldiers carried them both upon muskets into Paul’s
yard, and when they laid them down, they dragged one of them by the
heels on his back, in a very barbarous manner; which being done, the
said wine-cooper was heard to say, he would go and get a cup of sack,
for these devils had even wearied him out: and yet he went to another
meeting-place of these people, where he also behaved himself very
wickedly; and being asked for his order, his answer was holding out his
sword, this is my order. Thus it seems he would ingratiate himself with
Brown, who now being in favour at court, was knighted, and sometime
after also chosen lord mayor of London; and by his furious behaviour,
the soldiers were also encouraged to commit all manner of mischief;
insomuch, that being asked, what order they had for their doings, one
lifting up his musket, said, ‘This is my order:’ so that things now
were carried by a club-law. Nor did the soldiers respect age, but took
away out of a meeting at Mile-end, two boys, one about thirteen and the
other about sixteen; and they were brought before the lieutenant of the
Tower, who to one present, saying, he supposed they were not of the age
of sixteen years, and then not punishable by the act, returned, they
were old enough to be whipped; and they should be whipped out of their
religion. And so he sent them to Bridewell, where their hands were
put into the stocks, and so pinched for the space of two hours, that
their wrists were much swoln; and this was done because they refused
to work, as being persuaded that they had not deserved to be treated
so; they also eating nothing at the charge of the said workhouse. These
lads, though pretty long in that prison, yet continued steadfast,
rejoicing they were counted worthy to suffer for the name of the Lord:
and they wrote a letter to their friends’ children, exhorting them
to be faithful in bearing their testimony for the Lord, against all
wickedness and unrighteousness.
Some days before this time, Thomas and John Herbert, living in London,
and other musketeers, came with their naked swords into some private
dwellings, and broke two or three doors; (for when some persons were
seen to enter a house, though it was only to visit their friends, it
was called a meeting.) Now it happened in one house, these rude fellows
found five persons together, one of whom was William Ames, who was
come thither out of Holland, and another was Samuel Fisher: and when
it was demanded what warrant they had, they held up their swords,
and said, ‘Do not ask us for a warrant; this is our warrant.’ And
thereupon they took away these persons by force, and carried them to
Paul’s yard, where they were a laughing-stock to the soldiers; and from
thence they were brought to the Exchange, where they met with no better
reception from the rude soldiers; and from thence they were conducted
to alderman Brown’s house in Ivy-lane. He seeing these prisoners, sent
them to Bridewell with a mittimus, to be kept at hard labour. But
afterwards bethinking himself, and finding that his mittimus was not
founded on justice, (for these persons were not taken from a meeting,)
next morning he sent another mittimus, wherein they were charged with
unlawful assembling themselves to worship. Now, suppose one of the
musketeers had heard any of these persons speak by way of exhortation
to faithfulness in this hot time of persecution, this would have been
taken for a sufficient charge, though not cognizable by law: but they
ran upon shifts, how poor or silly soever.
Thus these persons were committed to Bridewell, and required to beat
hemp; and they were treated so severely, that W. Ames grew sick, even
nigh to death, wherefore he was discharged; for in a sense it might be
said, that his dwelling-place was at Amsterdam in Holland, since he was
there the most part of the time for some years successively, and that
he might not be chargeable, he worked at wool-combing; and it being
alleged that he was of Amsterdam, it seems they would not have him die
in prison, as some of his friends had done. The others having been six
weeks in Bridewell, were presented at the sessions in the Old Bailey:
but instead of being tried for what was charged against them, they
were required to take the oath of allegiance, as the only business,
(according to what the deputy recorder said,) they were brought thither
for. The prisoners then demanded, that the law might be read, by virtue
of which the said oath was required of them. This was promised by the
court to be done; but instead thereof, they ordered the clerk to read
only the form of the oath, but would not permit the law for imposing
it to be read. But before the prisoners had either declared their
willingness to take it, or their refusal of it, they were commanded to
be taken away; which the officers did with such violence, that they
threw some of them down upon stones. This made Samuel Fisher say, ‘Take
notice people, that we have not yet refused to take the oath; but the
court refuseth to perform their promise which they made but just now
before you all, that this statute for it should be read: if such doings
as this ever prosper, it must be when there is no God.’ But this was
not regarded; and the prisoners, without any justice were sent to
Newgate. Among these, was also one John Howel, who had been sent by
alderman Brown to work at Bridewell, because he being brought before
him, did not tell on a sudden what was his name: and being demanded
in the court why he did not tell his name, he answered, because he
had been beaten and abused in the presence of Richard Brown, when he
was brought before him. Brown, who was also on the bench, asked him
roughly, ‘Wherein were you abused?’ And Howel replied, ‘Blood was drawn
on me in thy presence; which ought not to be done in the presence of a
justice of peace.’ But Brown growing very impetuous, returned, ‘Hold
your prating, or there shall be as much done again here in the presence
of the court.’
About midsummer, Daniel Baker returned into England, (who, as hath been
related, had been at Malta,) and about a fortnight after his arrival,
he, with four others, were taken by a band of soldiers from the Bull
and Mouth meeting, and carried to Paul’s yard, where having been kept
for some hours, they were brought to Newgate; but in the evening they
were had before alderman Brown, to whom Baker with meekness said,
‘Let the fear of God and his peace be set up in thy heart.’ But Brown
fell a laughing, and said, ‘I would rather hear a dog bark;’ and
using more such scoffing expressions, he charged Baker, &c. with the
breach of the king’s law in meeting together. To which Baker said,
‘The servants of God in the apostles’ days, were commanded to speak no
more in the name of Jesus; and they answered, and so do I too, whether
it be better to obey God than men, judge ye.’ He also instanced the
case of the three children at Babylon, and Daniel who obeyed not the
king’s decrees. But Brown grew so angry, that he commanded his men to
smite Daniel on the face. This they did, and pulling him four or five
times to the ground, they smote him with their fists, and wrung his
neck so, as if they would have murdered him. This these fellows did
to please Brown, showing themselves to be ready for any service, how
abominable soever. And Baker reflecting on his travels, signified,
that even Turks and heathens would abhor such brutish actions. His
fellow-prisoners were also abused by Brown, and then sent to Newgate
again. And after some days, they were called to the sessions, where
their indictment was read, which like others in such cases, did
generally run in these terms: that the prisoners, under pretence of
performing religious worship, otherwise than by the laws of the kingdom
of England established, unlawfully and tumultuously did gather and
assemble themselves together, to the great terror of his majesty’s
people, and to the disturbance of the peace of the king, in contempt of
our said lord the king, and his laws, to the evil example of all others
in the like case offending, &c. The indictment being read, no witness
appeared against the prisoners, save Brown, who sat on the bench: and
therefore the oath, as the ordinary snare, was tendered to them; for it
was sufficiently known, that their profession did not suffer them to
take any oath. They denying to swear, were sent back to prison, to stay
there until they should have taken the oath.
If I would here set down all such like cases as have happened, I might
find more work than I should be able to perform: for this vexing with
the oath was become so common, that some have been taken up in the
streets, and brought to a justice of the peace, that he might tender
the oath to them, and in case of denial, send them to prison, though
this was directly contrary to the statute of Magna Charta, which
expressly saith, ‘No freeman shall be taken or imprisoned, or be
disseised of his freehold or liberties, but by the law of the land.’
But this was not regarded by Richard Brown, who did whatever he would;
for force and violence were now predominant: and sometimes when the
prisoners were brought to the bar, for frequenting meetings, freedom
was denied to them to justify themselves; but to be hectored and
baffled was their lot.
Once it happened, that a prisoner, who had been a soldier formerly
under Brown, seeing that no justice or equity was observed, called to
him, saying, ‘That he was not fit to sit on the bench; for he made the
son to hang the father at Abingdon; so that he could prove him to be
a murderer.’ This bold saying caused some disturbance in the court,
and Brown, how heavy soever the charge was, did not deny the thing
in court, nor clear himself from it: yet the other Quaker prisoners
did not approve this upbraiding, but signified, that though the fact
were true, yet they were not for reproaching any magistrate upon the
bench, whose place and office they did respect and honour. But I do not
find that Brown, (on that account,) ever prosecuted him that spoke so
boldly, although otherwise he did whatever he would, without fearing
that his fellow-magistrates, (who respected him that was a favourite at
court,) would disclaim it, as may appear by this following instance.
A certain person who had been in a very violent and abusive manner
taken to prison by the soldiers out of a meeting, because he was not
willing to go, said in the court, that his refusing to go, was because
they would not show him any warrant for their apprehending him: since
for aught he knew, they might be robbers or murderers, with whom he
was not bound to go. But Brown, who was for violence, said to this,
if they had dragged him through all the kennels in the street, they
had served him right, if he would not go. This he spoke in such a
furious manner, that one of the prisoners told him, ‘Thou hast had many
warnings and visitations in the love of God, but hast slighted them;
therefore beware of being sealed up in the wrath of God.’ Hereupon one
of the jailers came with his cane and struck several of the prisoners
so hard, that divers of them were much bruised; and it was reported by
some, that Brown cried knock him down, though others, (for mitigating
it a little,) would have it, pull him down. But the former seems most
probable: for the blows were so violent, that some of the spectators
cried out, murder! murder! and asked, ‘Will ye suffer men to be
murdered in the court?’ Whereupon one of the sheriffs in person came
down from his seat to stop the beating. But Brown was so desperately
filled with anger, that he said to the prisoners, ‘If any of you be
killed, your blood shall be upon your own head:’ and the hangman
standing by with his gag in his hand, threatened the prisoners to gag
any of them that should speak any thing. Thus innocence was forced
to give way to violence. And once, when one at the common juridical
question, guilty, or not guilty, answered, I deny I am guilty, and I
can say I am not guilty; and also in Latin, _non reus sum_. Yet he was
sentenced as mute, and fined accordingly, though the words he spoke,
fully signified not guilty, albeit he had not expressed them in the
same terms. But now they were for crossing the Quakers in every respect.
I will yet mention some more instances of Brown’s brutality, before
I leave him. Another being demanded to answer to his indictment,
guilty, or not guilty, and not presently answering, but thinking a
little what to speak safely, Brown scoffingly said, ‘We shall have a
revelation by and by.’ To which the prisoner said, ‘How long will ye
oppose the innocent? How long will ye persecute the righteous seed of
God?’ But whilst he was speaking, Brown indecently began to cry in
the language of those wenches that go crying up and down the streets,
‘Aha, aha! Will you have any Wellfleet oysters?’ And, ‘have you any
kitchen-stuff, maids?’ And when a prisoner at the bar said he could
not for conscience-sake forbear meeting among the people of God, Brown
scurrilously returned, ‘Conscience,--a dog’s tail.’ And when alderman
Adams speaking to one of the prisoners said, ‘I am sorry to see you
here.’ ‘Sorry!’ said Brown, ‘What should you be sorry for?’ ‘Yes,’ said
Adams, ‘He is a sober man.’ But Brown, who could not endure to hear
this, replied, that there never was a sober man amongst them, meaning
the Quakers. The spectators, who took much notice of him, discommended
this his carriage exceedingly. But he seemed to be quite hardened; for
at a certain time two persons being upon their trial for robbing of a
house, he told them, they were the veriest rogues in England, except it
were the Quakers.
Sometimes it happened that the prisoners were brought to the bar
without being indicted; and when they said, ‘What have we done?’
and desired justice; Brown, having no indictment against them,
often cried, ‘Will you take the oath?’ And they then saying, ‘that
for conscience-sake they could not swear,’ were condemned as
transgressors, though such proceedings as these were directly against
the law. But this seemed at that time little to be regarded.
However, sometime before, it happened at Thetford in the county of
Norfolk, that judge Windham, at that time showing himself just in the
like case, sharply reproved the justices upon the bench, for having not
only committed some persons to prison, but also had them up to the bar,
when no accuser appeared against them. But Richard Brown did whatever
he would, and showed himself most furiously wicked, when any prisoner
was brought before him with his hat on.
One John Brain, being taken in the street, and not in any meeting, was
brought by some soldiers before Brown; who, seeing him with his hat on,
ordered him to be pulled down to the ground six or seven times, and
when he was down, they beat his head against the ground, and stamped
upon him; and Brown, like a madman, bade them pull off his nose;
whereupon they very violently pulled him by the nose. And when he was
got up, they pulled him to the ground by the hair of his head, and
then by the hair pulled him up again. And when he would have spoken in
his own behalf against this cruelty, Brown bade them stop his mouth.
Whereupon they not only struck him on the mouth, but stopped his mouth
and nose also so close, that he could not draw breath, and was like to
be choaked: at which actions Brown fell a laughing, and at length sent
him to jail.
Thomas Spire, being brought before Brown, he commanded his hat to
be taken off; and because it was not done with such violence as he
intended, he caused it to be put upon his head again, saying, ‘It
should not be pulled off so easily.’ Then he was pulled down to the
ground by his hat, and pulled up again by his hair. William Hill being
brought before him, he commanded his hat to be pulled off, so that his
head might be bowed down: whereupon he being pulled to the ground,
was plucked up again by the hair of his head. George Ableson was thus
pulled five times one after another to the ground, and plucked up by
his hair, and so beaten on his face, or the sides of his head, that he
staggered, and bled, and for some days was under much pain.
Nicholas Blithold being brought before Brown, he took his hat with both
his hands, endeavouring to pull him down to the ground; and because
he fell not quite to the ground forwards, he pushed him, to throw him
backwards; and then he gave him a kick on the leg, and thrust him
out of doors. Thomas Lacy being brought before him, he himself gave
him a blow on the face; and Isaac Merrit, John Cook, Arthur Baker,
and others, were not treated much better; so that he seemed more fit
to have been hangman, than an alderman, or justice. But I grow weary
of mentioning more instances of his cruelty. These his abominable
achievements were published in print, more at large than I have
mentioned them: and the book, as hath been said already, was dedicated
to him. And yet I do not find any have been prosecuted on that account;
though his wickedness was extravagant, and such as if he wanted to
have stakes erected at Smithfield to vend his wood; being by trade a
woodmonger.
In this hot time of persecution, Francis Howgill wrote, and gave forth
the following paper for encouragement of his friends.
‘The cogitations of my heart have been many, deep, and ponderous
some months, weeks, and days, concerning this people which the
Lord hath raised to bear testimony unto his name, in this the
day of his power; and intercession hath been made often for them
to the Lord, and a patient waiting to know his mind concerning
them for the time to come; which often I received satisfaction
in as to myself, but yet something I was drawn by the Lord to
wait for, that I might comfort and strengthen his flock by an
assured testimony. And while I was waiting out of all visible
things, and quite out of the world in my spirit, and my heart
upon nothing but the living God, the Lord opened the springs of
the great deep, and overflowed my whole heart with light and
love; and my eyes were as a fountain because of tears of joy,
because of his heritage, of whom he showed me, and said unto me
in a full, fresh, living power, and a holy, full testimony, so
that my heart was ravished there with joy unspeakable, and I was
out of the body with God in his heavenly paradise, where I saw
and felt things unutterable, and beyond all demonstration or
speech. At last the life closed with my understanding, and my
spirit listened unto him; and the everlasting God said, “Shall
I hide any thing from them that seek my face in righteousness?
Nay, I will manifest it to them that fear me; I will speak, do
thou listen, and publish it among all my people, that they may be
comforted, and thou satisfied.” And thus said the living God of
heaven and earth, upon the 28th of the Third month, 1662.
‘The sun shall leave its shining brightness, and cease to give
light to the world; and the moon shall be altogether darkness,
and give no light unto the night; the stars shall cease to know
their office or place; my covenant with day, night, times, and
seasons, shall sooner come to an end, than the covenant I have
made with this people, into which they are entered with me, shall
end, or be broken. Yea, though the powers of darkness and hell
combine against them, and the jaws of death open its mouth, yet
I will deliver them, and lead them through all. I will confound
their enemies as I did in Jacob, and scatter them as I did in
Israel in the days of old. I will take their enemies, I will hurl
them hither and thither, as stones hurled in a sling; and the
memorial of this nation, which is holy unto me, shall never be
rooted out, but shall live through ages, as a cloud of witnesses,
in generations to come. I have brought them to the birth, yea,
I have brought them forth; I have swaddled them, and they are
mine. I will nourish them, and carry them, as on eagles’ wings;
and though clouds gather against them, I will make my way through
them; though darkness gather together on a heap, and tempests
gender, I will scatter them as with an east wind; and nations
shall know they are my inheritance, and they shall know I am the
living God, who will plead their cause with all that rise up in
opposition against them.
‘These words are holy, faithful, eternal, good, and true; blessed
are they that hear and believe unto the end: and because of them
no strength was left in me for a while; but at last my heart was
filled with joy, even as when the ark of God was brought from
the house of Obed-Edom, when David danced before it, and Israel
shouted for joy.
FRANCIS HOWGILL.’
That this writing of F. Howgill, who was a pious man, of great parts,
together with many other powerful exhortations of such who valiantly
went before, and never left the oppressed flock, tended exceedingly
to their encouragement in this hot time of persecution, is certain.
For how furious soever their enemies were, yet they continued faithful
in supplications and fervent prayers to God, that he might be pleased
to assist them in their upright zeal, who aimed at nothing for self,
but from a true fear and reverence before him, durst not omit their
religious assemblies. And they found that the Lord heard their prayers,
insomuch that I remember to have heard one say, that at a meeting where
they seemed to be in danger of death from their fierce persecutors, he
was as it were ravished, so that he hardly knew whether he was in or
out of the body. They then persevering thus in faithfulness, to what
they believed the Lord required of them, in process of time, when their
enemies had taken such measures, that they were persuaded they had
found out such means, by which they should suppress and extinguish the
Quakers, they saw the Lord God Almighty rose up in their defence, and
quashed and confounded the wicked devices of their cruel persecutors,
as will be seen in the course of this history.
In the meanwhile let us take a view of the persecution in Southwark.
Here the Quakers’ meetings were no less disturbed than in London.
Several persons having been taken from their religious meetings, were
committed; and after having been in White-lion prison about nine
weeks, were brought to the bar, where Richard Onslow sat judge of the
sessions. The indictment drawn up against them was as followeth.
‘The jurors for our lord the king do present upon their oath,
that Arthur Fisher, late of the parish of St. Olave, in the
borough of Southwark, in the county of Surry, yeoman; Nathaniel
Robinson, of the same, yeoman; John Chandler, of the same,
yeoman; and others, being wicked, dangerous, and seditious
sectaries, and disloyal persons, and above the age of sixteen
years, who on the 29th day of June, in the year of the reign
of our lord Charles the Second, by the grace of God, king of
England, Scotland, France, and Ireland, &c. the fourteenth, have
obstinately refused, and every one of them hath obstinately
refused, to repair unto some church, chapel, or usual place of
common prayer, according to the laws and statutes of this kingdom
of England, in the like case set forth and provided, (after forty
days next after the end of the session of parliament, begun and
holden at Westminster, on the 29th day of February, in the year
of our lady Elizabeth, late queen of England, the thirty-fifth,
and there continued until the dissolution of the same, being the
tenth day of April, in the 35th year abovesaid.) To wit, on the
3d day of August, in the year of the reign of the said Charles,
King of England, the fourteenth abovesaid, in the parish of St.
Olave aforesaid, in the borough of Southwark aforesaid, in the
county aforesaid, of themselves, did voluntarily and unlawfully
join in, and were present at an unlawful assembly, conventicle,
and meeting, at the said parish of St. Olave, in the county
aforesaid, under colour and pretence of the exercise of religion,
against the laws and statutes of this kingdom of England, in
contempt of our said lord the king that now is, his laws, and
to the evil and dangerous example of all others in the like
case offending against the peace of our said lord the king that
now is, his crown and dignity, and contrary to the form of the
statute in this same case set forth and provided.’
I have inserted this indictment, that the reader may see not only the
manner of proceeding, but also with what black and heinous colours
the religious meetings of those called Quakers, were represented.
This indictment being read, the prisoners desired that they might
be tried by the late act of parliament against conventicles. But it
was answered, they might try them by what they would that was in
force. Then the prisoners desired that the statute, (viz. the 35th of
Elizabeth,) might be read. This was done but in part, and it was said
to the clerk, it was enough. The prisoners said then, that that act was
made in the time of ignorance, when the people were but newly stept
out of popery; and they showed also how unjustly they were dealt with.
Then being required to plead guilty, or not guilty, to the indictment,
some who were not very forward to answer, were hauled out of the court,
as taken _pro confessis_; and so sent back to prison. The rest, being
twenty-two in number, pleaded not guilty. Then the jurymen were called,
and when they had excepted against one, the judge would not allow
it, because he did not like the reason they gave, viz. that they saw
envy, prejudice, and a vain deportment in him. Another was excepted
against, because he was heard to say, that he hoped ere long, that the
Quakers should be arraigned at the bar, and be banished to some land,
where there were nothing but bears. At this the court burst out into
a laughter; yet the exception was admitted, and the man put by. The
prisoners not thinking it convenient to make more exceptions, the jury
were sworn; then two witnesses were called, who testified at most,
that in such a place they took such persons met together, whose names
were specified in writing. Then the prisoners bid the jury, take heed
how they did sport or dally with holy things, and that those things,
which concerned the conscience, were holy things. And as a man was not
to sport with the health or illness of his neighbour, so he was not to
sport with the liberty or the banishment of his neighbour. And whereas
they were accused of being wicked, dangerous, and seditious sectaries,
that was not true; for they were not wicked, but such as endeavoured to
live soberly, righteously, and godly in the world; concerning the truth
of which, they appealed to themselves. Neither were they seditious,
but peaceable. And whereas they were charged for not coming to hear
the common prayer, this was incongruous; for the service book was not
quite printed several weeks after the said 29th of June; so that they
could not be charged of neglecting to hear that which was not to be
heard read any where. This puzzled the court not a little; and other
pinching reasons were also given by the prisoners, some of whom were
men of learning; insomuch that the judge was not able to answer the
objections, but by shifts and evasions. At length the jury went out
to consult, and one of them was heard to say, as they were going up
stairs, ‘Here is a deal to do indeed, to condemn a company of innocent
men.’
After some time, the jury coming again, and being asked whether the
prisoners at the bar were guilty or not guilty, they said they were
guilty in part, and not guilty in part. But this verdict did not please
the judge. The jury then going out again, and prevailing upon one
another, quickly returned, and declared the prisoners guilty, according
to the form of the indictment. Hereupon the judge Onslow pronounced
sentence, viz. That they should return to prison again, and lie
there three months without bail; and if they did not make submission
according as the law directed, either at or before the end of the
aforesaid three months, that then they should abjure the realm: but in
case they refused to make abjuration, or after abjuration made, should
forbear to depart the realm within the time limited, or should return
again without license, they should be proceeded against as felons.
Just before sentence given, the judge said to one of the prisoners,
there was a way to escape the penalty, viz. Submission. And being
asked, what that was? the judge answered, ‘To come to common prayer,
and refrain these meetings.’ The prisoner giving reasons for refusal
of both, the judge said, ‘Then you must abjure the land.’ ‘Abjure,’
returned the prisoners, is ‘forswear.’ To which one of the justices
said laughingly, ‘And ye cannot swear at all.’ Just as if it were but
jest, thus to treat religious men. But they had signified already to
the jury, that they must rather die than do so. How long they were kept
prisoners, and how released, I could not learn; but this I know, that
many in the like cases have been long kept in jail, till sometimes they
were set at liberty by the king’s proclamation.
In this year it was the share of John Crook, (who himself once had been
a justice,) to be taken out of a meeting at London in John’s street,
as hath been said already, by one Miller, though not in office. And he
with others was brought to his trial in the said city, before the lord
mayor of London, the recorder of the same, the chief justice Forster,
and other judges and justices, among whom was also Richard Brown.
Now since J. Crook published this trial in print, and by that we may
judge, as _ex ungue leonem_, of other trials of the Quakers, I will
give it here at large.
J. Crook being brought to the sessions house in the Old Bailey,
with two of his friends, viz. Isaac Gray, doctor of physic, and
John Bolton goldsmith: one of the prisoners was called to the
bar, and then asked by the
Chief Judge. What meeting was that you were at?
Prisoner. I desire to be heard, where is my accuser?
Ch. Judge. Your tongue is not your own, and you must not have
liberty to speak what you list.
Pris. I speak in the presence and fear of the everlasting God,
that my tongue is not my own, for it is the Lord’s, and to be
disposed of according to his pleasure, and not to speak my own
words; and therefore I desire to be heard: I have been so long in
prison----then he was interrupted by the judge.
Judge. Leave your canting; and commanded him to be taken away,
which he was accordingly, by the jailer. This was the substance
of what the prisoner aforesaid spoke the first time.
C. Judge. Call John Crook to the bar; which the crier did
accordingly, he being amongst the felons as aforesaid.
J. C. being brought to the bar:
C. Judge. When did you take the oath of allegiance?
J. C. I desire to be heard.
C. Judge. Answer to the question, and you shall be heard.
J. C. I have been about six weeks in prison, and am I now
called to accuse myself? For the answering to this question
in the negative, is to accuse myself, which you ought not to
put me upon; for, _Nemo debet seipsum prodere_.[23] I am an
Englishman, and by the law of England I ought not to be taken,
nor imprisoned, nor disseized of my freehold, nor called in
question, nor put to answer, but according to the law of the
land; which I challenge as my birthright, on my own behalf, and
all that hear me this day; (or words to this purpose.) I stand
here at this bar as a delinquent, and do desire that my accuser
may be brought forth to accuse me for my delinquency, and then I
shall answer to my charge, if any I be guilty of.
[23] No one ought to betray himself.
C. Judge. You are here demanded to take the oath of allegiance,
and when you have done that, then you shall be heard about the
other; for we have power to tender it to any man.
J. C. Not to me upon this occasion, in this place; for I am
brought hither as an offender already, and not to be made an
offender here, or to accuse myself; for I am an Englishman, as
I have said to you, and challenge the benefit of the laws of
England; for by them is a better inheritance derived to me as an
Englishman, than that which I received from my parents: for by
the former the latter is preserved; and this is seen in the 29th
chapter of Magna Charta, and the petition of right, mentioned
in the third of Car. I. and in other good laws of England; and
therefore I desire the benefit and observance of them: and you
that are judges upon the bench, ought to be my counsel, and not
my accusers, but to inform me of the benefit of those laws; and
wherein I am ignorant, you ought to inform me, that I may not
suffer through my own ignorance of those advantages, which the
laws of England afford me as an Englishman.
Reader, I here give thee a brief account of my taking and
imprisoning, that thou may the better judge what justice I had
from the court aforesaid; which is as followeth.
I being in John’s street, London, about the 13th day of the Third
month, (called May,) with some other of the people of God, to
wait upon him, as we were sat together, there came in a rude man
called Miller, with a long cane in his hand, who laid violent
hands upon me, with some others, beating some, and commanding
the constables who came in after him, but having no warrant,
were not willing to meddle; but as his threatenings prevailed,
they, being afraid of him, joined with him to carry several of us
before justice Powel, (so called,) who the next day sent us to
the sessions, at Hicks’s Hall; where after some discourse several
times with them; we manifested to them the illegality both of our
commitment, and their proceedings thereupon; yet notwithstanding,
they committed me and others, and caused an indictment to be
drawn against us, founded upon the late act against Quakers and
others; and then remanded us to New Prison, where we continued
for some days; and then removed us to Newgate, where we remained
until the sessions in the Old Bailey aforesaid: whereby thou
mayest understand what justice I met withal, by what went before,
and now further follows:
Ch. Judge. We sit here to do justice, and are upon our oaths;
and we are to tell you what is law, and not you us: therefore,
sirrah, you are too bold.
J. C. Sirrah is not a word becoming a judge: for I am no felon:
neither ought you to menace the prisoner at the bar: for I stand
here arraigned as for my life and liberty, and the preservation
of my wife and children, and outward estate, (they being now at
the stake;) therefore you ought to hear me to the full, what
I can say in my own defence, according to law, and that in
its season, as it is given me to speak: therefore I hope the
court will bear with me, if I am bold to assert my liberty, as
an Englishman, and as a Christian; and if I speak loud, it is
my zeal for the Truth, and for the name of the Lord; and mine
innocency makes me bold--
Judge. It is an evil zeal; interrupting John Crook.
J. C. No, I am bold in the name of the Lord God Almighty, the
everlasting Jehovah, to assert the Truth, and stand as a witness
for it: let my accuser be brought forth, and I am ready to answer
any court of justice.
Then the judge interrupted me, saying sirrah, with some other
words I do not remember. But I answered, You are not to threaten
me, neither are those menaces fit for the mouth of a judge; for
the safety of the prisoner depends upon the indifferency of the
court: and you ought not to behave yourselves as parties, seeking
all advantage against the prisoner, but not heeding any thing
that may make for his clearing or advantage. The judge again
interrupting me, saying.
Judge. Sirrah, you are to take the oath, and here we tender it
you, (bidding, read it.)
J. C. Let me see mine accuser, that I may know for what cause
I have been six weeks imprisoned, and do not put me to accuse
myself by asking me questions; but either let my accuser come
forth, or otherwise let me be discharged by proclamation, as you
ought to do--Here I was interrupted again.
Judge Twisden. We take no notice of your being here otherwise
than of a straggler, or as any other person, or of the people
that are here this day; for we may tender the oath to any man.
And another judge spake to the like purpose.
J. C. I am here at your bar as a prisoner restrained of my
liberty, and do question whether you ought in justice to tender
me the oath on the account I am now brought before you, because
I am supposed to be an offender; or else why have I been six
weeks in prison already? Let me be cleared of my imprisonment,
and then I shall answer to what is charged against me, and to the
question now propounded; for I am a lover of justice with all my
soul, and am well known by my neighbours, where I lived, to keep
a conscience void of offence, both towards God and towards man.
Judge. Sirrah, leave your canting.
J. C. Is this canting, to speak the words of the scripture?
Judge. It is canting in your mouth, though they are Paul’s words.
J. C. I speak the words of the Scripture, and it is not canting,
though I speak them; but they are words of truth and soberness in
my mouth, they being witnessed by me, and fulfilled in me.
Judge. We do ask you again, whether you will take the oath of
allegiance? It is but a short question, you may answer if you
will.
J. C. By what law have you power to tender it? Then, after some
consultation together by whispering, they called for the statute
book, and turning over the leaves, they answered,
Judge. By the third of King James.
J. C. I desire that statute may be read; for I have consulted
it, and do not understand that you have power by that statute to
tender me the oath, being here before you in this place, upon
this occasion, as a delinquent already; and therefore I desire
the judgment of the court in this case, and that the statute may
be read.
Judge. Then they took the statute-book, and consulted together
upon it, and one said, we are the judges of this land, and do
better understand our power than you do, and we do judge we may
lawfully do it.
J. C. Is this the judgment of the court?
Judge. Yes.
J. C. I desire the statute to be read that empowers you to tender
the oath to me upon this occasion in this place; for, _Vox audito
perit, sed litera scripta manet_,[24] therefore let me hear it
read.
[24] Words only spoken are lost; writing remains.
Judge. Hear me.
J. C. I am as willing to hear as to speak.
Judge. Then hear me: you are here required to take the oath
by the court, and I will inform you what the penalty will be,
in case you refuse; for your first denial shall be recorded,
and then it shall be tendered to you again at the end of the
sessions; and upon the second refusal you run into a premunire,
which is the forfeiture of all your estate, (if you have any,)
and imprisonment.
J. C. It is justice I stand for; let me have justice, in bringing
my accuser face to face, as by law you ought to do, I standing at
your bar as a delinquent; and when that is done, I will answer to
what can be charged against me, as also to the question; until
then, I shall give no other answer than I have already done, at
least at present.
Then there was a cry in the court, take him away, which
occasioned a great interruption: and J. Crook spake to this
purpose, saying, Mind the fear of the Lord God, that you may come
to the knowledge of his will, and do justice; and take heed of
oppressing the innocent, for the Lord God of heaven and earth
will assuredly plead their cause: and for my part, I desire
not the hurt of one of the hairs of your heads; but let God’s
wisdom guide you. These words he spake at the bar, and as he was
carrying away.
On the sixth day of the week, in the forenoon following, the court
being sat, John Crook was called to the bar.
C. Judge. Friend Crook, we have given you time to consider of
what was said yesterday to you by the court, hoping you may have
better considered of it by this time; therefore, without any more
words, will you take the oath? And called to the clerk, and bid
him read it.
J. C. I did not, neither do I deny allegiance, but do desire
to know the cause of my so long imprisonment; for, as I said,
I stand at your bar as a delinquent, and am brought hither by
force, contrary to the law; therefore, let me see my accuser,
or else free me by proclamation, as I ought to be, if none
can accuse me; for the law is grounded upon right reason, and
whatsoever is contrary to right reason, is contrary to law; and
therefore if no accuser appear, you ought to acquit me first, and
then I shall answer, as I have said, if any new matter appear;
otherwise it is of force, and that our law abhors, and you ought
not to take notice of my so being before you; for what is not
legally so, is not so; and therefore I am in the condition, as if
I were not before you: and therefore it cannot be supposed, in
right reason, that you have now power, at this time, and in this
place, legally to tender me the oath.
Judge. Read the oath to him; and so the clerk began to read.
J. C. I desire justice, according to the laws of England; for you
ought first to convict me, concerning the cause of my so long
imprisonment; for you are to proceed according to laws already
made, and not to make laws, for you ought to be ministers of the
law.
Judge. You are a saucy and an impudent fellow: will you tell us
what is law, or our duties? Then said he to the clerk, read on;
and when the clerk had done reading,
J. C. said, read the preface to the act; I say again, read the
title and preamble to the act; for titles to laws are _claves
legum_, as keys to open the law; for by their titles, laws are
understood and known, as men by their faces. Then the judges
would have interrupted me, but I said as followeth: if you will
not hear me, nor do me justice, I must appeal to the Lord God of
heaven and earth, who is judge of quick and dead; before whom
we must all appear, to give an account of the deeds done in the
body; for he will judge between you and me this day, whether you
have done me justice or not.
These words following, (or the like,) I spake as going from the
bar, being pulled away, viz. Mind the fear of the Lord God, that
you may do justice, lest you perish in his wrath. For sometimes
the court cried, pull him away, and then said, bring him again:
and thus they did several times, like men in confusion and
disorder.
The same day, in the afternoon, silence being made, John Crook,
was called to the bar, before the judges and justices aforesaid:
the indictment being read, the judge said,
Mr. Crook, You have heard your indictment, what say you? Are you
guilty or not guilty?
J. C. I desire to speak a few words in humility and soberness, in
regard my estate and liberty lies at stake, and am like to be a
precedent for many more; therefore I hope the court will not deny
me the right and benefit of the law, as being an Englishman. I
have some reason, before I speak any thing to the indictment, to
demand and tell you, that I desire to know mine accusers; I have
been kept these six weeks in prison, and know not, nor have seen
the faces of them.
Judge. We shall afford you the right of the law, as an
Englishman. God forbid you should be denied it; but you must
answer first, guilty, or not guilty, that so in your trial you
may have a fair hearing and pleading; but if you go on as you
do, (and will not answer guilty, or not guilty,) you will run
yourself into a premunire, and then you lose the benefit of the
law, and expose yourself, body and estate, to great hazards; and
whatever violence is offered to your person or estate, you are
out of the king’s protection, and lose the benefit of the law;
and all this by your not answering, (guilty, or not guilty.) If
you plead not guilty, you may be heard.
J. C. It is recorded in the statutes of the 28 Edw. 3. & 3.
and 42 Edw. 3. & 3. in the words, No man is to be taken, or
imprisoned, or be put to answer, without presentment before
justices, or matter of record, or by due process, or writ
original, according to the old law of the land; and if any thing
from henceforth be done to the contrary, it shall be void in law,
and holden for error. And also in the 25th of Edw. 1. 2. and the
3 Car. 1. and the 29 cap. Mag. Chart. No freeman shall be taken
and imprisoned but by the law of the land: these words, (the law
of the land,) are explained by the statute of 37 Edw. 3. 8. to
be, without due process of law; and if any judgments are given
contrary to Mag. Chart, they are void, 25 Edw. 1. 2.
Judge. Mr. Crook, you are out of the way, and do not understand
the law, though you adore the statute law so much, yet you do not
understand it.
J. C. I would have you tell me the right way.
Judge. Mr. Crook, hear me: you must say, guilty, or not guilty;
if you plead not guilty, you shall be heard, and know how far the
law favours you. And the next thing is, there is no circumstance
whatsoever that is the cause of your imprisonment, that you
question, but you have, as a subject, your remedies, if you will
go this way, and waive other things, and answer guilty, or not
guilty; and what the law affords you, you shall have, if you do
what the law requires you; or else you will lose the benefit of
the law, and be out of the king’s protection.
J. C. Observe how the judge would draw me into a snare, viz. By
first pleading, (guilty, or not guilty,) and when I have done so,
he and his brethren intend suddenly to put me, (as an outlawed
person,) out of the king’s protection; and how then can I have
remedy for my false imprisonment? Therefore first clear me, (or
condemn me,) from my false imprisonment, while I am in a capacity
to have the benefit of the law, and not to outlaw me for an
offence created by yourselves; and then, to stop my mouth, you
tell me, that if I have been wronged, or false imprisoned, I may
have my remedy afterwards: this is to trepan me, and contrary to
both law and justice, &c.
Judge. You must plead guilty, or not guilty.
J. C. I do desire in humility and meekness to say, I shall not;
I dare not betray the honesty of my cause, and the honest ones
of this nation, whose liberty I stand for, as well as my own;
as I have cause to think I shall, if I plead to the present
indictment, before I see the faces of my accusers; for truly, I
am not satisfied in my judgment and conscience, that I ought to
plead to a created offence by you, before I be first acquitted of
the cause of my being brought prisoner to your bar; and therefore
it sticks with me to urge this further, viz. That I may see my
accusers--Interruption.
Judge. The errantest thief may say, he is not satisfied in his
conscience.
J. C. My case is not theirs, yet they have their accusers; and
may not I call for mine? And therefore call for them, for you
ought to do so: as Christ said to the woman, Woman, where are
thine accusers? So you ought to say to me, Man, where are thine
accusers?--Interrupted.
Judge. Your indictment is your accuser, and the grand jury have
found you guilty, because you did not swear: what say you, Mr.
Crook, are you guilty, or not guilty? If you will not answer,
or what you have said, be taken for your answer, as I told you
before, you lose the benefit of the law; and what I tell you, is
for your good.
J. C. What is for good, I hope I shall take it so.
Judge. If you will not answer, you run yourself into a premunire;
and you will lose the benefit of the law, and the king’s
protection, unless you plead guilty, or not guilty.
J. C. I stand as brought forcibly and violently hither: neither
had I been here but by a violent action; and that you should take
no notice of it, seems strange to me; and not only so, but that
you should hasten me so fast into a course, that I should not be
able any ways to help myself, by reason of your hasty and fast
proceedings against me, to put me out of the king’s protection,
and the benefit of all law: was ever the like known, or heard of,
in a court of justice?
Judge. Friend, this is not here in question, whether you are
unjustly brought here, or not: do you question that by law, but
not disable yourself to take advantage by the law: if brought by
a wrong hand, you have a plea against them; but you must first
answer guilty, or not guilty.
J. C. How can I help myself when you have outlawed me? Therefore
let proclamation be made in the court, that I was brought by
force hither, and let me stand cleared by proclamation, as
you ought to do; for you are _discernere per legem, quid sit
justum_,[25] and not to do what seems good in your own eyes--here
I was interrupted again, but might have spoken justice Crook’s
words in Hampden’s case, who said, That we who are judges
speak upon our oaths, and therefore must deliver our judgments
according to our consciences; and the fault will lie upon us, if
it be illegal, and we deliver it for law: and further said, We
that are judges must not give our judgments according to policy,
or rules of state, nor conveniencies, but only according to
law. These were his words, which I might have spoken; but was
interrupted.
[25] To determine by law what is just.
Judge. What, though no man tendered the oath to you, when you
were committed, (as you say,) it being now tendered to you;
from the time you refused it, being tendered to you by a lawful
authority, you refusing, are indicted: we look not upon what you
are here for, but here finding you, we tender you the oath; and
you refusing it, your imprisonment is now just, and according to
law. (Something omitted which I spoke afterwards.)
J. C. How came I here, if you know not? I have told you it is
by force and violence, which our law altogether condemns; and
therefore I not being legally before you, am not before you;
for what is not legally so, is not so; and I not being legally
brought to your bar, you ought not to take notice of my being
here.
Judge. No, no, you are mistaken; so you may say of all the
people gazing here, they not being legally here, are not here:
I tell you, a man being brought by force hither, we may tender
him the oath; and if he take it not, he may be committed to
prison; authority hath given us the power, and the statute-law
hath given us authority to tender the oath to any person, and so
have we tendered it to you; and for your not taking it, you are
indicted by the grand jury: answer the accusation, or confute the
indictment; you must do the one or the other; answer, guilty, or
not guilty.
J. C. Here I was interrupted, but might have said, that the
people that were spectators, beholding and hearing the trials,
are not to be called gazers, as the judge terms them; because it
is their liberty and privilege, as they are Englishmen, and the
law of England allows the same; so that they are not to be termed
gazers upon this account, but are legally in that place, to hear
trials, and see justice done, and might have spoken, (if occasion
had been,) any thing in the prisoner’s defence, tending to clear
up the matter in difference, and the court must have heard them
or him: and this as a stander-by, or _amicus curiæ_;[26] so saith
Cook.
[26] A friend of the court.
J. C. The law is built upon right reason, or right reason is the
law; and whatever is contrary to right reason, is contrary to
law; the reason of the law, being the law itself. I am no lawyer,
and my knowledge of it is but little, yet I have had a love to it
for that reason I have found in it, and have spent some leisure
hours in the reading thereof; and the law is that which I honour,
and is good in its place; many laws being just and good, not all,
but, I say, a great part of them, or much of them; and it is not
my intention in the least to disparage, or derogate from them.
Judge. Mr. Crook, you have been told, you must plead guilty or
not guilty, or else you run yourself into a premunire; be not
your own enemy, nor be so obstinate.
J. C. I would not stand obstinately before you, neither am I so;
if you understand it otherwise, it is a mistake indeed.
Judge. Will you speak to the indictment, and then you may plead?
If you will not answer guilty, or not guilty, we will record it,
and judgment shall go against you. Clerk, enter it.
Recorder. Mr. Crook, if you will answer, you may plead for
yourself: or will you take the oath? The court takes no notice
how you came hither; what say you? Will you answer? For a man may
be brought out of Smithfield by head and shoulders, and the oath
tendered to him, and may be committed, without taking notice how
he came here.
J. C. That kind of proceeding is not only unjust, but
unreasonable also--(here was some interruption,) and against the
laws aforesaid, which say, No man shall be taken or imprisoned
but by warrant, or due process of law: so that this speech of the
recorder’s, savours more of passion than justice; and cruelty,
than due observance of law; for every forcible restraint of a
man’s liberty, is an imprisonment in law. Besides, this kind of
practice, to take men by force, and imprison them, and then ask
them questions, the answering of which makes them guilty, is not
only unrighteous in itself, but against law, and makes one evil
act the ground of another; and one injury offered to one, the
foundation of another; and this is my case this day--Interruption.
Judge. Mr. Crook you must not be your own judge, we are your
judges; but for our parts we will not wrong you: will you answer,
guilty or not guilty? If not, you will run yourself into a
premunire unavoidably, and then you know what I told you would
follow; for we take no notice how you came hither, but finding
you here, we tender you the oath.
J. C. Then it seems you make the law a trepan to ensnare me, or
as a nose-of-wax, or what you please: well, I shall leave my
cause with the Lord God, who will plead for me in righteousness.
But suppose I do take the oath (now,) at this time, you may call
me again, (to-morrow,) and make a new tender; or others may call
me before them.
Judge. Yes, if there be new matter; or if there fall out any
emergent occasion whereby you may minister on your part new
occasion: Mr. Crook, will you swear?
J. C. If I do take it to-day, it may be tendered me again
to-morrow, and so next day, _ad infinitum_, whereby a great part
of my time may be spent and taken up, in taking the oath and
swearing.
Ch. Judge. When you have (once) sworn, you may not be put upon it
again, except you minister occasion on your part.
J. C. Is this the judgment of the court, that the oath (once)
taken by me is sufficient, and ought not to be tendered a second
time, without new matter ministered on my part?
Judge. Yes; you making it appear you have (once) taken it.
J. C. Is this the judgment of the whole court? For I would not do
any thing rashly.
Judges. Yes, it is the judgment of the court; to which they all
standing up, said, Yes.
J. C. Then it seems there must be some new occasion ministered by
me after I have (once) taken it, or it ought not to be tendered
to me the second time.
Judges. Yes.
J. C. Then by the judgment of this court, if I may make it appear
that I have taken the oath (once) and I have ministered no new
matter on my part, whereby I can be justly charged with the
breach of it, then it ought not to be tendered to me the second
time: but I am the man that have taken (once) being a freeman of
the city of London, when I was made free; witness the records
in Guildhall, which I may produce, and no new matter appearing
to you on my part; if there do, let me know it; if not, you
ought not, by your own judgment, to tender me it the second
time; for _de non apparentibus et non existentibus eadem ratio
est_.[27]--Interrupted by the shout of the court, when these last
words might have been spoken.
[27] That which doth not appear, is to be judged of as that
which doth not exist.
Judge. Mr. Crook, you are mistaken, you must not think to
surprise the court with criticisms, nor draw false conclusions
from our judgments.
J. C. If this be not a natural conclusion from the judgment of
the court, let right reason judge; and if you recede from your
own judgments in the same breath, (as it were,) given even now,
what justice can I expect from you? For, if you will not be just
to yourselves, and your own judgments, how can I expect you
should be just to me?
Judge. Mr. Crook, if you have taken it, if there be a new
emergency, you are to take it again; as for instance, the king
hath been out of England, and now is come in again; there be many
that have taken it twenty, thirty, or forty years since, yet this
new emergency requires it again; and although you have taken it,
yet you must not make it appear before you answer guilty, or not
guilty; therefore do not wrong yourself, and prejudice yourself
and family: do you think that every fellow that comes hither,
shall argue as you do? We have no more to do, but to know of you,
whether you will answer (guilty, or not guilty,) or take the
oath, and then you shall be freed from the indictment: if you
will not plead, clerk, record it: What say you? Are you guilty,
or not guilty?
J. C. Will you not stand to your own judgments? Did you not say,
even now, that if I had (once) taken the oath, it ought not to
be tendered to me the second time, except I administered new
matter on my part that I have not kept it, &c. But no such matter
appearing, you ought not to tender it to me the second time, by
your own confession, much less to indict me for refusal.
Judge. If you will not plead, we will record it, and judgment
shall be given against you; therefore say, guilty, or not guilty,
or else we will record it. (The clerk beginning to record it.)
J. C. Before I answer, I demand a copy of my indictment; for I
have heard it affirmed by counsel learned in the law, that if
I plead before I have a copy, or have made my exceptions, my
exceptions afterwards against the indictment will be made void:
therefore I desire a copy of the indictment.
Judge. He that said so, deserves not the name of a counsel; for
the law is, you must first answer, and then you shall have a
copy. Will you plead guilty or not guilty?
J. C. If my pleading guilty, or not guilty, will not deprive me
of the benefit of quashing the indictment for insufficiency, or
other exceptions that I may make against it, I shall speak to it.
Judge. No, it will not. Will you answer, guilty, or not guilty.
If you plead not, the indictment will be found against you: will
you answer? We will stay no longer.
J. C. I am upon the point: will not my pleading deprive me of the
benefit of the law? For I am tender in that respect, because it
is not my own case only, but may be the case of thousands more;
therefore I would do nothing that might prejudice others, or
myself, as a Christian, or as an Englishman.
Judge. Understand yourself, (but we will not make a bargain with
you, said another judge,) you shall have the right done you as
an Englishman, the way is to answer, guilty or not guilty: if
you plead, and find the indictment not good, you may have your
remedy; answer, guilty or not guilty?
J. C. As to the indictment it is very large, and seems to be
confused, and made of some things true, and some things false; my
answer therefore is, what is true in the indictment I will not
deny, because I make conscience of what I say, and therefore, of
what is true, I confess myself guilty, but what is false, I am
not guilty of.
Judge. That is not sufficient, either answer guilty, or not
guilty, or judgment will be given against you.
J. C. I will speak the truth, as before the Lord, as all along I
have endeavoured to do: I am not guilty of that which is false,
contained in the indictment, which is the substance thereof.
Judge. No more ado; the form is nothing, guilty, or not?
J. C. I must not wrong my conscience, I am not guilty of what
is false, as I said before; what is true, I am guilty of; what
is not true, I am not guilty of that; which is the substance
thereof, as I said before.
Recorder. It is enough, and shall serve turn. Enter that, clerk.
* * * * *
The seventh day of the week, called Saturday.
Silence being made, John Crook was called to the bar. The clerk of the
sessions read something concerning the jury, which was impanneled on
purpose, (as we said,) the jury being discharged who were eye-witnesses
of what passed between us and the court: and this jury, were divers of
them soldiers, some of whom did by violence and force pull and haul
Friends out of their meetings, and some of us out of our houses; and
these were of the jury by whom we were to be tried. The clerk reading
the indictment, (as I remember.)
J. C. I desire to be heard a few words, which are these, that
we may have liberty till the next quarter sessions to traverse
the indictment, it being long and in Latin, and like to be a
precedent: and I hope I need not press it; because I understood
that you promised, (and especially the recorder, who answered,
when it was desired, you shall,) that we should have counsel
also, the which we cannot be expected to have had the benefit
of as yet, the time being so short, and we kept prisoners, that
we could not go forth to advise with counsel, neither could we
tell how to get them to us; we having no copy of the indictment
before this morning; and because so suddenly hurried down to the
sessions, we cannot reasonably be supposed to be provided, (as to
matter of law,) to make our defence.
Judge. We have given you time enough, and you shall have no more;
for we will try you at this time, therefore swear the jury.
J. C. I desire we may have justice, and that we may not be
surprised in our trial, but that we may have time till the next
quarter sessions, our indictment being in Latin, and so large
as it is; and this is but that which is reasonable, and is the
practice of other courts: for, if it be but an action above
forty shillings, it is not ordinarily ended under two or three
terms. And in the quarter sessions, if one be indicted for a
trespass, if it be but to the value of five shillings, he shall
have liberty to enter his traverse, and upon security given to
prosecute, he shall have liberty till the next sessions, which
is the ordinary practice: which liberty we desire, and we hope
it is so reasonable, it will not be denied, especially upon
this occasion, we being like to be made a precedent: and courts
of justice have used to be especially careful in making of
precedents; for we are not provided, according to law, to make
our defence at this time; and therefore if we be put upon it, it
will be a surprisal.
Judge. There is no great matter of law in the case; it is only
matter of fact, whether you have refused to take the oath or not;
this is the point in issue: and what law can arise here?
Recorder. Mr. Crook, the keeper of the prison was spoken to, to
tell you, that we intended to try you this day, and therefore
ordered him that counsel might come to you if you would; and also
that the clerk should give you a copy of the indictment: this is
fair; therefore we will go on to swear the jury, for the matter
is, whether you refuse the oath, or not? And that is the single
point, and there needs neither law nor counsel in the case; and
therefore we considered of it last night, when we sent you word,
and did determine to try you; and therefore it is in vain to say
any thing, for the court is resolved to try you now; therefore
swear the jury, cryer.
J. C. I hope you will not surprise us: then the other prisoners,
(who also were indicted,) cried out, (having spoken something
before,) let us have justice, and let not the jury be sworn till
we be first heard. So there was a great noise, the court being in
a confusion, some crying, Take them away; others, Stay, let them
alone; others saying, Go on to swear the jury; and the cryer, in
this uproar and confusion, did do something as if he had done
it: then we all cried out for justice and liberty till the next
sessions; the court being in a confusion, some crying one thing,
and some another, which now cannot be called to mind, by reason
of the great distraction that was in the court; neither what we
said to them, nor they to us, the noise was so great, and the
commands of the court so various to the officers, some commanding
them to take us away; others, to let us alone; others, to bring
us nearer; others cried, put them into the bail-dock; others, to
put them within the furthest bar where the felons use to stand;
which we were forced into accordingly. And in this hurlyburly and
confusion that was amongst them, some men were sworn, to testify
that we refused to take the oath, which we never positively did;
other officers of the court, whom they would have sworn, refused
to swear, though pressed to it by the chief justice, they desired
to be excused. Then spake one of the prisoners again pretty much,
but could hardly be understood, by reason of the noise in the
court: but the people, to whom he spake with a loud voice, by way
of exhortation, might hear the substance of what he said, which
cannot now particularly be called to mind; but it was to express
the presence and love of God to himself, and to exhort others to
mind his fear, that they also might be acquainted with God, &c.
Judge. Stop his mouth, executioner. Which was accordingly done.
Prisoners. Then we cried out, will you not give us leave to speak
for ourselves? We except against some of the jury, as being our
enemies, and some of them who by force commanded us to be pulled
out of our meetings, contrary to law, and carried us to prison
without warrant, or other due process of law; and shall these be
our judges? We except against them.
Judge. It is too late now, you should have done it before they
had been sworn jurymen. Jury, go together, that which you have to
find, is whether they have refused to take the oath, or no, which
hath been sworn before you that they did refuse: you need not go
from the bar. And like words said the recorder and others, there
being a confusion and noise in the court, many speaking together.
Prisoners. Then we cried for justice, and that we might be heard,
to make our defence, before the jury gave their verdict; but the
judge and recorder said, we should not be heard, (making good by
their practice, what the chief judge had said the day before,
viz. That if we had liberty to speak, we would make ourselves
famous and them odious,) crying again stop their mouths,
executioner; which was done accordingly, with a dirty cloth,
and also endeavoured to have gagged me, striving to get hold of
my tongue, having a gag ready in his hand for that purpose; and
so we were served several times. Then I called out with a loud
voice, Will you condemn us without hearing? This is to deal worse
with us, than Pilate did with Christ, who, though he condemned
him without a cause, yet not without hearing him speak for
himself; but you deny us both.
Judge. Let Mr. Gray come to the bar. Room being made, he was
conveyed to an officer in the inner bar, where he spake to the
court to this purpose: I desire to know whether, according
to law, and the practice of this court, myself and my fellow
prisoners, may have liberty to put in bail, to prosecute our
traverse at the next sessions?
Court. No, we will try you presently.
Judge. Stop their mouths, executioner: and this was the cry of
many upon the bench, they being still in a continued confusion;
some crying to the jury, Give in your verdict, for we will not
hear them; with other words which could not be heard for the
noise, the court being in confusion.
J. C. You might as well have caused us to have been murdered
before we came hither, as to bring us hither under pretence to
try us, and not give us leave to make our defence; you had as
good take away our lives at the bar, as to command us thus to be
abused, and to have our mouths stopped: was ever the like known?
Let the righteous God judge between us. Will you hear me? You
have often promised that you would.
Judge. Hear me, and we will hear you: then he began to speak, and
some others of the bench interrupted him: sometimes they speaking
two or three at a time, and a noise amongst the officers of the
court: but the judge said, We may give you liberty till the next
sessions, but we may choose; and therefore we will try you now.
J. C. I bade the people take notice of their promise, that I
should have liberty to speak, saying, See now you be as good as
your words.
Judge. The law of England is not only just, but merciful; and
therefore you shall not be surprised, but shall have what justice
the law allows--Interruption.
J. C. I remember what the judge said even now, that the law of
England was a merciful law; that the court had said before, they
might if they would, give us liberty till the next sessions, but
they would not; and the maxim of the law also is, _Summum jus
est summa injuria_;[28] therefore I hope your practice will make
it good, that it is a merciful law; and not to execute _summum
jus_, &c. upon me, and thereby condemn yourselves out of your own
mouths.
[28] The extreme of the law is extreme injustice.
Judge. Jury, give in your verdict.
J. C. Let me have liberty first to speak, it is but few words,
and I hope I shall do it with what brevity and pertinency my
understanding will give me leave, and the occasion requires;
it is to the point in these two heads, viz. Matter of law, and
matter of conscience: to matter of law I have this to say, First,
as to the statute itself, it was made against the Papists,
occasioned by the gunpowder plot, and is entitled, for the better
discovery and suppressing of Popish Recusants: but they have
liberty, and we are destroyed, what in you lies--(Interrupted
by the judges and disturbance of the court.) As to conscience,
I have something to say, and that is, it is a tender thing, and
we have known what it is to offend it; and therefore we dare
not break Christ’s commands, who hath said, Swear not at all;
and the apostle James said, Above all things my brethren swear
not.--(Interrupted.) The court calling again to the executioner
to stop my mouth; which he did accordingly, with his dirty cloth,
as aforesaid, and his gag in his hand.
Judge. Hear the jury; who said something to him, which was
supposed to give in the verdict, according to his order; for they
were fit for his purpose, as it seems, they beginning to lay
their heads together, before we had spoke any thing to them, only
upon his words.
Judge. Cryer, make silence in the court: then the recorder,
taking a paper into his hand, read to this purport, viz. The jury
for the king do find, that John Crook, John Bolton, and Isaac
Gray, are guilty of refusing to take the oath of allegiance;
for which you do incur a premunire, which is the forfeiture of
all your real estates during life, and your personal estates
for ever; and you to be out of the king’s protection, and to be
imprisoned during his pleasure: and this is your sentence.
J. C. But we are still under God’s protection.
Then the prisoners were remanded to Newgate, where J. Crook found
opportunity to make a narrative of the whole trial, which was printed
as aforesaid, together with the Latin indictment, in which he showed
several errors, either by wrong expressions, or by omissions. Thus the
injustice of these arbitrary proceedings were exposed to public view,
when this trial appeared in print; that the king himself might see
thereby, how ill his subjects were treated. But at that time there were
so many among the great ones and bishops, who were inclined to promote
the extirpation of the Quakers, that there seemed no human help. J.
Crook showed also circumstantially, how in many cases of trial, they
had acted against law; for he himself having formerly been a justice,
knew well enough how, and after what manner, justice ought to be
administered and maintained. How long he continued prisoner, I cannot
tell. But by this trial alone the reader may see, how the Quakers, so
called, were treated in regard of the oath; and such kind of proceeding
was the lot of many of them, because the intent of those in authority
seemed to be to suppress them quite.
Now follows, (to continue J. Crook’s words,) a copy of the
indictment, with some notes and observations on the same;
whereby it may appear, how false it is, and how easily it might
have been quashed for insufficiency, had we been allowed time,
(which by law they ought to have granted,) and been suffered
to have made our own defence; but that they would not do, but
stopped our mouths, as before is said, by the hands of the
executioner, to prevent what otherwise, (as the judge said,)
might have come to pass, viz. having liberty to make our
defence, by that means we should make ourselves famous, and
them odious.
London session. _Jur. pro dno. rege super sacra. suu. presentant
qd. ad general. quarterial. session. pacis d’ni. regis tent. pro
civitat._ London. _apud Guihald. ejusdem civitat. die Mercurij
scilt. vicesimo quinto die Junij anno regni d’ni. n’ri. Caroli
sc’di Dei gra. Angliæ, Scot’ Franc, & Hiberniæ Regis Fidei
defensor. &c. quarto decimo, coram_ Joh. Frederick _milite,
majore civitat._ London. Thoma Adams _milite & baronet_, Rico’
Brown _milite & baronet, &_ Thoma Aleyn _milite & baronet,
aldr’is d’ce civitat. ac al. socii, suis justic. d’ci. d’ni
regis ad pacem in civitat. præd. conservand. Necnon ad diver’s
felon. transgr. & al. malef’ca infra eandem civitat. perpetrat.
audiend. & terminand. assign. sessio. ista pacis adjornat. fuit.
per præfat. Justic. dc’i d’ni regis ib’m usq; diem Jovis scilt.
vicesim. sext. diem ejusdem mensis Junij anno supradicto ad
horam septimam ante merid. ejusdem diei apud justicehall in le_
Old Bailey _in paroch. sci. Sepulchri in warda de_ Farringdon
_extra_ London. _præd. tenend. coram præfat justic. & al. sociis
suis. ad faciend. ulterius prout. cur. con. &c. Ac ad eundem diem
Jovis. vicesimum sextum diem Junii anno quarto decimo supradicto
general. quarterial. sessio ista pacis tent. fuit pro civitat._
London. _præd. per adjornament. præd. aput justicehall præd.
in paroch & ward. præd. coram præfat._ Johe Frederick _milite,
majore civitat._ London. Thoma Adams _milite & baronet_, Ricardo
Brown _milite & baronet_, & Thoma Aleyn _milite & baronet.
aldr’is d’ce civitat ac_ Willo’ Wilde _milite & baronet, uno
scrivien. dci. d’ni regis ad legem ac recordator. civitat.
præd. ac. al. sociis suis justic. d’ci d’ni regis ad pacem in
civitat. præd. conservand. Necnon ad divers. felon. transgr.
& al malefaca. infra. eandem civitat. perpetrat. audiend. &
terminand. assign. Ac ad tunc & ibm. præd. general. quarterial.
sessio pacis præd. ulterius adjornat. fuit per præfat. justic.
usque diem veneris, scilt. vicesim septem. diem. dci. mensis
Junii, anno quarto decimo supradicto, ad horam septimam ante
merid. ejusdem diei apud justicehall præd. in parochia & warda
præd. tenend. coram præft. justic. & al sociis suis ad faciend.
ulterius. prout cur. con. Ac superinde ad istam eandem general.
quarterial. session. pacis tent. pro civitat. London. per
adjornament. præd. apud justicehall præd. in paroch. & warda
præd. dco. die veneris vicesimo septimo die Junii, anno quarto
decimo supradicto coram præfat._ Johe Frederick _milite, majore
civitat._ London.’ Thoma Adams _milite & baronet_, Rico’ Brown
_milite & baronet_, Rico’ Chiverton _armigero,[29] &_ Thoma
Aleyn _milite & baronet, aldr’is d’ce civitat. ac._ Willo’ Wilde
_milite & baronet. uno scriven. d’ci. d’ni regis ad legem ac
recordator. ejusdem civitat. ac al sociis suis justic. d’ci d’ni
regis ad pacem in civitat. præd. conservand. Necnon ad divers.
felon. transgr. & al. malef’ca infra eand. civitat. perpetrat.
audiend. & terminand, assign. in aperta general. quarterial.
session. præd præfat. justiciar. pacis ult no’iat. existentes
major pars justic. pacis ipsius d’ni regis infra d’cam civitat._
London’ _ad tunc scilt. d’co. vicesimo. septimo die Junii anno
quarto decimo suprad’co. apud d’cam paroch. sci_ Sepulchri _in
warda de_ Farringdon _extra._ London. _præd. presen. existend.
obtuler._ (_Anglice did tender_) Johi Crook _nuper de_ London.
_aurifabro, &_ Isaac Gray _nuper de_ London. _generoso & eor.
cuilibt separatim per se, (ad tunc existen. et cuilbt. eor.
existen. ultra ætat. octodecim annor.)[30] Jurament. content.
in quodam Actu in Parliament. D’ni_ Jacobi _nuper regis_ Angliæ
_tent. per. prorogationem[31] apud_ Westm. _in com._ Middles.
_quinto die_ Novembris _Anno Regni sui_ Angliæ Franc. _et_
Hiberniæ _tertio, et_ Scotiæ _tricesimo nono nuper edit. et
provis in his Anglicanis verbis sequen._ viz. I[32] do truly
and sincerely acknowledge, profess, testify, and declare, in my
conscience, before God and the world, that our sovereign lord
King Charles the Second[33] is lawful and rightful king of this
realm, and of all other his majesty’s dominions and countries:
and that the pope, neither of himself, nor by any authority of
the church, or see of Rome, or by any other means with any other,
hath any power or authority to depose the king, or to dispose of
any of his majesty’s kingdoms or dominions, or to authorize any
foreign prince to invade or annoy him or his countries, or to
discharge any of his subjects of their allegiance and obedience
to his majesty, or to give license or leave to any of them to
bear arms, raise tumults, or to offer any violence or hurt to
his majesty’s royal person, state or government, or to any of
his majesty’s subjects, within his majesty’s dominions. Also, I
do swear from my heart, that notwithstanding any declaration, or
sentence of excommunication, or deprivation, made or granted,
or to be made or granted by the pope, or his successors, or by
any authority derived, or pretended to be derived from him or
his see, against the said king, his heirs or successors, or any
absolution of the said subjects from their obedience; I will
bear faith and true allegiance to his majesty, his heirs and
successors, and him and them will defend to the uttermost of my
power, against all conspiracies and attempts whatsoever, which
shall be made against his or their persons, their crown and
dignity, by reason or colour of any such sentence or declaration,
otherwise; and will do my best endeavours to disclose and make
known unto his majesty, his heirs, and successors, all treasons
and traiterous conspiracies, which I shall know or hear of, to
be against him or any of them. And I do further swear, that
I do from my heart abhor, detest, and abjure, as impious and
heretical, this damnable doctrine and position, that princes
which be excommunicated or deprived by the pope, may be deposed
or murdered by their subjects, or any other whatsoever. And I
do believe, and in my[34] conscience am resolved, that neither
the pope, nor any person whatsoever, hath power to absolve me
of this oath, or any part thereof, which I acknowledge by good
and full authority to be lawfully ministered unto me, and do
renounce all pardons and dispensations to the contrary. And all
these things I do plainly and sincerely acknowledge and swear
according to these express words by me spoken, and according
to the plain and common sense and understanding of the same
words, without any equivocation, or mental evasion, or secret
reservation whatsoever. And I do make this recognition and
acknowledgment heartily, willingly, and truly, upon the true
faith of a Christian. So help me God. _Ac ad prefat. justic.
pacis ult. no’iat[35] ad tunc[36] scilt. d’co. vicesimo septimo
die Junii anno quarto decimo superadicto apud paroch. et ward.
præd. in d’ca[37] quarterial session. pacis præd. eosdem_ Joh’em
Crooke, Joh’em Bolton, _et_ Isaacum Gray, _et eor. quemlibt.
separatum per se requisiver. ad jurament. illud super. sacrosco.
Dei Evangel. capiend. quodq.; iidem,_ Johes Crooke, Johes Bolton,
_et_ Isaacus Gray, _jurament. præd. sic per pr. noi’at justic.
pacis ejusdem_ Johi Crooke, Johi Bolton, _et_ Isaaco Gray, _ut
præfectur oblat. et requisit. ad tunc et ibm. obstinate et
pertinaciter cape. recusaver. et quilibt. eor. recusavit.[38] In
malum exemplum omniu. alior. dcti. d’ni regis nunc fidel. subdit.
Et in contempt. d’ici. d’ni. regis nunc legumq; suar. contra
formam statut. præd. Ac contra pacem d’ci. d’ni regis nunc coron.
et dignitat. suas, &c._
WILD.
[29] This is error, for R. C. _arm._ was not before named.
[30] This is error, because, it is not said, ‘_Et subditi
d’ni regis_.’
[31] This should be _prorogationes_, for there was a double
prorogation.
[32] This is error, because it wants A. B.
[33] It ought to be with some expression of ‘_mutatis
mutandis_,’ of the name of King Charles the Second, instead
of King James, who is only named in the act. This is error,
it is not agreeable to the statute; for that saith only King
James: and certainly the statute intended no otherwise; for
it is said, For the trial of his majesty’s subjects, how they
stand affected, &c. and not the subjects of his majesty’s
heirs and successors.
[34] (My) not in the statute.
[35] _Ad pacem conservand. nec non, &c._ left out.
[36] _Et ibidem_, is left out.
[37] _Generalis_, left out.
[38] _Contra debitam quoadlibet eor. Legeanciam_, ought here
to be inserted; for if he be not a natural subject, the oath
is not to be tendered to him. Immediately after the tender to
J. C. J. B. and J. G. though they be termed, _sub ditos dci:
end: Re._
Any Englishman that understands Latin, may, notwithstanding the
abbreviations, indifferently understand this indictment; but a
foreigner not understanding English, though a scholar, will be at a
loss in many places; yet to complete my work, I thought it convenient
not to omit such an authentic piece.
Memorand. That in the writ of Oyer and Terminer, Pacsche 9 Hen. 8. upon
the insurrection in London, it was resolved clearly by all the justices
of England, that the justices of Oyer and Terminer cannot inquire one
day, and the same day determine; no more can the justices of the peace,
&c. But the justices of jail delivery, and justices in Eyre, may well
do it; El. 8. Keyleway’s Rep. f. 159. b. pl. 2. But they do not call
themselves so in the indictment.
If one in his absence be found guilty of an offence, whereby he incurs
a premunire, he hath two months time allowed him after he is outlawed,
to be heard, 27 Ed. 3 1 cap. Coke upon Littleton, sect. 201. fo.
134. b. saith, That the ancient law was, upon trials for felony, &c.
the defendant had fifteen days time, or more, (if he prayed it,) to
consider of his answer.
With this agrees Britton, fo’ 10. b.
_Fortescue in libro de laudib. legum Angliæ._
Mirror of Justice, cap. 4. sect. 7.
The statute of 28 Edw. 1. 9. provides that inquests shall be of the
next neighbours, most sufficient, and least suspicious, upon penalty of
double damages.
25 Edw. 3. cap. 3. No indictor be upon the inquests for felony nor
trespass, if challenged.
34 Edw. 3. 4. Juries to be of the next people, not to be suspected or
procured. With this agrees Regist. fo. 178.
11 Hen. 4. 9. That if any indictment be made, but by inquest returned
by the sheriff, (without denomination to him of their names,) by any
but his sworn officer, it shall be void.
* * * * *
By these and the like treatments, we see how the persecutors
endeavoured to root out the Quakers, if possible; for the effecting
of which, alderman Richard Brown did whatever he could, continually
letting loose the reins to his exorbitant malice, without regarding
whether that which he was bent against, was really punishable, or not,
whereof the following instance may serve for an evidence.
A certain mender of old shoes, who belonged to the society of the
Quakers, was desired by a labouring man, on a Seventh day of the week,
late at night, to mend a pair of shoes for him, that he might have them
again in the morning, because he had no other to wear. The cobler,
to accommodate the man, set up at work till after midnight; but the
shoes not being finished then, he went to bed, and rising early in
the morning, went to his work again as privately as he could in his
chamber; but an envious neighbour informed against him for working on
a Sunday; whereupon he was had before the said R. Brown, who committed
him to Bridewell, to be there kept to hard labour. And he refusing to
beat hemp, as being fully persuaded that he had not deserved such a
punishment, was cruelly whipt, but he bore it with great constancy, and
not yielding, he was turned up among those of his society, who were
imprisoned there on a religious account.
As this case, which befel an honest man, was to be pitied, so there
happened about that time, something among the Quakers at London,
which was facetious and ridiculous: for several of them being taken
out of their religious meetings, were confined in Newgate, where in
the night they lodged in a large room, having in the middle of it a
great pillar, to which they fastened their hammocks at the one end,
and to the opposite wall on the other, quite round the room, in three
stories high, one over another; so that they who lay in the upper and
middle rows were fain to go to bed first, being obliged to climb up
to the higher, by getting into the lower: and under the lower rank of
hammocks, by the wall side, were laid beds, upon the floor. Such a
multitude of bedding for so many persons in one room, could not but
somewhat infect the air, and cause an unhealthy steam: so that some of
the prisoners grew sick, and one of them died. This caused some bustle,
and it was not without good reason that an ancient grave citizen,
having seen the prisoners thus crowded up, said, This is enough to
breed an infection among them. And this having been told by Sir
William Turner, one of the sheriffs of London, he came into Newgate,
and bidding the turnkey bring down the said prisoners to him in the
press-yard, were he was, he ordered they should return to Bridewell,
where they had been before.
Now among these was a shabby fellow, who, to get victuals without
working, had thrust himself among the Quakers, when they were taken
at a meeting, on purpose to be sent to prison, and to be maintained
by them. This lazy varlet was no small burden to our prisoners; for
whenever any victuals were brought in to them, either for their money,
or sent to them by their friends, he did not stick to thrust in with
his knife in hand, and make himself his own carver; and such was his
impudence, that if he saw the provision was short, he would be sure
to take enough, though others wanted. But how burdensome soever this
lazy drone was to the prisoners, they could get no relief; for to
whom should they complain? Since the keepers, as well as others, were
for vexing and oppressing them. But now at length an opportunity was
come to be rid of his troublesome company. Among the prisoners was
Thomas Ellwood, a man of literature, and of an acute wit, with whom,
long after, I entered into a familiar and pleasing correspondence by
letters. The said Ellwood, when he had heard that they were to be sent
to Bridewell, drew near to the sheriff, and pointing to the aforesaid
fellow, said, That man is not only none of our company, but an idle
dissolute fellow, who hath thrust himself among our friends, that he
might live upon them; therefore I desire we may not be troubled with
him at Bridewell. The sheriff smiling, and seeing this fellow standing
with his hat on, and looking as demurely as he could, that the sheriff
might take him for a Quaker, called him forth, and said to him, ‘How
came you to be in prison?’ ‘I was taken at a meeting,’ said he. ‘But
what business had you there,’ said the sheriff. ‘I went to hear,’
returned the fellow. ‘Ay, you went upon a worse design, it seems,’
replied the sheriff; ‘but I will disappoint you,’ continued he; ‘for I
will change your company, and send you to them that are like yourself.’
Then calling for the turnkey, he said, ‘Take this fellow, and put him
among the felons; and be sure let him not trouble the Quakers any
more.’ The fellow, not a little astonished at the hearing of this
doom, on a sudden parted with his Quakership; for off went his hat,
and falling to bowing and scraping, he said to the sheriff, ‘Good your
worship have pity upon me, and set me at liberty.’ ‘No, no,’ said the
sheriff, ‘I will not so far disappoint you: since you had a mind to be
in prison, in prison you shall be for me.’ Then bidding the turnkey
once more to take him away, he had him up, and put him among the
felons. After this manner this pretended Quaker was rewarded according
to his deeds; and so the true Quakers got rid of him.
Breaking off now this jocose and diverting, though true, narrative, I
return to a serious relation of the sufferings of the faithful, which
caused the death of some of them; among these was Richard Hubberthorn,
who some time before, as hath been related, had a conference with the
king; who then promised him, that he and his friends should not suffer
for their opinions or religion. But now he was in the month called
June, violently hauled from the meeting, bearing the name of the Bull
and Mouth, and brought before alderman Richard Brown, who with his
own hands pulled down his hat upon his head with such violence, that
he brought his head near to the ground, and then committed him to
Newgate, where being thronged among others, he soon grew sick; and his
sickness so increased, that he had hardly been two months in prison,
before he was taken away by death. Two days before his departure, being
visited by some of his friends, who asked him if any thing was upon
his spirit, he said, that there was no need to dispute matters, for he
knew the ground of his salvation, and was satisfied for ever in his
peace with the Lord. He also said, ‘That faith which hath wrought my
salvation, I well know, and have grounded satisfaction in it.’ In the
morning before he deceased, one Sarah Blackberry was with him, to whom
he said, ‘Do not seek to hold me, for it is too strait for me, and out
of this straitness I must go; for I am wound into largeness, and am to
be lifted up on high, far above all.’ In this frame of mind he departed
this life, in the evening, and so entered with happiness into eternity.
Now I come also to the glorious exit of E. Burrough, that valiant hero,
of whom mention hath often been made in this history. For several
years he had been very much in London, and there preached the gospel
with piercing and powerful declarations. And that city was so near to
him, that oftentimes, when persecution grew hot, he said to Francis
Howgill, his bosom friend, ‘I can freely go to the city of London, and
lay down my life for a testimony to that Truth, which I have declared
through the power and Spirit of God.’ Being in this year at Bristol,
and thereabouts, and moved to return to London, he said to many of
his friends, when he took his leave of them, that he did not know he
should see their faces any more; and therefore he exhorted them to
faithfulness and steadfastness, in that wherein they had found rest for
their souls. And to some he said, ‘I am now going up to the city of
London again, to lay down my life for the gospel, and suffer amongst
Friends in that place.’
Not long after, coming to London, and preaching in the meeting-house
called the Bull and Mouth, he was violently pulled down by some
soldiers, and had before alderman Richard Brown, and committed to
Newgate. Several weeks afterwards, being brought to the sessions-house
in the Old Bailey, he was fined by the court twenty marks, and to lie
in prison till payment. But judging this unreasonable in a high degree,
he could not bend thereto for conscience-sake. He was kept there in
prison about eight months, with six or seven score prisoners beside,
upon the same account. But they being so crowded, that for want of room
their natures were suffocated, many grew sick and died, of which number
he was one. And though a special order from the king, was sent to the
sheriffs of London, for his and some other prisoners’ release, yet such
was the enmity of some of the city magistrates, especially Brown, that
they did what was in their power to prevent the execution of the said
order. And thus E. Burrough continued prisoner, though his sickness
increased. During the time of his weakness, he was very fervent in
prayer, as well for his friends as for himself; and many consolatory
and glorious expressions proceeded from his mouth. Once he was heard
to say, ‘I have had the testimony of the Lord’s love unto me from my
youth: and my heart, O Lord, hath been given up to do thy will. I have
preached the gospel freely in this city, and have often given up my
life for the gospel’s sake; and now, O Lord, rip open my heart, and
see if it be not right before thee.’ Another time he said, ‘There is no
iniquity lies at my door; but the presence of the Lord is with me, and
his life I feel justifies me.’ Another day he was thus heard in prayer
to God, ‘Thou hast loved me when I was in the womb; and I have loved
thee from my cradle: and from my youth unto this day; and have served
thee faithfully in my generation.’ And to his friends that were about
him, he said, ‘Live in love and peace, and love one another.’ And at
another time he said, “The Lord taketh the righteous from the evil to
come.” And praying for his enemies and persecutors, he said, ‘Lord,
forgive Richard Brown, if he may be forgiven.’ And being sensible that
death was approaching, he said, ‘Though this body of clay must turn to
dust, yet I have a testimony that I have served God in my generation;
and that spirit which hath lived and acted, and ruled in me, shall
yet break forth in thousands.’ The morning before he departed this
life, (which was about the latter end of this year,) he said, ‘Now my
soul and spirit is centred into its own being with God; and this form
of person must return from whence it was taken.’ And after a little
season he gave up the ghost. This was the exit of E. Burrough, who, in
his flourishing years, viz. about the age of eight and twenty; in an
unmarried state, changed this mortal life for an incorruptible, and
whose youthful summer flower was cut down in the winter season, after
he had very zealously preached the gospel about ten years.
About the 19th year of his age, he first came to London with a public
testimony, and continued almost eight years together to preach the
word of God in that city, with great success; so that many came to
be convinced, and great addition was made to the church there. In
his youth he surpassed others of his age in knowledge; and though G.
Croese, who wrote the pretended history of the Quakers, calls him a
rustic fellow, yet he was no more such than the said author himself,
who is a country preacher: for he was well educated and instructed
in that learning which the place of his nativity, viz. the barony of
Kendal in Westmoreland, afforded. Insomuch, that though he was not
skilful in languages, yet he had the tongue of the learned; and in his
public ministry was very fluent, and elegant in speech, even according
to the judgment of learned men.
His enemies now began to rejoice, for they seemed to imagine that the
progress of that doctrine, which he so powerfully and successfully
had preached, by his decease would have been stopped or retarded: but
they made a wrong reckoning. Francis Howgill then gave forth a kind
of epicedium, which though in prose, yet was not void of poetical
expressions, and was as followeth.
‘Shall days, or months, or years, wear out thy name, as though
thou hadst no being? Oh nay! Shall not thy noble and valiant
acts, and mighty works which thou hast wrought through the power
of him that separated thee from the womb, live in generations to
come? O yes! The children that are yet unborn, shall have thee in
their mouths, and thy works shall testify of thee in generations,
who yet have not a being, and shall count thee blessed. Did thy
life go out as the snuff of a candle? O nay! Thou hast penetrated
the hearts of many, and the memorial of the just shall live for
ever; and be had in renown among the children of men: for thou
hast turned many to righteousness, and shalt shine as a star
of God in the firmament of God’s power, for ever and ever; and
they that are in that, shall see thee there, and enjoy thee
there, though thou be gone away hence, and can no more be seen
in mutability; yet thy life and thy spirit shall run parallel
with immortality. Oh Edward Burrough! I cannot but mourn for
thee, yet not as one without hope or faith, knowing and having a
perfect testimony of thy well-being in my heart, by the Spirit of
the Lord; yet thy absence is great, and years to come shall know
the want of thee. Shall I not lament as David did for a worse
man than thee, even for Abner; when in wrath he perished by the
hand of Joab, without any just cause, though he was a valiant
man? David lamented over Abner, and said, died Abner as a fool
dieth? (Oh nay! He was betrayed of his life.) Even so hast thou
been bereaved of thy life by the hand of the oppressor, whose
habitations are full of cruelty. Oh my soul, come not thou within
their secret, for thy blood shall be required at the hands of
them who thirsted after thy life; and it shall cry as Abel’s
who was in the faith; even so wert thou, it shall weigh as a
ponderous millstone upon their necks, and shall crush them under,
and be as a worm that gnaweth, and shall not die. When I think
upon thee, I am melted into tears of true sorrow; and because
of the want that the inheritance of the Lord hath of thee, my
substance is even as dissolved. Shall I not say as David did of
Saul and Jonathan, when they were slain in mount Gilboa, the
beauty of Israel is slain upon the high places: even so wast
thou stifled in nasty holes, and prisons, and many more who were
precious in the eyes of the Lord: and surely precious wast thou
to me, oh dear Edward, I am distressed for thee my brother, very
pleasant hast thou been to me, and my love to thee was wonderful,
passing the love of woman: Oh thou whose bow never turned back,
nor sword empty from the blood of the slain, from the slaughter
of the mighty; who made nations and multitudes shake with the
word of life in thy mouth, and wast very dreadful to the enemies
of the Lord; for thou didst cut like a razor, and yet to the seed
of God brought forth, thy words dropped like oil, and thy lips
as the honeycomb. Thou shalt be recorded amongst the valiants
of Israel, who attained to the first degree, through the power
of the Lord, that wrought mightily in thee in thy day, and wast
worthy of double honour, because of thy works. Thou wast expert
to handle thy weapon, and by thee the mighty have fallen, and the
slain of the Lord have been many; many have been pricked to the
heart through the power of the word of life; and coals of fire
from thy life came forth of thy mouth, that in many a thicket,
and among many briers and thorns it came to be kindled, and did
devour much stubble that cumbered the ground, and stained the
earth. Oh how certain a sound did thy trumpet give! And how great
an alarm didst thou give in thy day, that made the host of the
uncircumcised greatly distressed! What man so valiant, though
as Goliath of Gath, would not thy valour have encountered with,
while many despised thy youth? And how have I seen thee with thy
sling and thy stone, (despised weapons to war with,) wound the
mighty! And that which hath seemed contemptible to the dragon’s
party, even as the jaw bone of an ass, with it thou hast slain
the Philistines heaps upon heaps, as Samson. Thou hast put thy
hand to the hammer of the Lord, and hast often fastened nails in
the heads of the Lamb’s enemies, as Jael did to Sisera; and many
a rough stone hast thou polished and squared, and made it fit
for the buildings of God; and much knotty wood hast thou hewed
in thy day, which was not fit for the building of God’s house.
Oh thou prophet of the Lord, thou shalt for ever be recorded in
the Lamb’s book of life, among the Lord’s worthies, who have
followed the Lamb through great tribulations, as many can witness
for thee from the beginning; and at last hast overcome, and been
found worthy to stand with the Lamb upon Mount Sion, the hill of
God; as I have often seen thee, and thy heart well tuned as a
harp, to praise the Lord, and to sound forth his great salvation;
which many a time hath made glad the hearts of them that did
believe, and strengthened their faith and hope. Well, thou art
at rest, and bound up in the bundle of life; and I know tears
were wiped away from thy eyes, because there was no cause of
sorrow in thee: for I know thou witnessedst the old things done
away, and there was no curse, but blessings were poured upon thy
head as rain, and peace as a mighty shower, and trouble was far
from thy dwelling; though in the outward man trouble on every
side, and hast had a greater share in that, for the gospel-sake,
(though a youth,) in thy time, than many besides: but now thou
art freed from that, and hast obtained a name through faith, with
the saints in light. Well, hadst thou more to give up than thy
life for the name of Jesus in this world? Nay: and to seal the
testimony committed unto thee with thy blood, as thou hast often
said in thy day, which shall remain as a crown upon thee for ever
and ever. And now thou art freed from the temptations of him who
had the power of death; and from thy outward enemies, who hated
thee because of the love that dwelt in thee; and remainest at the
right hand of God, where there is joy and pleasure for evermore
in the everlasting light; which thou hast often testified unto,
according to the word of prophecy in thy heart, which was given
unto thee by the Holy Ghost; and art at rest in the perfection
thereof, in the beauty of holiness; yet thy life and thy spirit
I feel as present, and have unity with it, and in it, beyond all
created and visible things, which are subject to mutation and
change; and thy life shall enter into others, to testify unto the
same Truth, which is from everlasting to everlasting; for God
hath raised, and will raise up children unto Abraham, of them
that have been as dead stones; his power is Almighty, great in
his people in the midst of their enemies.’
With these sublime expressions F. Howgill lamented his endeared friend
E. Burrough.
* * * * *
In the latter end of this year, William Ames also deceased at
Amsterdam, being come from England in a weak condition, for he had
suffered so much hardship in Bridewell, London, that his health was
much impaired when he came into Holland. In his sickness, which was a
lingering disease, he was told, that among the Baptists and Collegians,
it was said of him, that he had changed his judgment, and was grieved
for having judged them wrongfully. But to this he said, ‘It was not
so; but that he still judged their way of worship, especially their
disputations and will worship, to be out of the way of the Lord.’ And
in this belief he died in peace.
In his youth he was of a cheerful temper, and a lover of such company;
but being in that condition often disquieted in his mind, he became
a close follower of the priests and teachers, and exercised himself
diligently in reading the holy scriptures, which, though good in
itself, yet did not bring him to true peace with God; but being of a
quick understanding, he could talk much out of them, insomuch, that
entering into society with the Baptists, he became a teacher among
them. Now, though he was more precise, and endeavoured to avoid the
committing of sins, yet he found that root from whence they sprang
remained alive in him; for when he met with something that was contrary
to his own will, or mind, anger soon prevailed: nevertheless, in that
state he would speak of justification, sanctification, and cleansing
by the blood of Christ, though he himself was not come to that pure
washing. In this state he perceived that he was no true member of
Christ, because regeneration was still wanting. Thus he saw that a
high profession would not avail, and that something more was required
to obtain a happy state; but as yet, he knew not what it was that thus
disquieted him; though sometimes, on the committing of any sin, he felt
something that struck him with terror. At length it pleased the Lord,
that hearing one of the Quakers, so called, preach, that that which
convinceth man of sin, was the light of Christ, which enlightens every
man coming into the world, this doctrine entered so deep with him, that
he embraced it as wholesome; and thus walking with great circumspection
and fear before the Lord, he found that by giving diligent heed to that
which inwardly reproved and condemned him from evil, he came to be
delivered therefrom, and to witness sanctification. And thus advancing
in godliness he himself became a zealous preacher of that doctrine,
which had struck him so to the heart. He was indeed a zealous man, and
though some were ready to think him too zealous, yet he was discreet;
and I know that he was condescending in indifferent matters, thinking
that there were customs, which though not followed in one country, were
yet tolerable in another. He was also generous, and lest he might seem
to be burdensome to any, he rather choose to work with his hands.
1663.
Now I return again to the occurrences of G. Fox, whom we left at
London, where, having spent some time, he went about the beginning of
the year 1663, to Norwich, and from thence to Cambridgeshire, where he
heard of E. Burrough’s decease, and, being sensible how great a grief
this loss would be to his friends, wrote the following lines to them.
‘_Friends_,
‘Be still and quiet in your own conditions, and settled in the
seed of God, that doth not change; that in that ye may feel dear
E. B. among you, in the seed, in which, and by which, he begot
you to God, with whom he is; and that in the seed ye may all see
and feel him, in which is the unity with him in the life; and to
enjoy him in the life that doth not change, which is invisible.
G. F.’
G. Fox afterwards travelling through several places, came again to
London, where having visited his friends in their meetings, which were
numerous, he travelled with Thomas Briggs into Kent, and coming to
Tenterden, they had a meeting there, where many came and were convinced
of the Truth that was declared. But when he intended to depart with his
companion, he saw a captain, and a company of soldiers, with muskets
and lighted matches; and some of these coming to them said, they must
come to their captain. And when they were brought before him, he
asked, where was G. Fox? which was he? To which G. Fox answered, ‘I am
the man.’ The captain being somewhat surprised, said, ‘I will secure
you among the soldiers:’ yet he carried himself civilly, and said some
time after, ‘You must go along with me to the town.’ Where being come,
he brought G. Fox and T. Briggs, with some more of their friends, to an
inn, which was the jailer’s house. And after a while the mayor of the
town, with the said captain and the lieutenant, who were justices, came
and examined G. Fox, asking, why he came thither to make a disturbance?
G. Fox told them, he did not come to make a disturbance, neither had
he made any there. They then said, there was a law, which was against
the Quakers’ meetings, made only against them. G. Fox told them he
knew no such law. Then they produced the act which was made against
Quakers and others. G. Fox seeing it, told them, that law was against
such as were a terror to the king’s subjects, and were enemies, and
held principles dangerous to the government; and therefore it was not
against his friends, for they held truth, and their principles were
not dangerous to the government, and their meetings were peaceable, as
was well known. Now it was not without good reason that George said,
he knew no such law; since they had said, there was a law made only
against the Quakers’ meetings: whereas the act had the appearance of
being made against plotters, and enemies to the king, which certainly
the Quakers were not. Yet it was said to G. Fox he was an enemy to the
King; but this he denied, and told them, how he had once been cast into
Derby dungeon, about the time of Worcester fight, because he would not
take up arms against the king; and how afterwards he had been sent up
to London by colonel Hacker, as a plotter to bring in king Charles,
and that he was kept prisoner at London till he was set at liberty by
Oliver Cromwell. They asked him then, whether he had been imprisoned
in the time of the insurrection? And he said ‘Yes,’ but that he was
released by the king’s own command. At length they demanded bond for
his appearance at the sessions, and would have had him to promise to
come thither no more. But he refused the one as well as the other.
Yet they behaved themselves moderately, and told him, and Thomas
Briggs, and the others, ‘Ye shall see we are civil to you; for it is
the mayor’s pleasure you should all be set at liberty.’ To which G.
Fox returned, their civility was noble: and so they parted; and he
passed on to many places, where he had singular occurrences, and though
wiles were laid for him, yet sometimes he escaped the hands of his
persecuting enemies.
Coming into Cornwall he found there one Joseph Hellen, and George
Bewly, who though they professed Truth, yet had suffered themselves
to be seduced by Blanche Pope, a ranting woman, who had ensnared them
chiefly by asking, ‘Who made the devil, did not God?’ This silly
question, which Hellen and Bewly were at a loss to answer, they
propounded to G. Fox, and he answered it with, ‘No; for,’ said he, ‘all
that God made was good, and was blest, but so was not the devil: he was
called a serpent, before he was called a devil and an adversary; and
afterward he was called a dragon, because he was a destroyer. The devil
abode not in the truth, and by departing from the truth he became a
devil. Now there is no promise of God to the devil, that ever he shall
return into truth again; but to man and woman, who have been deceived
by him, the promise of God is, that the seed of the woman shall bruise
the serpent’s head, and break his power and strength to pieces.’ With
this answer, G. Fox gave satisfaction to his friends; but Hellen was so
poisoned, and run out, that they denied him; but Bewly was recovered
from his fault by sincere repentance.
G. Fox, having performed his service there, went to Helston near
Falmouth, where he had a large meeting, at which many were convinced;
for he opened to the auditory, the state of the church in the primitive
times, and the state of the church in the wilderness, as also the state
of the false church that was got up since: next he showed that the
everlasting gospel was now preached again, over the head of the whore,
beast, antichrist, and the false prophets, which were got up since the
apostles’ days; and that now the everlasting gospel was received and
receiving, which brought life and immortality to light. And this sermon
was of such effect, that the people generally confessed, it was the
everlasting Truth that had been declared there that day.
G. Fox passing on, came at length to the Land’s End, where there was an
assembly of his friends, and also a fisherman, call Nicholas Jose, who
preached among them, having three years before been convinced there by
the ministry of G. Fox.
Whilst in these parts, there happened a very dismal and dreadful case.
One colonel Robinson was, since the king came in, made justice of the
peace; and became a cruel persecutor of those called Quakers, of whom
he sent many to prison; and hearing that some liberty was allowed
them, by the favour of the jailer, to come home sometimes, to visit
their wives and children, he made complaint thereof to the judge at
the assizes, against the jailer; who thereupon was fined an hundred
marks by judge Keeling. Not long after the assizes, Robinson sent to a
neighbouring justice, desiring he would go with him a fanatic hunting,
(meaning the disturbing of Quakers’ meetings.) On the day that he
intended thus to go a hunting, he sent his man about with his horses,
and walked himself to a tenement that he had, where his cows and dairy
were kept, and where his servants were then milking. Being come there,
he asked for his bull, and the maids said, they had shut him into the
field, because he was unruly amongst the kine. He then going into the
field, and having formerly accustomed himself to play with the bull, he
began to fence at him with his staff, as he used to do; but the bull
snuffing, went a little back, and then ran fiercely at him, and struck
his horn into his thigh, and lifting him upon his horn, threw him over
his back, and tore up his thigh to his belly; and when he came to the
ground, he broke his leg, and the bull then gored him again with his
horns, and roared, and licked up his blood. One of the maid servants
hearing her master cry out, came running into the field, and took the
bull by the horns to pull him off; but he, without hurting her, gently
put her by with his horns, and still fell to goring him, and licking
up his blood. Then she ran and got some workmen that were not far off,
to come and rescue her master; but they could not at all beat off the
bull, till they brought mastiff dogs to set on him; and then the bull
fled. His sister having notice of his disaster, came and said, ‘Alack,
brother, what a heavy judgment is this!’ And he answered, ‘Ah, sister,
it is a heavy judgment indeed: pray let the bull be killed, and the
flesh given to the poor.’ So he was taken up, and carried home, but so
grievously wounded, that he died soon after; and the bull was become
so fierce, that they were forced to kill him by shooting. This was
the issue of Robinson’s mischievous intent to go a fanatic hunting.
I remember that in my youth I heard with astonishment the relation of
this accident from William Caton, who by a letter from England had
received intelligence of it; for the thing was so remarkable, that the
tidings of it were soon spread afar off.
Now I return to G. Fox, who from Cornwall travelled to Bristol, and so
into Wales, from whence passing through Warwickshire and Derbyshire,
he came to York. Here he heard of a plot, which made him write a
paper to his friends wherein he admonished them to be cautious, and
not at all to meddle with such bustlings. And travelling towards
Lancashire, he came to Swarthmore, where they told him, that colonel
Kirby had sent his lieutenant thither to search for him, and that he
had searched trunks and chests. G. Fox having heard this, the next day
went to Kirby-hall, where the said colonel lived; and being come to
him, he told him, ‘I am come to visit thee, understanding that thou
wouldst have seen me, and now I would fain know what thou hast to say
to me, and whether thou hast any thing against me.’ The colonel who
did not expect such a visit, and being then to go up to London, to the
parliament, said before all the company, ‘as I am a gentleman I have
nothing against you: but Mrs. Fell must not keep great meetings at her
house; for they meet contrary to the act.’ G. Fox told him, ‘That act
does not take hold on us, but on such as meet to plot and contrive, and
to raise insurrections against the king; and we are none of those, but
are a peaceable people.’ After some words more, the colonel took G. Fox
by the hand, and said, he had nothing against him; and others said, he
was a deserving man.
Then G. Fox parted, and returned to Swarthmore, and shortly after he
heard there had been a private meeting of the justices and deputy
lieutenants at Houlker-hall, where justice Preston lived, and that
there they had issued a warrant to apprehend him. Now he could have
gone away, and got out of their reach; but considering that, there
being a noise of a plot in the north, if he should go away, they might
fall upon his friends; but if he staid, and was taken, his friends
might escape the better; he therefore gave up himself to be taken. Next
day an officer came with his sword and pistols to take him. G. Fox told
him, ‘I knew thy errand before, and have given up myself to be taken;
for if I would have escaped imprisonment, I could have been gone forty
miles off; but I am an innocent man, and so matter not what ye can do
to me.’ Then the officer asked him, how he heard of it, seeing the
order was made privately in a parlour. G. Fox said, it was no matter
for that: it was sufficient that he heard of it. Then he asked him to
show his order. But he laying his hand on his sword, said, ‘You must go
with me before the lieutenants, to answer such questions as they shall
propound to you.’ Now though G. Fox insisted to see the order, telling
him it was but civil and reasonable to show it, yet the officer would
not; and then G. Fox said, ‘I am ready.’ So he went along with him, and
Margaret Fell also, to Houlker-hall. Being come thither, there was one
justice Rawlinson, Sir George Middleton, justice Preston, and several
more whom he knew not. Then they brought one Thomas Atkinson, one of
his friends, as a witness against him, for some words which he had
told to one Knipe, who had informed against him; and these words were,
that he had written against the plotters, and had knocked them down:
but from these words little could be made. Then Preston asked him,
whether he had an hand in the Battledore? (being a folio book already
mentioned,) ‘Yes,’ said G. Fox. He then asked him whether he understood
languages? He answered, ‘sufficient for myself.’
Preston having spoken something more on that subject, said, ‘Come, we
will examine you of higher matters:’ then said George Middleton, ‘You
deny God, and the church, and the faith.’ ‘Nay,’ replied G. Fox, ‘I own
God, and the true church, and the true faith:’ ‘But,’ asked he, (having
understood Middleton to be a Papist,) ‘what church dost thou own?’ The
other, instead of answering this question, said ‘You are a rebel and a
traitor.’ G. Fox perceiving this Middleton to be an envious man, asked
him whom he spoke to? or whom he called a rebel? The other having been
silent a while, said at last, ‘I spoke to you.’ G. Fox then striking
his hand on the table, told him, ‘I have suffered more than twenty such
as thou, or any that are here; for I have been cast into Derby dungeon
for six months together, and have suffered much, because I would not
take up arms against this king, before Worcester fight; and I have
been sent up prisoner out of my own country by colonel Hacker to O.
Cromwell, as a plotter to bring in king Charles. Ye talk of the king,
a company of you; but where were ye in Oliver’s days; and what did ye
do then for the king? But I have more love to him, for his eternal good
and welfare, than any of you have.’ Then they asked him, whether he
had heard of the plot? And he said, ‘Yes.’ Hereupon he was asked, how
he had heard of it, and whom he knew in it? And he answered, he had
heard of it through the high sheriff of Yorkshire, who had told Dr.
Hodgson, that there was a plot in the north; but that he never heard
any thing of it in the south; and that he knew none of them that were
in it. Then they asked him, ‘Why would you write against it, if you did
not know some that were in it.’ ‘My reason was,’ answered he, ‘because
ye are so forward to mash the innocent and guilty together; therefore
I wrote against it to clear the Truth from such things, and to stop
all forward foolish spirits from running into such things: and I sent
copies of it into Westmoreland, Cumberland, Bishoprick, and Yorkshire,
and to you here; and I sent also a copy of it to the king and his
council; and it is like it may be in print by this time.’ Then said one
of them, ‘O this man hath great power.’ ‘Yes,’ said he, ‘I have power
to write against plotters.’ ‘But,’ said one of them, ‘you are against
the laws of the land.’ ‘Nay,’ said he, ‘for I and my friends direct
all the people to the Spirit of God in them, to mortify the deeds of
the flesh: this brings them into well doing, and from that which the
magistrates’ sword is against; which eases the magistrates, who are for
the punishment of evil doers,’ &c.
Middleton now weary, as it seemed, of his speaking, cried, ‘Bring the
book, and put the oath of allegiance and supremacy to him.’ But G. Fox
knowing him to be a Papist, asked him, whether he who was a swearer,
had taken the oath of supremacy; for this oath tending to reject the
pope’s power in England, was a kind of test to try people whether they
were Papists, or no: ‘But as for us,’ said G. Fox, ‘we cannot swear
at all, because Christ and his apostles have forbidden it.’ Now some
of these that set there, seeing Middleton was thus pinched, would not
have had the oath put to G. Fox; but others would, because this was
their last snare, and they had no other way to get him into prison:
for all other things had been cleared; but this was like the Papists’
sacrament of the altar, by which they formerly ensnared the martyrs:
and in the Low Countries they asked the Baptists, whether they were
re-baptized; and if this appeared, then they said, ‘We do not kill you,
but the emperor’s decree condemns you.’ So they tendered G. Fox the
oath, and he refusing to take it, they consulted together about sending
him to jail: but all not agreeing, he was only engaged to appear at the
sessions; and so for that time they dismissed him.
Then he went back with Margaret Fell to Swarthmore, where colonel
West, who was at that time a justice of the peace, came to see him.
And G. Fox asking him, what he thought they would do with him at
the sessions, he said, they would tender the oath to him again. The
time of the sessions now approaching, G. Fox went to Lancaster, and
appeared according to his engagement; where he found upon the bench,
justice Flemming, who in Westmoreland had offered five pounds to any
man that would apprehend G. Fox. There were also the justices Spencer
and Rawlinson, and colonel West; and a great concourse of people in
court, and when G. Fox came up to the bar, and stood with his hat on,
they looked earnestly upon him. Then proclamation being made for all to
keep silence on pain of imprisonment, he said twice, ‘Peace be among
you.’ Then Rawlinson, who was chairman, spoke, and asked, if he knew
where he was? To which he answered, ‘Yes, I do; but it may be my hat
offends you; but that’s a low thing, that’s not the honour I give to
magistrates: for the true honour is from above; and I hope it is not
the hat which ye look upon to be the honour.’ To which the chairman
said, ‘We look for the hat too. Wherein do you show your respect to
magistrates, if you do not put off your hat?’ G. Fox replied, ‘In
coming when they call me.’ They then bid one take off his hat. After
some pause, the chairman asked him, whether he knew of the plot. To
which he returned, that he had heard of it in Yorkshire, by a friend
that had it of the high-sheriff. The next question was, whether he had
declared it to the magistrates; and his answer was, ‘I have sent papers
abroad against plots and plotters, and also to you, as soon as I came
into the country, to take all jealousies out of your minds concerning
me and my friends: for it was, and is our principle to declare against
such things.’ Then they asked him, if he knew not of an act against
meetings. To which he made answer, that he knew there was an act that
took hold of such as met to the terrifying of the king’s subjects, and
were enemies to the king, and held dangerous principles. ‘But I hope,’
said he, ‘ye do not look upon us to be such men; for our meetings are
not to terrify the king’s subjects, neither are, we enemies to him, or
any man.’
That which followed hereupon, was the tendering of the oath of
allegiance and supremacy to him. To which he told them, that he had
never taken any oath in his life: and that he could not take any
oath at all, because Christ and his apostles had forbidden it. Then
Rawlinson, who was a lawyer, asked him, whether he held it was unlawful
to swear? G. Fox presently perceived this question to be put on purpose
to ensnare him; for by a certain act 13 and 14 Car. 2. cap. 1, such
who said, it was unlawful to swear, were liable to banishment, or to a
great fine. Therefore to avoid this snare, he told them, that in the
time of the law amongst the Jews, before Christ came, the law commanded
them to swear; but Christ who did fulfil the law in the gospel time,
commands, not to swear at all; and the apostle James forbids swearing,
even to them that were Jews, and had the law of God. Now after much
other discourse, the jailer was called, and G. Fox committed to prison.
He then having the paper about him which he had written against
plots, desired it might be read in the court; but this they would not
suffer. Being thus committed for refusing to swear, he said to those
on the bench, and all the people, ‘Take notice that I suffer for the
doctrine of Christ, and for my obedience to his command.’ Afterwards he
understood, the justices said, that they had private instructions from
colonel Kirby to prosecute him, notwithstanding his fair carriage, and
seeming kindness to him before.
Leaving G. Fox in prison, I am to say that the act already mentioned,
whereby a penalty was laid on all such who should say, it was unlawful
to take an oath, was that which extended to banishment, being made not
long before, and expressly levelled against the Quakers, as plainly
appeared by the title. This is that act, by direction whereof the
Quakers, so called, were afterwards banished, as may be related in due
time and place; and though the king himself was pretty good-natured,
yet he suffered himself to be so swayed by the instigations of some
envious men, as well among the ecclesiastics, as among the laity, that
he gave the royal assent thereto.
Whilst G. Fox was prisoner at Lancaster, many of his friends were also
imprisoned, for frequenting religious meetings, refusing to take oaths,
and for not paying tithes to the priests; but since he was not brought
to his trial till next year, we will leave him still in jail, and in
the meanwhile will take a turn to Colchester, where persecution now was
exceeding fierce.
In the month of October, William More, mayor of that town, came on a
First-day of the week, and broke up the meeting of the Quakers, so
called, and committed some of them to prison; the next week he did
so again, and a week after he caused a party of the county troop to
come to the meeting. These beat some, and did much mischief to the
forms, seats, and windows of the meeting-place. And afterwards the
mayor employed an old man to stop people from going in at the gate
to the meeting-room; who told those that would have entered, that
the mayor had set him there to keep them out. Now though they knew
he was no officer, nor had any warrant, yet they made no resistance,
but continuing in the street, thus kept their meeting in a peaceable
manner, being not free for conscience-sake to leave off their public
worship of God, though in that time of the year it was cold, and often
wet weather; and thus it continued many weeks, though attended with so
much difficulty.
In the forepart of December there came about forty of the king’s
troopers, on horseback, in their armour, with swords, carbines, and
pistols, crying, ‘What a devil do ye here?’ And falling violently upon
this harmless company, they beat them, some with swords, and others
with carbines, without distinction of male or female, old or young,
until many were much bruised, chasing them to and fro in the streets.
The next First-day of the week these furious fellows came again, having
now got clubs, wherewith, as well as with swords and carbines, they
most grievously beat those that were peaceably met together in the
street to worship God. This cruel beating was so excessive, that some
got above an hundred blows, and were beaten so black and blue, that
their limbs lost their natural strength. One there was whom a trooper
beat so long, that the blade of his sword fell out of the hilt, which
he that was thus beaten seeing, said to the other, ‘I will give it thee
up again,’ which he did, with these words, ‘I desire the Lord may not
lay this day’s work to thy charge.’
But to avoid prolixity. I shall not mention all the particular
misusages which I find to have been committed there. These cruel doings
continued yet several weeks, and some were beaten so violently, that
their blood was shed in the streets, and they sunk down and fainted
away. One Edward Graunt, a man of about threescore and ten years of
age, (whose wife and daughters I was well acquainted with,) was so
terribly knocked down, that he outlived it but a few days. So hot was
this time now, that these religious worshippers, when they went to
their meeting, seemed to go to meet death; for they could not promise
to themselves to return home either whole or alive. But notwithstanding
all this, their zeal for their worship was so lively, that they durst
not stay at home, though human reasoning might have advised them
thereto. And some of them had been people of note in the world; as,
among others one Giles Barnadiston, who having spent six years in the
university, in the study of human literature, afterwards came to be
a colonel; but in process of time, having heard G. Fox the younger,
preach, he was so entirely convinced of the Truth by him declared, that
laying down his military command, he entered into the society of those
called Quakers, and continuing faithful, he in time became a minister
of the gospel among the said people; being a man of a meek spirit, and
one whom I knew very well. This Barnadiston did not forbear frequenting
meetings, how hot soever the persecution was, being fully given up to
hazard his life with his friends.
One Solomon Fromantle, a merchant, with whom I was well acquainted, was
so grievously beaten, that he fell down and lost much of his blood in
the street; and yet the barbarous troopers did not leave off beating
him. His wife, a daughter of the aforesaid Edward Graunt, fearing lest
he should be killed, fell down upon him, to cover and protect him from
the blows with the hazard of her own body, as she herself told me in
the presence of her said husband: a conjugal love and fidelity well
worthy to be mentioned, and left upon record. And though she then did
not receive very fierce blows; yet there were some women whose lot
it was to be sorely beaten with clubs, whereinto iron spikes were
driven, as among the rest an aged widow, who received no less than
twelve such bloody blows on several parts of her body; and another
woman was pierced in her loins with such a spiked club. An ancient man
of sixty-five years was followed a great way by three on foot and one
on horseback, and so beaten and bruised, that a woman, pitying this
old man, spoke to these mischievous fellows to leave off; but this so
incensed him that was on horseback, that he gave her a hard blow with
his sword on the shoulder, with cursing and railing. This barbarity
continued, till the persecutors seemed to be more wearied out than the
persecuted, who seemed to grow valiant in these sore tribulations,
how grievous soever. A great promoter of this furious violence was
captain Turner, who drove on his troopers to act thus; nay, such was
his malice, that once at the breaking up of a meeting, he not only gave
order to beat the people, but also to spoil the doors, windows, and
walls, so that the damage came to five and twenty pounds.
Now I could enter upon a large relation of the trial of many prisoners
at Worcester, before the judges Hide and Terril; but since that
trial was much after the same manner as that of John Crook, here
before-mentioned at large, I will but cursorily make some mention of
it. When the prisoners, being brought to the bar, asked, why they had
been kept so long in prison; they were answered with the question,
whether they would take the oath of allegiance. And endeavours were
used to draw some to betray themselves, by asking them, where they
had been on such a day. For if they had said, at meeting, then it
would have appeared from their own mouth that they had acted contrary
to the law; but they answered warily, that they were not bound to
accuse themselves. Others by evidence were charged with having been
at a meeting; and when they said, that their meetings were not always
for public worship; but that they had also meetings to take care for
widows, fatherless, and others that were indigent; yet it was said
to the jury, that though there was no evidence, that there had been
any preaching in the meeting, yet if they did but believe that the
prisoners had kept a meeting for religious worship, it was sufficient
for them to approve the indictment. And yet such proceedings in other
cases would have been thought unwarrantable.
One Edward Bourn being imprisoned for having been at a meeting, and
afterwards brought to his trial, the oath was tendered to him. Among
other words he spoke in defence of himself, he said, ‘Suppose Christ
and his apostles kept a meeting here in this time, would this act
against conventicles also take hold of them?’ ‘Yes,’ said the judge,
‘it would.’ But bethinking himself, he said, ‘I won’t answer your
questions; ye are no apostles.’ The conclusion was, that Bourn and
several of his friends were fined each of them five pounds.
Now since those that were fined thus, did not use to pay the fines,
judging that the thing which they were fined for was an indispensable
duty they owed to God, and therefore they could not pay any such
fine with a good conscience, the consequence thereof generally was
imprisonment, and distraining of their goods, whereby some lost twice,
and it may be, thrice as much as the fine amounted to. Some of the
prisoners made it appear, that they had been somewhere else, and not
in the meeting, at the house of one Robert Smith, at such time as
the evidence declared by oath; yet because they gave no satisfactory
answer to the question, whether they had not been there on that day,
they were deemed guilty. The said Robert Smith was premunired: for
the oath of allegiance being tendered to him, and he, menaced by the
judge with a premunire, asked, for whom that law, for taking the said
oath, was made, whether not for Papists. And on suspicion that some
of that persuasion sat on the bench, he asked also, whether they, for
the satisfaction of the people, there present, ought not also to take
the oath. But the judge waived this, telling him, he must take the
oath, or else sentence should be pronounced against him. Smith asked
then, whether the example of Christ should decide the question; but
the judge said, ‘I am not come here to dispute with you concerning
the doctrine of Christ, but to inform you concerning the doctrine of
the law.’ Then Smith was led away, and afterwards, when an indictment
for his refusing the oath was drawn up, he was brought into the court
again, and asked, whether he would answer to the indictment, or no; and
the reasons he gave not being accepted, the judge said, before Smith
had done speaking, ‘This is your sentence, and the judgment of the
court, You shall be shut out of the king’s protection, and forfeit
your personal estate to the king for ever, and your real estate during
life.’ To this Robert said with a composed mind, ‘The Lord hath given,
and if he suffers it to be taken away, his will be done.’ Thus Robert
Smith suffered, with many more of his friends, there and elsewhere:
all which I believe my life-time would not be sufficient to describe
circumstantially.
Passing then by the other persecutions of this year, I will relate
one remarkable case that happened in this year, 1663, where patience
triumphed very eminently over violence. But before I enter upon this
narrative, it will not be amiss to go back a little, and mention some
singular cases of the chief actor of the fact I am going to describe.
His name was Thomas Lurting, who formerly had been boatswain’s mate
in a man of war, and often had been preserved in imminent dangers:
as once being at the Canary islands, under admiral Blake commander
in this expedition, they ruined the admiral and vice-admiral of the
Spanish galleons, and this being done, he with seven men was sent with
a pinnace to set on fire three galleons in the bay; which order he
executed, by setting one of them on fire, which burnt the other two.
But returning, and passing by a breast-work, they received a volley of
small shot, by which two men, close to one of which Thomas sat, were
killed, and a third was shot in his back, but Thomas received no harm.
And going out of the bay, they came within about four ships length of
the castle, which had forty guns; and when they came directly over
against the castle, the guns were fired, and a shot cut the bolt-rope
a little above Thomas’s head, without hurting him. In more dangers he
was eminently preserved, but that I may not be too prolix, I will now
relate, how from a fighting sailor he became a harmless Christian.
About the year 1654, it happened that among the soldiers which were in
the ship he was in, there was one that had been at a meeting of those
called Quakers in Scotland, and there were two young men in the ship
who had some converse with him; but he was soon taken away from the
ship. Yet these two young men seemed to be under some convincement; for
about six months after, they scrupled to go and hear the priest, and
to put off their hats to the captain; by which they came to be called
Quakers. These two met often together in silence, which being seen
by others of the ship, their number increased; but this troubled the
captain exceedingly, and the priest grew not a little angry, and said
to our boatswain, ‘O Thomas, an honest man and a good Christian; here
is a dangerous people on board, viz. the Quakers, a blasphemous people,
denying the ordinances and word of God.’ This made Thomas so furious,
that in a bigotted zeal he fell to beating and abusing these men, when
religiously met together. But this was not the way to have a quiet and
sedate mind; for the remembrance of his former deliverances stuck so
close upon him, that he could no more beat any of the said people; and
then he came to a further sight, insomuch that he clearly saw what a
fellow the priest was: for when Thomas could no longer abuse the said
people, then he was not accounted by him either an honest man or a good
Christian. Now being under condemnation because of his outgoings, he
made many promises to the Lord; but these being made in his own will,
were of little effect. Yet by the grace of God it was showed him, that
since he did not perform these promises, he could not be benefited
thereby, which caused him much trouble.
Among those in the ship called Quakers, was one Roger Dennis, whom he
entirely loved, and therefore never struck him; for this man had a
check on Thomas, to that degree, that looking only upon him, he durst
not touch any of those whom he intended to have abused. In this state,
feeling no peace in his mind, after some time he much desired to be
alone, the more freely to pour out his heart before the Lord; and
though he then felt himself inwardly condemned, yet judgments became
pleasant to him, because thereby his heart was tendered and broken:
in which state he could not forbear sometimes to cry out, O Lord! But
this, being observed by the ship’s crew, made some say, he was mad, and
others, he was distracted; and of this some wrote home to England. Now
it fell to his share to be mocked and ridiculed; but he endeavoured to
be fully given up, if he might but have peace in his conscience with
God.
And being one evening alone, he was very earnest with the Lord, to
know what people he should join himself to; and then it was plainly
showed him, the Quakers. But this so startled him at that time, that
he desired of the Lord, rather to die than to live: for to join with
a people whom he so often had been beating and abusing, seemed to
be harder to him than death itself; and by the subtilty of Satan
he was often assaulted by various thoughts, to keep him off from
the said people. But when the Lord made him mindful of his manifold
preservations and deliverances, it mollified his heart, so that at
length he came to this resolution, whether Quaker or no Quaker, I am
for peace with God. Yet it cost him many a bitter sigh, and many a
sorrowful tear, before he could come to a full resignation. But the
inward reproofs of the Lord, attended with judgments, followed him
so close, that he could no longer forbear, but gave up. And then he
took opportunity to discover his heart to his friend Roger Dennis, who
spoke so to the purpose, that he had great satisfaction. But not long
after temptations assaulted him again in this manner, ‘What, to join
thyself to such a foolish people!’ And the very thoughts of this were
so grievous to him, that he grew even weary of his life; for thus to
expose himself to scorn, seemed to him an intolerable cross; but this
struggling was not the way to get peace with God. The First-day of the
week being come, he resolved to go to the small meeting, which was now
of six in number; but it being reported that he was among the Quakers,
many of the company left their worship to see him; and they made a
great noise. When the worship was over, the captain asked the reason of
that noise; and it was told him, that Thomas was amongst the Quakers;
on which he sent for him, there being several officers also present;
but the first that spoke was the priest, saying, ‘Thomas, I took you
for a very honest man, and a good Christian, but am sorry you should
be so deluded.’--And the captain endeavoured to prove from the bible,
the Quakers were no Christians. Thomas in the meanwhile was still and
quiet; and the others seeing they could not prevail upon him that way,
took another course, and said, that the Quakers sometimes came to him
saying, ‘Do such and such a thing.’ But because he knew this to be
altogether false, and saw how they would bear him down with lies, he
was the more strengthened; so that going to his friends, he said to
them, ‘When I went to the captain, I was scarce half a Quaker; but by
their lies and false reports they have made me almost a whole Quaker;
or at least I hope to be one.’
He continuing to meet with his friends for the performing of worship,
some more came to be joined to them, so that in less than six months
after, they were twelve men, and two boys, one of which was the
priest’s. Now, there was none aboard that would abuse the Quakers,
though much tried by the captain; for he got some men out of other
ships on purpose to vex them: but how fiercely soever these behaved
themselves, a higher power limited them. At length, there was a
sickness on board the ship, which swept away above forty in a short
time; and most of them called Quakers, had the distemper also, but none
died of it, though some were brought very low. They took great care of
one another when sick, and whatever one had was free for all; which
care being seen by others, made some of them cry upon their death-bed,
‘O carry me to the Quakers, for they take great care of one another,
and they will take some care of me also.’ This visitation in the ship,
changed the captain so much, that he was very kind to Thomas, and often
sent him part of what he had. Thomas seeing him in such a good humour,
desired of him to have the cabin he lay in before his change, which
request was granted; for none were willing to lie therein, because
they told one another it was troubled with an evil spirit; since three
or four had died therein within a short space of time. This cabin he
made use of also for a meeting-place; and the captain was now so well
pleased with him, that when something was to be done, he would often
say, ‘Thomas, take thy friends, and do such or such a thing: for as yet
they were not against fighting, and therefore no complete Quakers. And
thus when Thomas and his friends were sent out on some expedition, they
did their work beyond his expectation. But though they were not brought
off from fighting, yet when, with others, they annoyed their enemies,
they would take none of the plunder; and in all desperate attempts
they received no hurt, though several others were killed and wounded;
and they behaved themselves so valiantly, that their captain would say
to other captains, that he cared not if all his men were Quakers, for
they were the hardiest men in his ship. But though this was a time of
liberty, yet Thomas looked upon it as a forerunner of further exercise;
for he saw what was done in pretended friendship, was but to serve
their own ends; and therefore he expected a time of trial would come,
and so it did.
For being come to Leghorn, they were ordered to go to Barcelona, to
take or burn a Spanish man of war. Their station was to lie against a
castle, and batter it; which they did; and one corner of the castle
playing some shot into their ship, Thomas was for beating down that
part: and those called Quakers, fought with as much courage as any. He
himself being stripped to his waistcoat, and going into the forecastle,
he levelled the guns, but said, ’Fire not, till I go out to see where
the shot lights, that we may level higher or lower;’ he being yet as
great a fighter as any; but as he was coming out of the forecastle door
to see where the shot fell, suddenly it run through him, ‘What if now
thou killest a man?’ This struck him as a thunderbolt, and he that can
turn men’s hearts, at his pleasure, changed his in a minute’s time to
that degree, that whereas, just before, he bent all his strength to
kill men, he now found in himself no will thereto, though it were to
gain the world; for he presently perceived it was from the Lord; and
then putting on his clothes, he walked on the deck, as if he had not
seen a gun fired; and being under great exercise of mind, some asked
him, if he was hurt. He answered, ‘No; but under some scruples of
conscience on the account of fighting,’ though then he knew not that
the Quakers refused to fight.
When night came, they went out of the reach of the castle shot, and
he took occasion to speak with two of his friends in the ship, and
inquired their judgment concerning fighting; but they gave little
answer to it, but said however, if the Lord sent them well home, they
would never go to it again. To which he returned, that if he stood
honest to that of God in his own conscience, and they came to it
to-morrow, with the Lord’s assistance, he would bear his testimony
against it; for he clearly saw, that forasmuch as they had been such
great actors in fighting, they now must bear their testimony against
it, and wait what would be the issue; saying with themselves, ‘The will
of the Lord be done.’ The next day they heard that several were killed
on shore, which grieved Thomas not a little. Some time after, one of
Thomas’s friends went to the captain to be cleared; and he asking why?
His answer was, that he could fight no longer. To which the captain
said, ‘He that denies to fight in time of engagement, I will put my
sword in his guts.’ ‘Then,’ said the other, ‘thou wilt be a manslayer,
and guilty of shedding blood:’ for which the captain, (who was a
Baptist preacher,) beat him sorely with his fist and cane; and he that
had been their friend, was now become their open enemy.
Some time after, (about the year 1665,) being at Leghorn, they were
ordered to go a cruising; and one morning spied a great ship bearing
down upon them, which they supposed to be a Spanish man of war.
Presently orders were given to clear the ship for fight. Thomas then
being upon the deck, saw plainly that a time of trial was now come,
and he prayed to the Lord very earnestly for strength: and that which
seemed most expedient to him, was to meet with his friends, which,
after notice given, was done accordingly. Being all met, he told them
how it was with him, and that things seemed very dark and cloudy, yet
his hopes were, that the Lord would deliver him, and all such as were
of his faith; to which he added, ‘I lay not this as an injunction upon
any one, but leave you all to the Lord:’ moreover he said, ‘I must tell
you, that the captain puts great confidence in you; therefore let us be
careful that we give no just occasion; and all that are of my mind, let
us meet in the most public place upon the deck, in the full view of the
captain, that he may not say we deceived him, in not telling him that
we would not fight, so that he might have put others in our room.’
Then Thomas went upon the deck, and set his back against the geer
capstan, and a little after turning his head, he saw his friends behind
him; at which though he rejoiced, yet his bowels rolled within him for
them, who stood there as sheep ready for the slaughter. Within a little
time came the lieutenant, and said to one of them, ‘Go down to thy
quarters;’ to which he returned, ‘I can fight no more.’ The lieutenant
then going to the captain, made the worst of it, saying, ‘Yonder the
Quakers are all together; and I do not know but they will mutiny; and
one says he cannot fight.’ The captain having asked his name, came
down to him, flung his hat overboard, and taking hold of his collar,
beat him with a great cane, and dragged him down to his quarters. Then
he went upon the half deck again, and called for his sword, which his
man having brought him, he drew with great fury. No sooner was this
done, but the word of the Lord, (as Thomas took it,) run through him,
saying, ‘The sword of the Lord is over him; and if he will have a
sacrifice, proffer it him.’ And this word was so powerful in him, that
he quivered and shook, though he endeavoured to stop it, fearing they
should think he was afraid, which he was not; for turning his head over
his shoulder, he said to his friend Roger, ‘I must go to the captain.’
To which he returned, ‘Be well satisfied in what thou doest.’ And
Thomas replied, there was a necessity upon him. Then seeing the captain
coming on with his drawn sword, he fixed his eye with great seriousness
upon him, and stepped towards him, keeping his eyes upon him, (in much
dread of the Lord,) being carried above his furious looks. At which
the captain’s countenance changed pale, and he, turning himself about,
called to his man to take away his sword, and so he went off. Not long
after, the ship they expected to fight withal, proved to be a Genoese,
their friend; and before night, the captain sent the priest to Thomas,
to excuse his anger, it having been in his passion. To which Thomas’s
answer was, that he had nothing but good will to him; and he bade the
priest tell the captain, that he must have a care of such passions; for
if he killed a man in his passion, he might seek for repentance, and
perhaps not find it. Thus Thomas overcame this storm, and at length got
safe home.
Now leaving men of war, he afterwards went to sea in a merchantman,
or trading ship: but then it fell to be his lot several times to be
pressed into the king’s service, and being carried into a man of war,
he suffered very much. Once he fasted five days, taking only at times
a draught of water; for he could easily guess, that if he had eaten
of their victuals, it would have gone the harder with him; since he
scrupled to do any ship-work, though it did not belong to fighting; for
he judged all this to be assistance to those whose business it was to
fight; and that therefore in such a ship he could do nothing, whatever
it was, but it was being helpful and assisting.
In this condition he met with several rude occurrences for some years
together. Being once at Harwich, hard at work in a ship, heaving out
corn in a lighter, he was pressed; but one of the men saying, that he
was a Quaker, the captain, who with his boat was come aboard, said in a
scoffing manner to him, ‘Thou art no Quaker, for if thou wast a Quaker,
thou shouldst be waiting upon the Lord, and let his ravens feed thee,
and not be toiling thy body.’ For Thomas being stripped to his shirt
and drawers, his shirt was wet with sweat; and being a little time
silent, said at length to the captain, ‘I perceive thou hast read some
part of the scriptures. Didst thou never read, that he is worse than
an infidel that will not provide for his family? I have often heard
the Quakers blamed for not working, but thou art the first that ever
I heard blame them for working.’ At this the captain said, ‘Turn him
away, he is a Quaker.’ But a little after he cried, ‘Pull him again,
he is no Quaker;’ and said to Thomas, ‘Thou art no Quaker; for here
thou bringest corn, and of it is made bread, and by the strength of
that bread we kill the Dutch; and therefore no Quaker. Or art not thou
as accessary to their deaths as we? Answer me.’ Thomas not presently
answering, was much scoffed and jeered by the seamen; but at length he
said to the captain, ‘I am a man that can feed my enemies, and well may
I you, who pretend to be my friends.’ To which the captain replied,
‘Turn him away, he is a Quaker:’ and thus that storm ceased.
But a few days after he was pressed again out of the same vessel, and
carried on board a man of war; there he was ordered to go into the
cabin, where the captain and several officers were; and being entered,
the captain began to curse the Quakers, and swore, that if he did not
hang Thomas, he would carry him to the duke of York, and he would. But
Thomas said very little, and felt himself kept by the Lord from fear.
And when the captain had tired himself with scolding and railing, he
said more mildly, ‘What, dost thou say nothing for thyself?’ To which
Thomas answered, ‘Thou sayest enough for thee and me too:’ and he
found it most safe to say little. This was indeed the best way; for
generally no reasons, how good soever, avail with passionate men; who
often think it a disparagement to them, when they hearken to what is
said by one they look upon to be their inferior. But such sometimes
find they reckon amiss; as this captain did, who, notwithstanding his
haughtiness, was soon struck by a superior power; for the next night
a sudden cry was heard, ‘Where is the Quaker? Where is the Quaker?’
Thomas hearing this, said, ‘Here I am: what lack you at this time of
the night?’ To which it was told him, ‘You must come to the captain
presently.’ He then coming to the cabin door, the captain said, ‘Is
the Quaker there?’ To which Thomas having answered, ‘Yes,’ the captain
said, ‘I cannot sleep, thou must go on shore.’ Thomas replied, ‘I am
in thy hand, and thou mayest do with me as thou pleasest.’ So with the
boat he was put on shore at Harwich, by order of the captain, who in
his fury had said, that hanging was too good for him. But now, because
his mind was disquieted, he could not sleep, though Thomas, who lay on
the hard boards, slept very well.
Having said thus much of this seaman: let us now take a view, and
behold how, and in what an industrious manner, he, without passing the
bounds of a peaceable disposition, retook a ship that was taken by a
pirate; which happened in the year 1663, after this manner:
A master of a ship, whose name was George Pattison, one of the society
of those called Quakers, about the month of October, being with his
ship in the Mediterranean, coming from Venice, near the island of
Majorca, was chased by a pirate of Algiers, and their vessel sailing
well, they endeavoured to escape; but, by carrying over-much sail, some
of their materials gave way, by which means the Turks came up with
them, and commanded the master on board, who accordingly, with four men
more, went in his boat, leaving only his mate, (the before-mentioned
Thomas Lurting,) with three men and a boy on board his vessel, as soon
as those came on board the pirate, the Turks put thirteen or fourteen
of their men into the boat, to go towards the English ship. In the
meanwhile the mate was under great exercise of mind, the rather because
the master, with four of his men, were then with the Turks, and those
that were left, were somewhat unruly. In this concern, however, he
believed it was told him inwardly by the Lord, ‘Be not afraid, for thou
shalt not go to Algiers:’ for having had formerly great experience
of the Lord’s deliverances, as hath been said above, he had already
learned to trust in God, almost against hope. On the consideration of
this, all fear was removed from him; and going to the ship’s side to
see the Turks come in, he received them as if they were his friends,
and they also behaved themselves civilly: then he showed them all the
parts of the vessel, and what she was laden with. Afterwards he said
to the men that were with him, ‘Be not afraid, for all this we shall
not go to Algiers: but let me desire you, as ye have been willing to
obey me, to be as willing now to obey the Turks.’ This they promised
him, and by so doing, he soon perceived they gained upon the Turks;
for they seeing the seamen’s diligence, grew the more careless and
favourable to them. And having taken some small matter of the lading,
some went again to their own ship, and eight Turks staid with the
English.
Then the mate began to think of the master, and the other four that
were in the Turk’s ship; as for himself, and the others with him, he
had no fear at all; nay, he was so far from it, that he said to one of
his men, ‘Were but the master on board, and the rest of our men, if
there were twice as many Turks, I should not fear them.’ By this he
encouraged the seamen, who not being of his persuasion, thought much
otherwise than he, and would have been ready enough to have killed
the Turks, if they had seen opportunity. In the meanwhile the mate’s
earnest desire to the Lord was, that he would put it into the heart of
the Turks, to send the master and the four others back. And his desire
was answered; for soon after the master and those men were sent on
board.
Then all manner of fear concerning going to Algiers was taken away from
him; which made some say to him, he was a strange man, since he was
afraid before he was taken, but now he was not. For before they were
taken, he having heard there were many Turks at sea, endeavoured to
persuade the master to have gone to Leghorn, and there to stay for a
convoy, and so long they would have no wages. But to this the master
would not agree. Now the mate, to answer the seamen, who blamed his
behaviour, said to them, ‘I now believe I shall not go to Algiers: and
if ye will be ruled by me, I will act for your delivery, as well as
my own.’ However, though he spoke thus boldly, yet he saw no way for
it; for the Turks were all armed, and the English without arms. Now
these being altogether, except the master, he said to them, ‘What if
we should overcome the Turks, and go to Majorca.’ At which they very
much rejoiced, and one said, ‘I will kill one or two;’ ‘And I,’ said
another, ‘will cut as many of their throats as you will have me.’ But
at these sayings the mate was much troubled, for he intended not to
hurt any, and therefore told the men, ‘If I knew that any of you would
touch a Turk at that rate, I would tell it the Turks myself. But,’
said he, ‘if ye will be ruled, I will act for you; if not, I will be
still.’ They seeing that he would not suffer them to take their own
course, agreed to do what he would have them. ‘Well,’ said he, ‘if the
Turks bid you do any thing, do it without grumbling, and with as much
diligence and quickness as ye can, for that pleases them, and will
cause them to let us be together.’ To this the men all agreed; and then
he went to the master, and told him their intention. But his answer
was, ‘If we offer to rise, and they overcome us, we had as good be
burnt alive.’ The mate knew very well the master was in the right, viz.
that if they failed in the attempt, they were like to meet with the
most cruel treatment from the Turks that could be thought of. Now the
reason why the master, though a very bold spirited man, did not readily
consent to the proposal, was, because he feared they would shed blood,
but his mate told him, they were resolved, and he questioned not but to
do it, without shedding one drop of blood; and besides, he would rather
have gone to Algiers, than to kill one Turk. Speaking thus, he so
swayed the master, that at last he agreed to let him do what he would,
provided they killed none.
Now since two Turks lay in the cabin with the master, it was agreed
that he should continue to lie there, lest they should mistrust any
thing. In the meanwhile it began to be bad weather, so that they
lost the company of the Turkish man of war, which was the thing the
mate much desired; and the Turks seeing the diligence of the English
sailors, grew careless concerning them, which was what the mate aimed
at. The second night after, the captain of the Turks, and one of his
company, being gone to sleep in the cabin with the master, the mate
persuaded one to lie in his cabin, and about an hour after another in
another cabin; and at last it raining very much, he persuaded them all
to lie down and sleep: and when they were all asleep, he coming to
them, fairly got their arms into his possession. This being done, he
told his men, ‘Now we have the Turks at our command, no man shall hurt
any of them; for if ye do, I will be against you: but this we will do,
now they are under deck, we will keep them so, and go for Majorca.’
And having ordered some to keep the doors, they steered their course
to Majorca, and they had such a strong gale, that in the morning they
were near it. Then he ordered his men, if any offered to come out, not
to let above one or two at a time; and when one came out, expecting
to have seen his own country, he was not a little astonished instead
thereof to see Majorca. Then the mate said to his men, ‘Be careful of
the door, for when he goes in we shall see what they will do. But have
a care not to spill blood.’ The Turk being gone down, and telling his
comrades what he had seen, and how they were going to Majorca, they,
instead of rising, all fell a crying, for their courage was quite sunk;
and they begged that they might not be sold. This the mate promised,
and said, they should not. And when he had appeased them, he went
into the cabin to the master, who knew nothing of what was done, and
gave him an account of the sudden change, and how they had overcome
the Turks. Which when he understood, he told their captain, that the
vessel was now no more in their possession, but in his again; and that
they were going for Majorca. At this unexpected news the captain wept,
and desired the master not to sell him; which he promised he would
not. Then they told him also, they would make a place to hide them in,
that the Spaniards coming aboard should not find them. And so they did
accordingly, at which the Turks were very glad.
Being come into the port of Majorca, the master, with four men, went
ashore, and left the mate on board with ten Turks. The master having
done his business, returned on board, not taking licence, lest the
Spaniards should come and see the Turks: but another English master,
being an acquaintance, lying there also with his ship, came at night
on board; and after some discourse, they told him what they had done,
under promise of silence, lest the Spaniards should come and take away
the Turks. But he broke his promise, and would have had two or three
of the Turks, to have brought them to England. His design then being
seen, his demand was denied; and seeing he could not prevail, he said
to Pattison and his mate, that they were fools, because they would not
sell the Turks, which were each worth two or three hundred pieces of
eight. But they told him, that if they would give many thousands, they
should not have one, for they hoped to send them home again; and to
sell them, the mate said, he would not have done for the whole island.
The other master then coming ashore, told the Spaniards what he knew
of this, who then threatened to take away the Turks. But Pattison and
his mate having heard this, called out the Turks, and said to them,
‘Ye must help us or the Spaniards will take you from us.’ To this the
Turks, as one may easily guess, were very ready, and so they quickly
got out to sea: and the English, to save the Turks, put themselves
to the hazard of being overcome again; for they continued hovering
several days, because they would not put into any port of Spain, for
fear of losing the Turks: to whom they gave liberty for four or five
days, until they made an attempt to rise; which the mate perceiving,
he prevented, without hurting any of them, though he once laid hold
of one; yet generally he was so kind to them, that some of his men
grumbled, and said he had more care for the Turks than for them. To
which his answer was, they were strangers, and therefore he must treat
them well. At length, after several occurrences, the mate told the
master, that he thought it best to go to the coasts of Barbary, because
they were then like to miss their men of war. To this the master
consented. However, to deceive the Turks, they sailed to and fro for
several days; for in the day-time they were for going to Algiers, but
when night came they steered the contrary way, and went back again, by
which means they kept the Turks in ignorance, so as to be quiet.
But on the 9th day, being all upon deck, when none of the English were
there but the master, his mate, and the man at the helm, they began to
be so untoward and haughty, that it rose in the mate’s mind, what if
they should lay hold on the master, and cast him overboard: for they
were ten lusty men, and he but a little man. This thought struck him
with terror; but recollecting himself, and taking heart, he stamped
with his foot and the men coming up, one asked for the crow, and
another for the axe, to fall on the Turks; but the mate bade them not
to hurt the Turks, and said, ‘I will lay hold on their captain:’ which
he did, for having heard them threaten the master, he stept forward,
and laying hold of the captain, said, he must go down, which he did
very quietly, all the rest following him. Two days after, being come
on the coast of Barbary, they were, according to what the Turks said,
about fifty miles from Algiers, and six from land; and in the afternoon
it fell calm. But how to set the Turks on shore was yet not resolved
upon. The mate saw well enough, that he being the man who had begun
this business, it would be his lot also to bring it to an end. He then
acquainted the master that he was willing to carry the Turks on shore;
but how to do this safely, he as yet knew not certainly; for to give
them the boat was too dangerous, for then they might get men and arms,
and so come and retake the ship with its own boat; and to carry them
on shore with two or three of the ship’s men, was also a great hazard,
because the Turks were ten in number: and to put one half on shore
was no less dangerous; for then they might raise the country, and so
surprise the English when they came with the other half. In this great
strait the mate said to the master, if he would let him have the boat
and three men to go with him, he would venture to put the Turks on
shore. The master, relying perhaps on his mate’s conduct, consented to
the proposal, though not without some tears dropt on both sides. Yet
the mate taking courage, said to the master, ‘I believe the Lord will
preserve me, for I have nothing but good-will in venturing my life, and
I have not the least fear upon me; but trust that all will do well.’
The master having consented, the mate called up the Turks, and going
with two men and a boy in the boat, took in these ten Turks, all
loose and unbound. Perhaps somebody will think this to be a very
inconsiderate act of the mate, and that it would have been more prudent
to have tied the Turks’ hands, the rather because he had made the men
promise, that they should do nothing to the Turks, until he said,
he could do no more; for then he gave them liberty to act for their
lives so as they judged convenient. Now since he knew not how near he
should bring the Turks ashore, and whether they should not have been
necessitated to swim a little, it seemed not prudent, to do any thing
which might have exasperated them; for if it had fallen out so that
they must have swam, then of necessity they must have been untied;
which would have been dangerous. Yet the mate did not omit to be as
careful as possible he could. For calling in the captain of the Turks,
he placed him first in the boat’s stern; then calling for another, he
placed him in his lap, and one on each side, and two more in their
laps, until he had placed them all; which he did to prevent a sudden
rising. He himself sat with a boat-hook in his hand on the bow of the
boat, having next to him one of the shipmen, and two that rowed, having
one a carpenter’s adze, and the other a cooper’s heading-knife. These
were all their arms, besides what belonged to the Turks, which they
had at their command. Thus the boat went off, and stood for the shore.
But as they came near it, the men growing afraid, one of them cried
out of a sudden, ‘Lord have mercy on us, there are Turks in the bushes
on shore.’ The Turks in the boat perceiving the English to be afraid,
all rose at once. But the mate, who in this great strait continued to
be hearty, showed himself now to be a man of courage, and bid the men
to take up such arms as they had; but do nothing with them until he
gave them leave. And then seeing that there were no men in the bushes,
and that it was only an imagination, all fear was taken away from him,
and his courage increasing, he thought with himself, ‘It is better to
strike a man, than to cleave a man’s head; and turning the boat-hook
in his hand, he struck the captain a smart blow, and bid him set down:
which he did instantly, and so did all the rest. After the boat was
come so near the shore, that they could easily wade, the mate bid the
Turks jump out, and so they did; and because they said they were about
four miles from a town, he gave them some loaves, and other necessaries.
They would fain have persuaded the English to go with them ashore to
a town, promising to treat them with wine, and other good things;
but though the mate trusted in Divine Providence, yet he was not so
careless as freely to enter into an apparent danger, without being
necessitated thereto: for though he had some thoughts that the Turks
would not have done him any evil, yet it was too hazardous thus to have
yielded to the mercy of those that lived there; and therefore he very
prudently rejected their invitation, well knowing that the Scripture
saith, “Thou shalt not tempt the Lord thy God.” The Turks seeing they
could not persuade him, took their leave with signs of great kindness,
and so went on shore. The English then putting the boat closer in,
threw all their arms on shore, being unwilling to keep any thing of
theirs. And when the Turks got up the hill, they waved their caps at
the English, and so joyfully took their last farewell. And as soon as
the boat came again on board, they had a fair wind, which they had not
all the while the Turks were on board. Thus Thomas Lurting saved the
ship and its men; which being thus wonderfully preserved, returned to
England with a prosperous wind.
Now before the vessel arrived at London, the news of this extraordinary
case was come thither; and when she was coming up the Thames, the king,
with the duke of York, and several lords, being at Greenwich, it was
told him, there was a Quaker’s ketch coming up the river, that had been
taken by the Turks, and redeemed themselves without fighting. The king
hearing this, came with his barge to the ship’s side, and holding the
entering rope in his hand, he understood from the mate’s own mouth, how
the thing had happened. But when he heard him say, how they had let
the Turks go free, he said to the master, ’You have done like a fool,
for you might have had good gain for them:’ and to the mate he said,
‘You should have brought the Turks to me.’ But the mate answered, ‘I
thought it better for them to be in their own country.’ At which the
king and others smiled, and so went away, thinking that the master had
done foolishly; but he and his mate were of another opinion, and they
made it appear that they did approve the lesson of our Saviour, “Love
your enemies, and do good to those that hate you,” not only with their
mouths, but that they had also put it into practice.
Though I have described this fact from a printed relation, yet I have
added some circumstances from the mouth of the said mate, with whom I
had some acquaintance.
Several years afterwards, when some seamen of the people called
Quakers, were in slavery at Algiers, G. Fox wrote a book to the grand
sultan, and the king at Algiers, wherein he laid before them their
indecent behaviour, and unreasonable dealings, showing them from their
alcoran that this displeased God, and that Mahomet had given them other
directions. To this he added a succinct narrative of what hath been
related here of G. Pattison’s ship being taken and retaken, and how
the Turks were set at liberty, without being made slaves: by which the
Mahometans might see what kind of Christians the Quakers were, viz.
such as showed effectually that they loved their enemies, according to
the doctrine of their supreme lawgiver, Christ. Now concerning those
Quakers at Algiers, of whom mention hath been made that they were
slaves there, it was a pretty long time before opportunity was found
to redeem them; but in the meanwhile they so faithfully served their
masters, that they were suffered to go loose through the town, without
being chained or fettered; and liberty was also allowed them to meet
at set times for religious worship: and their patrons themselves would
sometimes come and see what they did there; and finding no images or
prints, as Papist slaves in the exercise of their worship made use
of, but hearing from their slaves that they reverently adored and
worshipped the living God, Creator of Heaven and Earth, they commended
them for it, and said it was very good, and that they might freely do
so. And since one of them was raised to speak by way of edification to
his friends, some other English slaves frequenting that meeting, came
to be united with them. In the meanwhile the Quakers’ name came to be
known at Algiers, as a people that might be trusted beyond others.
It was in this year that William Caton went to England with his wife
from Holland, (where he was married,) and two friends more, one of
which was Judith Zinspenning, my mother, who was moved to speak at
the meeting at Kingston, where W. Caton interpreted for her. At
another time being in a meeting at London, and he not present, and
feeling herself stirred up to declare of the loving-kindness of the
Lord to those that feared him, she desired one Peter Sybrands to be
her interpreter; but he, though an honest man, yet not very fit for
that service, one or more friends told her, they were so sensible of
the power by which she spoke, that though they did not understand her
words, yet they were edified by the life and power that accompanied her
speech; and therefore they little mattered the want of interpretation;
and so she went on without any interpreter. She had indeed a very
good talent, and left such repute behind her, that I coming several
years after into England, kindness was showed me in several places on
her account. After a stay of some weeks at London, and thereabouts,
she went to Colchester, in order to return with W. Caton’s wife to
Holland; but making some stay in that town, she there wrote a book of
proverbs, which, W. Caton having translated into English, was printed
at London. After her departure, he staying behind, travelled through
Essex, Warwickshire, Staffordshire, Derbyshire, Nottinghamshire, and
Yorkshire; and coming into Lancashire, he repaired to Swarthmore, and
found there not only his ancient mistress, Margaret Fell, who received
him very kindly, but also G. Fox, not long before he was taken prisoner.
From thence Caton went to Sunderland, and so to Scarborough, where
meeting with a vessel bound for Holland, he embarked, and went off with
a fair wind: but it was not long before the wind changed; and being
about ten leagues from the land, the sky began to look tempestuous;
which made Caton advise the master to return; but he thinking the
weather would soon change, was unwilling to do so; yet it fell out
otherwise, for a violent storm arose, by which the ship was so
exceedingly tossed, that she grew leaky, and took so much water, that
the pumps continually must be kept going. But this so wearied the
seamen, that Caton also fell to pumping; for though he found himself
prepared to meet death, if it had been the will of the Lord, yet he
knew it to be the duty of a man to preserve his life by lawful means,
as long as possible; besides, he pitied the poor seamen, and so was
made willing to help them as much as lay in his power. But at length
they lost the use of the rudder, and were near the sands and shallows,
by which the danger was greatly increased, and death seemed to approach.
Now Caton, though given up in the will of the Lord, and prepared
to have found his grave in the deep, yet did not omit to call upon
the Lord, and to pray to the Most High for deliverance, if it were
consistent with his holy will; and when the storm was at the highest,
his supplication was heard, and the tempest on a sudden began to cease,
and the wind to abate; which gave him occasion to praise the Almighty
for the great mercy showed to him and the mariners. Yet the wind being
contrary, the master resolved to enter Yarmouth, where Caton met with
another storm: for on the First-day of the week, being at a meeting of
his friends, he with seven more were apprehended, and carried to the
main guard. The next day they were brought before the bailiffs of the
town, who tendered them the oath of allegiance; which they refusing to
take, were sent to prison, where he was kept above six months, so that
it was not till the next year that he returned into Holland.
Whilst he was in jail, Stephen Crisp came the first time into Holland,
to visit his friends there, and to edify them with his gift. It would
not be amiss here to say a little of his qualifications. He was a man
of notable natural abilities, and had been zealous for religion before
ever he entered into fellowship with those called Quakers. But when the
report of this people spread itself in the place where he lived, he
made inquiry after them and their doctrine, and though he heard nothing
but evil spoken of them, it nevertheless made some impression upon his
mind, when he considered how they were derided, hated, slandered, and
persecuted; because this generally had been the lot of those that truly
feared God. But having heard that one of their tenets was, that sin
might be overcome in this life, this seemed to him a great error. And
therefore, when James Parnel came to Colchester, he armed himself with
arguments, to oppose him earnestly: for looking upon him as one that
was but a youth, he thought he should be able to prevail upon him. He
himself was then about seven and twenty years of age, being not only
well versed in sacred writ, but also in the writings of many of the
ancient philosophers. After he had heard Parnel preach very powerfully,
and found his words more piercing than he had imagined, he ventured to
oppose him with some queries; but he soon found that this young man was
endued with sound judgment; and with all his wisdom and knowledge he
was not able to resist him, but was forced to submit to the truth he
held forth. Now he thought himself so enriched, that for a month or two
he made it his business, by the strength of his reason, to defend the
Truth he had embraced. But he soon found that this was not sufficient;
for self was not subdued under the cross, and he was not yet come to
an experimental knowledge of what he asserted and defended with words.
In this condition he saw that he must truly become poor in spirit,
if God ever should enrich him with heavenly wisdom. This brought him
to mourning and sorrow, by which he came more and more to be weaned
from his natural knowledge, wherein he used to delight. And continuing
faithful in this way of self-denial, he at length began to enjoy peace
in his mind, and so advanced in virtue and real knowledge, that in time
he became an eminent minister of the gospel, and travelling to and fro,
many were converted by his ministry.
About this time appeared in England, one Lodowick Muggleton, who
pretended that he and one John Reeves were the two witnesses which are
spoken of, Rev. xi. 3. And though it was not long before Reeves died,
yet Muggleton continued in his wild imaginations, which grew to that
degree, that he gave forth a paper, in which he said, ‘That he was
the chief judge in the world, and in passing the sentence of eternal
death and damnation upon the souls and bodies of men. That in obedience
to his commission, he had already cursed and damned many hundreds of
people both body and soul, from the presence of God, elect men, and
angels, to eternity. That he went by as certain a rule in so doing, as
the judges of the land do, when they give judgment according to law.
And that no infinite Spirit of Christ, nor any god, could, or should
be able to deliver from his sentence and curse,’ &c. These abominable
blasphemies he gave forth in public.
Richard Farnsworth, a zealous and intelligent minister, among those
called Quakers, answered this blasphemer in writing, and discovered
the horribleness of his profane and cursed doctrine and positions; and
he said, among the rest, in a book he published in print, ‘Consider
the nature of thy offence, how far it extends itself; and that is, to
pass the sentence of eternal death and damnation, both upon the bodies
and souls of men and women, and that to eternity. Consider that thy
injustice, done by colour of office, deserves to have a punishment
proportionable to the offence; and can the offence in the eye of the
Lord be any less than sin against the Holy Ghost, because thou hast
pretended to do it in the name of the Holy Ghost, and so wouldest
make the Holy Ghost the author of thy offence, which it is not? And
seeing thou art guilty of sin against the Holy Ghost, there is a
punishment already proportioned for such an offence; and also thou art
punishable by the law of the land, for presuming, under pretence of
a commission, and as a judge, to pass the sentence of death upon the
bodies of men and women, and pretending to go by a certain rule in so
doing, as the judges of the land do, &c.’ Thus continued Farnsworth
to answer Muggleton at large, and showed him how his judgment was not
only contrary to truth, but also against the law of the land. But he
was daring enough to give a reply to this serious answer, and said in
it, that he should commend Farnsworth, first, for setting his name to
it; and, secondly, for setting down his words so truly and punctually,
that it made his commission and authority to shine the more bright
and clear. And that he was as true an ambassador of God, and judge
of all men’s spiritual estate, as any ever was since the creation of
the world, ‘And if you Quakers, and others, (thus continued he,) can
satisfy yourselves, that there never was any man commissioned of God to
bless and curse, then you shall all escape that curse I have pronounced
upon so many hundreds: and I only shall suffer for cursing others,
without a commission from God. But my commission is no pretended thing,
but as true as Moses’s, the prophets’, and the apostles’ commission was.
A multitude more of abominations this blasphemer belched out, and among
the rest, that no man could come to the assurance of the favour of
God, but in believing that God gave this power unto John Reeves and
himself. That he had power given him over all other gods, and infinite
spirits whatsoever: that he, (Muggleton,) had the keys of heaven, and
of hell; and that none could get into heaven, except he opened the
gates. That he had power to remit their sins who received his doctrine,
and to retain and bind their sins more close upon their consciences,
for their despising, or not receiving his doctrine. That he was single
in doctrine, knowledge, judgment, and power, above all men, either
prophets, or apostles, since the beginning of the world, or that should
be hereafter whilst the world doth endure. That there was no true
minister, messenger, nor ambassador of God in the world, but himself;
neither should there be sent any of God after him to the world’s end.
That a God without him, spoke to him by voice of words, to the hearing
of the ear. That no person condemned by him, could make his appeal unto
God, neither by himself, nor by any other; because God was not in the
world at all. ‘This power to condemn, (saith he,) hath God given unto
me, and in this regard I am the only and alone judge, what shall become
of men and women after death; neither shall those that are damned by
me, see any other god or judge but me.’--I am loth to transcribe more
of those most horrible blasphemies; and we have cause to wonder at
the long forbearance of God, that he thus bore the disdainful affront
offered by this inhuman monster, in defiance of his almightiness.
This Muggleton said also to Farnsworth, that because he was not under
the sentence of his commission by verbal words, or writing, he should
give answer to his letter. ‘For, (said he,) I never give answer in
writing to any one that is under the sentence of my commission.’ This
shuffle, not to be bound to answer, when he had shut up any one under
his pretended damnation, seemed comical and facetious. Yet Farnsworth
did not omit to answer his blasphemous positions publicly, and to show
the absurdity of Muggleton, and John Reeve’s being the two witnesses.
Hereafter I shall have occasion again to make mention of this
Muggleton, for he lived yet several years: and do not find that any
punishment was inflicted on him by the magistrates, other than the
pillory, and half a year’s imprisonment; though many think, (not
without good reason,) that such blasphemers ought to be secluded from
conversation with men.
Francis Howgill, in the latter part of this year, being in the market
at Kendal, in Westmoreland, about his business, was summoned by the
high constable to appear before the justices of the peace at a tavern.
For being a zealous preacher among those called Quakers, occasion
was watched to imprison him under some colour of justice, how unjust
soever. Being come to the place appointed, the oath of allegiance was
tendered him; and because for conscience-sake he refused to swear, they
committed him to prison till the assizes at Appleby. Then appearing at
Appleby, the same oath was tendered him in court by the judges; for
not taking of which he was indicted, only he had liberty to answer to
the indictment at the next assizes. In the meantime there being a jail
delivery at Appleby, he was required to enter into bond for his good
behaviour: but well knowing this was only a snare to bring him into
further bonds, he refused, and so was recommitted to prison. And not
being tried till next year, we shall leave him there.
About this time happened a singular case, which I cannot well pass by
unmentioned. One Oliver Atherton, a man of a weak constitution, having
refused to pay tithes to the countess of Derby, who laid claim to the
ecclesiastical revenues of the parish of Ormskirk, where he lived, was
by her prosecution imprisoned at Derby, in a moist and unwholesome
hole, which so weakened him, that after having lain there two years
and a half, he grew sick; and a letter was wrote in his name to the
countess, in which was laid before her not only the cause why he had
refused the payment of tithes, viz. for conscience-sake, but also that
his life was in danger, if he staid longer in that unwholesome prison:
and that therefore she ought to show compassion, lest she drew the
guilt of innocent blood upon her.
Now though Oliver’s son, who brought this letter, met with rough
treatment for not uncovering his head, yet the letter was delivered
into her own hands: but the countess continued hard-hearted. Godfrey,
the son, returned to his father in prison, and told him, (who was now
on his death bed,) that the countess would not allow him any liberty.
To which he said, ‘She has been the cause of much bloodshed; but this
will be the heaviest blood to her that ever she spilt.’ And not long
after he died. His friends having got his corpse, carried it to
Ormskirk, but at Garstang, Preston, and other towns they past, they
fastened to the market cross the following inscription, which also had
been put on his coffin.
‘This is Oliver Atherton from the parish of Ormskirk, who by the
countess of Derby had been persecuted to death, for keeping a good
conscience towards God and Christ, in not paying of tithes to her.’
Now though three more, who with him were imprisoned for the same cause,
gave notice of this to the countess, that they might not likewise
die in prison, as their fellow prisoner had, yet she would show no
pity; and threatened to accuse those at Garstang, to the king and his
council, for having suffered the putting up of the said inscription.
But by this she opened people’s mouth’s the more, and an omnipotent
hand prevented the executing of her threatening; for exactly three
weeks after the day Atherton was buried, she died.
This year also in October, Humphrey Smith, a preacher among those
called Quakers, having been prisoner a year at Winchester, for his
religion, was by death delivered from his bonds. He had a vision in the
year 1660, in the month called July, concerning the fire of London,
which happened six years after: a relation of which he gave forth in
print.
In the year 1662, being about London, he said to some of his friends,
that he had a narrow path to pass through; and more than once
signified, he saw he should be imprisoned, and that it might cost him
his life. And coming not long after to Alton in Hampshire, he was taken
from a meeting of his friends, and committed to a stinking close prison
at Winchester, where after a whole year’s imprisonment, he fell sick;
and in the time of his sickness spoke many excellent words to those
about him, signifying, that he was given up to the will of the Lord
either in life or death. And lying in great weakness, he said, ‘My
heart is filled with the power of God. It is good for a man at such a
time as this, to have the Lord to be his friend.’ At another time he
was heard to say, ‘Lord, thou hast sent me forth to do thy will, and
I have been faithful unto thee in my small measure, which thou hast
committed unto me; but if thou wilt yet try me further, thy will be
done.’ Also he said, ‘I am the Lord’s, let him do what he will.’ Not
long before his departure he prayed very earnestly, saying, ‘O Lord,
hear the inward sighs and groans of thine oppressed, and deliver my
soul from the oppressor. Hear me, O Lord, uphold and preserve me. I
know that my Redeemer liveth. Thou art strong and mighty, O Lord.’ He
also prayed to God, that he would deliver his people from their cruel
oppressors. And for those that had been convinced by his ministry, that
the Lord would be their teacher. He continued quiet and sensible to the
last period of his life, dying a prisoner for bearing witness to truth;
and thus he stept from this troublesome and transitory life, into one
that is everlasting.
END OF VOLUME I.
APPENDIX to VOL. I.
_By referring to page 167 of this Volume, it will be observed
that the author, in giving a paper written by James Nayler,
has omitted the part that immediately precedes the conclusion
of it. This, which it is now thought proper to supply, is as
follows_:
‘And this further is given me to say to every particular person,
to whom this writing shall come, Whatever is thy condition, wait
in the light which lets thee see it; there is thy counsel and
thy strength to be received, to stay thee, and to recover thee.
Art thou tempted to sin? abide in that which lets thee see it,
that there thou mayest come to feed on the right body, and not
on the temptation; for if thou mindest the temptation it will
overcome thee, but in the light is salvation. Or, having sinned,
art thou tempted to despair, or to destroy thyself? mind not
the temptation, for it is death that sin hath brought forth;
feed not on it, nor mind it, lest thou eatest condemnation; for
that is the wrong body. The body of Christ is felt in the light,
in which is life from death, grace and truth to feed on, which
will overcome for thee, being followed; but if thou followest
the temptation, fear and condemnation will swallow thee up. If
there appear to thee voices, visions, and revelations, feed not
thereon, but abide in the light and feel the body of Christ,
and there wilt thou receive faith and power to judge of every
appearance and spirit, the good to hold fast and obey, and the
bad to resist. Art thou in darkness? mind it not; for if thou
dost, it will fill thee more; but stand still and act not, and
wait in patience till light arise out of darkness to lead thee.
Art thou wounded in conscience? feed not there, but abide in
the light, which leads to the grace and truth, which teaches to
deny and put off the weight, and removes the cause, and brings
saving health to light; yea, this I say to thee in the name of
Jesus Christ, that though thou hast made thy grave as deep as
the nethermost hell, or were thy afflictions as great as Job’s,
and thy darkness as the depth of the sea, yet if thou wilt not
run to vain helps, as I have done, but stay upon the Lord, till
he give thee light by his word, (who commands light to shine out
of darkness,) from thence will he bring thee forth, and his eye
shall guide thee, and thou shalt praise his name, as I do this
day, glory for evermore! And this word is nigh thee which must
give thee light, though darkness comprehends it not. And hadst
thou gifts, revelations, knowledge, wisdom, or whatever thou
canst read of in the Scriptures of truth, and dost not abide
in the light, and feed on the body of Christ, whence the gifts
spring, but feed on the gift, thou mayest be up for a while in
thy own sight, but certainly thou wilt wither and die to God,
and darkness will come upon thee, and thy food will turn to thy
condemnation in the sight of God.’
_Nayler’s Works_, _page_ lv.
THE
HISTORY
OF THE
RISE, INCREASE, AND PROGRESS,
OF THE
CHRISTIAN PEOPLE CALLED QUAKERS.
INTERMIXED WITH
SEVERAL REMARKABLE OCCURRENCES.
WRITTEN ORIGINALLY IN LOW DUTCH,
AND ALSO TRANSLATED BY HIMSELF INTO ENGLISH.
BY WILLIAM SEWEL.
A NEW EDITION.
TO WHICH IS APPENDED,
AN INTERESTING NARRATIVE OF THE SUFFERINGS OF WILLIAM
MOORE, JOHN PHILLY, AND RICHARD SELLER.
IN TWO VOLUMES.
VOL. II.
PHILADELPHIA:
URIAH HUNT, No. 19 NORTH THIRD STREET.
1832.
THE EIGHTH BOOK. 1664-1667.
1664.
In the foregoing year we left G. Fox in Lancaster prison, where at
the sessions, the oath of allegiance being tendered to, and refused
by him, he was brought to his trial in the month called March, which
begins the year 1664. Being brought to the bar before judge Twisden, he
said, ‘Peace be amongst you all.’ At which the judge looking upon him,
said, ‘What! do you come into the court with your hat on?’ Whereupon
the jailer taking it off, G. Fox said, ‘The hat is not the honour
that comes from God.’ Then said the judge, ‘Will you take the oath
of allegiance?’ G. Fox answered, ‘I never took any oath in my life.’
‘Well,’ said the judge, ‘will you swear or no?’ G. Fox replied, ‘I
am a Christian, and Christ commands me not to swear; and so doth the
apostle James likewise; and whether I should obey God or man, do thou
judge.’ ‘I ask you again,’ said the judge, ‘whether you will swear or
no?’ To which he made answer, ‘I am neither Turk, Jew, nor Heathen, but
a Christian, and should show forth Christianity. Dost thou not know,
(thus he went on,) that Christians in the primitive times, under the
ten persecutions, and some also of the martyrs in queen Mary’s days,
refused swearing, because Christ and the apostle had forbidden it? Ye
have experience enough, how many men have sworn first to the king, and
then against him. But as for me, I have never taken an oath in all my
life; and my allegiance doth not lie in swearing, but in truth and
faithfulness: for I honour all men, much more the king. But Christ,
who is the great Prophet, who is the King of kings, the Saviour of
the world, and the great Judge of the whole world, he saith, I must
not swear. Now the point is, whether I must obey Christ, or thee. For
it is in tenderness of conscience, and in obedience to the command of
Christ, that I do not swear. And we have the word of a king for tender
consciences.’ G. Fox having spoken thus much, asked the judge, if he
did own the king? To which he said, ‘Yes, I do own the king.’ ‘Why
then,’ said he, ‘dost thou not observe his declaration from Breda,
and his promises made since he came into England, that no man should
be called in question for matters of religion, so long as they lived
peaceably? Now if thou ownest the king, why dost thou call me into
question, and put me upon taking an oath, seeing thou, nor none, can
charge me with unpeaceable living?’ The judge looking angry, said,
‘Sirrah, will you swear?’ To which G. Fox told him, ‘I am none of
thy sirrahs; I am a Christian; and for thee, who art an old man and
a judge, to sit there and give nicknames to the prisoners, doth not
become either thy grey hairs or thy office.’ The judge being a little
more cool, after some words to and fro, said, ‘G. Fox, say whether thou
wilt take the oath, yea, or nay?’ To which he replied, ‘If I could take
any oath at all, I should take this: for I do not deny some oaths only,
or on some occasions, but all oaths, according to Christ’s doctrine,
who said, “Swear not at all.” Now if thou, or any of you, or any of
your ministers or priests here, will prove that ever Christ or his
apostle, after they had forbidden all swearing, commanded Christians
to swear, then I will swear.’ None of the priests offering to speak,
the judge said, ‘I am a servant to the king, and the king sent me not
to dispute with you, but to put the laws in execution; and therefore I
tender the oath of allegiance.’ G. Fox continuing to refuse swearing,
was sent again to prison. Two days after, being brought again before
the judge, it was asked him, whether he would traverse or submit? To
which G. Fox said, he desired he might have liberty to traverse the
indictment, and try it. Then order was given to take him away, and he
was kept in prison till the next assizes.
Being prisoner in Lancaster castle, there was much talk of the Turk’s
great progress in Hungary, there being at that time a war between the
Emperor and the Turks; and many being afraid, he said to some, that
walking once in his chamber, he saw the Lord’s power turn against the
Turk, and that he was turning back again. And within a month after news
came that he was defeated. Another time, as he was walking in the room,
with his mind upon the Lord, he saw an extraordinary great light, and
looking up, he beheld an angel of the Lord, with a glittering sword
stretched southward, which shone so bright, as if the court had been
all on fire. Of which I have for proof what he mentions of it in his
journal, and also another small book he gave out with the title of a
Warning to England. Not long after a war broke out between England and
Holland, and some time after the pestilence appeared at London, (which
lies southwardly from Lancaster,) and after two years that city by the
fire was turned into rubbish.
But I return to the Lancaster assizes. Margaret Fell, who was now a
widow, was also under confinement for refusing the oath of allegiance.
And G. Fox being in prison, wrote several papers to the magistrates, in
which he manifested the evil of persecution, and exhorted to virtue and
piety.
In the month called August, the assizes were held again at Lancaster.
G. Fox being brought thither, (judge Turner then sitting on the
crown-bench,) and being called to the bar, the judge asked the
justices, whether they had tendered him the oath at the foregoing
sessions? They saying they had, and having sworn it, the jury were
sworn too. Then the judge asked him, whether he had not refused the
oath at the last assizes? To which he answered, ‘I never took an oath
in my life; and Christ the Saviour and Judge of the world said, “Swear
not at all.” The judge seeming not to take notice of this answer, asked
him whether or no he had not refused to take the oath at the last
assizes? G. Fox maintaining the unlawfulness of swearing, the judge
said, he was not at that time to dispute whether it was lawful to
swear, but to inquire whether he had refused to take the oath, or no.
G. Fox then signifying that he did not disapprove the things mentioned
in the oath, said, ’Plotting against the king, and owning the Pope’s,
or any other foreign power, I utterly deny.’ ‘Well,’ said the judge,
‘you say well in that: but did you deny to take the oath; what say
you.’ ‘What wouldest thou have me to say?’ replied he, ‘I have told
thee before what I did say.’ After some more words from both sides, the
indictment was read. G. Fox having informed himself of the errors that
were in it, said, he had something to speak to it, for there were many
gross errors in it. The judge signified that he would not hear him,
but when he was at the point of giving judgment, the jury going out,
soon returned, and brought him in guilty. Whereupon he told them, that
both the justices and they too had forsworn themselves; which caused
such confusion in the court, that the pronouncing judgment was delayed.
Margaret Fell being next brought to the bar, was also declared guilty.
The next day she and G. Fox were brought up again to receive sentence.
Her counsel pleading many errors in her indictment, she was set by;
and G. Fox then being called, showed himself unwilling to let any man
plead for him; which seemed to make some stop; yet he was asked by the
judge, what he had to say, why he should not pass sentence upon him.
At which he told him, ‘I am no lawyer, but yet I have much to say, if
thou wilt but have patience to hear?’ Thereupon those on the bench
laughed, and said, ‘Come what have you to say?’ Then he asked the judge
whether the oath was to be tendered to the king’s subjects, or to the
subjects of foreign princes. To which the judge said, ‘To the subjects
of this realm.’ ‘Then,’ said George, ‘look on the indictment, and ye
may see that ye have left out the word subject: and not having named
me in the indictment as a subject, ye cannot premunire me for not
taking the oath.’ They then looking to the statute, and the indictment,
saw that it was as he said, and the judge confessed that it was an
error. Next G. F. told him, he had something else to stop judgment;
and he desired them to look what day the indictment said the oath was
tendered to him at the sessions there? They looking, said it was the
eleventh of January. Then he asked, ‘What day of the week was that
sessions held on?’ ‘On a Tuesday,’ said they. To which G. F. said,
‘Look in your almanac, and see whether there was any session held at
Lancaster on the eleventh of January.’ They looking, found that the
eleventh day was the day called Monday, and that the sessions were on
the day called Tuesday, which was the twelfth day of the said month:
‘Look ye now,’ said he, ‘ye have indicted me for refusing the oath in
the quarter-sessions held at Lancaster on the eleventh day of January
last, and the justices have sworn that they tendered me the oath in
open sessions here that day, and the jury upon their oath have found
me guilty thereupon; and yet ye see there was no sessions held at
Lancaster that day.’ The judge, to cover the matter, asked, whether
the sessions did not begin on the eleventh day? To which some in the
court answered, ‘No; the sessions held but one day, and that was
the twelfth.’ Then the judge said, this was a great mistake, and an
error. Some of the justices grew so angry at this, that they seeming
ready to have gone off the bench, stamped, and said, ‘Who hath done
this? Somebody hath done this on purpose.’ Then said G. F. ‘Are not
the justices here that have sworn to this indictment, forsworn men?
But this is not all; I have more yet to offer why sentence should not
be given against me, in what year of the king was it, that the last
assizes, which was in the month called March, was holden here?’ To this
the judge said it was in the sixteenth year of the king. ‘But,’ said G.
Fox, ‘the indictment says it was in the fifteenth year.’ This was also
acknowledged to be an error: but both judge and justices were in such
a fret, that they knew not what to say; for it had been sworn also,
that the oath was tendered to G. Fox at the assize mentioned in the
indictment, viz. in the fifteenth year of the king, whereas it was in
the sixteenth; which made G. Fox say, ‘Is not the court here forsworn
also, they having sworn a whole year false?’ Some other remarkable
errors he showed, which I, having no mind to be tedious, pass by with
silence.
G. Fox then desiring justice, and saying, that he did not look for
mercy, the judge said, you must have justice, and you shall have law:
which made him ask, ‘Am I now free from all that hath been done against
me in this matter?’ ‘Yes,’ said the judge; but then starting up in a
rage he said, ‘I can put the oath to any man here; and I will tender
you the oath again.’ G. Fox then telling him, that he had examples
enough of yesterday’s swearing and false swearing; ‘For I saw before
my eyes,’ said he, ‘that both justices and jury forswore themselves;’
yet the judge asked him if he would take the oath? But he replied, ‘Do
me justice for my false imprisonment all this while;’ for he had been
locked up, as was well known, in a wet and cold room, and therefore he
said, ‘I ought to be set at liberty.’ At which the judge said, ‘you are
at liberty, but I will put the oath to you again.’ G. Fox then turning
himself about, said to the people, ‘Take notice, this is a snare; but
I ought to be set free from the jailer, and from this court.’ But the
judge instead of hearkening to that, cried, ‘Give him the book.’ G. Fox
then taking the book, and looking in it, said, ‘I see it is a bible,
and I am glad of it.’ In the meanwhile the jury being called by order
of the judge, they stood by; for though they had desired, after they
had brought in their former verdict, to be dismissed, yet he told them,
he could not dismiss them yet, because he should have business for
them; and therefore they must attend, and be ready. G. Fox, perceiving
his intent, looking him in the face, which made him blush: nevertheless
he caused the oath to be read, and then asked G. Fox whether he would
take the oath or no; to which he said, ‘Ye have given me a book here to
kiss, and to swear on; and this book says, kiss the Son; and the Son
says in this book, “Swear not at all,” and so says also the apostle
James: now I say, as the book says, and yet ye imprison me, for doing
as the book bids me. How chance ye do not imprison the book for saying
so? How comes it that the book is at liberty amongst you, which bids
me swear not? Why do not ye imprison the book also?’ Whilst he was
speaking thus, he held up the bible open, to show the place where
Christ forbids swearing. But the book was taken from him, and the judge
said, ‘No, but we will imprison George Fox.’
This case was so singular, that it was spread over all the country, as
a by-word, that they gave G. Fox a book to swear on, that commanded
him not to swear at all, and that this book, viz. the Bible, was at
liberty, and he in prison, for doing as the Bible said. But the judge
urged him still to swear; to which G. Fox said, ‘I am a man of a tender
conscience; consider therefore, that it is in obedience to Christ’s
command that I cannot swear: but if any of you can convince me, that
after Christ and the apostle had commanded not to swear, they did
alter that command, and commanded Christians to swear, then ye shall
see I will swear.’ And he seeing there several priests, said, ‘If ye
cannot do it, let your priests do it.’ But none of the priests said
any thing; and the judge said, ‘All the world cannot convince you.’
To which he replied, ‘How is it like the world should convince me?
For the whole world lies in wickedness: but bring out your spiritual
men, as ye call them, to convince me.’ Then the sheriff and the judge
said, that the angel swore in the Revelations. To which G. Fox replied,
‘When God bringeth in his first-begotten Son into the world, he saith,
“Let all the angels of God worship him;” and he said, “Swear not at
all.”’--‘Nay,’ said the judge, ‘I will not dispute.’ Then he told the
jury, it was for Christ’s sake that he could not swear; and therefore
he warned them not to act contrary to that of God in their consciences,
because they must all appear before his judgment seat. After some more
words spoken, the jailer took him away.
In the afternoon he was brought up again: and the jury having brought
him in guilty of what he was charged within the indictment, viz. his
not taking the oath, the judge asked him, what he had to say for
himself. He then desired the indictment to be read; since he could not
answer to that which he had not heard. The clerk reading it, the judge
said, ‘Take heed it be not false again.’ But the clerk read it in such
a manner, that G. Fox could hardly understand what he read. And when he
had done, the judge asked G. Fox what he had to say to the indictment.
To which he said, ‘At once hearing so large a writing read, and that
at such a distance, that I could not distinctly hear all the parts
of it; I cannot well tell what to say to it: but if you will let me
have a copy of it, and give me time to consider, I shall answer it.’
This put the court to a little stand; but at length the judge asked
him, what time he would have? And he answered, ‘Till the next assize.’
‘But,’ said the judge, ‘What plea will you make now; are you guilty, or
not guilty?’ To which he replied, ‘I am not guilty at all of denying
swearing obstinately and wilfully: and as for those things mentioned in
the oath, as jesuitical plots, and foreign powers, I utterly deny them
in my heart: and if I could take any oath, I should take this; but I
never took any oath in all my life.’ To this the judge returned, ‘You
say well; but the king is sworn, the parliament is sworn, I am sworn,
the justices are sworn, and the law is preserved by oaths.’ On which
G. Fox told him, they had had sufficient experience of men’s swearing,
and had seen how the justices and jury swore wrong the other day: and
continued he, ‘If thou hast read in the book of Martyrs, how many of
them did refuse to swear, both within the time of the ten persecutions,
and in bishop Bonner’s day, thou mayest see that to deny swearing in
obedience to Christ’s command, is no new thing.’ To this the judge
said, he wished the laws were otherwise. G. Fox said then, ‘Our yea is
yea, and our nay is nay: and if we transgress our yea and our nay, let
us suffer as they do, or should do, that swear falsely. This I have
offered to the king, and the king said it was reasonable.’
After some further discourse, G. Fox was committed to prison again,
and Colonel Kirby ordered the jailer to keep him close, and to suffer
nobody to come to him, as one that was not fit to be discoursed with.
The jailer did not scruple to follow this order, for he locked him up
in a smoky tower, where the smoke of the other prisoners came up so
thick, that sometimes one could hardly see a burning candle; so that
there seemed to have been an intent to choke him; for the turnkey
could hardly be persuaded to unlock one of the upper doors a little to
let out the smoke. Besides this hardship, in wet weather it rained in
upon his bed to that degree, that his shirt grew wet. In this pitiful
condition he lay during a long cold winter, which so afflicted him,
that his body swelled, and his limbs were much benumbed. Here we will
leave him till he was brought again to his trial, which was not before
the next year.
But before I part with him, I must mention, that some time before he
had written several papers to the emperor, the kings of France and
Spain, and also to the pope. These writings were by somebody else
turned into Latin, and so given out in print. In these he levelled
chiefly against persecution for religion’s sake. He reproved the king
of Spain more especially, because of the inquisition, and the burning
of people: and he did not spare the pope, as being the spring of these
evils, saying, ‘Innocent blood hath long cried for vengeance to the
Lord: the earth almost swims with innocent blood; and the cry of it is
heard. Your frozen profession, and your cold winter images being set
up in your streets, the Lord God of power and death, and of heaven and
earth, will be avenged on thee, and you all; his day is approaching.
Ye great and rich cardinals and pope, ye have been fed like fat hogs;
and seeing that thou wouldest not receive the Lord’s messengers, but
threw them in prison, and in your inquisition, it may be the Lord may
give you a visit another way, for his dread is gone out, and his zeal
is kindled against you.--The fields are sprinkled with the blood of
the innocent, and ye are the aceldama, or the field of blood. But the
Lord is coming to take vengeance upon you; his hand is stretched over
your heads, and his power is gone over you; with that he will rule you,
and smite you down, and bring you that are lofty from your seats, and
abase your pride, and take the glory to himself.--How much blood, which
is unmeasurable, and cannot be measured here, have ye drank since the
days of the apostles, and made yourselves drunk with it! But now is
the indignation and wrath of the Almighty come and coming upon you;
and thou pope must feel it. Tremble therefore, thou pope, tremble,
fear, and quake thou pope, tremble ye cardinals, tremble ye jesuits,
tremble ye priors, tremble ye monks and friars, of what rank soever,
for the army of the Lord God is coming over you, by whom ye shall be
taken, and dashed to pieces.’ These are but small sparkles of that
flame which G. Fox blew against the pope, intermixing his writings
with many demonstrations, that the Romish church was the whore of
Babylon, and that she it was that had defiled herself with idolatry
and superstition, and had bathed herself in the blood of the saints,
having furiously attacked them with sword and fire. This he concluded
with these words: ‘The plagues of God will be thy portion, O pope, who
hath deceived the nations: and all ye jesuits and cardinals, howl, for
your misery is coming, the mighty day of the Lord God upon you all; the
Lord God, who will be worshipped in spirit and in truth, and with none
of your inventions.’ Thus G. Fox wrote in that day to the pope and his
counsellors; and no wonder that he paid dear for this sharp language
against the head of the church of Rome; for it may be believed, that a
great many of the court party, in those days, were either concealed
Papists, or favourers of them: and yet among the national clergy, and
even those of other persuasions, many branded the Quakers with the
odious name of secret Papists, thereby to make them incur the hatred of
the people.
Now I return to Francis Howgill, whom in the foregoing year we left
in prison at Appleby. It was in the forepart of this year that he was
brought to his trial. Being come into court before the judges sat,
he spoke to the clerk of the assizes, and told him, he did not know
whether they expected his appearance then or not: the clerk said, ‘You
have done well,’ and that he would acquaint the judge, and he should
only engage to him to appear the next assizes, to answer the indictment
against him, and that he should not appear in court; Francis bid him
do what he would. In the meantime Sir Philip Musgrave, (so called,) a
great adversary to the Truth, and the great and chief prosecutor of
Francis, had informed the judges against him, that he was a dangerous
person, a ringleader, and a keeper up of meetings of dangerous
consequence, and destructive of the peace of the nation; so then they
concluded he should appear in court; and so the clerk informed him, and
told him about what time he should be called. So the court began; judge
Twisden gave the charge to the grand jury, in which he said, there was
a sort of people, who under pretence of conscience and religion, seemed
to build upon the king’s declaration from Breda, and under colour
of this hatched treasons and rebellions, and gave the jury charge
to inquire and present such, that the peace of the nation might be
preserved; so they impanneled the jury, and Francis was called to the
bar, and the judge spake as followeth:
Judge, speaking calmly to him, said, the face of things was much
altered since the last assizes, and made a large speech to him
and the country, telling him, that all sects under pretence of
conscience did violate the laws, and hatched rebellions, ‘Not,
(saith he,) that I have any thing to charge you with; but seeing
the oath of allegiance was tendered to you the last assizes, and
you refused to take it, it was looked upon that such persons
were enemies to the king and government;’ and said, ‘I will
not trouble you now to answer to your indictment, but I must
do that the next assizes; in the meantime you must enter into
recognizance for your good behaviour.’
To which F. H. answered, I desire liberty to speak, which he had
without interruption, and said as followeth:
F. H. Judge Twisden, thou very well knowest upon how slender an
account, or none, I was brought before thee the last assizes,
where thou wert pleased to tender me the oath of allegiance,
though I believe both thou and the rest of the court, did know
it was a received principle among us not to swear at all; many
reasons I gave thee then, many more I have to add, if I may have
audience; for it may appear to you an absurd thing, and obstinacy
in me to refuse it, if I should not tender a reason; I am, (said
he,) none of those that make religion a cloak of maliciousness,
nor conscience a cloak to carry on plots or conspiracies, the
Lord hath redeemed me and many more out of such things, and
seeing I am engaged to appear at the next assizes, I desire no
further thing may be required of me.
Judge. You must enter into bond this dangerous time, and
therefore consider of it, and tell me now, or before the assizes
end.
The second day of the assizes he was called again.
F. H. Seeing thou art pleased to let me answer to the indictment,
which I am willing to do, I have been of good behaviour, and
shall so continue; but it seems a hard thing to me, and full
of severity, that seeing I am obliged to appear to answer an
indictment of so high a nature, (if prosecuted against me,) which
tends to the loss of my liberty for life, and my estate forever,
I hope the court will not envy my liberty for five months.
Judge Turner said, We do not desire your imprisonment, if you
will be of good behaviour.
F. H. pressed that they would not put him upon giving bond to be
of good behaviour, knowing himself to be bound by the truth, that
he could not misbehave himself.
One Daniel Flemming, another persecuting justice, had framed
another indictment against him for meeting, and stood up,
(fearing the snare of giving bond would not hold,) and said as
followeth:
D. Flemming. My lord, he is a great speaker, it may be the
Quakers cannot want him.
Judge. Let him be what he will, if he will enter into bond.
F. H. said he had nothing to accuse himself of, for his
conscience bore him witness that he loved peace, and sought it
with all men.
Judges both spake. What do you tell of conscience? We meddle not
with it; but you contemn the laws, and keep up great meetings,
and go not to church.
F. H. We are fallen in a sad age; if meeting together peaceably,
without arms, or force, or intention of hurt to any man, only to
worship God in Spirit, and exhort one another to righteousness,
and to pray together in the Holy Ghost, as the primitive
Christians of old, that this should be reckoned breach of peace
and misbehaviour.
Judge Twisden. Do you compare these times with them? They were
heathens that persecuted, but we are Christian magistrates.
F. H. It is a doctrine always held by us, and a received
principle which we believe, that Christ’s kingdom could not be
set up with carnal weapons; nor the gospel propagated by force of
arms, nor the church of God built with violence; but the Prince
of Peace was manifested amongst us, and we could learn war no
more, but could love enemies, and forgive them that did evil to
us.
Philip Musgrave stood up, and said, ‘My Lord, we have been remiss
towards this people, and have striven with them, and put them in
prison again and again, and fined them, and as soon as they are
out they meet again.’
Then stood up John Lowther, called a justice, and said, ‘My Lord,
they grow insolent, notwithstanding all laws, and the execution
of them, yet they grow upon us, and their meetings are dangerous.’
Philip Musgrave stood up, and produced a paper, (and justice
Flemming, so called, seconded him,) in great capital letters,
and gave it the judge; he told the judge, that it happened some
Quakers were sent to prison, and one of them died at Lancaster,
and they carried his corpse through the country, and set that
paper upon his coffin, ‘This is the body of such an one, who was
persecuted by Daniel Flemming till death.’
Judge. We have spent much time with you; I will discourse no more.
F. H. I acknowledge your moderation towards me, allowing me
liberty to speak; I shall not trouble you much longer; I shall be
willing to appear to answer to the indictment at the assizes, and
in the meantime to live peaceably and quietly, as I have done, if
that will satisfy.
Judge. You must enter into bond to come at no more meetings.
F. H. I cannot do that; if I should, I were treacherous to God
and my own conscience, and the people and you would but judge me
a hypocrite.
They were loth to commit him, yet at last they did.
This was in the latter part of the month called March, and he was kept
about five months as before in a bad room, and none suffered to speak
with him, but who got secretly to him without the jailer’s knowledge.
It was about this time that John Audland departed this life. He and his
bosom friend, John Camm, (whose decease was some years before,) had
travelled much together in the ministry of the gospel: therefore I will
give an uninterrupted relation of their latter end; but first that of
John Camm.
He was of very good parentage, born at Camsgil, in the barony of Kendal
in Westmoreland, which seat had been possessed by his ancestors long
before him. From his childhood he was inclined to be religious, and
seeking after the best things, he joined with those that were the most
strict in performing religious duties. And having afterwards heard G.
Fox, he embraced as truth the doctrine he preached, and growing up in
it, he himself became an eminent minister of the gospel among those
called Quakers. He and his bosom friend John Audland, were the first of
that society who preached at Bristol, where having been in the meetings
of the Baptists and Independents, they also had meetings in several
places without the city, where there was a great concourse of people,
and many received their doctrine. Since that time these two ministers
travelled much together, and many were convinced by their ministry. But
at length John Camm, who did not spare himself, began to fall under a
kind of consumption, insomuch that through weakness he was fain to stay
at home; and then he often called his children and family together,
exhorting them to godliness, and praying to the Lord for them. Some
weeks before his death, he once expressed himself thus: ‘How great a
benefit do I enjoy above many, having such a large time of preparation
for death, being daily dying, that I may live for ever with my God, in
that kingdom that is unspeakably full of glory. My outward man daily
wastes and moulders down, and draws towards its place and centre;
but my inward man revives, and mounts upwards towards its place and
habitation in the heavens.’ The morning that he departed this life,
he called his wife, children, and family, to him, and exhorting them
to fear the Lord, to love his truth, to walk in it, and to be loving
and kind to one another, telling them that his glass was run, the time
of his departure was come; and he was to enter into everlasting ease,
joy, and rest: charging them all to be patient and content with their
parting with him. And so fainting, he passed into a sweet sleep; but by
the weeping and crying of those about him, he awakened, and desired to
be helped up a little in his bed, and then he spoke to this effect: ‘My
dear hearts, ye have wronged me and disturbed me, for I was at sweet
rest; ye should not so passionately sorrow for my departure; this house
of earth and clay must go to its place; and this soul and spirit is to
be gathered up to the Lord, to live with him for ever, where we shall
meet with everlasting joy.’ Then taking leave of his family, he charged
them to be content with his departure; and lying down, within a little
time deceased.
His beloved friend John Audland, (who often bemoaned the loss of so
dear a companion,) died also of a kind of consumption: for his ardent
zeal made him strain his voice beyond what his body was well able
to hear. In a meeting, which he once had with J. Camm, in a field
without Bristol, where Charles Marshall was one of his auditors,
after J. Camm had left off speaking, he stood up, with an awful and
shining countenance: and lifting up his voice as a trumpet, he said,
‘I proclaim a spiritual war with the inhabitants of the earth, who
are in the fall and separation from God, and I prophesy to the four
winds of heaven.’ Thus he went on with mighty power, exhorting to
repentance; and spoke with such a piercing authority, that some of the
auditory fell on the ground, and cried out under the sense of their
transgression. And when at Bristol he many times preached in an orchard
to a great multitude, he would lift up his voice exceedingly, in order
to be heard by all. Thus he spent his natural strength, though he was
but a young man. About the twentieth year of his age, he married with
one Anne Newby, of Kendal, a virtuous maid, not only of good family,
but also excelling in piety, and therefore she freely gave him up
to travel in the service of the gospel, notwithstanding his company
was very dear to her; which made her say, that she believed few ever
enjoyed a greater blessing in a husband so kind and affectionate. And
how heartily and tenderly she loved him, may be seen by the following
letter she wrote to him.
‘_Dear Husband_,
‘Thou art dearer to me than ever; my love flows out to thee,
even the same love that I am loved withal of my Father. In that
love salute me to all my friends, for dear you are all unto me;
my life is much refreshed in hearing from you. I received thy
letters, and all my soul desireth is to hear from thee in the
life; dear heart, in life dwell, there I am with thee out of all
time, out of all words, in the pure power of the Lord, there is
my joy and strength; O! how am I refreshed to hear from thee, to
hear of thy faithfulness and boldness in the work of the Lord. O!
dear heart, I cannot utter the joy I have concerning thee; thy
presence I have continually in spirit, therewith am I filled with
joy; all glory and honour be to our God for ever. O! blessed be
the day in which thou wast born, that thou art found worthy to
labour in the work of the Lord. Surely the Lord hath found thee
faithful in a little, therefore he hath committed much unto thee;
go on in the name and power of the Lord Jesus Christ, from whence
all strength cometh, to whom be all glory, and honour for ever.
O! dear heart, go on, conquering and to conquer, knowing this,
that thy crown is sure. So, dear heart, now is the time of the
Lord’s work, and few are willing to go forth into it. All the
world lieth in wickedness, doing their own work; but blessed be
the Lord for ever, who hath called us from doing our own work,
into his great work. O! marvellous are his works, and his ways
past finding out. O! dear heart, thou knowest my heart, thou
mayest read daily how that I rejoice in nothing more than in thy
prosperity in the work of the Lord: Oh! it is past my utterance
to express the joy I have for thee. I am full, I am full of love
towards thee, never such love as this; the mighty power of the
Lord go along with thee, and keep thee faithful and valiant, and
bold in his pure counsel, to stand single out of all the world.
O! dear heart, all my love to thee is purer than gold seven times
purified in the fire: O! pure is he that hath loved us, therefore
let purity and holiness cover us for ever. A joyful word it was
to me, to hear that thou wast moved to go for Bristol: O my own
heart, my own life! in that which now stands, act and obey,
that thou mayest stand upon thy alone guard; so, dear heart,
let thy prayers be for me, that I may be kept pure out of all
temptations, singly to dwell in the life: so farewell.
ANNE AUDLAND.’
By this letter it appears, that there was an endeared mutual love
between this virtuous couple. He was a man of great knowledge, but when
his understanding came to be opened by the preaching of G. Fox, he
would say, sometimes, ‘Ah, what have we been doing! Or what availeth
our great profession? All our building tumbles down; our profession
is high as the wind; the day of the Lord is upon it, and his word,
as a fire, consumes it as dry stubble; and puts an end to all empty
professions and high notions, without life or substance; to all the
wisdom of fallen man. We must forsake the world, and all its glory; it
is all but vanity and vexation of spirit: it is a Saviour that I long
for; it is him that my soul pants after. O that I may be gathered into
his life, and overshadowed with his glory, sanctified throughout by
his word, and raised up by his eternal power!’ He continuing in this
state of daily supplication and inward travail of soul, it pleased the
Lord at length to furnish him with an extraordinary qualification to
proclaim his word, which he did some years faithfully, and with great
zeal. And though his wife loved him dearly, and preferred his company
above what the world could give; yet in regard of his gospel service,
she gave him up freely to be much from home; whereby during a great
part of the time of their marriage, she had not his desirable company.
In the meanwhile he laboured diligently in the Lord’s harvest, till
his bodily strength failing, and meeting with hard imprisonments, he
was seized with a most violent cough, which was followed by a fever,
so that his sleep was taken from him, which made him grow very weak;
but he bore his sickness with great patience, and said once, that
in those great meetings in the orchard at Bristol, he often forgot
himself, not considering the inability of his body, from a desire to
be heard by all: but that his reward was with him, and he content to
be with the Lord, which his soul valued above all things. Not long
before his departure, being visited by some of his friends, he spoke so
comfortably, and with such power, as one that was beyond the feeling
of his weakness. To his wife, who was big with child, and nigh her
delivery, well knowing how tenderly she loved him, he said, ‘My will is
in true subjection, submitting to the will of the Lord, whether life or
death; and therefore give me up freely to his disposing.’ And she, how
dear soever he was to her, did so; which gave him some ease, seeing her
sincere resignedness; and being sometimes overcome with joy, he praised
God in his sickness; nay so ardent was his zeal, that once, though
very weak, he desired to be helped up in bed upon his knees; and thus
he fervently supplicated the Lord in the behalf of his churches, that
they might be preserved in the truth, out of the evil of the world,
and that his gospel might spread, and be published to the gathering
of all that pertain to Israel. His strength now diminishing daily, he
sweetly departed at the age of thirty-four years, about three weeks
after the fever first seized him. And his widow, who ten days after
his decease was delivered of a son, behaved herself discreetly, and
said afterwards in a paper concerning him: ‘The eternal God, who by his
providence, joined us together in marriage, in our young days, in his
blessed counsel also caused his day to spring from on high upon us: in
the marvellous light, and bright shining whereof, he revealed his Son
Christ in us, and gave us faith to believe in him, the eternal word of
life, by which our souls came to be quickened, and made alive in him:
and also in and by the quickening of his holy power, were made one in
a spiritual and heavenly relation, our hearts being knit together in
the unspeakable love of truth, which was our life, joy, and delight,
and made our days together exceeding comfortable: as being that whereby
all our temporal enjoyments were sanctified, and made a blessing to
us. How hard it was, and how great a loss, to part with so dear and
tender an husband as he was to me, is far beyond what I can express:
the dolour of my heart, my tongue or pen is not able to declare. Yet
in this I contented myself, that it was the will of the Lord that he
was taken from the evil; and that my loss, though great, was not to
be compared to his eternal gain.’ This widow, in process of time, was
married to Thomas Camm, son of John Camm, her former husband’s bosom
friend. She was indeed a woman of great virtue, but now I part with
her, with intention to say more of her when I shall come to the time of
her decease.
I return to Francis Howgill, whom we left in prison, and who now
appeared again at the assizes, which were holden at Appleby, in the
month called August. And he having got liberty to speak with the clerk
of the assizes, who told him, that he must prepare himself to come to
a trial, answered, he was prepared, but thought that all he could say,
would little avail, believing they purposed to prosecute him with all
severity: which proved so, as will appear by what follows; for the
county justices had incensed the judges against him beforehand. Yet
Howgill endeavoured all he could to convince them of his innocency; and
to that end drew up the substance of the oath into several heads which
he could subscribe to; to this he joined another paper to judge Turner,
showing the cause of his first commitment and the former proceedings
against him: and how unequal it was to prosecute him upon a statute
made against popish recusants. He also signified in that paper, that he
was a man of a tender spirit, and feared the Lord from a child, and he
had never taken any oath but once in his life, which was twenty years
ago; and that his refusing to take the oath of allegiance, was not in
any evil intent to the king’s person or government, but merely upon a
conscientious account, and that he could not swear, being otherwise
persuaded of the Lord, seeing it was against the command of Christ,
and the apostle James’s doctrine. Besides, that he was able to make
it evident to be against the example of the primitive Christians for
divers hundred years, and so no new opinion. That he did neither in
wilfulness nor obstinacy refuse it, being sensible of the damage that
would come thereby, if they did prosecute him upon that statute, he
having a wife and children, and some small estate, which he knew lay at
stake in the matter; but that though it were his life also, he could
not revolt from, or deny that which he had most certainly believed in;
but if any could convince him either by scripture or reason, he had
an ear to hear. And therefore all those things considered, he desired
he might he dismissed from his bonds, and from their persecution of
him upon that account. These papers were delivered to the judges and
justices before he appeared in court, and were read by them. He then
being called to the bar at the assizes holden at Appleby, judge Turner
said to him, ‘Here is an indictment against you for refusing to take
the oath of allegiance; so you must plead to it, either guilty or not
guilty.’
F. H. with a heart girded up with strength and courage, said,
‘Judge Turner, may I have liberty to speak, and make my defence,
for I have none to plead my cause but the Lord?’
Judge. You may.
F. H. I will lay the true state of my case before thee, and of
the proceedings against me from the first, seeing judge Twisden
is not here, who had knowledge of all the proceedings hitherto. I
am a countryman, born and brought up in this country; my carriage
and conversation is known, how I have walked peaceably towards
all men, as I hope my countrymen can testify. About a year ago
being at my neighbouring market-town about my reasonable and
lawful occasions, I was sent for by an high constable out of the
market to the justices of peace, before whom I went; and when
I came there, they had nothing to lay to my charge, but fell
to ask me questions to ensnare me about our meetings; and when
they could find no occasion, they seemed to tender the oath of
allegiance to me, though they never read it to me, neither did
I positively deny it, yet they committed me to prison; and so
I was brought hither to this assize, and then the mittimus by
which I was committed, was called for, and the judge read it,
and said to the justices it was insufficient: nevertheless judge
Twisden tendered the oath of allegiance to me; many things I
did allege then, and many more I have to say now, if time will
permit: from that time I was under an engagement to appear at
the next assizes, and so was called, and did appear at the last
jail-delivery, and a further obligation was required of me for
good behaviour, which I could not give, lest I should be brought
into a further snare; and since that time I have been committed
prisoner these five months, of which time I have been kept
under great restraint, my friends not permitted to speak to me:
and thus briefly I have given thee an account hitherto. As to
the oath, the substance thereof, with the representation of my
case, is presented to the court already, unto which I have set
my hand, and also shall in those words testify the same in open
court, if required; and seeing it is the very substance the law
doth require I desire it may be accepted, and I cleared from my
imprisonment.
Judge. I am come to execute the law, and the law requires an
oath, and I cannot alter it; do you think the law must be
changed for you, or only for a few; if this be suffered, the
administration of justice is hindered, no action can be tried,
nor evidence given for the king, nor other particular cases
tried; and your principles are altogether inconsistent with
the law and government; I pray you show me which way we shall
proceed, show me some reason, and give me some ground.
F. H. I shall: in the mouth of two or three witnesses every truth
is confirmed; and we never denied to give, and still are ready
to give evidence for the king wherein we are concerned, and in
any other matter for the ending of strife between man and man in
truth and righteousness, and this answers the substance of the
law.
Judge. Is this a good answer, think you? whether to be given with
or without oath: the law requires an oath.
F. H. Still evidence is and may be given in truth, according
to the substance of the law, so that no detriment cometh unto
any party, seeing that true testimony may be borne without an
oath; and I did not speak of changing the law: yet seeing we
never refused giving testimony, which answereth the intent and
substance of the law, I judged it was reasonable to receive our
testimony, and not to expose us to such sufferings, seeing we
scrupled an oath only upon a conscientious account, in tenderness
of conscience, for fear of breaking the command of Christ, the
Saviour of the world, which if we do, there is none of you able
to plead our cause for us with him.
Judge. But why do not you go to church, but meet in houses and
private conventicles, which the law forbids.
F. H. We meet together only for the worship of the true God
in Spirit and Truth, having the primitive Christians for our
example, and to no other end, but that we may be edified, and God
glorified; and when two or three are met together in the name of
Christ, and he in the midst of them, there is a church.
Judge. That is true: but how long is it since you have been at
church? Or will you go to the church the law doth allow of? Give
me some reasons why you do not go.
F. H. I have many to give thee, if thou hast patience to hear me:
first, God dwells not in temples made with men’s hands. Secondly,
the parish house hath been a temple for idols, to wit, for the
mass and the rood; and I dare have no fellowship with idols, nor
worship in idols’ temples; for what have we to do with idols,
their temples and worship?
Judge. Were there not houses called the houses of God, and
temples?
F. H. Yes, under the law; but the Christians, who believed in
Christ, separated from these, (and the temple was made and left
desolate,) and from the Gentiles’ temples too, and met together
in houses, and broke bread from house to house; and the church
was not confined then to one particular place, neither is it now;
many more things I have to say: the judge interrupted.
Judge. Will you answer to your indictment?
F. H. I know not what it is, I never heard it, though I have
often desired a copy.
Judge. Clerk, read it.
So he read it: how that F. H. had wilfully, obstinately, and
contemptuously denied to swear when the oath was tendered.
F. H. I deny it.
Judge. What do you deny?
F. H. The indictment.
Judge. Did you not deny to swear? And the indictment convicts you
that you did not swear.
F. H. I gave unto the court the substance of the oath, as you all
know. Secondly, I told you I did not deny it out of obstinacy or
wilfulness, neither in contempt of the king’s law or government;
for my will would rather choose my liberty, than bonds; and I am
sensible it is like to be a great damage to me; I have a wife
and children, and some estate, which we might subsist upon, and
do good to others, and I know all this lies at stake; but if it
were my life also, I durst not but do as I do, lest I should
incur the displeasure of God; and do you judge I would lose my
liberty wilfully, and suffer the spoiling of my estate, and the
ruining of my wife and children in obstinacy and wilfulness?
Surely nay.
Judge. Jury, you see he denies the oath, and he will not plead to
the indictment, only excepts against it because of the form of
words, but you see he will not swear, and yet he says he denies
the indictment, and you see upon what ground.
And then they called the jailer to witness and swear that at the last
assizes F. H. did refuse, &c. which he did; and the jury, without going
from the bar, gave in their verdict, guilty, and then the court broke
up that night.
The next day towards evening, when they had tried all the prisoners,
Francis was brought to the bar to receive his sentence.
Judge stood up and said, ‘Come, the indictment is proved against
you, what have you to say why sentence shall not be given?’
F. H. I have many things to say, if you will hear them. First, as
I have said, I denied not out of obstinacy or wilfulness, but was
willing to testify the truth in this matter of obedience, or any
other matter wherein I was concerned. Secondly, because swearing
was directly against the command of Christ. Thirdly, against the
doctrine of the apostle. Fourthly, even some of your principal
pillars of the church of England; as bishop Usher, some time
primate of Ireland, he said in his works, the Waldenses did deny
all swearing in their age, from that command of Christ and the
apostle James, and it was a sufficient ground; and Dr. Gauden,
late bishop of Exeter, in a book of his I lately read, he cited
very many ancient fathers, to show, that the first three hundred
years Christians did not swear, so that it is no new doctrine.
To which the court seemed to give a little ear, and said nothing,
but talked one to another, and Francis stood silent, and then the
judge said,
Judge. Sure you mistake.
F. H. I have not the books here.
Judge. Will you say upon your honest word they denied all
swearing?
F. H. What I have said is true.
Judge. Why do you not come to church, and hear service, and be
subject to the law, and to every ordinance of man for the Lord’s
sake?
F. H. We are subject, and for that cause we do pay taxes,
tribute, and custom, and give unto Cæsar the things that are his,
and unto God the things that are his, to wit, worship, honour,
and obedience; and if thou mean the parish assembly, I tell thee
faithfully, I am persuaded, and upon good ground, their teachers
are not the ministers of Christ, neither their worship the
worship of God.
Judge. Why; it may be for some small things in the service, you
reject it all.
F. H. First, it is manifest they are time-servers, one while
preaching up that for divine service to people, that another
while they cry down, as popish, superstitious and idolatrous;
and that which they have preached up twenty years together, made
shipwreck of all in a day; and now again call it divine, and
would have all compelled to that themselves once made void.
Judge. Why; never since the king came in?
F. H. Yes, the same men that preached it down once, now cry it
up; for they are so unstable and wavering, that we cannot believe
they are the ministers of Christ. Secondly, they teach for hire,
and live by forced maintenance, and would force a faith upon
men, contrary to Christ and his apostle’s rule, who would have
every one persuaded in their own minds, and said, whatsoever is
not of faith is sin; and yet they say, faith is the gift of God;
and we have no such faith given; but yet they would force theirs
upon us, and because we cannot receive it, they cry, you are not
subject to authority and the laws, and nothing but confiscations,
imprisonment and banishment is threatened, and this is their
greatest plea; I could mention more particulars; then the judge
interrupted.
Judge. Well, I see you will not swear, nor conform, nor be
subject, and you think we deal severely with you, but if you will
be subject, we should not need.
F. H. I do so judge indeed, that you deal severely with us for
obedience to the commands of Christ; I pray thee canst thou show
me how any of those people, for whom the act was made, have been
proceeded against by this statute, though I envy no man’s liberty.
Judge. Oh yes, I can instance you many up and down the country
that are premunired, I have done it myself, pronounced sentence
against divers.
F. H. What, against Papists?
Judge. No.
F. H. What, against the Quakers? So I have heard indeed; though
then that statute was made against Papists, thou lettest them
alone, and executest it against the Quakers.
Judge. Well, you will meet in great numbers, and do increase, but
there is a new statute will make you fewer.
F. H. Well, if we must suffer, it is for Christ’s sake, and for
well doing.
Francis then being silent, the judge pronounced the sentence, but
spake so low, that the prisoner, though near to him, could scarce
hear it.
The sentence was, You are put out of the king’s protection, and
the benefit of the law, your lands are confiscated to the king
during your life; and your goods and chattels for ever, and you
to be prisoner during your life.
F. H. A hard sentence for my obedience to the commands of Christ;
the Lord forgive you all.
So he turned from the bar; but the judge speaking, he turned
again, and many more words passed to the same purpose, as before:
at last, the judge rose up and said.
Judge. Well, if you will yet be subject to the laws, the king
will show you mercy.
F. H. The Lord hath showed mercy unto me, and I have done nothing
against the king, nor government, nor any man, and blessed be
the Lord, and therein stands my peace; for it is for Christ’s
sake I suffer, and not for evil doing. And so the court broke up.
The people were generally moderate, and many were sorry to see
what was done against him; but Francis signified how contented
and glad he was, that he had any thing to loose for the Lord’s
precious Truth, of which he had publicly borne testimony, and
that he was now counted worthy to suffer for it.
This he did cheerfully, and died in bonds, after above four years
imprisonment, as may be related in its due time. He was a man of
learning, and a great writer among his fellow believers; insomuch, that
during his confinement he wrote not only several edifying epistles to
exhort them to constancy and steadfastness, in the doctrine of Truth,
but also some books to refute the opposers of it.
We have here seen how the judge said, there is a new statute which
will make you fewer. This statute bore the title of an act to prevent
and suppress seditious conventicles. And though the act made two years
before did extend to banishment, yet that punishment was renewed, and
expressed more at large in this, which was as followeth:
Whereas an act made in the five and thirtieth year of the reign
of our late sovereign lady queen Elizabeth, intitled an act to
retain the queen’s majesty’s subjects in their due obedience,
hath not been put in due execution by reason of some doubt of
late made, whether the said act be still in force; although it be
very clear and evident, and it is hereby declared, that the said
act is still in force, and ought to be put in due execution:
II. For providing therefore of further and more speedy remedies
against the growing and dangerous practices of seditious
sectaries, and other disloyal persons, who under pretence of
tender consciences, do at their meetings contrive insurrections,
as late experience hath showed;
III. Be it enacted by the king’s most excellent majesty, by and
with the advice and consent of the lords spiritual and temporal,
and commons in this present parliament assembled, and by the
authority of the same, that if any person of the age of sixteen
years or upwards, being a subject of this realm, at any time
after the 1st day of July, which shall be in the year of our
Lord, one thousand six hundred sixty and four, shall be present
at any assembly, conventicle or meeting, under colour or pretence
of any exercise of religion, in other manner than is allowed by
the liturgy or practice of the church of England in any place
within the kingdom of England, dominion of Wales, and town of
Berwick-upon-Tweed; at which conventicle, meeting, or assembly,
there shall be five persons or more assembled together, over
and above those of the same household; then it shall and may be
lawful to and for any two justices of the peace of the county,
limit, division or liberty wherein the offence aforesaid shall
be committed, or for the chief magistrate of the place where
such offence aforesaid shall be committed, (if it be within a
corporation where there are not two justices of the peace,) (2)
and they are hereby required and enjoined upon proof to them or
him respectively made of such offence, either by confession of
the party, or oath of witness, or notorious evidence of the fact,
(which oath the said justices of the peace, and chief magistrate
respectively, are hereby empowered and required to administer,)
to make a record of every such offence and offences under their
hands and seals respectively; (3) which record so made, as
aforesaid, shall to all intents and purposes be in law taken
and adjudged to be a full and perfect conviction of every such
offender for such offence: and thereupon the said justices and
chief magistrate respectively shall commit every such offender
so convicted, as aforesaid, to the jail or house of correction,
there to remain without bail or mainprize, for any time not
exceeding the space of three months, unless such offender shall
pay down to the said justices or chief magistrate such sum of
money not exceeding five pounds, as the said justices or chief
magistrate, (who are hereby thereunto authorized and required,)
shall fine the said offender at, for his or her said offence;
which money shall be paid to the church wardens for the relief of
the poor of the parish where such offender did last inhabit.
IV. And be it further enacted by the authority aforesaid, that if
such offender so convicted, as aforesaid, shall at any time again
commit the like offence contrary to this act, and be thereof in
manner aforesaid convicted, then such offender so convicted of
such second offence, shall incur the penalty of imprisonment in
the jail or house of correction, for any time not exceeding six
months, without bail or mainprize, unless such offender shall
pay down to the said justices or chief magistrate, such sum of
money, not exceeding ten pounds, as the said justices or chief
magistrate, (who are thereunto authorized and required, as
aforesaid,) shall fine the said offender at, for his or her said
second offence, the said fine to be disposed in manner aforesaid.
V. And be it further enacted by the authority aforesaid, that if
any such offender so convicted of a second offence contrary to
this act in manner aforesaid, shall at any time again commit the
like offence contrary to this act, then any two justices of the
peace, and chief magistrate, as aforesaid, respectively, shall
commit every such offender to the jail, or house of correction,
there to remain without bail or mainprize until the next general
quarter sessions, assizes, jail-delivery, great sessions, or
sitting of any commission of Oyer and Terminer in the respective
county, limit, division or liberty which shall first happen; (2)
when and where every such offender shall be proceeded against by
indictment for such offence, and shall forthwith be arraigned
upon such indictment, and shall then plead the general issue of
not guilty, and give any special matter in evidence, or confess
the indictment: (3) and if such offender proceeded against, shall
be lawfully convicted of such offence, either by confession or
verdict, or if such offender shall refuse to plead the general
issue, or to confess the indictment, then the respective
justices of the peace at their general quarter sessions, judges
of assize and jail-delivery, justices of the great sessions at
the great sessions, and commissioners of Oyer and Terminer at
their sitting, are hereby enabled and required to cause judgment
to be entered against such offender, that such offender shall
be transported beyond the seas to any of his majesty’s foreign
plantations, (Virginia and New England only excepted,) there to
remain seven years: (4) and shall forthwith under their hands
and seals make out warrants to the sheriff or sheriffs of the
same county where such conviction or refusal to plead or to
confess, as aforesaid, shall be, safely to convey such offender
to some port or haven nearest or most commodious to be appointed
by them respectively; and from thence to embark such offender
to be safely transported to any of his majesty’s plantations
beyond the seas, as shall be also by them respectively appointed,
(Virginia and New England only excepted:) (5) whereupon the said
sheriff shall safely convey and embark, or cause to be embarked
such offender, to be transported, as aforesaid, under pain of
forfeiting for default of so transporting every such offender,
the sum of forty pounds of lawful money, the one moiety thereof
to the king, and the other moiety to him or them that shall
sue for the same in any of the king’s courts of record, by
bill, plaint, action of debt, or information; in any of which
no wager of law, essoign or protection shall be admitted: (6)
and the said respective court shall then also make out warrants
to the several constables, headboroughs, or tithingmen of the
respective places where the estate real or personal of such
offender so to be transported shall happen to be, commanding
them thereby to sequester into their hands the profits of the
lands, and to distrain and sell the goods of the offender so to
be transported, for the reimbursing of the said sheriff all such
reasonable charges as he shall be at, and shall be allowed him
by the said respective court for such conveying, or embarking of
such offender so to be transported, rendering to the party, or
his or her assigns, the overplus of the same, if any be, unless
such offender, or some other on the behalf of such offender so to
be transported, shall give the sheriff such security as he shall
approve of, for the paying all the said charges unto him.
VI. And be it further enacted by the authority aforesaid, that
in default of defraying such charges by the parties to be
transported, or some other in their behalf; or in default of
security given to the sheriff, as aforesaid, it shall and may
be lawful for every such sheriff to contract with any master of
a ship, merchant, or other person, for the transporting of such
offender at the best rate he can: (2) and that in every such
case it shall and may be lawful for such persons so contracting
with any sheriff for transporting such offender, as aforesaid,
to detain and employ every such offender so by them transported,
as a labourer to them or their assigns, for the space of five
years, to all intents and purposes, as if he or she were bound
by indentures to such person for that purpose: (3) and that the
respective sheriffs shall be allowed or paid from the king, upon
their respective accompt in the exchequer, all such charges by
them expended, for conveying, embarking and transporting of such
persons, which shall be allowed by the said respective courts
from whence they received their respective warrants, and which
shall not have been by any of the ways aforementioned paid,
secured, or reimbursed unto them, as aforesaid.
VII. Provided always, and be it further enacted, that in case the
offender so indicted and convicted for the said third offence,
shall pay into the hands of the register or clerk of the court
or sessions where he shall be convicted, (before the said court
or sessions shall be ended,) the sum of one hundred pounds, that
then the said offender shall be discharged from imprisonment and
transportation, and the judgment for the same.
VIII. And be it further enacted, that the like imprisonment,
indictment, arraignment and proceedings shall be against every
such offender, as often as he shall again offend after such
third offence; nevertheless is dischargeable and discharged, by
the payment of the like sum as was paid by such offender for
his or her said offence next before committed, together with
the additional and increased sum of one hundred pounds more
upon every new offence committed; (2) the said respective sums
to be paid as aforesaid, and to be disposed as followeth, viz.
the one moiety for the repair of the parish church or churches,
chapel or chapels of such parish within which such conventicle,
assembly, or meeting shall be held; and the other moiety to the
repair of the highways of the said parish or parishes, (if need
require,) or otherwise for the amendment of such highways as the
justices of peace at their respective quarter sessions shall
direct and appoint. (3) And if any constable, headborough or
tithingman, shall neglect to execute any the said warrants made
unto them for sequestering, distraining, and selling any of the
goods and chattels of any offender against this act, for the
levying such sums of money as shall be imposed for the first or
second offence, he shall forfeit for every such neglect, the sum
of five pounds of lawful money of England, the one moiety thereof
to the king, and the other moiety to him that shall sue for the
same in any of the king’s courts of record, as is aforesaid. (4)
And if any person be at any time sued for putting in execution
any of the powers contained in this act, such person shall and
may plead the general issue, and give the special matter in
evidence; (5) And if the plaintiff be nonsuited, or a verdict
pass for the defendant thereupon, or if the plaintiff discontinue
his action, or if upon demurrer, judgment be given for the
defendant, every such defendant shall have his or their treble
costs.
IX. And be it further enacted, that if any person against whom
judgment of transportation shall be given in manner aforesaid,
shall make escape before transportation, or being transported
as aforesaid, shall return unto this realm of England, dominion
of Wales, and town of Berwick-upon-Tweed, without the special
license of his majesty, his heirs and successors, in that behalf
first had and obtained, that the party so escaping or returning,
shall be adjudged a felon, and shall suffer death as in case of
felony, without benefit of clergy, (2) and shall forfeit and lose
to his majesty all his or her goods and chattels forever; and
shall further lose to his majesty all his or her lands, tenements
and hereditaments for and during the life only of such offender,
and no longer: and that the wife of any such offender by force of
this act, shall not lose her dower, nor shall any corruption of
blood grow, or be by reason of any such offence mentioned in this
act; but that the heir of every such offender by force of this
act, shall and may after the death of such offender, have and
enjoy the lands, tenements and hereditaments of such offenders,
as if this act had not been made.
X. And for better preventing of the mischiefs which may grow
by such seditious and tumultuous meetings, under pretence of
religious worship, (2) Be it further enacted by the authority
aforesaid, that the lieutenants or deputy-lieutenants, or any
commissioned officers of the militia, or any other of his
majesty’s forces, with such troops or companies of horse or
foot; and also the sheriffs and justices of peace, and other
magistrates and ministers of justice, or any of them-jointly or
severally, within any the counties or places within this kingdom
of England, dominion of Wales, or town of Berwick-upon-Tweed,
with such other assistance as they shall think meet, or can
get in readiness with the soonest, on certificate made to
them respectively under the hand and seal of any one justice
of the peace, or chief magistrate, as aforesaid, of his
particular information or knowledge of such unlawful meetings
or conventicles held or to be held in their respective counties
or places, and that he, (with such assistance as he can get
together, is not able to suppress or dissolve the same,) shall
and may, and are hereby required and enjoined to repair unto the
place where they are so held, or to be held, and by the best
means they can to dissolve and dissipate, or prevent all such
unlawful meetings, and take into their custody such of those
persons so unlawfully assembled as they shall judge to be the
leaders and seducers of the rest, and such others as they shall
think fit to be proceeded against according to law for such their
offences.
XI. And be it further enacted by the authority aforesaid, that
every person who shall wittingly and willingly suffer any such
conventicle, unlawful assembly, or meeting aforesaid, to be held
in his or her house, outhouse, barn or room, yard or backside,
woods or grounds, shall incur the same penalties and forfeitures
as any other offender against this act ought to incur, and be
proceeded against in all points, in such manner as any other
offender against this act ought to be proceeded against.
XII. Provided also, and be it enacted by the authority aforesaid,
that if any keeper of any jail or house of correction, shall
suffer any person committed to his custody for any offence
against this act, to go at large, contrary to the warrant of his
commitment according to this act, or shall permit any person who
is at large, to join with any person committed to his custody by
virtue of this act, in the exercise of religion, differing from
the rites of the church of England, then every such keeper of a
jail or house of correction, shall for every such offence forfeit
the sum of ten pounds, to be levied, raised, and disposed by such
persons and in such manner as the penalties for the first and
second offences against this act are to be levied, raised, and
disposed.
XIII. Provided always, that no person shall be punished for any
offence against this act, unless such offender be prosecuted for
the same within three months after the offence committed: (2) and
that no person who shall be punished for any offence by virtue of
this act, shall be punished for the same offence by virtue of any
other act or law whatsoever.
XIV. Provided also, and be it enacted, that judgment of
transportation shall not be given against any feme covert, unless
her husband be at the same time under the like judgment, and
not discharged by the payment of money as aforesaid; but that
instead thereof, she shall by the respective court be committed
to the jail or house of correction, there to remain without bail
or mainprize, for any time not exceeding twelve months, unless
her husband shall pay down such sum, not exceeding forty pounds,
to redeem her from imprisonment, as shall be imposed by the said
court, the said sum to be disposed by such persons, and in such
manner, as the penalties for the first and second offence against
this act are to be disposed.
XV. Provided also, and be it enacted by the authority aforesaid,
that the justices of the peace, and the chief magistrate
respectively empowered as aforesaid to put this act in execution,
shall and may, with what aid, force, and assistance they shall
think fit, for the better execution of this act, after refusal or
denial, enter into any house, or other place, where they shall be
informed any such conventicle as aforesaid, is or shall be held.
XVI. Provided, that no dwelling-house of any peer of this realm,
whilst he or his wife shall be there resident, shall be searched
by virtue of this act, but by immediate warrant from his majesty
under his sign manual, or in the presence of the lieutenant, or
one of the deputy lieutenants, or two justices of the peace,
whereof one to be of the quorum of the same county or riding: (2)
nor shall any other dwelling-house of any peer or other person
whatsoever, be entered into with force by virtue of this act, but
in the presence of one justice of the peace, or chief magistrate
respectively, except within the city of London, where it shall
be lawful for any such other dwelling-house to be entered into
as aforesaid, in presence of one justice of the peace, alderman,
deputy alderman, or any one commissioner for the lieutenancy for
the city of London.
XVII. Provided also, and be it enacted by the authority
aforesaid, that no person shall by virtue of this act be
committed to the house of correction, that shall satisfy the said
justices of the peace, or chief magistrate respectively, that he
or she, (and in case of a feme covert, that her husband,) hath an
estate of freehold, or copyhold, to the value of five pounds per
annum, or personal estate to the value of fifty pounds; any thing
in this act to the contrary notwithstanding.
XVIII. And in regard a certain sect called Quakers, and other
sectaries, are found not only to offend in the matters provided
against by this act, but also obstruct the proceedings of justice
by their obstinate refusal to take oaths lawfully tendered unto
them in the ordinary course of law; (2) Therefore be it further
enacted by the authority aforesaid, that if any person or persons
being duly and legally served with process, or other summons, to
appear in any court of record, except courtleets, as a witness,
or returned to serve of any jury, or ordered to be examined
upon interrogatories, or being present in court, shall refuse
to take any judicial oath legally tendered to him by the judge
or judges of the same court, having no legal plea to justify
or excuse the refusal of the same oath; (3) Or if any person
or persons being duly served with process, to answer any bill
exhibited against him or them in any court of equity, or any suit
in any court ecclesiastical, shall refuse to answer such bill
or suit upon his or their corporal oath, in cases where the law
requires such answer to be put in upon oath; or being summoned to
be a witness in any such court, or ordered to be examined upon
interrogatories, shall for any cause or reason, not allowed by
law, refuse to take such oath, as in such cases is required by
law; (4) that then, and in such case, the several and respective
courts wherein such refusal shall be made, shall be, and are
hereby enabled to record, enter, or register such refusal, which
record or entry shall be, and is hereby made a conviction of such
offence; (5) and all and every person and persons so as aforesaid
offending, shall for every such offence incur the judgment and
punishment of transportation in such manner as is appointed by
this act for other offences.
XIX. Provided always, that if any the person or persons aforesaid
shall come into such court, and take his or their oath in these
words:
I do swear that I do not hold the taking of an oath to be
unlawful, nor refuse to take an oath on that account.
XX. Which oath the respective court or courts aforesaid, are
hereby authorized and required forthwith to tender, administer,
and register before the entry of the conviction aforesaid, (2)
or shall take such oath before some justice of the peace, who
is hereby authorized and required to administer the same, to be
returned into such court, (3) such oath so made shall acquit him
or them from such punishment; any thing herein to the contrary
notwithstanding.
XXI. Provided always, that every person convicted as aforesaid
in any courts aforesaid, (other than his majesty’s court of
king’s bench, or before the justices of assize, or general
jail-delivery,) shall by warrant containing a certificate of
such conviction under the hand and seal of the respective judge
or judges before whom such conviction shall be had, be sent to
some one of his majesty’s jails in the same county where such
conviction was had, there to remain without bail or mainprize
until the next assizes, or general jail-delivery, (2) where, if
such person so convicted shall refuse to take the oath aforesaid,
being tendered unto him by the justice or justices of assize or
jail-delivery, then such justice or justices shall cause judgment
of transportation to be executed in such manner as judgment of
transportation by this act is to be executed: but in case such
person shall take the said oath, then he shall thereupon be
discharged.
XXII. Provided always, and be it enacted by the authority
aforesaid, that if any peer of this realm shall offend against
this act, he shall pay ten pounds for the first offence, and
twenty pounds for the second offence, to be levied upon his goods
and chattels by warrant from any two justices of the peace, or
chief magistrate of the place or division where such peer shall
dwell: (2) and that every peer for the third, and every further
offence against the tenour of this act, shall be tried by his
peers, and not otherwise.
XXIII. Provided also, and be it further enacted by the authority
aforesaid, that this act shall continue in force for three years
after the end of this present session of parliament; and from
thence forward to the end of the next session of parliament after
the said three years, and no longer.
A learned man at London, of what persuasion I know not, published a
little book in relation to this act, wherein he showed from the laws
of England, the absurdity of it: since all religious acts, exercised
by six persons, not according to the formality of the church of
England, were forbidden; and that at this rate it might be reckoned a
transgression, if a woman being in travail, and in danger of life, one
of the company said a prayer; or if any one spoke something to comfort
the near relations of a deceased person; or prayed for the health or
happiness of a young married couple, &c. by which it might happen, that
some by the malice of their enemies, might not only incur imprisonment
for three months, but also by virtue of the act of banishment, might
be condemned to transportation. That this was not without danger, did
appear sufficiently by what judge Orlando Bridgman said at Hertford
to the jury, viz. ‘You are not to expect a plain punctual evidence
against them for any thing they said or did at their meeting; for they
may speak to one another, though not with or by articular sound, but
by a cast of the eye, or a motion of the head or foot, or gesture of
the body. So that if you find or believe in your hearts that they were
in the meeting under colour of religion in their way, though they sat
still only and looked upon each other, it was an unlawful meeting.’ At
this rate the jurymen, who ought to be impartial judges, or mediators,
were swayed, so that without fear they might find the Quakers that were
met together guilty of transgressing the law.
Now, since at that time they were resolved to banish the Quakers, so
called, George Whitehead published a little book, in which he showed
the unreasonableness of the persecutors, and also strengthened his
friends with solid arguments against the charge of stiffneckedness,
answering some specious objections; amongst the rest, that the Quakers
might keep small meetings, and so not fall under the lash of the law;
for if they did not meet above five in number, they kept without
the reach of the law; and by keeping private meetings they might
also acquit their consciences before God. But to this G. Whitehead
answered, that it might have been objected to the prophet Daniel,
that he might have prayed secretly, and not with open windows and
thrice a day, after king Darius had signed the decree, that whosoever
should ask a petition of any god or man for thirty days, save of
the king, he should be cast into the den of lions; but that Daniel,
notwithstanding this decree, had continued to pray to God as before.
‘Since then,’ said G. Whitehead, ‘our meetings are kept in obedience
to the Lord God, and according to the freedom he hath given us, we
may not leave off our testimony for God in that case; but we must be
faithful to him, whatever we suffer on that account. For neither the
threatenings of men, nor their severity or cruelty acted against us,
how far soever it may be extended, can make us to forsake the Lord in
not keeping our assemblies, or to be ashamed of Christ before men, lest
hereafter he be ashamed of us before his Father which is in heaven.’
Besides, he showed how unreasonable it was to incite the jury on an
ill-grounded suspicion, without leaving them the liberty of their own
judgment: and the judges he showed their duty from the law, and Magna
Charta. He also showed how unequal it was, that soldiers, who abused
his friends in their meetings, should be called as witnesses against
them; and that they should be locked up with thieves and felons, since
this was contrary to the right of a free-born Englishman. But this
representation of G. Whitehead was slighted, since they were resolved
to go on with banishing of the Quakers, and to transport them to the
West Indies; which however, according to the ancient laws, might not
be done to a free-born Englishman against his mind. Josiah Coale about
this time gave forth also a paper, being a warning to the king and both
houses of parliament, to dissuade them from persecution. But this did
not avail, for persecution went on.
In the month called August, eight of those called Quakers, viz. Francis
Prior, Nicholas Lucas, Henry Feast, Henry Marshal, Jeremiah Hern,
Thomas Wood, John Blendale, and Samuel Trahern, were tried at Hertford
before judge Orlando Bridgman, already mentioned. The indictment
contained, that they had been at an unlawful meeting under colour and
pretence of religion; and the witnesses declared, that they had met
together above the number of five, and were taken at such times, and
such places; for they must have transgressed thrice before they could
be condemned to banishment: but the witnesses declared also, that
they neither heard them speak any words, nor saw them do any thing at
their meeting, but sit still. The indictment having been delivered to
the grand jury, they could not agree in their verdict; for there were
some amongst them whose consciences would not give them leave to be
accessary to this work of persecution; and therefore they brought in
their verdict _ignoramus_. Now, though such a verdict as this ought
not to be rejected, yet judge Bridgman standing up, and seeming to be
angry, spoke to the jury after this manner: ‘My masters, what do you
mean to do? Will you make a nose-of-wax of the law, and suffer the
law to be baffled? Those that think to deceive the law, the law will
deceive them. Why do not ye find the bill?’ To which one of the jury
said, that it concerned them to be wary, and well satisfied in what
they did, for they were upon men’s lives for ought they knew. ‘No,’
said the judge, ‘I desire not their lives, but their reformation:’ and
then he gave the jury some directions, and he so coloured the matter,
that they going out again soon returned, and found the bill.
Then four of the prisoners were called to the bar, their indictment
read, and they asked, guilty, or not guilty; to which they answered,
‘Not guilty,’ and that they had transgressed no just law. ‘But,’ said
the judge, ‘ye have transgressed this law, (having the act in his
hand,) and ye have been twice convicted already upon record, and if
ye are found guilty by the jury this time, I must pass the sentence
of transportation upon you. Now, therefore ye shall see that we do
not desire to strain the law to the highest severity; neither do I
believe that it was the aim of the law-makers to be severe, but for
conforming. If ye will promise that ye will not go, or be at any more
such meetings, I will show you this favour, as to acquit you for what
is past: this favour ye may receive before the jury is charged with
you; but afterwards I cannot do it. And know also, if the jury for want
of punctual evidence, should not find you guilty, yet if ye are taken
again, ye will be in the same case ye now are in. What say you? Will ye
promise to meet no more?’ To this the prisoners answered, they could
promise no such thing. Then a jury was called, and the indictment read
a second time, containing, that the prisoners had been at an unlawful
meeting at such a time and place, the first, second, and third time.
The witnesses being called, gave the same evidence as before; and then
the judge said thus to the jury: ‘My masters, the jury, ye hear what
evidence the witnesses give; how they took them at such times, at such
places, which are places they use to meet in; and that they were above
the number of five, besides the persons of the family where they met;
and that they are twice convicted already upon record: and this is
the third offence, which incurs the sentence of transportation, if ye
find them guilty.’ Then he spoke these words which have been mentioned
already, viz. ‘Ye are not to expect a plain punctual evidence against
them for any thing they said or did at their meeting, &c. for dumb
men may speak to one another, so as they may understand each other by
signs: and they themselves say, that the worship of God is inward, in
the spirit, and that they can discern spirits, and know one another in
spirit. So that if ye find or believe in your hearts that they were in
the meeting, under colour of religion in their way, though they sat
still only, it was an unlawful meeting; and their use and practice not
according to the liturgy of the church of England; for it allows and
commands when people meet together in the church, that divine service
shall be read, &c. And ye must find the bill; for ye must have respect
to the meaning and intent of the law, which the king and parliament
have in wisdom and policy made, not only against conventicles, but the
words assembly and meeting were added; for we have had late experience
of the danger of such meetings under colour of religion: and it is
an easy matter at such meetings to conspire and consult mischief.
Therefore the wisdom and policy of the king and parliament, lest they
should be undermined, have made this law, which is not a law against
conscience, for it doth not touch conscience at all, as I confess some
other laws do, which enjoin coming to church, and some other things.’
This and more judge Bridgman spoke to the jury, to persuade them to
bring the prisoners in guilty. And the jury being gone out, within the
space of an hour returned, and their foreman said, that Nicholas Lucas,
and the other three, were guilty.
What the judge had said, that they had had late experience of the
danger of such meetings under colour of religion, was of no force at
all; for it never had appeared that the Quakers in religious meetings
did any thing else than the performing of their worship, though there
were other evidences concerning the Fifth monarchy-men; but it was
universally known that the Quakers had no part therein, nor joined
with them in the least degree. It was also a very absurd saying of the
judge, that this law did not touch conscience: for it was merely for
conscience-sake that the Quakers frequented not the public service
and liturgy of the church of England, and kept religious meetings by
themselves. But the jury seemed well satisfied with what the judge had
told them; and he having thus obtained his aim, read the prisoners’
names, and said to them, ‘What can ye say for yourselves, that judgment
of transportation should not pass, or be given against you?’ To which
they said, ‘We are innocent, and have transgressed no just law; if we
must have that sentence, we give up our bodies freely into the hands
of the Lord; the will of the Lord be done.’ ‘Have ye nothing more to
say?’ said the judge. ‘Nothing, but that we are innocent,’ replied the
prisoners, ‘we have wronged no man.’ ‘Then hearken to your sentence,’
said the judge. ‘Ye shall be transported beyond the seas, to the island
of Barbadoes, there to remain seven years.’
Then Jeremiah Hern and Thomas Wood were called to the bar, and their
indictment read, to which they pleaded, ‘Not guilty, but innocent;’
and Jeremiah said, he was no such person as the act mentioned, for
plotting and contriving insurrections. Then the judge interrupting him,
said, ‘You are a forward man, you have an estate;’ and so he caused
him to be set by: and to Thomas Wood he said, ‘I hear a good report of
you; consider what you do; I am sorry, seeing you have a good report
among your neighbours, that you should be found guilty, which I fear
you will if you put yourself upon trial: I am willing to show you
favour; and it may be one man may fare the better for another.’ This
reflected on Jeremiah, who, by the malice of one John King, had been
falsely represented to the judge. Yet Jeremiah having shown how he had
been wronged, the judge said, they should both partake of his favour,
if they would but desire it, and this favour consisted in this, as he
himself said, that he would wave the proceedings of the court, and give
them till the next assizes, to consider better with themselves. ‘What
say you, (thus he continued,) will ye have it deferred till the next
assizes? for if the jury find the bill, you will be sent to Jamaica;
ye must not all go to one place.’ To this the prisoners returned, ‘We
have transgressed no law of God, nor wronged any man: we leave it to
the court; we desire it not.’ ‘If you will not desire it,’ replied the
judge, ‘I cannot, nor will do it.’
Then three other prisoners were brought to the bar, among whom was one
John Reynolds, who, according to the deposition of the witnesses, had
been within a yard of the door of the meeting-place, with his face from
it. The judge then said, ‘God forbid that I should do any thing that
is not right and just against my conscience; there is that which is
written upon the wall before me, which puts me in mind, that I should
not judge for man, but for God.’ Then turning to the jury, he spoke to
them almost after the same manner, as he did concerning the other four
prisoners: and to induce them to declare Reynolds, (who was taken but
not in the meeting,) guilty, he spoke thus: ‘Suppose a man be killed in
a house, and nobody saw him killed, but a man is met coming out of the
house with a bloody knife in his hand, it is a very probable evidence
that he is guilty of the murder. So though the witnesses do not say
that they saw and took him in the meeting, yet they swore he was within
a yard of the door with his face from the place where they usually met;
and he hath been taken twice already, and convicted upon record. My
masters, I leave it to you, go forth.’ Then a bailiff was called, and
charged to provide the jury a room, and to let none speak with them,
nor to let them have either bread, drink, or candle, till they brought
in their verdict. The jury being gone out, soon agreed, and after they
were returned said, that four of the five prisoners were guilty, and
that the other who stood without the door was not guilty. So he was
acquitted; but the other four being brought to the bar, the judge asked
them, what they could say why judgment of transportation should not
be given against them. Their answer was, ‘We are innocent, and have
not offended any just law of God or man, to deserve that sentence; we
leave it to the witness of God in thy or your consciences.’ Then the
judge said, ‘Ye have offended against this law, (having the act before
him,) which is made by the king and parliament, and executed by us
their subordinate ministers: if it be not righteous and just, we must
answer for that.’ One of the prisoners had said before, ‘If I have
transgressed any just law, let me suffer; and if not, he that judgeth
for God will not condemn me.’ To which the judge returned, ‘You do well
to put me in mind of my duty; pray think of your own.’ And now he asked
the prisoners, ‘Have you any more to say?’ To which they answered,
‘Nothing, but that we are innocent.’ Then he said, ‘Hear your sentence:
you shall be transported beyond the seas, to the island of Jamaica,
being one of his majesty’s foreign plantations, there to remain seven
years. Now I have this one thing to acquaint you with, that if you, and
either of you, will pay down here into the court, an hundred pounds
before the court riseth, you and every one of you shall be discharged,
and clearly acquitted for what is past. And I will show you this
favour, not to discharge the court at this present, but shall adjourn
it till afternoon.’ This was done; and the court being met again, the
judge sent to the condemned prisoners to know if they would pay down
the hundred pounds; but they answering, ‘No,’ the court was then soon
discharged.
Seven of these prisoners not long after were carried on ship-board to
be transported to the West Indies; but (which was remarkable,) the
ship by contrary winds and stormy weather was hindered going to sea.
Not only the master, whose name was Thomas May, but also his men, grew
very uneasy at this: for they believed that Heaven was against them:
nay, the sailors threatened to leave the ship, if the master would
not set those prisoners ashore. And he himself, considering how after
having lain long in the Downs, and more than once set sail, they were
hindered to go on by contrary winds, resolved at length, after having
lingered about two months, to set the banished ashore; and so he did,
giving them a certificate, of which I have a copy in my custody, that
they were not run away, but freely put ashore by him, for which, among
others, he gave these reasons, that seeing the great adversities
they had met with, he concluded from thence, that the hand of God
was against him, and that therefore he durst not go off with these
prisoners, because he found them to be honest men, who had not deserved
banishment. And also that there was a law extant, that no Englishman
might be transported against his mind. And that his men refused to
proceed on the voyage if he would carry away these people. This
certificate he gave under his hand, and so let them go away free; and
not long after the ship set sail with a fair wind. I do not find that
the banished, who returned home again, were prosecuted on this account:
for the sentence against them was executed as far as it could at that
time, and they had made no opposition, but had been sufferers.
Persecution in the meanwhile did not cease: but this did not discourage
those called Quakers; they continued valiant, as I have seen in many
letters sent about that time to some of my acquaintance. One said in
the court of justice, ‘We are in the service of the Lord, and may not
leave it;’ another who was offered to be freed of banishment, if he
would pay down an hundred pounds, said, ‘Though I had an hundred lives
to lose, and could redeem them all for an hundred pence, yet I would
not do it.’ But this could not stop the violence of the persecutors;
till an heavier hand reached them, as may be related hereafter.
In the months of October and December many were condemned to
transportation, and among these several women, whose trials I shall
but cursorily speak of: for if I should relate all particulars, the
description would far exceed my limits; and therefore I will but touch
upon some few things.
On the 13th of October, sixteen of those called Quakers were tried
at Hicks’s Hall, in Middlesex, for the third offence, as they called
it.--The grand jury consulting together about finding the bill of
indictment, could not well agree. And the justices giving them a
check, one of the jurymen desired to know, by what law they ought to
find a bill against any persons, without witnesses to testify the
fact committed. To which answer was made by the court, that their
records testified the crime or fact, and that such their record was a
sufficient witness without the testimony of any man. And for a proof
of this it was further said, ‘The records in Chancery serve as a
sufficient testimony; and if it be so in Chancery, why not here?’ The
jury having been twice upon this business, was sent up a third time;
and Edward Shelton, the clerk, said he would go up also to help them,
and so he did; it having been threatened, that if the jurymen did not
find a bill, they should be fined. Nevertheless, at their return they
answered, ‘No verdict.’ Whereupon the justices finding the jurymen
not to answer their ends, took them apart, and examined them one by
one, telling them that the only thing they were to look upon was,
that they did assemble together above the number of five in company;
which, according to what they said, their records showed. This made
some of the jury comply; but others stood it out, and signified that
in conscience they could not consent to what was required of them. But
the major part complying with the justices, upon their threatening
them, and the others being strongly pressed, the bill was, by a kind
of force, accepted at length. But how hard a case this was to some,
appeared by the mournful confession of one of the jury, who to ease
his conscience published in print a small book, with the title of ‘The
Wounded Heart, or The Juryman’s Offences,’ &c. in which he openly
disapproved the fact, to which he had been induced by human fear. The
pains had been so great to persuade the jury to bring in a verdict
according to the mind of the court, that the clerk, as was reported,
said, he had rather have given twenty pounds, than have been so
troubled.
The next day the prisoners were brought to the bar, and William
Proctor, of Gray’s Inn, sat as judge in the court. The questions and
answers I pass by for brevity sake. One Hannah Trigg pleading she was
innocent, was asked how old she was; to which she saying she was not
sixteen years old; one of the justices did not stick to say, she told
a lie; and that he thought the Quakers would not lie. In the meanwhile
it appeared, that he only said so by guess to baffle her; for by a
certificate of some that were present at her birth, (which was divulged
in print,) it was proved that she, being the daughter of Timothy Trigg,
was born at London on the 20th of the month called August, 1649; and
so was but fifteen years of age, and dealt with against the law; which
was the harder, because this maid falling sick, died in prison, after
the sentence of banishment had been past upon her: which sentence was
now pronounced against twelve persons, among whom were four maids; and
four married women were condemned to a confinement of eleven months in
Bridewell. The judge in the pronouncing the sentences was so disturbed
in his mind, that ordering some to be transported to Virginia, and
others to Barbadoes, he condemned some also to be sent to Hispaniola;
at which the people were not a little surprised, for he made it plainly
appear, that he did not consider what he said; since Hispaniola was
no place in the dominions of the king of England: but he was so
confounded, that he also accused the prisoners of having transgressed
the laws of the commonwealth, forgetting that England was no more a
commonwealth, as it was before the restoration of king Charles II.
On the 15th of October above forty of the prisoners called Quakers,
were tried before the judges Hide and Keeling. To mention all the
exhorbitances of this trial, which were not few, I count needless;
for as to the questions and answers, and the passing of sentence, the
reader may form to himself an idea of it from what hath been said
already of the trial at Hertford, &c. A maid being asked, guilty, or
not guilty, answered, ‘I never was taken at any seditious meeting or
conventicle in my life.’ To which the judge said, ‘But, woman, were
not you taken at the Bull and Mouth the 21st of August?’ She answered,
‘I am innocent in the sight of God and all good people.’ That this was
true the judge did not deny, but said, ‘I believe that, woman, but you
have transgressed a law.’ She replied, ‘As for the Bull and Mouth. I
believe I have been there an hundred times, and if the Lord permit me
life and liberty, I do not know but I may go there an hundred times
more.’ The judge then saying, ‘Woman, will you plead or no, guilty or
not guilty, or else I must pass sentence upon you.’ She answered, ‘The
will of the Lord be done, I am innocent.’ Yet this could not avail her,
though judge Hide had said a little before concerning the prisoners,
‘If they are innocent, then they are not guilty.’ But she was set by
as mute, or _pro confesso_, as to the fact charged against her in
the indictment. Others who complained of the unreasonableness of the
proceedings, were hectored as impudent: and the jury showing themselves
dissatisfied concerning the witnesses, judge Hide said to them, it was
no untruth if a man did mistake in the time, and that his evidence was
good, though he did not see one in the house: ‘For,’ said he, ‘if forty
men be in a room, and one is brought out of the room to me, standing at
the door, cannot I swear that he was in that room, if I see him come
out? You must not make such scruples.’
In the meanwhile there were some among the witnesses who did not know
the prisoners by face; so that there was reason enough to disprove
their testimony. But whatever was objected, the business must go on:
for though one of the witnesses declared that the meeting, from which
the prisoners had been taken was peaceable; and though one of the
prisoners said, that the law was made against seditious meetings,
and that nothing of sedition had been proved against them: yet judge
Keeling said, the act was made to prevent such meetings, because
under colour and pretence of religion, plots and conspiracies might
be carried on. And when a prisoner said, that he was at a peaceable
godly meeting, and received much comfort there; the judge returned,
‘That is as much as we desire. You confess you were there; and though
it was a peaceable meeting, yet it was an unlawful one.’ Another of
the prisoners who pleaded that the law the court acted by was contrary
to Magna Charta, and the ancient fundamental laws of the land, was
answered by judge Hide, ‘If the king and parliament should make a law
that two justices without a jury should adjudge a man to death for the
third offence as a felon, without benefit of clergy, it would be a
good law, and according to Magna Charta, and the law of the land; and
we should be bound to execute it.’ It seems this judge, (who not long
after was suddenly summoned hence to appear before the divine assizes,)
was of opinion, that since the legislative power resided in the king
and parliament, all that they resolved and enacted, must pass for good
law. But if I should mention all the absurdities I meet with in these
proceedings, when should I come to an end? True it is, that sometimes
a show was made of pity: for judge Keeling said to two maids, ‘We are
sorry that such young maids should be thus deluded.’ But because they
would not promise to go to the public church, though they declared
themselves ready to assist at divine service, they were deemed as
guilty. Another prisoner being asked by judge Hide, whether he would go
to church, answered, ‘If I have my liberty, I shall go to church.’ But
when it appeared that he did not mean the established or public church,
this promise could not save him. One Richard Poulton, a lad of fifteen
years of age, who by a certificate showed, that he was not yet sixteen
years old, and therefore no transgressor of the law, was asked, if he
would swear he was not sixteen, just as if he could have remembered the
time of his birth; to which he answered, that he was not brought up to
swearing: and being asked, whether he would promise to go to church, he
answered, he should promise no such thing. Then he was returned to the
rest that were to be sentenced.
This was on the 17th of the aforesaid month; when nineteen persons,
among which were some women, were condemned to banishment, and four
married women to twelve months imprisonment in Bridewell. None of the
judges it seems had a mind to pronounce sentence, and therefore they
left this business to the city recorder. He then bidding the prisoners
to hearken to the judgment of the court, spoke so softly, that he
could not well be heard, which made one of the prisoners say, that he
ought to speak louder, for they could not hear him. But he continuing
to speak softly as before, two or three others of the prisoners told
him, they could not tell what he said. To which he answered, he cared
not whether they did or no; and then said, ‘Hearken to your sentence,
You and every of you, shall be transported beyond the seas, the men
to Barbadoes, and the women to Jamaica, being two of his majesty’s
plantations, there to remain seven years.’ Thus the persecutors
endeavoured to be rid of the Quakers: but though persecution now
was very hot, yet they fainted not, neither were they in want of
such vigilant assistants, as both by example and words continually
encouraged them to faithfulness: who yet, (which was remarkable,) were
not condemned to banishment, as many others.
Among these was Josiah Coale also, who about this time, as I have
been told, was in prison at London; and both by writing, and by word
of mouth, did exhort his fellow-believers to constancy: for, (when
under confinement,) he betook himself to his pen, and recommended to
his friends, that they would not forsake their meetings, though they
were to undergo great sufferings, since it was God’s good pleasure to
let their patience be tried. ‘And,’ said he, ‘that these afflictions
come upon us is by God’s permission: who then shall gainsay him, or
endeavour to reason with him about matters of so great a concern, since
his way is hid from man.’ He also signified to them that this was done
to try their faith, and that therefore they ought to continue bold,
and persevere valiantly. ‘And though,’ said he, ‘great sufferings
and afflictions attend us, yet my heart, praised be the Lord, is not
troubled, neither hath fear seized me, because I see the intent of the
Lord in it.’ And in one letter he spoke thus: ‘Friends, this know: that
for the sake of the residue of the seed which is yet ungathered, is
my life freely sacrificed up into the hand of the Lord; and ready and
willing am I to lay it down for the testimony of God’s blessed truth,
which he hath given me to hear, if thereunto I am called: for bonds
and afflictions attend me daily, and I may say, we are in jeopardy of
our lives daily: so let your prayer to God be for me, that I may be
kept unto the end, to finish my testimony with joy, and in all things
to bring glory and honour to the name of the Lord, who is over all,
blessed for ever.’ This his Christian desire he obtained, as will be
said in due place. It was a time of suffering; and those to whose share
it fell, continued valiant: whilst others did not neglect to exhort the
king and parliament to leave off persecution. Among these was William
Bayly, who gave forth a very serious exhortation and warning against
the persecution to the king and parliament, &c. beginning thus:
‘_For the King and Parliament, &c._
‘FRIENDS,
‘The God of heaven hath put it into my heart to write a few
words unto you, in the fear and dread of his name, and in the
counsel of his own will, concerning the work which ye have
taken in hand against him and his people; this is not the end
and work for which the Lord God hath permitted you into the
places of government and rule, in this nation, (nor the way for
you to prosper, nor to prolong your days in the earth,) thus
to persecute and afflict an innocent and harmless people, who
are peaceable, and walk uprightly towards God and man; therein
endeavouring, in all things, to keep their consciences void of
offence, and who have no helper in the earth but the Lord alone;
neither is their kingdom of this world, but they are verily
the children and servants of the most high God, whom he hath
gathered from amongst men, and from the kindness of the earth, to
be the first fruits unto him, and to the Lamb in this age; and
we are his, and not our own, he hath brought us, and redeemed us
unto himself, and to him alone have we committed our innocent
cause, and he hath undertaken to plead it for us, with all our
adversaries; and no weapon formed against us shall ever prosper,
but be broken to pieces.
‘Therefore friends, be awakened and open your eyes, and see
what a stir and ado here is in this nation; to haul and drag up
and down a company of tender, innocent, and harmless people,
men and women, and children, from their peaceable meetings, who
meet together in the fear and tender love of God, without any
evil or bad intent toward any; but have good-will and compassion
toward all men, even to the worst of our enemies, as the Lord
bears us witness; and these are they that are driven as sheep
to the slaughter, and thrown into your noisome jails, and
prisons, and houses of correction; by rude and brutish people,
your servants, whom you have set on work by your authority,
till many of them have (patiently) suffered till death, whose
innocent blood will assuredly be required at your hands, (though
they shall not go free of the guilt, who have had the least
hand in it, without speedy repentance.) And thus ye may see
and read, how the disciples of Christ Jesus, are as sheep and
Lambs in the midst of wolves in this age, and as a lily among
thorns, and all this is only for obeying his commands, and for
worshipping the everlasting invisible God, in the spirit, and in
the truth, according to the Scriptures, the which, if you knew
and understood, you would tremble to think what you have done
against them, to cause so many of the little ones, which believe
in Christ, so grievously to suffer, who said, it were better
a millstone were hanged about his neck, and be drowned in the
depth of the sea, that should offend one of these little ones,
that believe in me; and as true as Christ Jesus suffered, and
rose again, and as God liveth, who raised him from the dead, we
are some of those his little ones that believe in him, who, (in
derision and scorn in this age,) are called Quakers, as ye might
call Moses, the prophets and apostles, (in days past,) who did
quake and tremble at the presence of the Lord, who is the same
now as ever he was, though the ungodly know him not, nor his
power: and we are of that poor and afflicted people, mentioned
Zeph. iii. 12. 19. “Whose trust is in the name of the Lord, who
will undo all that afflict them.”
‘But what shall I say unto you; if ye will not, or cannot believe
our faithful testimony, (or the testimony of God through us,)
and the innocency of our cause and sufferings, neither will ye
believe, if one should rise from the dead and declare it unto
you; for many tender visitations, and timely warnings, and gentle
reprehensions have you had, from the pure spirit of the Lord
God, both from his witness in your own consciences, and from his
faithful servants, and messengers, who have written and declared
unto you in his name and power in this your day. And as for my
part, who am one of the least of the thousands of Israel, I could
willingly have been silent as toward you at this time, but the
Lord, whom I serve in my spirit, hath laid it upon me to warn
you once more, for whose sakes I have borne a burden, in the
true sight and sense of your sad estate, and of the day of thick
darkness, wrath, and distress, which is hastening upon you from
the Almighty.
‘Wherefore be not proud nor rebellious, but hear, and obey the
word of the Lord; for thus saith the Lord God that made heaven
and earth, let my innocent people alone, and touch them not any
more, as ye have done; for they are mine, and I have called them,
and chosen them, and redeemed them; they are my jewels, which
I am making up, they shall show forth my glory before men to
the whole world; I have anointed them, and I will preserve them
and deliver them, and crown them with an everlasting salvation.
I will rebuke kings and rulers for their sakes, and distress
nations, and dethrone the mighty from their seats that rise up
against them, as I have done; and let my everlasting gospel have
a free passage in these nations; and do not reproach and afflict
my servants and messengers so any more, whom I have chosen and
sent to preach and declare the way of life and salvation to the
ends of the earth, but bow your ear and your heart unto them and
their testimony, that it may be well with you, and prolong your
days; for he that blesseth them shall be blessed, and he that
curseth them shall be cursed, and every hand shall wither that
opposeth them, as hath been, and shall be, henceforth for ever: I
the Lord have spoken it.
‘But and if you will not hear, but will still persist, and go on,
as ye have done, to oppress my heritage, and harmless people,
and make war and opposition against my power and truth, and thus
set yourselves and your power against me, the living God, I will
bring you down suddenly, to the astonishment of nations, and I
will cut your day short, and turn your pleasures into howling and
lamentation, and shame and contempt shall cover your memorial
as a garment. Thus will I work for the deliverance of my seed,
and none shall let it; for the year of my redeemed is come, and
the day of vengeance is in my heart, to plead its cause with all
flesh.
‘Therefore, consider your ways, and see what ye are doing, and
what the effect of this your work will be; ye are but men, and
the children of men, who were but as yesterday; your breath also
is in your nostrils, and your life is but a vapour, which will
soon vanish away: you labour in the very fire, and bring forth
wind, which blows up the flame of that which will consume you,
and deprive you of all happiness for ever: O that ye had but
hearts to consider it! For the more you strive with the Lord,
and oppress his people, the more will they multiply, and grow
stronger and stronger: and you shall wax weaker and weaker, and
your works shall be your heavy burden; for life and immortality
is risen, and the power of God is stirring in the hearts of
thousands, and light and understanding, the excellent spirit
which was in Daniel, is breaking forth like the lightning, which
shines out of the east into the west, in the sight of many
people, whereby they know, it is the day of the coming of the
Son of Man, with power and great glory, that every eye may see
him, and they that have pierced him shall mourn bitterly: so,
your labour is in vain, and your works for the fire, and your
striving with your Maker to no purpose, as to effect your end and
aim. And of these things you have been often forewarned, and the
Lord hath been very long suffering towards you, in sparing you
thus long, and suffering you thus far to act against him and his
dear people; and his mercy and forbearance hath been evidently
showed in a large measure unto you, in deferring his heavy
judgments thus long, which must have been confessed to be just
upon you. And will you thus requite the Lord, by increasing your
tasks of oppression upon his tender innocent people? O unwise
and ungrateful generation! Hath not God yet showed you, that
you should do justly, and love mercy, and walk humbly? But are
these your fruits and practices, fruits of mercy or justice? Or
if there be any tincture or spark of love, or humility in them,
let God’s witness, the light in all your consciences, and in
people, answer. I tell you plainly, that such fruits and doings
among you, that profess yourselves Christians, have made the very
name of Christ and Christianity, a proverb of reproach through
nations, and have caused the God of heaven to be blasphemed;
and how could it be otherwise, seeing you who profess the most
knowledge of God, and have talked of converting the heathen, as
some of your leaders have done, are found the least in the life
and fruits thereof. But to what would they convert them? to pride
and swearing, and drunkenness, and oppression, and all manner
of excess, and to persecute people for their good conscience?
They have no need of that; for, some of them have said, they
did not use to swear and be drunk, &c. till they came among the
Christians, and learned of them; they did not do so in their own
country: ye are so far from converting them, being out of the
life of what ye profess and talk of yourselves, that the very
heathen or infidels, (as ye call them,) do judge and condemn
you, who are making inquiry, concerning these your proceedings
against this harmless people, among whom some of them have been
kindly entreated, who visited them at the Lord’s requiring,
though contrary in opinion and religion; and this doth rise up in
judgment against you.
‘But, friends, have you yourselves been under sufferings, and
some of you been driven into strange countries, or lands, for
your cause, as it was called? Nay, did not the king himself once
flee for refuge to a tree, to save himself from his enemies’
hands? If not, why are there such representations made of it,
in so many places in the nation? And was not this as great a
mercy and deliverance from God, so to obscure and preserve him,
from them who pursued him, and many of you also? And are these
things forgotten? Can mercy be loved, except it be remembered?
And do you remember and love his mercies, by doing justly, and
walking humbly with him, as he doth require? Or do you boast
in vain glory, as if your own arm had done it, or your own
strength or deserts had delivered you? If so, then God must
needs be forgotten, and his mercies trodden under foot, and his
visitations and counsels cast behind your back; and so, all that
forget God, shall be torn in pieces, and there shall be none to
deliver them, as it is written.
‘And were these your sufferings, which you sustained by them ye
opposed, unjust and unequal? And if you should say, they were:
then I say, it is much more unjust and very unequal in the
sight of God, and all sober people that fear him, for you, thus
to inflict such cruel sufferings as imprisoning, and stifling
up to death in your noisome jails and holes among thieves and
murderers, and to pronounce sentence of banishment upon an
innocent, harmless, peaceable people, that do not oppose you in
the least, with any outward force, neither do so much as the
thoughts of it lodge within our breasts, as the Lord God knoweth,
who hath called us to peace, but on the contrary have sought and
do seek your welfare and happiness, both in this world, and in
the world to come, which in time shall be manifest to the whole
earth.
‘And if you say, your sufferings were unjust and unequal, though
you did oppose them, and make war against them so long as you
could, because they deprived you of your rights and privileges,
and just liberties, and natural birthrights, &c. which were
your due to enjoy, as being free-born of the nation: then how
much more is it unjust, and unequal, and unrighteous, thus to
inflict sufferings upon your friends, and oppress your peaceable
neighbours, who are free-born people of the same nation, and
do not oppose you, but are tender towards you, as aforesaid,
and subject to all wholesome just laws, and tributary to you,
for which causes we ought to have our just liberty, and enjoy
the privilege of our birthright, which is our due so long as
we live peaceably and harmlessly, but if it be not a privilege
to be pleaded for, then are all your own grounds and reasons,
and cause, without a foundation, and you and the whole nation
may be swept away by any that are able to do it, without being
charged with injustice or oppression, which is contrary to the
just balance, the light of Christ in all people’s consciences.
And as we are the dearly beloved people of the most high God, who
doth bless us with his presence, and manifest his everlasting
love and good-will towards us daily, and overshadows us with his
power and tender mercies, whom he hath gathered out of the evil
ways and spirit of this world, and all the vanities thereof,
unto himself, to walk with him who is invisible, in the upright,
blameless, undefiled life, in the midst of a crooked and perverse
generation; I say, considering these things, how greatly and
unrighteously do our sufferings appear to all sober people, whose
eyes are open, and will be more open to discern and savour the
bitterness of that proud, envious, wrathful spirit, which thus
hath acted and deceived you: and its end is numbered by them that
have wisdom from above.
‘For friends, set aside the reproachful name of Quakers, and
the other titles of derision and scorn, which the envious and
blood-thirsty spirit hath invented to render the people of God
odious in all ages, and tell me what ye have justly to charge
against this people, whom you so furiously pursue to the dens and
caves of the earth, to the loss of the lives of so many of them;
by which children are made fatherless, and tender-hearted women,
mournful widows, and let it come forth to open view, and declare
it abroad, as your articles against them, to the whole world, and
speak the truth, and nothing but the truth, as you use to tell
one another, that all people may rightly know and understand the
very ground and most secret cause, who do inquire, of these your
present proceedings against them; for notice is taken by many,
and ere long it must be manifest to all men, as the folly and
madness of Jannes and Jambres were, that withstood Moses; for you
withstand no less than him of whom Moses wrote; who said, “I am
the light of the world,” against whom Saul was once exceedingly
mad, and had thoughts to do very much against that way, which was
then as well as now, called Heresy, till the light of Jesus, whom
he persecuted, met with him, with his letters, or warrants, to
haul men and women to prison, as your servants do, and smote him
to the ground, and made him tremble, who, from that time, became
such a Quaker, as you now persecute and imprison till death; but
the light of Jesus Christ, the Son of the living God, will meet
with all persecutors, and oppressors about religion, let them be
never so mad, or think they ought to do much against that way,
they call Heresy, as some of you have said, who have made a mock
at the light, even publicly, which many took notice of, and even
marvelled at such blasphemy in an open court, against the Saviour
of the world: and there is no other name under heaven by which
men shall be saved, but him who said, John, vii. 7. 12. and 16.
“I am the light of the world, who lighteth every man that cometh
into the world.”
‘And this is he, in whom we have believed, and of whom we have
declared, and must declare and hear testimony, as long as we have
a being; and the world shall know that our testimony is true;
and for his name and truth only, do we thus patiently suffer the
contradictions of sinners, as our brethren did by the zealous
Jews in ages past; but you are not so zealous for Christ’s law
and commandments, as they were of Moses and the prophets, which
Christ ends and fulfils, who thought it was not lawful to do good
on the Sabbath-day, as to heal the sick, for then would you “Do
to all men, as ye would they should do to you;” for his law runs
thus, “And be ye merciful,” &c. and “Love you your enemies; and
swear not at all,” &c. as ye may read.
‘But behold, how both Jews and Gentiles take notice, and are
ashamed and grieved, to hear and see what a deal of bad works you
do, even on your Sabbath-day, as some of you call it, and how you
profane the day of your worship, with your cattle, and servants,
which are within your gates, what riding and running, and
toiling, in rage and fury, like madmen, sweating, and swearing,
and cursing, and dragging, and hauling the innocent members of
Christ’s body out of their peaceable meetings, into your jails
and holes; on your day of worship. But are your sacrifices, ye
offer at that time, accepted? Have ye peace whilst these things
are acting in your name, and by your authority? If you have peace
and pleasure therein, let me tell you from the righteous God,
you are hardened in your sins against him, and he will break
your peace speedily, and turn your pleasure into bitterness and
lamentation: and his innocent people’s meetings shall stand,
and be increased; and their way shall prosper, and the truth
shall spread and prevail, and have dominion over all nations;
and their enemies shall fall and be confounded, let them strive
what they can against them; for they are of God, and not of man,
or the will of man, and they seek his glory and not their own;
and such as abide faithful to him, shall triumph over all the
principalities, and powers of the rulers of the darkness of this
world, and make a show openly of the victory over all that do
or may oppose them; for their life is immortal, and the Lord of
heaven and earth is their strength, who is with them as a mighty
terrible one; therefore shall their persecutors fall before them.
‘And let me tell you again, that by these your unreasonable, and
unjust dealings, the understandings of thousands are the more
opened; and the tender, sober part, or principle in them, doth
feel the weight and burden of this grievousness, which you have
prescribed, and do so eagerly pursue, to the imprisoning to death
so many innocent persons and free-born people of this nation,
besides hundreds are liable to the same, which yet remain in
your prisons. And your unnatural, cruel sentence of banishment,
to separate dear and tender husbands from their dear and tender
wives, and tender children, and little innocent babes: Oh! how
do you rend the bowels of the meek of the earth, whom God hath
blessed? What is become of all your promises of liberty for
tender consciences? God’s curse and vengeance will come upon you,
and his plagues will pursue you to destruction if ye proceed in
this work; and your wives shall be widows, and your children
fatherless; the Lord hath spoken it. If you had the hearts of
men, or of flesh, ye would be afraid, and blush at the very
thoughts hereof; my heart and soul melts within me, and I am
even bowed down, with cries to God, in my spirit, to think of the
hardness of your hearts.
* * * * *
‘God Almighty, cut short thy work in righteousness, and shorten
the days of oppression and cruelty for thine elect’s sake;
which cry night and day unto thee, and make known thy name and
power to the ends of the earth; and let the heathen hear, and
fear, and bow to thy righteous sceptre, and let the kings of
the earth lay down their crowns at the feet of the Lamb, that
through thy righteous judgments they may partake of thy tender
mercies, which endure for ever; that their eyes may be no longer
withholden, nor blinded by the god of this world, the power and
prince of darkness, but that they may come to see thee, who art
invisible, and enjoy the same precious life of pure unfeigned
love, which abounds in the hearts of thy hidden ones; and receive
thy peaceable wisdom, to be governed, and to govern therein;
then would they surely know, that we are thine, and confess to
thy glorious truth, and speak good of thy name, and magnify thy
power, and no longer count the blood of thy everlasting covenant,
(wherewith we are sanctified,) as an unholy thing.
‘But, O thou righteous, holy, pure, eternal God, art unknown
unto all them that sit in darkness, and dwell in the spirit of
enmity against thee and thy people; though thou art come near
to judgment, according to the promise, Mal. iii. 5. And thy way
of life and salvation is hid from them, therefore they hate us
without a cause, and thus evilly entreat us in the darkness of
their minds, and in the ignorance and hardness of their hearts;
for which my soul doth pity them, and even entreat thee for
them, that if possible their eyes may be yet opened, and their
hearts yet softened, and their spirit humbled, that they may
see what they are doing in the dark, and consider the effect of
their work, which will assuredly follow: and if thy warnings and
gentle visitations will not humble them, then let thy judgments
awaken them, and bring them down, and humble them, that they may
perceive something of what thou art doing, in these latter days,
and art resolved to do to the ends of the earth, though the whole
world should gather and band together to oppose thy work and
people; for thou hast begun, and thou wilt go through and perfect
thy work; thou wilt raise thy seed, and gather thine elect from
the four winds, and bring them from the ends of the earth, and
scatter the proud in the vain imaginations of their hearts; and
thou wilt break thy way through all that oppose thee in this the
day of thy mighty power, in which thou art arisen, as a giant to
run his race, to finish transgression, and make an end of sin,
and bring in and establish everlasting righteousness; that the
kingdom of this world may become thy kingdom, and of thy Christ,
as thou hast promised, and art now fulfilling; glory and honour,
and thanks, and everlasting praises be to thy glorious name,
world without end. Amen.
‘So friends, ye are and have been warned again and again by the
faithful messengers and servants of the Lord, in love to your
souls; and you are left without excuse, if never words more
should be mentioned unto you; by which ye might perceive, how the
Lord doth strive with you, that ye might repent, and be saved
from the wrath to come, though some of you feel little of it in
your own consciences; but his spirit will not always strive with
you: for if you will not believe them, but slight and reject
them, and neither make conscience of what hath proceeded out of
your own mouth, nor regard to perform your own words and public
engagements, in that which is just, which the Lord requireth
of you, nor remember his by-past and present mercies, and long
suffering towards you, but trample all under foot; I say, if it
be thus with you, and you are resolved to go on, you will wholly
be given up, and be exceedingly hardened, and grow desperate in
cruelty and oppression against God, and his truth and people,
till your whole earth is filled with violence; and then, (as
true as God liveth,) will the flood come upon you, and ye shall
fall after the manner of Egypt; and the weight of the dreadful
judgments, due for all your abominations and cruelties, shall
sink you down into the pit that is bottomless, and that suddenly,
as the Lord hath spoken.
By his servant, who is a lover of the
welfare of all your souls, and I am
thus far clear of all your blood,
WILLIAM BAYLY.’
Written in the Tenth month, 1664, at
Hartford.
Again, in December, twelve of those called Quakers, were condemned to
banishment; for it was resolved to go on, not regarding what George
Bishop gave forth in print, and caused to be delivered to the king and
the members of parliament, being as followeth:
‘_To the King and both Houses of Parliament, thus saith the Lord._
‘Meddle not with my people, because of their conscience to
me, and banish them not out of the nation because of their
conscience; for if ye do, I will send my plagues upon you, and ye
shall know that I am the Lord.
Written in obedience to the Lord,
by his servant,
GEORGE BISHOP.’
Bristol, the 29th of the Fifth month,
1664.
The fulfilling of this prediction we shall see; for within a short time
a war ensued with the Dutch, and the pestilence appeared at London; but
before it broke out, yet more of the imprisoned Quakers were condemned
to banishment, viz. two and thirty persons, both men and women, who
were sentenced by the court on the 6th, 14th, and 15th of December; for
whatever they said in defence of themselves, proved ineffectual. One
asked, If we meet really to worship God, must we suffer for that? And
judge Hide answered, ‘Yes, that you must.’ But judge Keeling, to mend
the matter a little, said, ‘You shall not suffer for worshipping God,
but for being at an unlawful assembly contrary to the law.’ Another
said, ‘I meet to worship the eternal God in Spirit, as he persuades my
heart and conscience; and must I be condemned to banishment for that?’
‘Yes, yes,’ said judge Keeling, ‘for the law is against it.’ To which
judge Twisden added, ‘He hath confessed that he was there to worship
God; and their worship is contrary to the liturgy of the church of
England.’ Thus we see, if there was but evidence that the prisoners
had been at a meeting, this was counted sufficient to condemn them. A
woman being asked, what she had to say to the evidence given, answered,
‘Be it known unto you all, if I had as many bodies as hairs on my head,
I could lay them all down for the living eternal truth of the living
God.’ After all the prisoners had been called to the bar, they were
at length sentenced to be transported to Jamaica, and to remain there
seven years.
This year in September died my mother, Judith Zinspenning at Amsterdam
in Holland, where she was born of religious parents among the Baptists,
into whose society her father Conrad Zinspenning was entered in a
singular manner; of which, though it may seem somewhat out of my road,
yet because of the remarkable steps of Providence appearing therein, I
will give a short account. He being of Cologne in Germany, was bred a
Papist; and after he had past the Latin schools, his father thrust him
into a cloister; (for Papists used to think it meritorious to offer
up one of their children to the clergy.) But he found the monastical
life so much against his inclination, that his father dying before the
probation year was expired, he begged his mother to assist him in his
intention to leave the fraternity, since he was not yet bound by vow.
She complied with his desire, and so he got out, and then he was put
to a trade. After he had served his time, he resolved to travel, and
first took a turn to Holland, from thence to France, and then to Italy,
and the metropolis Rome, and so back again. Having been a lay-friar, he
got letters of recommendation to such monasteries as were of the order
of those monks he had lived with; that so he might freely find lodging
there for sometime. And because in Holland there are no cloisters, he
was recommended to some eminent Papists at Amsterdam: whither being
come, he liked the place so well, that he resolved to stay there
sometime; which he did, after having found employment. And thus getting
into acquaintance, he came in time to live with a Baptist, who employed
him as a journeyman. He never till now met with the New Testament,
in which he began to read so eagerly, that the Lord co-operating by
his good Spirit, his understanding came to be opened, so that he got
a clear sight of the superstition and errors of the popish religion,
in which he was trained up; and then entering into discourse with
his master, was persuaded to renounce popery, and to enter into the
communion of the Baptists. This broke all his measures concerning his
intended travels; and then resolving to settle where he was, he took to
wife one Catharine de Mol, a virtuous maid, whose father was one of the
primitive Baptists that arose under the persecution in Flanders, from
whence he with many more came to settle in Holland.
From these parents my mother descended, who was religiously inclined
even from her youth, and became so well versed in the Holy Scriptures;
and was so diligent in writing down so much of the sermons she heard,
as she could retain by memory; that her father said sometimes, ‘It is
a pity that this girl is not a boy, who then in time might become an
eminent instrument in the church.’ After she was come to age, though
much inclined to lead a single life, yet at length she was married to
my father, Jacob Williamson Sewel, a very religious young man; whose
father William Sewel, from Kidderminster in Worcestershire, having
been one of those Brownists, that left England and settled in Holland,
married a Dutch wife at Utrecht, where my father was born; who being
come to age, endeavoured to walk in the narrow way, and conversed
mostly with the strictest professors of those days. And both he and
my mother came in time to grow dissatisfied with that worship to which
they were joined; yet in clearness of understanding my mother exceeded
my father; nevertheless she continued dissatisfied as well as he, with
the common way of worship she belonged to; so that oftentimes, when she
came from the meeting-house, she resolved not to go there any more,
because she reaped no real and substantial benefit by it. But then the
first day of the week being come again, she was in a straight, thinking
that however it was, yet by the apostle we were exhorted not to forsake
the assemblies. In this irresolute condition she continued a long time;
and being incumbered with the cares of the family, she was not so much
at liberty for performing religious duties, (viz. prayers, reading of,
and meditating on the Holy Scriptures, visiting the sick, and such like
pious exercises,) as she was before she was married; which made her
wish sometimes she had never entered into matrimony, and that she might
live to enjoy again that peace and quiet which once she had. But she
knew not yet that it was the love of the Lord thus working upon her, to
draw her off from transitory things. In this state she was often seized
with grief and sorrow, so that she counted herself the most miserable
of women; for neither husband nor children, nor any outward enjoyments,
could afford her any pleasure; but all her desire was to attain to an
undefiled state, in which she might live an unblameable life, not only
before men, but also before God; for feeling there was yet something in
her which was evil and polluting, she struggled to overcome it; but all
her labour proved in vain. This made her cry earnestly to the Lord as
one in great danger; and her doubts whether it was possible to attain
to perfection increased. But in this forlorn state it pleased the Lord
to manifest himself to her in some measure, though she knew not then it
was he. And often she cried out, ‘Lord what will it avail me to know
that thou hast sent thy Son into the world, and that he was crucified
and died for the sins of the world, if I am not saved by it. Lord
forgive my sins, and have mercy upon me.’ And once when she was alone,
pouring out her heart before the Lord, he made himself known to her,
and spoke to her soul, that if she would be perfect, she must follow
the light in every respect. Having heard this, she desired to know what
this light was; and the Lord showed her, that the light was the life of
men. This she understood in some degree, and so separated herself as
much as ever she could conveniently from conversation, endeavouring to
live retiredly. And having about this time heard Dr. Galenus Abrahams,
an eminent Baptist teacher, preach upon the parable of the seedsman;
that which he spoke concerning the good ground, and how the ground must
be fitted by the Lord’s working, so affected her, that she resolved to
rest from all her own labour; and so she left frequenting the Baptists’
assemblies any more.
In this retired state she continued a good while, and at length came
to hear William Ames preach; and he declaring the light of Christ as
the true teacher, this agreed with what had already been told her
inwardly by the immediate manifestations of the Lord to her. And thus
she came fully to be convinced that this was the truth she had so long
desired to know. Now she saw that it was her duty to give up all, and
to keep nothing back: for she had already seen, that if she would be
Christ’s disciple, she must forsake all, even her own self. But a fear
of the cross was no small impediment to her; yet now she gave up to
obedience; and saw that her former performances had been defective;
and now all came into remembrance. This caused sorrow; but she prayed
to the Lord both night and day, and then he manifested his power by
which she was led out of the darkness and bondage, wherein she had
been held captive; and her supplication was to the Lord, that it might
not be with her as formerly, to wit, sometimes great zeal, and then
coldness again; but that she might continue in fervency of spirit.
After a long time of mourning the Lord manifested his kindness to her,
by which she came to be quickened and refreshed; and by the judgments
of the Lord all was narrowly searched out, so that nothing could be
hid; and a separation was made between the precious and the vile, and
death passed over all. But thus to part with all her own wisdom, and
forsake her great attainments, was no small cross: yet she became
willing to hear it, although many violent tempests rose to draw her
off, if possible, from closely adhering to the beloved of her soul;
yet she was not forward in imitation: for my father, who when he was
convinced of the truth preached by W. Ames and W. Caton, soon left off
the common way of salutation, would sometimes persuade her by arguments
to do so too; but she told him, if the leaving off of that custom was
a thing the Lord required, she believed he would show it her in his
own time, because she was given up to follow his requirings. And so
the Lord did in due time; and she continuing zealously faithful, he
was pleased after my father’s death to give her a public testimony,
and she became eminently gifted: for her natural abilities surpassing
the ordinary qualifications of her sex, and becoming sanctified by the
Spirit of the Lord, could not but produce good effects; and she came to
be much visited and sought to by professors; and the Fifth monarchy-men
applauded her because of her pathetical admonitions. But she was above
flattery, and trampled upon it. Nay, she was so well esteemed, that I
remember, having some movings to visit the collegians in their meeting,
after one of them had left off speaking, she stood up, and said, that
she had something upon her mind to speak to them by way of exhortation.
But knowing that they suffered not women to speak amongst them, she was
not willing bluntly to intrude herself; but desired their leave, which
they readily granted, and one of their chief speakers said to her, ‘It
is true, friend, we do not allow women to speak in the church; yet we
hear that respect to you, that we give you the liberty of speaking.’
And then she cleared herself, having formerly been a frequenter of that
assembly. And when she had done speaking, I do not remember she was
contradicted by any; but one of their speakers concluded the meeting
with a prayer.
Before that time she wrote and published a small book to those of her
former society, which she called a Serious Reproof of the Flemish
Baptists: in which she dealt very plainly with them; and showed how
they were apostatized. She wrote also some other treatises, extant in
print; and was much beloved and well esteemed by English friends, as
appears by several letters written to her from England, and yet extant.
Those of her own nation often resorted to her for instruction, she
being so well exercised in the way of the Lord, that she was able to
speak a word in season to various conditions. Many times she visited
the meetings at Alkmaar, Haarlem and Rotterdam; and was often invited
by her friends to come and edify them with her gift. She wrote also
many letters for edification and admonition to particular persons, and
some epistles also to the church. But it pleased the Lord to take her
early to himself. When she fell sick, she soon had a sense that she
was not like to recover, and therefore spoke much to me in private,
and acquainted me with several things touching myself, and relating to
her outward estate. And the night before she departed, she called me
to her bed-side, and exhorted me very fervently to depart from evil,
and to fear the Lord: which by the mercy of God in time, made very
deep impressions on my mind; so that still I find reason to bless the
name of the Lord for having been pleased that I was the son of such
an excellent mother: who early in the morning when she felt death
approaching, called me up out of my bed, and sent me to her brother,
and to W. Caton, to come and see her; and I had hardly been returned a
quarter of an hour before she departed this life, and slept in peace,
to my great grief then; though afterwards, when I came to years of
discerning, I saw reason to believe that it was not without a singular
providence that the Lord had taken her away: for one had long continued
to be an importunate suitor to her, who in time lost his integrity. To
give a small instance of her true zeal for God, I will insert here the
following epistle she wrote to her friends, to stir up the pure mind in
them.
_An Epistle to the Friends of Truth._
‘Grace and peace be multiplied among you, my dearly and much
beloved friends, you that have received a blessing from God the
heavenly Father in Christ Jesus, the Lord of glory; who by his
unspeakable love, and his unchangeable light, hath drawn you
off from the imaginary worships, and brought you in measure to
know him who was from the beginning. Dear friends, keep in the
light by which ye are enlightened, and in the knowledge of God,
which every one hath received for himself; watching against the
seducings of Satan; that your eyes may be kept open, lest deceit
should prevail in any of you, by which truth might lose its
splendour, and the brightness of the Lord become darkened.
‘I write these things to you in true love, and though but young,
yet as one that takes care for you; for the Lord knows how often
ye are in my remembrance; desiring for you, that ye may not only
know the truth, but that ye may be found to be living witnesses
of it: for I, knowing the preciousness of it, cannot but desire
that others may also participate of the same; labour, therefore,
for it, my friends, that so, when the Lord comes and calls to
an account, every one may be found faithful according to what
he hath received: for this is the talent which the Lord hath
given, viz. the knowledge of him who is true, and who rewardeth
every one according to his deeds: but the negligent and slothful
servant said that his Lord was an hard man, and that he gathered
where he had not strewed, and this was his condemnation: for the
Lord said, “Thou knewest that I was an austere man; wherefore
then gavest not thou my money into the bank, that at my coming I
might have required mine own with usury?” Mind these things, my
beloved friends, ye that have an ear to hear, and dig after this
parable in yourselves; for we all have received talents, some
more, and others less. Let therefore every one be faithful to
the Lord, according to what he hath received; for truly some of
you, I believe, have received five talents. Let it but be duly
considered and seen in the light of the Lord, what knowledge ye
have had of the eternal God beyond many, even when ye were yet
in darkness: how often hath the Lord appeared, and clearly made
manifest himself? And how abundantly hath he made it known in the
heart, that he it was who was worthy to be feared and served?
Certainly that is a great and weighty talent, and therefore the
Lord may say justly, what could I have done more to my vineyard?
O my friends, besides all this, he hath caused his eternal light
to shine into our hearts, whereby we have seen the corrupted ways
of the world, and paths leading to death. This, I say, the Lord
hath showed us by his eternal light: glory and praises be given
to our God for ever.
‘Dear friends, go on in that in which ye have begun; for I can
hear witness for the Lord, that his love hath been abundantly
shed abroad upon us, without respect of persons: because those
that fear him, and work righteousness, are acceptable to him;
and he makes his truth manifest among us, and causeth his peace
and mercy to rest upon us. It is true, that Satan doth not rest
to scatter this, and to sow doubts and unbelief in our hearts;
but we keeping close to the Lord, are preserved from his snares;
and happy is he who hath found a place where he is freed from
tempests: but before this place be found, there are many hidden
rocks that may be struck on, not unknown to me. And therefore I
have true compassion on those who are not past them all yet; for
shipwreck may easily be suffered on any of these.
‘Yet in all this danger there is something on which we may rely
safely, and to which we may trust, being as a beacon, viz. the
light shining into our hearts, though it be sometimes but as
a spark, and so small, in regard of the manifold seducings,
that it can hardly be discerned. Here then is no small grief
and anguish; here all the mercies of the Lord, which formerly
we enjoyed abundantly, are called in question, or doubted of;
here is danger, and yet certainty; for by not sinning, the
beacon is minded, and by relying on a true hope to be saved,
we are preserved in the tempest. I write these things for the
information of those that are travelling towards a city that hath
a foundation, and whose builder and maker is God; for to such my
love is extended, and my desire to the Lord for them is, that
they may be kept by his power, to remain standing at his coming.
‘Dear friends, keep your meetings in the fear of the Lord,
and have a care that your minds are not drawn out to hear
words outwardly; but stand in the cross to that which desireth
refreshment from without: and when at any time ye feel but little
refreshment, let it not enter into your hearts that the Lord is
not mindful of you; but centre down into yourselves, in the pure
light, and stand still therein: then it may be ye will find the
cause why the presence of the Lord is departed from you for some
time; and ye putting away the cause, shall enjoy the Lord again
to your comfort.
‘May God Almighty preserve you all by his power, lest any strife
or discord be found among you; and may you grow up in love, and
thereby be obliged to hear each other’s burdens; and let no
transitory things cumber your hearts, but be resigned to the
Lord; for that to which we are called, is not to be compared to
that which is transitory, or perishing; since it is a treasure
that is everlasting, and to which the world, and all that is in
it, is but as dung; because the most glorious part of it is but
vanity of vanities. O, my friends, let none be stopped by that
which is an impediment to entering into the kingdom of heaven;
but strive all to enter the narrow gate; and search every one of
you your own hearts, with the light ye are enlightened with,
which shall manifest your own states to you; and keeping there,
it shall multiply your peace, and every one shall find therein
his own teacher, as those have experienced who sought the Lord
with all their heart. Now the God of all mercies, who alone is
immortal, keep you and us altogether to the end; that so in these
dangerous times we may remain standing, to the glory of his great
name. O friends, keep out craftiness, and enter not readily into
discourse with those that are out of the truth; for they speak
in their own wills, and are crafty, and, knowing no bridle to
their mind, it produceth that by which the simple and innocent
are caught; but stand ye rather, and keep in that wherein ye
see their subtilty; for then, though ye may not have a word to
apologize for yourselves, yet ye shall be above them.
‘This is written from me, a young plant, in love to you,
according to the gift received from the Lord. My salutation is to
you all in the light of truth.
JUDITH ZINSPENNING.’
In the year 1664 came forth a small book in print, to the king, and
both houses of parliament, wherein were set forth, not only the violent
persecution almost over all England, with the names of persons, places,
and cases, which indeed were woful, and some bloody; but it was also
represented, that there were at that time in prison above six hundred
of those called Quakers, merely for religion’s sake.
1665.
In the month called January, in the year 1664-5, thirty-six of that
persuasion, among which were eight women, were condemned to be
transported to Jamaica. The jury not being so forward to declare the
prisoners guilty as the court desired, were persuaded however by the
threatenings of judge Keeling, the recorder Wild, and the boisterous
Richard Brown, to do what was demanded of them.
On the 18th and 22d of the next month, thirty-four of the said people
were sentenced to be carried to Jamaica, and five to Bridewell. The
manner of their trial I pass by with silence, to avoid prolixity. Those
that were tried on the 18th were sentenced by judge Wharton; and those
on the 22d by judge Windham, who said to Anne Blow, who declared, that
the fear of the Lord being upon her heart, she durst not conform to
any thing that was unrighteous, ‘Anne Blow, I would show you as much
favour as the court will allow you, if you will say that you will go no
more to that seditious meeting,’ meaning the Bull-and-Mouth. To which
she answered, ‘Wouldest thou have me sin against that of God in my own
conscience? if I were set at liberty to day, if the Lord required it of
me, I should go to the Bull-and-Mouth to-morrow.’
Concerning one John Gibson, the said judge spoke to the jury in this
manner: ‘Gentlemen, although it is true, as this Gibson saith, that it
cannot be proved that they were doing any evil at the Bull-and-Mouth;
yet it was an offence for them to be met there, because in process
of time there might be evil done in such meetings: therefore this
law was made to prevent them.’ By this we may see with what specious
colours the persecutors cloaked their actions. I find among my papers,
a letter of John Furly, and Walter Miers, (both of whom I knew well,)
mentioning, that some of the jury, for refusing to give such a verdict
as was required of them, were fined in great sums, and put into prison,
there to remain till they should pay the fine.
Having now said thus much of sentencing, it grows time to speak of the
execution thereof.
Some of the persons ordered for banishment, fell sick, and died
in prison; some became apostates, and some were redeemed by their
relations that were not Quakers; but yet a considerable number was,
though with great pains, brought on ship-board, to be transported to
the West Indies. We have seen already how those that were sentenced
at Hertford, by judge Orlando Bridgman, having been put ashore by the
master of the ship, returned. And it was not long after, that three of
their friends, being on board the ship the Many-fortune of Bristol,
were also set on shore with a certificate from the master of the ship,
signed by him and seven of his men, wherein they complained of their
adversity, and said, that God had said as it were in their hearts.
“Accursed be the man that separates husband and wife; and he who
oppresseth the people of God, many plagues will come upon him.”
But the first of those called Quakers, who really tasted banishment,
were Edward Brush, and James Harding, who were banished, not only out
of London, where they as citizens had as much right to live as the
chiefest magistrates, but also out of their native country, contrary to
the right of a free-born Englishman: these, with one Robert Hays, were
on the 24th of the month called March, early in the morning fetched
from Newgate in London, and brought to Blackfriars’ stairs, where they
were put into a boat, and so carried down to Gravesend, and there had
on board a ship. Hardly any warning had been given to these prisoners;
and Robert Hays being sickly, had taken some physic, which had not
done working; and since it was very cold that morning, and he had got
nothing to eat before he came to Gravesend, he was seized in the ship
with so severe sickness, that he died of it, and then his corpse was
carried to London, and there buried. The other two were carried to
Jamaica, where, by the providence of God, in time it fared well with
them, and Edward Brush lived to return into England. It was remarkable,
that not long after these persons were banished, the pestilence broke
out at London, first of all in the house of a meal-man in Bearbinder
lane, next door to the house where the said Edward lived, which by some
was thought worthy of being taken notice of; since that house was the
first which was shut because of the sickness.
With the other prisoners they had more trouble and pains, because no
shipmasters could be found that would carry them: wherefore an embargo
was laid on all merchantmen, with order that none should go down the
river without having a pass from the Admiral; and this they would give
to no master going to the West Indies, unless he made promise to carry
some Quakers along with him to the place to which they were banished.
Whatever any masters spoke against this, intimating that there was
a law, according to which no Englishman might be carried out of his
native country against his mind, was in vain. At length by force they
got one to serve their turn; and then seven persons that were sentenced
to banishment, were, on the 18th of the month called April, carried
from Newgate to Blackfriars’ stairs, and so in a boat to Gravesend.
But in the meantime the pestilence increased, and not long after judge
Hide, who had been very active in persecuting, was, with many others,
suddenly taken away out of this life; for he having been seen in the
morning at Westminster in health, as to outward appearance, it was told
in the afternoon that he was found dead in his chamber; being thus
summoned to appear and give account of his deeds before a higher court
than ever he presided in.
Yet transportation was not come to a stand; first, as hath been said,
three persons, next seven, and on the 16th of the month called May,
eight were carried down the river to Gravesend, and put on ship-board;
but as the number of those that were carried away was heightened,
so also the number of those that died of the pestilence much more
increased. But notwithstanding this scourge from Heaven, transportation
continued; for a master of a ship was found at length, who had said,
as was reported, that he would not stick to transport even his nearest
relations. And so an agreement was made with him, that he should
take between fifty and sixty Quakers into his ship, and carry them
to the West Indies. Of these eight or ten at a time were brought to
the water-side, and so with boats or barges carried to the ship,
which lay at anchor in the Thames, in Bugbey’s-hole, a little beyond
Greenwich. Many of these prisoners, among which several women, not
showing themselves ready to climb into the ship, lest it should seem
as if they were instrumental to their transportation, were hoisted
up with the tackle; and the sailors being unwilling to do this work,
and saying, that if they were merchants’ goods, they should not be
unwilling to hoist them in, the officers took hold of the tackle, and
said, ‘They are the king’s goods.’ This was on the 20th of the month
called July, and on the 4th of the next month, when, according to the
bill of mortality, three thousand and forty died in one week, the rest
of the banished prisoners were carried with soldiers to the said ship,
in which now were fifty-five of the banished Quakers, and among these
eighteen women. But something adversely hindered this ship from going
away, and the pestilence also entered into it, which took away many
of the prisoners, and so freed them from banishment. But though the
pestilence grew more hot at London, and that a war was risen between
England and Holland, yet the fire of persecution continued hot, and
great rejoicings were made when the Dutch were beaten at sea, and their
admiral Obdam was blown up with his ship. Neither did the persecutors
leave off to disturb the meetings of those called Quakers, and imprison
many of them; nay, so hardened and unrelenting were some, that when
at London more than four thousand people died in one week, they said,
that the only means to stop the pestilence, was to send the Quakers
out of the land. But these fainted not, but grew emboldened against
violence. In September some meetings were still disturbed at London,
though the number of the dead in one week was heightened to above
seven thousand, being increased in that time nigh two thousand. Now
such as intended to have met at the Bull-and-Mouth, were kept out from
performing worship there; but yet meeting in the street, they were not
disturbed; for there seemed to be some fear of the common people, who
grew discontented because there was little to be earned by tradesmen;
and the city came to be so emptied, that grass grew in the streets
that used to be most populous, few people being seen by the way. Thus
the city became as a desert, and the misery was so great, that it was
believed some died for want of attendance.
It was about this time that Samuel Fisher, who first had been a
prisoner in Newgate at London, and afterwards in Southwark, since the
beginning of the year 1663, till now, being about a year and a half,
died piously.
It is reported that the king, in the time of this great mortality,
once asked, whether any Quakers died of the plague? And having been
told, yes, he seemed to slight that sickness, and to conclude, that
then it could not be looked upon as a judgment or plague upon their
persecutors. But certainly his chaplains might well have put him in
mind of what Solomon saith, “There is one event to the righteous and to
the wicked:” and of this saying of Job, “He destroyeth the perfect and
the wicked:” as also that of the prophet, “That the righteous is taken
away from the evil to come.”
Now travelling in the country was stopped, which made some people go
with boats along the coast, and so went ashore where they had a mind.
Thus did Stephen Crisp, who came about this time to York, where the
duke of York was then, with many of the great ones. About this time
Alexander Parker, and George Whitehead came to London, where they had
good service in preaching the truth.
Great fires were now kindled in the streets to purify the contagious
air; but no relief was found by it; for in the latter end of September
there died at London above eight thousand people in one week, as I
remember to have seen in one of the bills of mortality at that time.
In the meanwhile the ship in which the banished prisoners were, could
not go off, but continued to lie as a gazingstock for those ships that
passed by; for the master was imprisoned for debt.
Now the prediction of George Bishop was fulfilled, and the plagues of
the Lord fell so heavily on the persecutors, that the eagerness to
banish the Quakers, and send them away, began to abate. The same G.
Bishop about Midsummer, wrote from the prison at Bristol, (where he
made account that he also should have been banished,) a letter to his
friends to exhort them to steadfastness, foretelling them, that if
they happened to be banished, God would give them grace in the eyes
of those among whom they should be sent, if they continued to adhere
to him; and that when he should have tried them, he should bring them
again into their native country; and that none should root them out;
but they should be planted and built up there; and that the Lord should
visit their enemies with the sword and pestilence, and strike them with
terror. This is but a short hint of what he wrote at large.
G. Fox, the younger, had also in the year 1661 given forth a little
book, of which some small mention hath been made before, in which he
lamented England, because of the judgments that were coming upon her
inhabitants for their wickedness and persecution; saying among the
rest, that the Lord had spoken in him concerning the inhabitants, ‘The
people are too many, the people are too many, I will thin them, I will
thin them.’ Besides that the spirit of the Lord had signified unto him,
that an overflowing scourge, yea even an exceeding great and terrible
judgment, was to come upon the land, and that many in it should fall,
and be taken away. And that this decree of the Lord was so firm, that
though some of the Lord’s children and prophets should appear so as to
stand in the gap, yet should not that alter his decree. This with much
more he wrote very plainly; and though he was deceased long ago, yet
this paper was reprinted, to show the inhabitants how faithfully they
had been warned.
What Isaac Pennington, being a prisoner, wrote about this time to the
king and parliament, and published in print, was also very remarkable,
being designed with Christian meekness to dissuade them if possible
from going on with this mischievous work of persecution. In this paper,
containing some queries, among many weighty expressions, I find these
also:
‘After ye have done all ye can, even made laws as strong as ye
can, and put them in the strictest course of execution ye can,
one night from the Lord may end the controversy, and show whether
we please the Lord in obeying him, or ye in making laws against
us for our fidelity and obedience to him.
‘As the Lord is able to overturn you, so if ye mistake your
work, misinterpreting the passages of his providence, and erring
in heart concerning the ground of his former displeasure; and
so, through the error of judgment, set yourselves in opposition
against him, replanting the plants which he will not have grow,
and plucking up the plants of his planting; do ye not in this
case provoke the Lord, even to put forth the strength which is
in him against you? We are poor worms. Alas, if ye had only us
to deal with, we should be nothing in your hands! But if his
strength stand behind us, we shall prove a very burdensome stone,
and ye will hardly be able to remove us out of the place wherein
God hath set us, and where he pleaseth to have us disposed of.
And happy were it for you, if instead of persecuting us, ye
yourselves were drawn to wait for the same begettings of God,
which we have felt, out of the earthly nature into his life and
nature, and did learn of him to govern in that; then might ye
be established indeed, and be freed from the danger of those
shakings, and overturnings, which God is hastening upon the earth.
‘Now, because ye may be apt to think, that I write these things
for my own sake, and the sakes of my friends and companions
in the truth of God, that we might escape the sufferings and
severity which we are like to undergo from you, and not so mainly
and chiefly for your sakes, lest ye should bring the wrath of God
and misery upon your souls and bodies; to prevent this mistake in
you, I shall add what followeth. Indeed this is not the intent of
my heart: for I have long expected, and do still expect this cup
of outward affliction and persecution from you, and my heart is
quieted and satisfied therein, knowing that the Lord will bring
glory to his name, and good to us out of it: but I am sure it is
not good for you to afflict us for that which the Lord requireth
of us, and wherein he accepteth us; and ye will find it the
bitterest work that ever ye went about, and in the end will wish
that the Lord had rather never given you this day of prosperity,
than that he would suffer you thus to make use of it. Now that ye
may more clearly see the temper of my spirit, and how my heart
stands to this thing, I shall a little open unto you, my faith
and hope about it, in these ensuing particulars:
‘First, I am assured in my heart and soul, that this despised
people, called Quakers, is of the Lord’s begetting in his own
life and nature. Indeed, had I not seen the power of God in them,
and received from the Lord an unquestionable testimony concerning
them, I had never looked towards them: for they were otherwise
very despicable in my eyes. And this I cannot but testify
concerning them, that I have found the life of God in me owning
them, and that which God hath begotten in my heart, refreshed by
the power of life in them: and none but the Lord knows the beauty
and excellency of glory, which he hath hid under this appearance.
‘Secondly, The Lord hath hitherto preserved them against great
oppositions, and is still able to preserve them. Every power
hitherto hath made nothing of overrunning them; yet they have
hitherto stood, by the care and tender mercy of the Lord; and the
several powers which have persecuted them, have fallen one after
another.
‘Thirdly, I have had experience myself of the Lord’s goodness and
preservation of me, in my suffering with them for the testimony
of his truth, who made my bonds pleasant to me, and my noisome
prison, (enough to have destroyed my weakly and tenderly educated
nature,) a place of pleasure and delight; where I was comforted
by my God night and day, and filled with prayers for his people,
as also with love to, and prayers for, those who had been the
means of outwardly afflicting me, and others on the Lord’s
account.
‘Fourthly, I have no doubt in my heart that the Lord will deliver
us. The strength of man, the resolution of man is nothing in my
eye in compare with the Lord. Whom the Lord loveth, he can save
at his pleasure. Hath he begun to break our bonds and deliver
us, and shall we now distrust him? Are we in a worse condition
than Israel was, when the sea was before them, the mountains on
each side, and the Egyptians behind pursuing them? He indeed that
looketh with man’s eye, can see no ground of hope, nor hardly a
possibility of deliverance; but, to the eye of faith, it is now
nearer than when God began first to deliver.
‘Fifthly, It is the delight of the Lord, and his glory to deliver
his people, when to the eye of sense it seemeth impossible. Then
doth the Lord delight to stretch forth his arm, when none else
can help: and then doth it please him to deal with the enemies of
his truth and people, when they are lifted up above the fear of
him, and are ready to say in their hearts concerning them, they
are now in our hands, who can deliver them?
‘Well, were it not in love to you, and in pity, in relation
to what will certainly befal you, if ye go on in this course,
I could say in the joy of my heart, and in the sense of the
good-will of my God to us, who suffereth these things to come
to pass; go on, try it out with the spirit of the Lord, come
forth with your laws, and prison, and spoiling of our goods, and
banishment, and death, if the Lord please, and see if ye can
carry it: for we come not forth against you in our own wills,
or in any enmity against your persons or government, or in any
stubbornness or refractoriness of spirit; but with the lamb-like
nature which the Lord our God hath begotten in us, which is
taught, and enabled by him, both to do his will, and to suffer
for his name-sake. And if we cannot thus overcome you, even in
patience of spirit, and in love to you, and if the Lord our God
please not to appear for us, we are content to be overcome by
you. So the will of the Lord be done saith my soul.’
This the author concludes with a postscript, containing a serious
exhortation to forsake evil. Besides this he gave forth another paper,
wherein he proposed this question to the king and both houses of
parliament.
‘Whether laws made by man, in equity, ought to extend any further than
there is power in man to obey. And if it was not cruel to require
obedience in such cases, wherein the party hath not a capacity in
him of obeying.’ And to explain this a little further, he said, ‘In
things concerning the worship of God, wherein a man is limited by God,
both what worship he shall perform, and what worship he shall abstain
from, here he is not left at liberty to obey what laws shall be made
by man contrary hereunto.’ Thus Pennington strove by writing to show
the persecutors the evil of their doings: but a fierce party prevailed
then: and the clergy continually blew the fire of persecution; nay,
many presumed the time was now come totally to destroy the Quakers; and
in December twelve more were condemned to transportation.
* * * * *
Concerning those banished that were now in the ship which lay in the
Thames, I will yet leave them there, and take again a view of George
Fox, whom in the foregoing year we left in a hard prison at Lancaster.
In the month called March this year he was brought again to his trial
before judge Twisden; and though judge Turner had given charge at the
assize before, to see no such gross errors were in the indictment as
before, yet in that respect this was not much better than the former,
though the judge examined it himself. The jury then being called to
be sworn, and three officers of the court having deposed, that the
oath had been tendered to him at the last assizes, according to the
indictment, the judge said, it was not done in a corner: and then asked
him, what he had to say to it; and whether he had taken the oath at the
last assizes? George Fox thereupon gave an account of what had been
done then, and that he had said, that the book they gave him to swear
on, saith. “Swear not at all.” And repeating more of what he spoke
then, the judge said, ‘I will not dispute with you but in point of
law.’ George Fox offering to speak something to the jury concerning the
indictment, he was stopped by the judge; and then George Fox asked him,
whether the oath was to be tendered to the king’s subjects only, or to
the subjects of foreign princes? The judge replied, ‘To the subjects of
this realm.’ ‘Well,’ said he, ‘look to the indictment, and thou mayest
see that the word subject is left out of this indictment also.’ Several
other great errors as to time, &c. he had observed in the indictment,
but no sooner had he spoke concerning the errors, but the judge cried,
‘Take him away jailer, take him away.’ Then he was hurried away; yet
the people thought he should have been called again; but that was not
done. After he was gone, the judge asked the jury, whether they were
agreed? They said, ‘Yes,’ and found for the king against him. The
reason why George Fox was led away so suddenly, seemed to be that they
expected he would have proved the officers of the court to have sworn
falsely, seeing the day on which the oath had been tendered to him
at the assizes before, was wrong in the indictment; and yet they had
sworn, that on that day he had refused to take the oath. Before George
Fox was brought before the judge, he had passed sentence of _premunire_
against Margaret Fell, for having refused to take the oath. And though
this sentence had not been passed against George Fox, yet he was
recorded as a premunired person; though it had not been asked him what
he had to say why sentence should not be pronounced against him. And
thus he continued prisoner in Lancaster castle.
Whilst he was there, though weak of body, he wrote several papers; but
the neighbouring justices laboured much to get him removed from thence
to some remote place; for it was pretty well known among the people,
how the court at the assizes had dealt with him. So about six weeks
after, they got an order from the king and council to remove him from
Lancaster; and they received also a letter from the earl of Anglesey,
wherein it was written, that if these things which he was charged with,
were found true against him, he deserved no clemency or mercy: and yet
the greatest matter they had against him, was his refusal of the oath.
His persecutors now having prepared for his removal, the under sheriff,
and the head sheriff’s men, with some bailiffs, came and fetched him
out of the castle, when he was so weak, by lying in that cold, wet, and
smoky prison, that he could hardly go or stand. So they brought him
down into the jailer’s house where justice William Kirby, and several
others were. They called for wine to give him, but he well knowing
their malice against him, told them, he would have none of their wine.
Then they cried, ‘Bring out the horses.’ G. Fox therefore desired, that
if they intended to remove him, they would first show him their order,
or a copy of it. But they would not show him any but their swords. He
then told them, there was no sentence passed upon him, neither was he
premunired, that he knew of; and therefore he was not made the king’s
prisoner, but was the sheriff’s: for they and all the country knew that
he was not fully heard at the last assizes, nor suffered to show the
errors that were in the indictment, which were sufficient to quash it.
And that they all knew there was no sentence of premunire passed upon
him; and therefore he not being the king’s prisoner, but the sheriff’s,
desired to see their order. But instead of showing him their order,
they hauled him out, and lifted him upon one of the sheriff’s horses;
for he was so very weak, that he was hardly able to sit on horseback.
Riding thus along the street, he was much gazed upon by the people,
and had great reason to say, that he received neither Christianity,
civility, nor humanity, for how ill and weak soever he was, yet they
hurried him away about fourteen miles to Bentham in Yorkshire; and so
wicked was the jailer, one Hunter, a young fellow, that he lashed the
horse on which G. Fox rode, with his whip, to make him skip and leap,
insomuch that he had much ado to sit him; and then would this wanton
fellow come, and looking him in the face, say, ‘How do you Mr. Fox?’ To
which he answered, it was not civil in him to do so. Yet this malicious
fellow seemed little to regard it; but he had not long time to delight
in this kind of insolence; for soon after he was cut off by death.
G. Fox being come to Bentham, was met by a marshal and several
troopers, and many of the gentry, besides abundance of people, come
thither to stare at him. Being entered the house, and very much tired,
he desired they would let him lie down on a bed, which the soldiers
permitted; and the marshal, to whom he was delivered, set a guard upon
him. After having staid there a while, they pressed horses, and sending
for the bailiff and the constables, they had him to Giggleswick that
night. And there they raised the constables, who sat drinking all night
in the room by him, so that he could get but little rest. The next
day coming to a market town, several of his friends came to see him,
and at night he asked the soldiers, whither they intended to carry
him? To which some said, beyond sea, and others to Tinmouth Castle.
And there was a fear amongst them, lest some should rescue him; but
there was not the least reason for it. The next night he was brought
to York, where the marshal put him into a great chamber, where many of
the troopers then came to him. He then speaking something by way of
exhortation to the soldiers, many of them were very loving to him. A
while after the lord Frecheville, who commanded those horse, came to
him, and was civil and loving, and G. Fox gave him an account of his
imprisonment.
After a stay of two days at York, the marshal and five soldiers were
sent to convey him to Scarborough Castle: these behaved themselves
civilly to him. On the way they baited at Malton, and permitted his
friends to see him. Afterwards being come to Scarborough, they brought
him to an inn, and gave notice of it to the governor, who sent six
soldiers to guard him that night. The next day they had him into the
castle, and there put him into a room, with a sentinel to watch him.
Out of this room they soon brought him into another, which was so
open, that the rain came in, and it smoked exceedingly; which was very
offensive to him. One day the governor, sir John Crosland, came into
the castle with one sir Francis Cob. G. Fox desired the governor to
come into his room, and see how it was, and so they did: and G. Fox
having got a little fire made in the room, it was so filled with smoke,
that they could hardly find the way out again. And he being a Papist,
G. Fox told him, that was his purgatory which they had put him into.
For it plainly appeared that there was an intent to vex and distress
him: for after he had been at the charge of laying out about fifty
shillings, to keep out the rain, and somewhat to ease the smoke, they
put him into a worse room, which had neither chimney nor fire-hearth;
and lying much open toward the sea-side, the wind so drove in the rain,
that the water not only ran about the room, but also came upon his bed.
And he having no fire to dry his clothes when they were wet, his body
was so benumbed with cold, and his fingers swelled to that degree,
that one grew as big as two. And so malicious were his persecutors,
that they would hardly suffer any of his friends to come at him, nay,
not so much as to bring him a little food; so that he was forced to
hire somebody to bring him necessaries. Thus he spent about a quarter
of a year, and afterwards being put into a room where a fire could
be made, he hired a soldier to fetch him what he wanted. He then ate
almost nothing but bread, and of this so little, that a threepenny loaf
commonly served him three weeks: and most of his drink was water, that
had wormwood steeped in it; and once when the weather was very sharp,
and he had taken a great cold, he got some elecampane beer.
Now, though he desired his friends and acquaintances might be suffered
to come to him, yet this was refused; but some others were admitted to
come and gaze upon him, especially Papists, of whom a great company
once being come, they affirmed, that the pope was infallible, and
had been so ever since St. Peter’s time. But G. Fox denied this, and
alleged from history, that Marcellinus, one of the bishops of Rome,
denied the faith, and sacrificed to idols; and therefore was not
infallible. And he said also, ‘If the Papists were in the infallible
spirit, they would not maintain their religion by jails, swords,
gallows, fires, racks, and tortures, &c. nor want such means to hold it
up by: for if they were in the infallible spirit, they would preserve
men’s lives, and use none but spiritual weapons about religion.’
He also told them how a certain woman that had been a Papist, but
afterwards entered into the society of those called Quakers, having
a taylor at work at her house, and speaking to him concerning the
falseness of the popish religion, was threatened to have been stabbed
by him, for which end he drew his knife at her: since it was the woman
said, the principle of the Papists, if any turn from their religion to
kill them if they can. This story he told the Papists, and they did
not deny this to be their principle, but asked, if he would declare
this abroad. And he said, ‘Yes, such things ought to be declared
abroad, that it may be known how contrary your religion is to true
Christianity.’ Whereupon they went away in a rage. Some time after
another Papist came to discourse with him, and said, that all the
patriarchs were in hell, from the creation till Christ came; and that
when he suffered he went into hell, and the devil said to him, ‘What
comest thou hither for; to break open our strong holds?’ And Christ
said, ‘To fetch them all out.’ And so, he said, Christ was three days
and three nights in hell, to bring them all out. On which G. Fox said
to him that was false; for Christ said to the thief, “This day thou
shalt be with me in paradise.” He also said, that Enoch and Elijah were
translated into heaven; and that Abraham also was in heaven, since
the Scripture saith, that Lazarus was in his bosom. And Moses and
Elias were with Christ upon the mount, before he suffered. With these
instances he stopped his adversary’s mouth, and put him to a nonplus.
Another time there came to him a great physician, called Dr. Witty,
being accompanied with the lord Falconbridge, the governor of Tinmouth
Castle, and several knights. G. Fox being called to them, this doctor
undertook to discourse with him, and asked, what he was in prison for?
G. Fox told him, because he would not disobey the command of Christ,
and swear. To which the doctor said, he ought to swear his allegiance
to the king. Now G. Fox knowing him to be a great Presbyterian,
asked him, whether he had not sworn against the king and the house
of lords, and taken the Scotch covenant; and whether he had not
since sworn to the king. The doctor having no ready answer to this,
G. Fox asked him, what then was his swearing good for: telling him
further, ‘My allegiance doth not consist in swearing, but in truth and
faithfulness.’ After some further discourse, G. Fox was led away to his
prison again; and afterwards the doctor boasted, that he had conquered
G. Fox; which he having heard, told the governor, it was a small boast
in him to say he had conquered a bondman.
A while after, this doctor came again, having many great persons with
him, and he affirmed before them all, that Christ had not enlightened
every man that cometh into the world; that the grace of God, which
brought salvation, had not appeared unto all men; and that Christ
had not died for all men. G. Fox asked him, what sort of men those
were, which Christ had not enlightened; and whom his grace had not
appeared unto. To which the doctor answered, ‘Christ did not die for
adulterers, and idolators, and wicked men.’ Then G. Fox asked him,
whether adulterers and wicked men were not sinners; and he said, ‘Yes.’
Which made G. Fox say, ‘And did not Christ die for sinners? Did he not
come to call sinners to repentance?’ ‘Yes,’ said the doctor. ‘Then,’
replied G. Fox, ‘thou hast stopped thy own mouth.’ And so he proved,
that the grace of God had appeared to all men, though some turned it
into wantonness, and walked despitefully against it; and that Christ
had enlightened all men, though some hated the light. Several of those
that were present confessed it was true; but the doctor went away in a
rage, and came no more to him.
Another time the governor came to him, with two or three
parliament-men, and they asked him, whether he owned ministers and
bishops; to which he said, ‘Yes, such as Christ sent forth; such as had
freely received, and would freely give; and such as were qualified, and
were in the same power and spirit that they were in, in the apostles’
days. But such bishops and teachers as yours are, that will go no
further than they have a great benefice, I do not own; for they are not
like the apostles: for Christ saith to his ministers, “Go ye into all
nations and preach the gospel.” But ye parliament-men, that keep your
priests and bishops in such great fat benefices, ye have spoiled them
all: for do you think they will go into all nations to preach, or will
go any further than they have great fat benefices? Judge yourselves,
whether they will or no.’ To this they could say little, and whatever
was objected to G. Fox, he always had an answer in readiness; and
because sometimes it was simple and plain, his enemies from thence took
occasion to say, that he was a fool. But whatever such said, it is
certain that he had a good understanding, though he was not educated
in human learning. This I know by my own experience, for I have had
familiar conversation with him.
In this his prison he was much visited, even by people of note. General
Fairfax’s widow came once to him with a great company, one of which
was a priest, who began to quarrel with him, because speaking to one
person, he said thou and thee, and not you; and those that spoke so,
the priest said, he counted but fools. Which made G. Fox ask him,
whether they, that translated the Scriptures, and that made the grammar
and accidence, were fools; seeing they translated the Scriptures so,
and made the grammar so, thou to one, and you to more than one. With
these and other reasons he soon silenced the priest; and several of the
company acknowledged the truth he declared to them, and were loving
to him; and some of them would have given him money, but he would not
receive it.
Whilst I leave him yet prisoner, I will go to other matters, and relate
the remarkable case of one William Dundas, who being a man of some
repute in Scotland, came over to the communion of those called Quakers,
in a singular manner. He was a man of a strict life, and observed the
ecclesiastical institutions there as diligently as any of the most
precise; but in time he saw, that bodily exercise profited little, and
that it was true godliness which the Lord required from man. In this
state, becoming more circumspect than he was accustomed to be, he did
not frequent the public assemblies so much as formerly. But this was
soon taken notice of, and being asked the reason why, he said, that
there was a thing beyond that, which he looked for. But it was told
him, this was a dangerous principle. To which Dundas replied, that he
was not to receive the law from the mouth of man. Then the minister,
so called, said to him, that he tempted God. To which Dundas returned,
that God could not be tempted to evil. Now that which made him more
averse to the priests of that nation, was to see their domineering
pride: and how they forced some that were not one with them, in their
principles, to comply with their institutions, sprinkling the children
of parents even without their consent. Add to this, their going from
one benefice to another, being always ready to go over from a small
church to a great one, under pretence of more service for the church;
whereas it plainly appeared, that selfish interest generally was the
main cause. This behaviour of the clergy, and their rigid persecution,
if any deviated a little from the church ceremonies and the common
form, turned Dundas’s affection from them. An instance of this
rigidness was, that one Wood, who had some charge in the custom-house
of Leith, and approved in some respect the doctrine of those called
Quakers, had said, that Christ was the word, and that the letter was
not the word. For this he was cited before the ecclesiastical assembly
of Lothian, where Dundas was present; and Wood so well defended his
saying, that none were able to overthrow his arguments; chiefly drawn
from these words of John, “That the word was made flesh, and dwelt
among us.” Wood continuing to maintain his assertion, they began to
threaten him with excommunication, and would not allow him so much
time as to give his answer to the next assembly. Excommunication there
was such a penalty, that people under it were very much deprived of
conversation with men. The fear of this made Wood comply in a little
time; and meeting Dundas about three months after in the street at
Edinburgh, he told him, that he had been forced to bow to the assembly
against his light: for if he had been excommunicated, he had lost his
livelihood. Thus Wood bowed through human fear, but he hardly outlived
this two years.
In the meanwhile the priests became more and more jealous of Dundas;
for he not having them in such an esteem as they wished, they said that
he would infect the whole nation. And they did not stick here, but
to know with whom he corresponded in England, they opened, (so great
was their power,) his letters at the post-house, and sometimes kept
them: but if they found nothing in them, by which they could prejudice
him, they caused them to be sealed up again, and delivered to him. By
this base practice, they came to know that one Gawen Lawry, merchant
of London, sent him a box, with about three pounds sterling worth of
books. This box Dundas found afterwards that the priest, John Oswald,
had taken away: and whatever he did, he could not get them again, till
the English came into Scotland, but then many of them were wanting.
Dundas in the meanwhile unwilling to comply with the kirk, was at
length excommunicated; but he was generally so well esteemed, that none
seemed to regard that sentence, so as to keep at a distance from him;
which made this act the more contemptible. Now though Dundas favoured
the doctrine of the Quakers, yet they were such a despised people, that
he, who was a man of some account in the world, could not as yet give
up to join with them.
It happened once that he was riding from Edinburgh to his house, in a
winter evening, and hearing a noise of some men as if fighting, he bade
his man ride up in haste to see what it was, which he did, and calling
out, said, that there were two men on horseback, beating another on
foot, Dundas riding up to them, saw the two beating the other man, who
said to them, ‘What did I say to you, but bid you fear God?’ By this
Dundas presently perceived that the man thus beaten was a Quaker; and
asking his name, which the other telling, he knew it, though he did not
know the man by sight: and then he fell a beating the two with his rod,
and ordered those that were with him, to carry them to the next prison:
but the said Quaker intreated him to let them go, which he did, after
having asked their names, and dwelling-places. About a week after, the
said Quaker told a relation of Dundas what kindness he showed him, and
how he had in some manner been saved by him; ‘yet,’ said he, ‘I found
the same spirit in him that was in the other two men who beat me.’
Such a saying as this would have offended some men, but with Dundas it
had a contrary effect; for these words so reached him, that some time
after meeting the said Quaker again, he desired, that as he passed that
way, he would make his house his lodging place: which kind invitation
he seemed not unwilling to accept of. Dundas had now attained so much
experience, that he could discern between the spirits of meekness and
rashness; and sufficiently perceive that the said Quaker, by that which
he spoke concerning him, had not made himself guilty of the latter; but
yet he could not bow so low, as to join in society with the Quakers,
though secretly he endeavoured more and more to live up to their
doctrine; and therein he enjoyed more peace in his heart than formerly.
But his outward condition in the world not being very forward, he went
into France, and settled at Dieppe. Whilst he dwelt there, a certain
woman out of England, came thither with her maid, and spread in the
town some books of George Fox and William Dewsbury, translated into
French; and she herself having written some papers, got them turned
into French by Dundas, and so distributed them. But the message she
chiefly came for, she hid from him, and that not without reason; for
what she acted there, was so singular, that if it had been known
before, it is probable she would not have been able to perform it.
Though I do not find what her intent was in the thing, yet it seems
likely to me, that she, not knowing the language there spoken, would
by a sign testify against their apparel and dress, and that on this
wise: on the First-day of the week she came to the meeting-house of
the Protestants there, where some thousands of people were met: and,
having set herself in the most conspicuous place, just over against
him that preached, before the service was finished, she stood up, with
the maid that was with her, who taking off a mantle and hood she was
covered with, she appeared clothed in sackcloth, and her hair hanging
down, sprinkled with ashes: thus she turned herself round several
times, that all the people might see her. This sight struck both
preacher and auditory with no small consternation; and the preacher’s
wife afterwards telling somebody how this sight had affected her, said,
‘This is of deeper reach than I can comprehend.’ The said women having
stood thus awhile, fell both down upon their knees, and prayed, and
then went out of the meeting, many following them, and distributed some
books. Then they came to their lodging, which was in a Scotchman’s
house; but he refusing them entrance, they came to Dundas’s lodging,
who knew nothing of all this. They therefore told him, that the work
they came for in that nation, was now done; and he asking what they
had done, they told him, and signified that they wanted lodging till
they went away. Then he went abroad to see if he could find lodging for
them, but in vain; he then offered them his bed, being willing to shift
for himself somewhere else, but they refused to accept of his offer;
and his landlady not being willing to let them sit up that night in any
of her rooms, they were fain to stay that night in an outhouse.
Now this business had made such a stir in the town, that one of the
king’s officers coming the next day to Dundas, told him, that he had
transgressed the laws of the nation, by receiving persons of another
religion to his lodging: for the king tolerated only two religions,
viz. Papists and Protestants. To this Dundas said, that he had not
transgressed the law of hospitality, and he had been forced to do so,
since he could not let them lie in the street, where they would have
been in danger of their lives by the rude multitude. Then the women
were taken away, and sent to prison; and they not being provided
with food, Dundas took care of that. Sometime after, an order being
come from the parliament, at Rouen, it was read to them, viz. that
they should be transported forthwith back to England, with the first
passage-boat, and all their papers and books to be burnt in the market,
and themselves also, if ever they should come to that nation again.
In pursuance of this they were put into a passage-boat in the night
time, and so sent to England. Afterwards the people at Dieppe intended
to pursue Dundas as one of their judgment; but he was unwilling to be
looked upon as such, though the Protestants had informed against him,
that he did not come to their meetings: but of this no crime could be
made, and Dundas told them, if they persecuted him, being a merchant,
and trafficking there, they might expect the like to be done to their
merchants in England. And when the judge affirmed that Dundas was of
the judgment of these women, he told them that they were better than
he; but that their way was too strait for him to walk in. There fell
out two things which Dundas took singular notice of; the one was, that
the Scotchman who shut out the women, died within twelve months after;
and the other, that the house of his landlady, who refused them a
chamber to sit in, was burnt within the said time, without its being
known whence the fire came, no house being burnt besides, though it was
in the middle of the town.
In the meanwhile Dundas continued in an unquiet condition; for by
reason of human fear, he found himself too weak to profess publicly
before men, what he believed to be truth.
Then he went to Rouen, but could get no rest there, being somewhat
indisposed in body; and having from England gotten a great many books,
treating of the doctrine of those called Quakers, he sent some of them
to the judge criminal at Dieppe, and some to the Jesuits’ college
there, and at Paris. Afterwards he spread some books also at Caen,
where many Protestants lived. But since those books spoke against the
Papists, and the Calvinists were in fear that thereby they might be
brought to sufferings, they complained to the lieutenant-general of
the town, of Dundas, as one that did not come to their meeting. By
this he was forced to leave that place, and went to Alencon, where
staying a while, the judge criminal sent for him; and after a long
discourse, he and Dundas agreed so well, that he invited him to come
and see him oftener, and that if he would, he might have an opportunity
to discourse with some of the Jesuits. But Dundas told him, that he
was not willing to dispute with any; yet he should not be afraid to
maintain his principles, against all the Jesuits of the nation. This
being told the Jesuits, it so exasperated them against him, that being
once out of town, they caused his chamber-door to be broken up, to
search his lodging. He complaining of this to the judge criminal, the
judge told him, he knew nothing of it, and if there was any thing, it
did proceed from the Jesuits, because of his confidence against them.
This seemed not improbable, for he found his letters opened at the
post-house several times, and when he challenged the post-master, he
received for an answer, that they came so to him.
Some time after he returned to Caen, where he was not long; but his
correspondent at Alencon sent him word, that the day after he went from
thence, the governor of the town had been at his lodging to seek for
him.
In the next year, when a war arose between England and France, he came
again to Dieppe, in order to return to England; having got passage
in company of the lord Hollis, ambassador from England; where being
arrived, he frequented the meetings of those called Quakers, yet
was not bold enough to own the name of Quaker, but continued in the
common way of salutations, &c. Yet at length the truth they professed,
had such power over him, that not being able to enjoy peace without
yielding obedience to the inward convictions upon his mind, he at
length gave up, and so entered into their society, and obtained a true
peace with the Lord, which he had long reasoned himself out of. In
process of time he published a book in print, from which I have drawn
this relation, which he concluded with a poem, in which he thanked God
for his singular dealings and mercies bestowed upon him, wishing that
others might reap benefit by it.
Thus parting with William Dundas, I am now to say, that in this year,
1665, in December, William Caton died at Amsterdam. He was a man not
only of literature, and zealous for religion, but of a courteous and
affable temper and conversation, by which he was in good esteem among
those he was acquainted with: and as to the respect he had there,
this may serve as an instance. Holland at this time being in war with
England, there were several English prisoners of war in the prison of
the court of admiralty at Amsterdam, who now and then were visited by
Caton, and supplied with some sustenance: but in this he was hindered
by an officer of that court, who seemed offended because Caton did not
give him hat honour. This gave occasion to Caton to complain of it to a
burgomaster of the city, I think the lord Cornelius Van Vlooswyh, who
at that time was one of the lords of the admiralty; he bid Caton come
to his house at such a time as he was to go to the court; which he did,
and went with the said burgomaster towards the court, where being come,
and entrance denied him by the said officer, the burgomaster charged
him not to hinder Caton from visiting the prisoners. About this time a
law was made in England, called,
_An Act for restraining Non-Conformists from
inhabiting in Corporations._
Whereas divers persons, vicars, curates, lecturers, and other
persons in holy orders, have not declared their unfeigned assent
and consent in the use of all things contained and prescribed in
the book of Common Prayer, and administration of the sacraments,
and other rites and ceremonies of the church, according to the
use of the church of England, or have not subscribed to the
declaration or acknowledgment contained in a certain act of
parliament, made in the fourteenth year of his majesty’s reign,
and intitled, ‘An act for the uniformity of public prayers, and
administration of sacraments, and other rites and ceremonies,
and for the establishing the form of making, ordaining and
consecrating of bishops, priests, and deacons in the church of
England,’ according to the said act, or any other subsequent
act. And whereas they, or some of them, and divers other person
and persons not ordained according to the form of the church of
England, and as they have, since the act of oblivion, taken upon
them to preach in unlawful assemblies, conventicles, or meetings
under colour or pretence of exercise of religion, contrary to the
laws and statutes of this kingdom, and have settled themselves in
divers corporations in England, sometimes three or more of them
in a place, thereby taking an opportunity to distil the poisonous
principles of schism and rebellion into the hearts of his
majesty’s subjects, to the great danger of the church and kingdom.
II. Be it therefore enacted by the king’s most excellent majesty,
by and with the advice and consent of the lords spiritual and
temporal, and the commons in this present parliament assembled,
and by the authority of the same, that the said parsons,
vicars, curates, lecturers, and other persons in holy orders,
or pretended holy orders, or pretending to holy orders, and all
stipendiaries, and other persons who have been possessed of
any ecclesiastical or spiritual promotion, and every of them,
who have not declared their unfeigned assent and consent, as
aforesaid, and subscribed the declaration as aforesaid, and shall
not take and subscribe the oath following:
(2) ‘I, _A. B._ do swear, that it is not lawful upon any
pretence whatsoever, to take arms against the king; and
that I do abhor that traitorous position of taking arms by
his authority against his person, or against those that
are commissioned by him, in pursuance of such commission;
and that I will not at anytime endeavour any alteration of
government, either in church or state:’ shall not come within
five miles of any city, &c. nor teach school, on pain to
forfeit 40_l._
And though this act was chiefly made against the Presbyterians and
Independents, who formerly had been employed in the public church, yet
they suffered but little by it; but it was cunningly made use of to vex
the Quakers, who, because for conscience-sake they could not swear,
were on this law prosecuted and imprisoned, &c.
Now since the pestilence had been so fierce this year at London, that
about an hundred thousand people were swept away by it and otherwise,
and also many of those called Quakers, there must be consequently
many poor widows and fatherless children among those of that society.
And because the men, who at times kept meetings to take care for the
poor, found that this burden grew too heavy for them, they offered
part of this service and care to the most grave and solid women of
their church, who for this service met once a week at London, and this
in time gave rise to the women’s monthly meetings in other places in
England.
1666.
I return now to the ship with the banished prisoners, which I left
lying in the Thames; but the owners having put in another master,
whose name was Peter Love, the ship, after long lingering, left the
river, and came into the Downs. In the month called January of the year
ensuing, Luke Howard wrote from Dover, that of fifty-four banished
persons, who almost half a year ago had been brought on ship-board, but
twenty-seven remained, the rest being dead. By this long stay the ship
several times wanted a fresh supply of provision, and the ship’s crew
grew so uneasy, that two of them having gone ashore with the boat, ran
away, leaving the boat floating, by which it was staved to pieces. At
length the master, though he had but few, and those mostly raw sailors,
and was ill provided with victuals, yet resolved to set sail. And so
they weighed anchor, and went down the channel as far as Plymouth,
where after some stay, they set sail again, which was on the 23d of
the month called February, but the next day being advanced as far as
the Land’s End, a Dutch privateer came and took the ship; and to avoid
being retaken, went about the backside of Ireland and Scotland, and
so after three weeks came with some of the banished to Horn, in North
Holland, and some days after the prize, with the rest of them, entered
also into that port. Here they were kept some time in prison, but the
commissioners of the admiralty having understood, that there was no
likelihood to get the banished Quakers exchanged for Dutch prisoners of
war in England, resolved to set them at liberty, and gave them a letter
of passport, and a certificate, that they had not made an escape, but
were sent back by them. They coming to Amsterdam, were by their friends
there provided with lodging and clothes; for their own had been taken
from them by the privateer’s crew; and in process of time they all
returned to England, except one, who not being an Englishman, staid
in Holland. Thus the banished were delivered, and the design of their
persecutors was brought to nought by an Almighty hand.
In the meanwhile G. Fox continued prisoner in Scarborough Castle,
where the access of his friends was denied him, though people of other
persuasions were admitted. Once came to him one doctor Cradock with
three priests, accompanied with the governor and his wife, and many
besides. Cradock asked him, what he was in prison for? He answered,
for obeying the command of Christ and his apostle in not swearing:
but, if he, being both a doctor and a justice of peace, could convince
him, that after Christ and the apostle had forbidden swearing, they
commanded Christians to swear, then he would swear. ‘Here’s a bible,’
continued he, ‘show me any such command if thou canst.’ To this Cradock
said, ‘It is written, ye shall swear in truth and righteousness.’
‘Aye,’ said G. Fox, ‘it was written so in Jeremiah’s time, but that
was many ages before Christ commanded not to swear at all: but where
is it written so since Christ forbade all swearing? I could bring as
many instances out of the Old Testament for swearing as thou, and it
may be more too, but of what force are they to prove swearing lawful in
the New Testament, since Christ and the apostles forbade it? Besides,
where it is written, “Ye shall swear,” was this said to the Gentiles or
to the Jews?’ To this Cradock would not answer; but one of the priests
said, it was to the Jews. ‘Very well,’ said G. Fox, ‘but where did God
ever give a command to the Gentiles to swear? For thou knowest that we
are Gentiles by nature.’ ‘Indeed,’ said Cradock, ‘in the gospel-time
every thing was to be established out of the mouths of two or three
witnesses, and there was to be no swearing then.’ ‘Why then,’ returned
G. Fox, ‘dost thou force oaths upon Christians, contrary to thine own
knowledge in the gospel-times? And why dost thou excommunicate my
friends?’ Cradock answered, ‘For not coming to church.’ ‘Why,’ said
G. Fox, ‘ye left us above twenty years ago, when we were but young,
to the Presbyterians, Independents, and Baptists, many of whom made
spoil of our goods, and persecuted us because we would not follow
them: now we being but young, knew little then of your principles,
and those that knew them should not have fled from us, but ye should
have sent us your epistles or homilies; for Paul wrote epistles to
the saints, though he was in prison: but we might have turned Turks
or Jews for ought we had from you for instruction. And now ye have
excommunicated us, that is, ye have put us out of your church, before
ye have got us into it, and before ye have brought us to know your
principles. Is not this madness in you to put us out, before we were
brought in? But what dost thou call the church?’ continued he, ‘That
which you,’ replied Cradock, ‘call the steeple-house.’ Then G. Fox
asked him, whether Christ’s blood was shed for the steeple-house, and
whether he purified and sanctified it with his blood; ‘And seeing,’
thus continued he, ‘the church is Christ’s bride and wife, and that
he is the head of the church, dost thou think the steeple-house is
Christ’s wife and bride; and that he is the head of that old house, or
of his people?’ ‘No,’ said Cradock, ‘Christ is the head of the people,
and they are the church.’ ‘But,’ replied G. Fox, ‘ye have given that
title to an old house, which belongs to the people, and ye have taught
people to believe so.’ He asked him also why he persecuted his friends
for not paying tithes; and whether God did ever give a command to the
Gentiles, that they should pay tithes; and whether Christ had not ended
tithes, when he ended the Levitical priesthood that took tithes; and
whether Christ when he had sent forth his disciples to preach, had
not commanded them to preach freely, as he had given them freely; and
whether all the ministers of Christ were not bound to observe this
command of Christ. Cradock said, he would not dispute that: and being
unwilling to stay on this subject, he turned to another matter; but
finding G. Fox never to be at a loss for answer, and that he could get
no advantage on him, he at length went away with his company.
With such kind of people G. Fox was often troubled whilst he was
prisoner there; for most that came to the castle would speak with him,
and many disputes he had with them. But as to his friends, he was as a
man buried alive, for very few of them were suffered to come to him.
Josiah Coale once desiring admittance, the governor told him, ‘You
are an understanding man, but G. Fox is a mere fool.’ Now, though the
governor dealt hardly with him, yet in time he altered, for having
sent out a privateer to sea, they took some ships that were not their
enemies, which brought him in some trouble; after that he grew somewhat
more friendly to G. Fox: to whom the deputy-governor said once, that
the king knowing that he had a great interest in the people, had sent
him thither, that if there should be any stirring in the nation, they
should hang him over the wall. And among the Papists, who were numerous
in those parts, there was much talk then of hanging G. Fox. But he told
them, if that was it they desired, and it was permitted them, he was
ready, for he never feared death nor sufferings in his life; but was
known to be an innocent peaceable man, free from all stirrings, and
plottings, and one that sought the good of all men. But the governor
now growing kinder, G. Fox spoke to him when he was to go to the
parliament at London, and desired him to speak with esq. Marsh, sir
Francis Cob, and some others, and to tell them, how long he had lain
in prison, and for what. This the governor did, and at his coming back
told him, that esq. Marsh said, he knew G. Fox so well, that he would
go an hundred miles barefoot for his liberty; and that several others
at court had spoken well of him.
After he had been prisoner in the castle there above a year, he sent
a letter to the king, in which he gave an account of his imprisonment,
and the bad usage he had met with, and also that he was informed,
that no man could deliver him but the king. Esq. Marsh, who was a
gentleman of the king’s bed-chamber, did whatever he could to procure
his liberty, and at length obtained an order from the king for his
release; the substance of which order was, ‘That the king being
certainly informed that G. Fox was a man principled against plotting
and fighting, and had been ready at all times to discover plots, rather
than to make any, &c. that therefore his royal pleasure was, that he
should be discharged from his imprisonment, &c.’ This order being
obtained, was not long after brought to Scarborough, and delivered to
the governor, who upon the receipt thereof, discharged him, and gave
him the following passport:
‘Permit the bearer thereof, George Fox, late a prisoner here, and
now discharged by his majesty’s order, quietly to pass about his
lawful occasions, without any molestation. Given under my hand at
Scarborough Castle, this first day of September, 1666.
JORDAN CROSSLANDS,
_Governor of Scarborough Castle_.’
G. Fox being thus released, would have given the governor something
for the civility and kindness he had of late showed him; but he would
not receive any thing; and said, whatever good he could do for him and
his friends, he would do it, and never do them any hurt: and so he
continued loving to his dying day; nay, if at any time the mayor of the
town sent to him for soldiers, to disperse the meetings of those called
Quakers, if he sent any, he privately charged them, not to meddle with
the meeting.
The very next day after G. Fox was released, the fire broke out at
London, and the report of it came quickly down into the country, how
that city was turned into rubbish and ashes, insomuch that after an
incessant fire which lasted near four days, but little of old London
was left standing, there being about thirteen thousand and two hundred
houses burnt; the account whereof hath been so circumstantially
described by others, that I need not treat of it at large; but I cannot
omit to say, that Thomas Briggs, some years before passing through
the streets of London, preached repentance to the inhabitants; and
coming through Cheapside, he cried out, that unless London repented, as
Nineveh did, God would destroy it.
Now I may relate another remarkable prediction.
Thomas Ibbitt, of Huntingdonshire, came to London a few days before
the burning of that city, and, as hath been related by eye witnesses,
did upon his coming thither, alight from his horse, and unbutton his
clothes in so loose a manner, as if they had been put on in haste just
out of bed. In this manner he went about the city on the sixth, being
the day he came thither, and also on the seventh day of the week,
pronouncing a judgment by fire which should lay waste the city. On the
evening of these days some of his friends had meetings with him, to
inquire concerning his message and call, to pronounce that impending
judgment: in his account whereof he was not more particular and clear,
than that he said he for sometime had the vision thereof, but had
delayed to come and declare it as commanded, until he felt, as he
expressed it, the fire in his own bosom: which message or vision was
very suddenly proved to be sadly true, as the foregoing brief account
doth in part declare. The fire began on the 2d of September, 1666, on
the first day of the week, which did immediately follow those two days
the said Thomas Ibbitt had gone about the city declaring that judgment.
Having gone up and down the city, as hath been said, when afterwards he
saw the fire break out, and beheld the fulfilling of his prediction,
a spiritual pride seized on him, which, if others had not been wiser
than he, might have tended to his utter destruction: for the fire being
come as far as the east end of Cheapside, he placed himself before the
flame, and spread his arms forth, as if to stay the progress of it; and
if one Thomas Matthews, with others, had not pulled him, (who seemed
now altogether distracted,) from thence, it was like he might have
perished by the fire. Yet in process of time, as I have been told, he
came to some recovery, and confessed this error: an evident proof of
human weakness, and a notorious instance of our frailty, when we assume
to ourselves the doing of any thing, which heaven alone can enable us.
I cannot well pass by without taking notice of it, that about three
weeks before the said fire, the English landed in the island of
Schelling in Holland, under the conduct of captain Holmes, and setting
the town on fire, there were above three hundred houses burnt down,
belonging mostly to Baptists that did not hear arms. It may be further
observed, that the English were beaten at sea this summer by the Dutch,
under the conduct of admiral De Ruyter, in a fight, which lasted four
days; so that they had occasion to call to mind how often the judgments
of God had been foretold them, which now came over their country, viz.
pestilence, war, and fire.
G. Fox being at liberty, did not omit to visit his friends, and in
their meetings to edify them with his exhortations, whereby others
also sometimes came to be convinced. And coming to Whitby, he went to
a priest’s house, who fourteen years before had said, that if ever he
met G. Fox again he would have his life, or he should have his. But now
his wife was not only become one of G. Fox’s friends, but this priest
himself favoured the doctrine professed by his wife, and was very
kind to G. Fox, who passed from thence to York, where he had a large
meeting, and visited also justice Robinson, who had been loving to him
from the beginning. At this time there was a priest with him, who told
G. Fox, ‘It is said of you that ye love none but yourselves.’ But he
showed him his mistake, and gave him so much satisfaction, that they
parted friendly.
In this county G. Fox had many meetings, and one not far from colonel
Kirby’s abode, who had been the chief means of his imprisonment at
Lancaster and Scarborough castles: and when he heard of his release,
said, he would have him taken again: but now when G. Fox came so near
him, he himself was caught by the gout, which had seized him so that
he was fain to keep his bed; and afterwards he met with adversities,
as did most of the justices and others who had been the cause of the
imprisonment of G. Fox, who now coming to Sinderhill Green, had a large
meeting there, where the priest sent the constable to the justices for
a warrant; but the notice being short, the way long, and having spent
time in searching for G. Fox in another house, before the officers
came where the meeting was, it was ended, though they had almost
spoiled their horses by hard riding.
G. Fox passing from thence through Nottinghamshire, Bedfordshire,
Buckinghamshire, and Oxfordshire, and visiting his friends in all
places where he came, and edifying them in their meetings, gets at
length to London: but he was so weak, by lying almost three years in
hard and cold imprisonments, and his joints and body were so stiff and
benumbed, that he could hardly get on horseback.
Being now at London, he beheld the ruins of the city, and saw
the fulfilling of what had been shown him some years before.
Notwithstanding this stroke on London, persecution did not cease, which
gave occasion to Josiah Coale to write these lines to the king:
‘_King Charles_,
‘Set the people of God at liberty, who suffer imprisonments for
the exercise of their conscience towards him, and give liberty
of conscience to them to worship and serve him as he requireth,
and leadeth them by his spirit; or else his judgments shall
not depart from thy kingdom, until thereby he hath wrought
the liberty of his people, and removed their oppressions. And
remember thou art once more warned,
By a servant of the Lord,
JOSIAH COALE.’
London, Dec. 2d, 1666.
About this time, or it may be in the next month, Stephen Crisp
published an epistle, containing an exhortation to his friends, and
also a prediction concerning succeeding times, which is as followeth:
‘_Friends_,
‘I am the more drawn forth at this time to visit you with an
epistle, because the Lord hath given me some sight of his great
and dreadful day, and workings in it, which is at hand, and
greatly hastens, of which I have something to say unto you,
that ye may be prepared to stand in his day, and may behold his
wondrous working among his enemies, and have fellowship with his
power therein, and may not be dismayed nor driven away in the
tempest, which will be great.
‘And as concerning those succeeding times, the spirit of the Lord
hath signified, that they will be times of horror and amazement,
to all that have, and yet do reject his counsel: for as the days
of his forbearance, warning and inviting, have been long, so
shall his appearance amongst those that have withstood him, be
fierce and terrible; even so terrible, as who shall abide his
coming? for the Lord will work both secretly and openly, and his
arm shall be manifest to his children in both.
‘Secretly he shall rise up a continual fretting anguish among his
enemies, one against another, so that being vexed and tormented
inwardly, they shall seek to make each other miserable, and
delight therein for a little season; and then the prevailer must
be prevailed over, and the digger of the pit must fall therein;
and the confidence that men have had one in another shall fail,
and they will beguile and betray one another, both by counsel and
strength; and as they have banded themselves to break you, whom
God hath gathered, so shall they band themselves one against
another, to break, to spoil and destroy one another; and through
the multitude of their treacheries, all credit or belief, upon
the account of their solemn engagement, shall fail; so that few
men shall count themselves, or what is theirs, safe in the hand
of his friend, who hath not chosen his safety and friendship
in the pure light of the unchangeable truth of God; and all
the secret counsels of the ungodly shall be brought to nought,
sometimes by the means of some of themselves, and sometimes
by impossibilities lying in their way, which shall make their
hearts fail of ever accomplishing what they have determined; and
in this state shall men fret themselves for a season, and shall
not be able to see the hand that turns against them, but shall
turn to fight against one thing, and another, and a third thing,
and shall stagger, and reel in counsel and judgment, as drunken
men that know not where to find the way to rest; and when they
do yet stir themselves up against the holy people, and against
the holy covenant of light, and them that walk in it, they shall
but the more be confounded; for they shall be helped with a
little help, which all the ungodly shall not hinder them of, to
wit, the secret arm of the Lord, maintaining their cause, and
raising up a witness in the very hearts of their adversaries to
plead their innocency, and this shall make them yet the more to
vex themselves, and to go through hard-bestead; for when they
shall look upward to their religion, to their power, policy, or
preferments, or friendships, or whatsoever else they had trusted
in, and relied upon, they shall have cause to curse it; and when
they look downwards to the effects produced by all those things,
behold then trouble, and horror, and vexation take hold on them,
and drive them to darkness; and having no help but what is
earthly, and being out of the knowledge of the mighty overturning
power of the Lord God Almighty, they shall despair and wear out
their days with anguish; and besides all this, the terrible hand
of the Lord is, and shall be openly manifested against this
ungodly generation, by bringing grievous and terrible judgments
and plagues upon them, tumbling down all things in which their
pride and glory stood, and overturning even the foundations of
their strength; yea, the Lord will lay waste the mountain of the
ungodly, and the strength of the fenced city shall fail; and
when men shall say, “We will take refuge in them,” Nah. iii. 12,
13, they shall become but a snare, and there shall the sword
devour: and when they shall say, we will go into the field, and
put trust in the number and courage of our soldiers, they shall
both be taken away; and this evil also will come of the Lord, and
his hand will be stretched out still, and shall bring confusion,
ruin upon ruin, and war upon war; and the hearts of men shall be
stirred in them, and the nations shall be as waters, into which a
tempest, a swift whirlwind is entered, and even as waves swell up
to the dissolution one of another, and breaking one of another,
so shall the swellings of people be: and because of the hardship
and sorrow of those days, many shall seek and desire death rather
than life.
‘Ah! my heart relents, and is moved within me in the sense of
these things, and much more than I can write or declare, which
the Lord will do in the earth, and will also make haste to
accomplish among the sons of men, that they may know and confess,
that the Most High doth rule in the kingdoms of men, and pulleth
down and setteth up according to his own will: and this shall men
do before seven times pass over them, and shall be content to
give their glory unto him that sits in heaven.
‘But, oh friends! while all these things are working and bringing
to pass, repose ye yourselves in the munition of that rock that
all these shakings shall not move, even in the knowledge and
feeling of the eternal power of God, keeping you subjectly given
up to his heavenly will, and feel it daily to kill and mortify
that which remains in any of you, which is of this world; for the
worldly part in any, is the changeable part, and that is up and
down, full and empty, joyful and sorrowful, as things go well
or ill in the world: for as the truth is but one, and many are
made partakers of its spirit; so the world is but one, and many
are partakers of the spirit of it; and so many as do partake of
it, so many will be straightened and perplexed with it, but they
who are single to the truth, waiting daily to feel the life and
virtue of it in their hearts, these shall rejoice in the midst
of adversity; these shall not have their hearts moved with fear,
nor tossed with anguish, because of evil tidings, Psalm, cxii. 7,
8. Because that which fixeth them remains with them: these shall
know their entrance with the bridegroom, and so be kept from
sorrow, though his coming be with a noise; and when a midnight is
come upon man’s glory, yet they being ready and prepared, it will
be well with them, and having a true sense of the power working
in themselves, they cannot but have unity and fellowship with the
works of it in the earth, and will not at all murmur against what
is, nor wish nor will what is not to be; these will be at rest
till the indignation passeth over, and these having no design to
carry on, nor no party to promote in the earth, cannot possibly
be defeated nor disappointed in their undertakings.
‘And when you see divisions, and parties, and rendings in the
bowels of nations, and rumours and tempests in the minds of the
people, then take heed of being moved to this party, or to that
party, or giving your strength to this or that, or counselling
this way or that way, but stand single to the truth of God, in
which neither war, rent, nor division is; and take heed of that
part in any of you, which trusts and relies upon any sort of
men of this world, in the day of their prosperity; for the same
party will bring you to suffer with them in the time of their
adversity, which will not be long after; for stability in that
ground there will be none; but when they shall say, come join
with us in this or that, remember you are joined to the Lord by
his pure spirit, to walk with him in peace and in righteousness,
and you feeling this, this gathers out of all bustlings, and
noises, and parties, and tumults, and leads you to exalt the
standard of truth and righteousness, in an innocent conversation,
to see who will flow unto that; and this shall be a refuge for
many of the weary, tossed, and afflicted ones in those days, and
a shelter for many whose day is not yet over.
‘So dearly beloved friends and brethren, who have believed and
known the blessed appearance of the truth, let not your hearts
be troubled at any of these things: oh let not the things that
are at present, nor things that are yet to come, move you from
steadfastness, but rather double your diligence, zeal, and
faithfulness to the cause of God: for they that know the work
wrought in themselves, they shall rest in the day of trouble.
Yea, though the fig-tree fail, and the vine brings not forth, and
the labour of the olive-tree ceaseth, and the fields yield no
meat, and the sheep be cut off from the fold, and there be no
bullocks in the stall, yet then mayest thou rejoice in the Lord,
and sing praises to the God of thy salvation. Hab. iii. 16, 17.
‘And how near these days are to this poor nation, few know, and
therefore the cry of the Lord is very loud unto its inhabitants,
through his servants and messengers, that they would prize their
time while they have it, lest they be overturned, wasted, and
laid desolate before they are aware; and before destruction come
upon them, and there be no remedy, as it hath already done upon
many.
‘Oh, London! London! that thou and thy rulers would have
considered, and hearkened and heard, in the day of thy warnings
and invitations, and not have persisted in thy rebellion, till
the Lord was moved against thee, to cut off the thousands and
multitudes from thy streets, and the pressing and thronging of
people from thy gates, and then to destroy and ruin thy streets
also, and lay desolate thy gates, when thou thoughtest to have
replenished them again.
‘And, oh! saith my soul, that thy inhabitants would yet be
warned, and persuaded to repent and turn to the Lord, by putting
away every one the evil that is in their hearts, against the
truth in yourselves, and against those that walk in it, before a
greater desolation and destruction overtake you.
‘Oh, what shall I say to prevail with London, and with its
inhabitants! The Lord hath called aloud, he hath roared out of
Sion unto them, but many of them have not hearkened at all, nor
considered at all.
‘Well, oh my friends, and thou, oh my soul, return to your rest,
dwell in the pavilion of the house of your God, and my God, and
shelter yourselves under the shadow of his wings, where ye shall
be witnesses of his doings, and see his strange act brought to
pass, and shall not be hurt therewith, nor dismayed.
‘Oh, my friends, in the bowels of dear and tender love have I
signified these things unto you, that ye might stand armed with
the whole armour of God, clothed in righteousness, and your feet
shod with the preparation of the gospel of peace; and freely
given up in all things to the disposing of the Lord, who will
deliver us, not by might, nor by sword, nor spear, but by his own
eternal, invisible arm, will he yet save us and deliver us, and
get himself a name by preserving of us; and we shall yet live to
praise him who is worthy of glory, of honour and renown, from the
rising of the sun, to the setting of the same, now and forever,
amen, amen, saith my soul.’
1667.
In the year 1667 a book came forth in print at London, with this title,
Persecution appearing with its open face in William Armorer. This
was written by some of the prisoners called Quakers, and contained
a relation of the impetuous carriage of the said Armorer, who being
a knight and justice of peace, had made it his business many years,
one after another, to persecute the Quakers, and from time to time to
disturb their religious meetings. From a multitude of cases I meet with
in the said book, I will pick out but a few. The aforesaid Armorer came
very often to the house of Thomas Curtis, at Reading, to disturb the
meeting, taking many persons prisoners from thence, particularly once
thirty-four, both men and women, at a time. And when they were brought
to their trial, the oath was tendered them as the most ready means to
ensnare and to keep them in prison. Among the prisoners taken out of
the meeting was one Henry Pizing, who coming to the bar with his hat in
his hand, judge Thomas Holt said, here is a man that hath some manners,
and asked him, if he would take the oath of allegiance? to which Pizing
answered, he had taken it twice already. But said the judge, ‘You
were no Quaker then.’ To which the said Henry replied, ‘Neither am I
now, but have been many weeks among them, and I never met with any
hurt by them, but found them to be an honest and civil people.’ Upon
which William Armorer, who had taken him prisoner, said, ‘Why did you
not tell me so before?’ to which Henry returned, your worship was so
wrathful, that you would not hear me. Then the judge said, ‘He must
take the oath again.’ The oath being read, he took it, upon which they
let him go free without paying any fees. But they required of him,
to go out at a back door, and to come no more among the Quakers. But
Pizing told them, he hoped now he was freed, he might go out at which
door he would.
Thomas Curtis afterwards being called, the judge asked him, if he
would take the oath of allegiance? to which he answered, that he did
not refuse the oath upon the account of not bearing allegiance to the
king, but because Christ had commanded not to swear at all: for he was
persuaded that he had manifested himself to be as good a subject to
the king as most in the county, since he came into it, and that if he
could take any oath, either to save his estate or life, he professed
he would begin with that oath. Then he desired, that the court would
be pleased to let some of their ministers show him by the Scriptures,
how he might take it, and not break the command of Christ. And the
judge called to one Worrel, a priest, that was near him, and desired
him to satisfy Curtis in that particular. But the priest putting off
his hat, and bowing to the court, desired to be excused, saying, he had
had to do with some of them already, but they were an obstinate people
and would not be satisfied. ‘Aye,’ said Curtis, ‘this is commonly the
answer we have from these men, when they are desired to answer us a
question according to the Scripture; for when we make it appear that
they give no satisfactory answer to the question, they use to say, we
are obstinate.’ Curtis, (whose wife Anne was a daughter of a sheriff
of Bristol, that had been hanged near his own door, for endeavouring
to bring in the king,) was released after some small time; but quickly
taken prisoner again by Armorer, who perceiving that he intended to
have gone to Bristol fair, caused him to be brought to an inn, where
he told him, ‘You are going to Bristol fair, but I will stop your
journey.’ And then commanding the constable to carry him to prison, he
was compelled thither without a mittimus.
About this time Curtis’s imprisoned friends wrote a paper, and it is
like he had a hand in it, to show the hurt and mischief proceeding from
swearing. This paper being sent by him to one of the magistrates, and
leave being given him to read it in the council chamber, at the reading
of these words, ‘Because of swearing the land mourns,’ Alderman Johnson
said that was very true.
Sometime after it happened that T. Curtis, his wife and man-servant
being all prisoners, Armorer sent his man to inquire if there were any
in the house more than the family, to which the maid having answered
no, a little after Armorer came himself, and knocked at the door;
but the maid being in fear, did not open it. Armorer then pulling an
instrument out of his pocket, picked the lock, entered the house,
and searching from room to room, came at length where he found one
Joseph Coale, who dwelt in the house, and was not well at that time;
and Armorer taking him by the arm, and pulling him down stairs, said
to him, ‘Will you take the oath of allegiance?’ Which he refusing, was
sent to the house of correction, whither the day before seven women,
taken from a meeting, had also been brought. This bold act of picking
the lock he did at other times also, and once when the maid was gone
out to carry some victuals to her master and mistress in prison. In
the meanwhile he searched the warehouse, where was much cloth; and to
a woman that was there, and spoke against his picking of the locks,
he said, ‘What have you to do with it?’ And ‘Where’s that whore?’
meaning the maid servant. The woman answered him, she had to do with
it; for she was to see that nobody did steal any thing out of the
house. Besides, Armorer continually made it his business to disturb the
meeting which commonly was twice a week; and then he used to curse,
and to strike those he found there with a great cane, always sending
some to prison. Having once caused three women to be brought before him
from the house of correction, he would have them pay a fine for having
been at a meeting; to which one Anne Harrison said, ‘Thou hast got our
house already that we built, and hast taken away our means; and wouldst
thou have me pay more money when I have broken no law? We were but four
above the age of sixteen years, and the act says, it must be above
four.’ To which Armorer said, his man told him there were six: and two
of them ran away. ‘It is false,’ said Anne, ‘there was Frances Kent,
but she being a midwife, was fetched out of town; and as for the sixth,
she was not there.’ But Armorer not regarding whatever Anne said, spoke
in a rude manner, ‘I shall have Mrs. Kent, and then let the best lady
in the land want her, she shall not go, except the king or court send
for her.’
If I should mention all the enormities of Armorer’s violent behaviour,
this relation must needs be very large; and therefore I pass by the
most cases, and touch but on some few. More than once it happened when
the prisoners being brought to their trial, reproved Armorer because of
his injustice, and put him in mind that once he must give an account
for his bad deeds; he in a most impudent manner said, ‘you shall see
at the day of judgment whose arse will be blackest, yours or mine.’
And when a prisoner told him, it was an uncivil thing for one called a
justice to speak such words, he replied, ‘Why, sirrah, what incivility
is it? Is not your nose your nose, and your arse your arse?’ Other
absurdities the prisoners met with in the court, I pass by, as also how
from time to time, they were treated when they refused the oath. From
what hath been said already in more than one place concerning the like
cases, one may easily guess how matters were transacted here, which
sometimes was so grossly, that the spectators showed their dislike.
When once the jury for want of good witnesses, could not agree to find
the bill, Armorer rose off the bench, and appeared as a witness. But
notwithstanding the jury, returning the second time, brought it in
ignoramus. Upon which the other justice said to them, that sir William
Armorer, an honourable gentleman, had taken his oath also. To which
the jury returned, it was true, sir William Armorer was an honourable
gentleman, but was a man subject to passion. And they continuing
unwilling to bring in the prisoners guilty, the two justices Proctor
and Armorer, (for there were then no more on the bench,) for all that
would not discharge the prisoners, but sent them to jail again, as
seditious persons; for Proctor had told the jury the day before, that
if they did not bring in the prisoners guilty, they would make William
Armorer and the clerk perjured persons.
Anne, the wife of Thomas Curtis, being called to the bar, and asked
if she would take the oath, said, ‘I look on it as a very hard thing,
that I should be required to take this oath, being under covert, and my
husband being here a present sufferer, for the same thing; for there
is no other woman in England, that I have heard of, under covert, that
is required to take that oath, and kept in prison on that account.’
But Armorer full of passion, cried, ‘Hold your tongue, Nan, and turn
your back.’ And so she, with another woman, that had also been required
to take the oath, was sent back to jail, as dangerous and suspected
persons. At length some justices procured her liberty; and this so
displeased Armorer, that he did not rest before he had her in prison
again: but others it seems so eagerly desired her liberty, that she
was discharged a second time, though her husband’s goods and money
were seized. How a prisoner who spoke something in his own defence,
was threatened to be gagged, how girls were sent to the house of
correction, and how Armorer coming in winter-time into the meeting, and
having got a bucket of water into the room, he himself threw it with a
nasty bowl in the faces of some young maidens, I cursorily skipt over.
He seemed exceedingly offended with Anne Curtis, who being a witty
woman, did not omit, when occasion was offered, to tell of his uncivil
behaviour: and therefore he soon had her in jail again; and when it was
proposed in the summer-time to discharge some of the prisoners, because
of the extreme hot weather, provided they gave security, ‘No,’ said
Armorer, ‘Mrs. Curtis shall not go out, though she would give security,
but she shall lie in jail till she rot.’ But how wicked soever he was,
yet he could not prevent, that all his exorbitant carriage against the
Quakers was published in print.
But such behaviour was at that time no rare or uncommon thing; for
since persecution was continually cloaked with a pretence of rebellion
and sedition all over the country, such were found, who to their utmost
power did persecute the Quakers, so called; as among others, one
Henry Marshall, priest at Crosthwait in Westmoreland, who being also
a prebendary, and having several benefices, yet how great soever his
revenues were, kept poor people of that persuasion in prison for not
paying tithes to him: and once he said very presumptuously from the
pulpit, that not one Quaker should be left alive in England. But this
temerity he did not out-live long: for as he was going half-undressed
to his chamber to bed, he fell down stairs, as was concluded from the
circumstances; for he was found lying on the floor, with his skull
broken, wrestling with death, without being able to speak one word;
and being taken up he died, leaving his wife and children in such a
condition, that by reason of debts they fell into poverty.
About this time a certain popish author, who expressed his name no
further than with the letters A. S. gave forth a book called, ‘The
Reconciler of Religions; or, A Decider of all Controversies in matters
of Faith.’ Josiah Coale, who was very zealous for religion, and well
saw what this author aimed at, answered him by a book that appeared
in print, with the title of, ‘The Whore unveiled; or The Mystery of
the Deceit of the Church of Rome revealed.’ Now although the said A.
S. chiefly struck at the Quakers as the worst of heretics, falsely
perverting their doctrine, as importing, that the same spirit that
reproved Judas of sin, did also induce him to desperation, and to
hang himself; yet he omitted not to encounter the doctrine of other
Protestant societies; and the Roman church he stated as the true
church, from which they were unjustly departed, and to whom they must
all return again: for the Roman, said he, was the true church, and not
any other; she was the holy Catholic and apostolical church, that was
infallible, and could not err, and had the power to work miracles.
He also asserted, that she was one in matters of faith, that she was
governed by one invisible head Christ, and by a visible head, the pope;
and that therefore she was the true church. Now for as much as he held
forth at large these and several other positions, so Josiah Coale did
not omit to answer all these pretences distinctly and emphatically; for
he was an undaunted and zealous disputant. Besides the superstition,
idolatry, and cruel persecution of the Roman church, which had taken
away the lives of many thousands of honest and pious people, supplied
abundant matter to Josiah Coale, to show the papal errors, and clearly
to prove her to be the false church. For though he did not deny
that the true church was Catholic, or universal, yet he denied that
the universality of the church of Rome was a sufficient argument to
prove her to be the true church, ‘What church, (thus he queried,)
is more universal than the great whore, the false church, who had a
name written, Mystery Babylon the Great, the Mother of Harlots, and
Abominations of the Earth? Who sits upon the waters, which are peoples,
and multitudes, and nations, and tongues? And did not the whole world
wonder after the beast that carried the whore? Did she not sit as queen
over them all, with her fair profession, or golden cup in her hand,
full of abominations, and filthiness of her fornication? And did not
all the inhabitants of the earth, and the kings of the earth, drink of
the wine of her fornication, and commit fornication with her? Mark how
universal was this great whore, the false church; and how confident she
was: for she said in her heart that she should see no sorrow; and she
glorified herself, and reigned over the kings of the earth. Is not this
the very state of the church of Rome at this day? Doth she not reign
over the kings of the earth? And hath she not done so long, even for
many ages? And how she hath exercised authority over kings, may appear
from the case of the emperor Frederick, who was fain to hold the pope’s
stirrup while he got on horseback. And did not the great whore, which
John saw, drink the blood of the saints and martyrs of Jesus. Surely
the histories of many generations past testify this. And was she not to
have blood given her to drink? as may appear not obscurely from Rev.
xvii. 6.’ At this rate Josiah Coale encountered the masked A. S. but
in a more copious way; and thus he answered his assertions. To that,
that the church of Rome should always remain to the end of the world,
and that therefore she was infallible, J. Coale said, that the bare
affirmation of A. S. was no proof, except he would produce that saying
of the mother of harlots, ‘I sit as a queen, and am no widow, and shall
see no sorrow.’ But indeed that would be a very pitiful argument to
prove the church of Rome infallible, unless she was first proved to be
the true church. And as J. Coale answered these and other objections
at large, so he showed also the vanity of the boast of miracles, of
which the church of Rome gloried; and he refuted all the falsities
which that anonymous author had belched out against the Quakers, as a
people that might be wronged without incurring any danger. But I omit
to recite all J. Coale’s answers for brevity sake; yet may make mention
of a poem which he wrote sometime before, when he was prisoner at
Launceston, in Cornwall, to which the reader is referred, being to be
found in Josiah Coale’s works, at page 111.
Thus zealously J. Coale wrote against popery; and yet such hath been
the malice of many, that they represented the Quakers as favourers of
the church of Rome, though on many occasions they had effectually shown
the contrary. But their enemies endeavoured to brand them many ways;
and they left no stone unturned to blacken them; to which sometimes
false brethren gave occasion: for about this time there were yet many
of the adherents of John Perrot, who often ill-treated, and spoke evil
of those who did not approve their absurdities. This befel Richard
Farnsworth, one of the first preachers among those called Quakers,
though he was a man of a notable gift, and on his dying bed he gave
evidences of a firm and steadfast trust in God; for it was not long
before this time that he fell sick, and deceased at London. Among the
many expressions which signified his good frame of mind, and the divine
consolation he felt, were also these words, that were taken in writing
from his mouth:
‘_Friends_,
‘God hath been mightily with me, and hath stood by me at this
time; and his power and presence hath accompanied me all along,
though some think that I am under a cloud for something. But God
hath appeared for the owning of our testimony, and hath broken in
upon me as a flood, and I am filled with his love more than I am
able to express; and God is really appeared for us,’ &c.
This he spoke but a short time before his departure; and exhorted his
friends to faithfulness and steadfastness, and that nothing might be
suffered to creep in of another nature than the truth they professed,
to intermix therewith, saying, ‘No linsey-woolsey garment must be
worn.’ Some more consolatory words he spoke, and his last testimony
was as a seal unto all the former testimonies he had given for the
Lord. And after having lain yet an hour or two, he slept in peace with
the Lord, and left a good repute behind, with those who truly were
acquainted with him, and knew how zealously he laboured in the ministry
of the gospel for many years.
Now I return again to G. Fox, who was this year not only in Wales,
but in several other places, without being imprisoned, though at
Shrewsbury, where he had a great meeting, the officers being called
together by the mayor, consulted what to do against him, since it was
said, the great Quaker of England was come to town. But they could not
agree among themselves, some being for imprisoning him, and others for
letting him alone: and they being thus divided, he escaped their hands.
As several eminent men among those called Quakers, were taken away by
death, so others came in who filled their places; among these, and
none of the least was Robert Barclay, son of colonel David Barclay,
descended of the ancient and famous family of the Barclays, and of
Katharine Gordon, from the house of the dukes of Gordon. This his
son Robert being born at Edinburgh, in the year 1648, was educated
in France and trained up in literature, having lived some years with
his uncle at Paris, where the Papists were very active to bring him
over to their religion. But though in that tender age he seemed a
little to hearken to them, yet growing up in years, and so advancing
in knowledge, he soon got a clear sight of their errors. During his
stay in France, he not only became master of the French, but also of
the Latin tongue; and after he had been instructed in the language
of the learned, and other parts of human literature, he returned to
Scotland; but during his absence, his father had received the doctrine
of the Quakers, and showed by his pious behaviour, that he had not
therein acted inconsiderately. Robert Barclay having attained the age
of nineteen years, and being come to a good maturity of understanding,
found so much satisfaction in the religion which his father made
profession of, that he also embraced it, and openly showed before all
the world, that the despised name of Quakers, could not hinder him from
maintaining boldly that which he now apprehended to be truth. Nay, he
grew so zealous and valiant in the doctrine he now professed, that he
became a public promulgator of it; and often engaged in disputes with
the scholars, not only verbally, but also by writing: for he was so
skilful in school learning, that he was able to encounter the learned
with their own weapons, and of such quick apprehension, as not to be
inferior to the refined wits; his meekness also was eminent; and these
qualifications were accompanied with so taking a carriage, as rendered
him very acceptable to others. And though his natural abilities were
great enough to have made him surpass others in human learning, and
so to have become famous among men, yet he so little valued that
knowledge, that he in no wise endeavoured to be distinguished on that
account. But his chief aim was to advance in real godliness, as the
conversation I had with him hath undoubtedly assured me: for I was
well acquainted with him; as also with Roger Haydock of Lancashire, a
learned and intelligent man, who about this time also came to enter
into society with those called Quakers, whose doctrine his eldest
brother John Haydock, had received before him. But it so happened, that
Roger coming once to his father’s house, was by his mother put on to
discourse with his brother John, in hopes that thereby he might have
been drawn off from the way of the Quakers. But John gave such weighty
reasons for what he asserted to be truth, that he quickly put Roger
to silence, which so displeased his mother, who was inclined to the
Presbyterian way, that she blamed him for not having held it out longer
against his brother: but he told her, ‘It is truth, I dare not say
against it.’ Being thus convinced, he also became a public professor of
the doctrine of the Quakers, and in time a zealous preacher of it too.
And he being a man of great parts, well read and full of matter, many
times engaged in disputes with the priests, sometimes making use of his
pen also to that end; for he was an unwearied labourer, and suffered
the spoiling of his goods, and several imprisonments; and though he was
attended with bodily weaknesses, yet he did not use to spare himself,
but travelled much to visit the churches in England, Scotland, Ireland,
Holland, &c. And he continued steadfast to the end of his days; not
only for which, but also because of a special affection he bore me, his
remembrance is dear to me still.
I must now make some mention again of Miles Halhead, several times
named in this history, who this year coming into Devonshire, and being
brought before the magistrates, it was asked him, what business he,
(who dwelt in Westmoreland,) had in Devonshire? to which he answered,
that he was come there to see his old friends, whom formerly, about ten
years ago, he had acquaintance with. One of the magistrates asked him,
what were the names of those friends he meant? To which he returned,
‘One Sir John Coplestone, who was then high sheriff of Devonshire;
John Page, who was mayor of Plymouth; one justice Howel, who was then
the judge of the sessions of Exeter, and one colonel Buffet, who was
also a justice at that time.’ One of the magistrates then said to the
others, ‘Truly, gentlemen, this man calls these men his friends, yet
they have been his persecutors.’ Another of the magistrates then gave
him an account, into what pitiful condition those men were fallen, and
how they lost their estates; nay, Buffet had been committed to prison
for high treason, and was escaped out of jail, and not to be seen in
his own country. And further he said to Halhead, ‘Thus I have given you
a true account of your old friends; if these men were your persecutors,
you may be sure they will trouble you no more: for if they that trouble
you and persecute you, have no better fortune than these men, I wish
that neither I, nor any of my friends, may have any hand in persecuting
of you.’ And thus these discreet magistrates suffered him to go his
ways, without meddling with him.
Neither was persecution now generally so hot in England as it had been
before, yet the Presbyterians and some others durst not keep public
meetings, lest they should be fined; but at times when they have met
for worship, they have had tobacco pipes, bread and cheese, and cold
meat on the table, having agreed beforehand, that if the officers came
in upon them, they should leave their preaching and praying, and fall
to their meat. This made G. Fox say to one Pocock, whose wife was
one of his friends, ‘Is not this a shame to you who persecuted and
imprisoned us, and spoiled our goods, because we would not follow you,
and be of your religion, and called us house-creepers?’ ‘Why,’ said
Pocock, ‘we must be wise as serpents,’ To which G. Fox returned, ‘This
is the serpent’s wisdom indeed. Who would ever have thought, that you
Presbyterians and Independents, who persecuted and imprisoned others,
for not following your religion, now should flinch away yourselves, and
not stand to, and own your own religion.’
G. Fox travelled this year through England, and visited his friends in
their meetings. But I pass by his occurrences.
This year also came forth the perpetual edict, so called, in Holland,
made as the title recites, for the maintenance of liberty, and for
preservation of the unity, and the common quiet of the country of
Holland and West-Friesland. By this edict, the chief command of
the military forces of the states, and the stadtholdership, (or
deputy-ship,) were separated. This was on purpose to prevent the prince
of Orange’s becoming too potent, for hereupon followed the suppression
of the stadtholdership. But how strong soever this law was made, and
confirmed by oaths, yet afterwards it was broken by the instigation of
the rabble, as will be seen in its due time. This year also a peace was
concluded between England and Holland, not long after the Dutch had
burnt some of the king’s ships in the Thames.
THE NINTH BOOK. 1668-1676.
1668.
In the beginning of the year 1668, William Penn, son of admiral sir
William Penn, began to show himself openly an adherer to, and an
asserter of the doctrine of those called Quakers. He had been trained
up in the university of Oxford, and he was afterwards by his father
sent into France, where for some time he lived, (as himself once told
me,) with the famous preacher, Moyses Amyraut. After a considerable
stay in that kingdom, being returned and come into Ireland, he once
went to a meeting of those called Quakers, which being disturbed,
he, though finely clothed as a young gentleman, and wearing a great
perriwig, was with others carried from thence to prison, where by his
fellow prisoners, he was more confirmed in that doctrine which he
already apprehended to be truth. But when it come to be known that he
was the son of Admiral Penn, he was soon released. This change did not
a little grieve his father, who intended to have trained him up for the
court; but now saw his eldest son in the early part, being about the
twenty-second year of his age, entered into the society of the despised
Quakers. Several means were used, nay even his necessaries were
withheld from him, to draw him off, if possible, and bring him to other
resolutions. But all devices and wiles proved in vain: for he continued
steadfast, and conversed much with Josiah Coale, who likewise in his
young years came over to the Quakers.
This summer Stephen Crisp was prisoner at Ipswich, where the number of
friends was considerably increased by his ministry. I, with some other
friends of Holland, visited him there in prison, and we found him in a
cheerful condition, as well contented as if he had been at liberty: for
he suffered for the ministry of the gospel, and continued to preach in
prison when his friends came to visit him.
The journey which G. Fox made this year through England and Wales I
pass by. The latter part of the summer he returned to London, where
with great satisfaction I heard him preach several times before a
numerous auditory: for about that time, the meetings of dissenters
were not disturbed at London, but all was so quiet, that the
Quakers, so called, were suffered to build a large meeting place in
Gracechurch-street, where the first time a meeting was kept, I was
present, and saw G. Fox, and heard him preach there, besides some
others.
Whilst he was at London, he gave a visit to esquire Marsh, who now
was a justice of the peace in Middlesex, and it so happened that he
was at dinner when G. Fox came to his house, which so pleased him,
that he kindly invited him to sit down with him to dinner, but G.
Fox courteously excused himself. There were at that time several
great persons at table with justice Marsh, who said to one of them,
(a Papist,) ‘Here is a Quaker you have not seen before.’ From this
the said Papist took occasion to ask G. Fox, whether he did own the
christening of children? To which G. Fox answered, there was no
Scripture for any such practice. ‘What!’ said he, ‘not for christening
children?’ ‘Nay,’ replied G. Fox, ‘the one baptism by the one Spirit
into one body, we own; but to throw a little water on a child’s face,
and to call that baptizing and christening it, there is no Scripture
for that.’ Then the Roman Catholic asked him, whether he did not own
the Catholic Faith? ‘Yes,’ said G. Fox, but he added, that neither
the pope nor the Papists were in that Catholic Faith; since the true
faith worked by love, and purified the heart; and if they were in
that faith which gives victory, by which they might have access to
God, they would not talk to the people of a purgatory after death;
neither would they ever use prisons, racks, or fines, to force others
to their religion; because that was not the practice of the apostles
and primitive Christians; but it was the practice of the faithless
Jews and heathens, to use such forcing means. ‘But,’ continued G.
Fox, ‘seeing thou art a great and leading man among the Papists, and
sayest, there is no salvation but in your church, I desire to know of
thee, what it is that bringeth salvation in your church,’ To this the
Roman Catholic answered, ‘A good life:’ ‘And nothing else?’ said G.
Fox. ‘Yes,’ replied the other, ‘good works.’ ‘Is this your doctrine and
principle,’ said G. Fox. ‘Yes,’ said he. Then G. Fox replied, ‘Neither
thou nor the pope, nor any of the Papists know, what it is that brings
salvation.’ Then the Roman Catholic asked him, what brings salvation
into your church? G. Fox answered, ‘That which brought salvation to
the church in the apostles’ days, namely, the grace of God, which the
Scripture says brings salvation, and hath appeared to all men; and
teaches us to deny ungodliness, and worldly lusts, and to live godly,
righteously, and soberly in this present world. By this it appears, it
is not the good works, nor the good life, that brings the salvation,
but the grace.’ ‘What!’ said the Roman Catholic, ‘doth this grace,
that brings salvation, appear unto all men?’ ‘Yes,’ said G. Fox. ‘I
deny that,’ returned the other. ‘All that deny that,’ replied G. Fox,
‘are sect-makers, and are not in the universal faith, grace, and
truth, which the apostles were in.’ Then the Roman Catholic began to
speak about the mother-church, which gave occasion to much discourse,
and G. Fox asserted, that if any outward place had claim to be the
mother-church, above all other churches, that Jerusalem had much more
right to it than Rome. But in conclusion he said, that there was no
other mother-church but Jerusalem, which is above, and is free, and
which is the mother of us all, as saith the apostle. Upon this subject
G. Fox did so paraphrase, that esquire Marsh said at length to the
Roman Catholic, ‘O you do not know this man. If he would but come to
church now and then, he would be a brave man.’
After some other discourse together, G. Fox, got an opportunity to go
aside with the said Marsh into another room, and to desire that he who
had much of the management of affairs, would prevent the persecution
of his friends as much as possibly he could. Marsh showed himself not
averse to this, but said, he was in a strait how to act between the
Quakers and some other dissenters. ‘For,’ said he, ‘you say ye cannot
swear, and the Independents, Baptists, and Fifth-monarchy people, say
also, they cannot swear.’ To this G. Fox said, ‘I will show thee how
to distinguish: the members of those societies thou speakest of, do
swear in some cases, but we cannot swear in any case. If any one should
steal their cows or horses, and thou shouldest ask them whether they
would swear they were theirs? Many of them would readily do it. But
if thou triest our friends, they cannot swear for their own goods.
Therefore when thou puttest the oath of allegiance to any of them,
ask them whether they can swear in any other case; as for their cow
or horse? Which if they be really of us, they cannot do, though they
can hear witness to the truth.’ Then G. Fox gave him a relation of a
trial in Berkshire, viz. ‘A thief having stolen two beasts from one of
those called Quakers, was imprisoned; but somebody having informed the
judge, that the man that prosecuted was a Quaker, and he, (the judge,)
perceiving that he would not swear, would not hear what the man could
say, but tendered him the oath of allegiance and supremacy, which the
said Quaker refusing, the judge premunired him, and let the thief go
free.’
Esquire Marsh having heard this relation, said that judge was a wicked
man. And by what G. Fox had told him, he sufficiently perceived how he
might distinguish between the Quakers and other people. True it is,
the Baptists in those days made some profession of the unlawfulness of
swearing, but when they came to be tried on that account, they soon
desisted from that part of their profession, as will be shown more at
large in the sequel. But they and the Independents, &c. were very loth
to take the oath of allegiance, because of a grudge they had to the
government; and this was well known to those that were at the helm.
But the innocent Quakers were continually exposed to the malice of
their persecutors, and bore the hardest shock of the laws made against
dissenters. But now justice Marsh did not omit to free the Quakers
from persecution as much as was in his power; for he kept several
from being premunired in those parts where he was a justice. And when
sometimes he could not avoid sending those that were brought before
him to prison, he sent some only for a few hours, or for a night. And
even this was such hard work to him, that at length he told the king,
he had sent some of the Quakers to prison contrary to his conscience,
and that he could not do so any more. He also advised the king to give
liberty of conscience: and he was so serviceable to stop the violence
of persecution, that about this time little was heard about disturbing
of meetings.
About the forepart of this year, if I mistake not, there happened a
case at Edmondsbury, which I cannot well pass by in silence, viz. A
certain young woman being delivered of a bastard child, destroyed it,
and was therefore committed to prison: whilst she was in jail, it is
said William Bennit, a prisoner for conscience-sake, came to her, and
in discourse asked her, whether during the course of her life, she had
not many times transgressed against her conscience? And whether she
had not often thereupon felt secret checks and inward reproofs, and
been troubled in her mind because of the evil committed; and this he
did in such a convincing way, that she not only assented to what he
laid before her, but his discourse so reached her heart, that she came
clearly to see, that if she had not been so stubborn and disobedient
to those inward reproofs, in all probability she would not have come
to such a miserable fall as now she had: for man not desiring the
knowledge of God’s ways, and departing from him, is left helpless, and
cannot keep himself from evil, though it may be such as formerly he
would have abhorred in the highest degree, and have said with Hazael,
‘What, is thy servant a dog, that he should do this great thing?’ W.
Bennit thus opening matters to her, did by his wholesome admonition so
work upon her mind, that she who never had conversed with the Quakers,
and was altogether ignorant of their doctrine, now came to apprehend
that it was the grace of God that brings salvation, which she so
often had withstood; and that this grace had not yet quite forsaken
her, but now made her sensible of the greatness of her transgression.
This consideration wrought so powerfully, that from a most grievous
sinner, she became a true penitent, and with hearty sorrow she cried
to the Lord, that it might please him not to hide his countenance. And
continuing in this state of humiliation, and sincere repentance, and
persevering in supplication, she felt in time some ease; and giving
heed to the exhortations of the said Bennit, she attained at length
to a sure hope of forgiveness by the precious blood of the immaculate
Lamb, who died for the sins of the world.
Of this she gave manifest proofs at her trial before judge Matthew
Hale, who having heard how penitent she was, would fain have spared
her, having on purpose caused to be inserted in the indictment, that
she had committed the fact wilfully and designedly. But she being
asked according to the form, ‘Guilty or not guilty?’ Readily answered,
‘Guilty.’ This astonished the judge, who purposely had got the words
wilfully and designedly inserted in the indictment, that from thence
she might find occasion to deny the charge, and so to quash the
indictment; and therefore he told her, that she seemed not duly to
consider what she said; since it could not well be believed that such
a one as she, who it may be inconsiderately had roughly handled her
child, should have killed it wilfully and designedly. Here the judge
opened a back door for her to avoid the penalty of death. But now the
fear of God had got so much room in her heart, that no tampering would
do; no fig leaves could serve her for a cover; for she knew now that
this would have been adding sin to sin, and to cover herself with a
covering, but not of God’s Spirit; and therefore she plainly signified
to the court, that indeed she had committed the mischievous fact
intendedly, thereby to hide her shame; and that she having sinned thus
grievously, and being affected now with true repentance, she could by
no means excuse herself, but was willing to undergo the punishment
the law required; and therefore she could not but acknowledge herself
guilty, since otherwise how could she expect forgiveness from the Lord?
This undisguised and free confession, being spoken with a serious
countenance, did so affect the judge, that tears trickling down his
face, he sorrowfully said, ‘Woman, such a case as this I never met
with before; perhaps you, who are but young, and speak so piously, as
being struck to the heart with repentance, might yet do much good in
the world: but now you force me, that _ex officio_ I must pronounce
sentence of death against you, since you will admit of no excuse.’
Standing to what she had said, the judge pronounced sentence of death.
And when afterward she came to the place of execution, she made a
pathetical speech to the people, exhorting the spectators, especially
those that were young, ‘To have the fear of God before their eyes,
to give heed to his secret reproofs for evil, and so not to grieve
and resist the good spirit of the Lord; which she herself not having
timely minded, it had made her run on in evil, and thus proceeding
from wickedness to wickedness, it had brought her to this dismal exit.
But since she firmly trusted to God’s infinite mercy, nay surely
believed her sins, though of a bloody dye, to be washed off by the
pure blood of Christ, she could contentedly depart this life.’ Thus
she preached at the gallows the doctrine of the Quakers, so called,
and gave heart-melting proofs that her immortal soul was to enter
into paradise, as well as anciently that of the thief on the cross. I
have been credibly informed by a person who had it from the mouths of
such as were present at the execution, that in her request to God she
prayed, that it might please him to give a visible sign, that she was
received into his favour. And that though it was then a cloudy day, yet
immediately after she was turned off, the clouds broke a little, and
the sun for a few moments shined upon her face, and presently after
ceased shining, and the sky continued overcast. She thus in a serious
frame of mind, suffered death, which her crime justly deserved.
This year at London died Thomas Loe, a man of an excellent gift, who
zealously had laboured in the ministry of the gospel in Ireland, and by
his preaching had brought many over into the society of his friends,
and among others also William Penn, to whom on his death-bed he spoke
thus, ‘Bear thy cross, and stand faithful to God; then he will give
thee an everlasting crown of glory, that shall not be taken from thee.
There is no other way which shall prosper than that which the holy men
of old have walked in. God hath brought immortality to light, and life
immortal is felt. Glory, glory to him, for he is worthy of it. His
love overcomes my heart, nay, my cup runs over: glory be to his name
for ever.’ No wonder that this speech of one that was at the point of
entering into eternity, confirmed William Penn exceedingly in that
doctrine, which he had now embraced as truth. At another time Thomas
Loe said to his friends that stood at his bed-side, ‘Be not troubled,
the love of God overcomes my heart.’ And to George Whitehead and others
he said, ‘The Lord is good to me; this day he hath covered me with his
glory. I am weak, but am refreshed to see you. The Lord is good to me.’
Another friend asking him how it was with him, he answered, ‘I am near
leaving you, I think: but am as well in my spirit as I can desire: I
bless the Lord: I never saw more of the glory of God than I have done
this day.’ And when it was thought he was departing, he began to sing
praises to the Lord, saying, ‘Glory, glory to thee for ever!’ Which did
not a little affect the standers by, thus to hear a dying man sing. And
in this glorious state he departed this life the 5th of October.
Now since persecution was at a stand this year at London, those of
other persuasions sometimes bitterly inveighed from the pulpit against
the Quakers, and would challenge them also to a dispute. William
Burnet and Jeremy Ives, eminent Baptist teachers, had encountered
George Whitehead this summer at Chertsey, and Horn, in Surry, about
the resurrection, and Christ’s body in heaven, endeavouring to blacken
the Quakers in respect of those points, because they kept to Scripture
words, from which the others departing, advanced very gross absurdities.
One Thomas Vincent, a Presbyterian teacher, was much disturbed because
some of his auditory were gone over to the society of the Quakers;
and to render them odious, he and his fellow teachers accused them of
erroneous doctrine concerning the Trinity; and this was chiefly because
they did not approve of such expressions as were not to be found in the
holy Scriptures, as that of Three persons. On this subject a dispute
was held in the Presbyterian meeting-house at London, between the said
Vincent on one side, and George Whitehead on the other. That which
Vincent and his brethren advanced first, was an accusation, that the
Quakers held damnable doctrine. George Whitehead denying this, would
have given the people an information of the principles of his friends;
but Vincent instead thereof, stated this question, ‘Do you own one
Godhead, subsisting in three distinct and separate persons?’ Whitehead
and those with him denying this as an unscriptural doctrine, Vincent
framed this syllogism.
‘There are Three that hear record in heaven, the Father, the Word, and
the Holy Ghost: and these three are one.
‘These are either three manifestations, three operations, three
substances, or three somethings else besides subsistences.
‘But they are not three manifestations, three operations, three
substances, nor three any things else besides subsistences.
Ergo, ‘Three subsistences.’
G. Whitehead rejected these terms, as not to be found in Scripture,
not deducible from the 1 John, v. 7, the place Vincent instanced. And
therefore he desired an explanation of those terms, insomuch as God
did not use to wrap up his truths in heathenish metaphysics, but in
plain language. But whatever was said, no better explanation could
be obtained, than person, or the mode of a substance. G. Whitehead
and William Penn, who also was there, alleged several places from
Scripture, proving God’s complete unity: and they queried how God was
to be understood, if in an abstracted sense from his substance? But
instead of answering the question, they concluded it a point more
fit for admiration than disputation. Then W. Penn denied the minor
proposition of Vincent’s syllogism; ‘For,’ said he, ‘no one substance
can have three distinct subsistences, and preserve its own unity: for
every subsistence will have its own substance; so that three distinct
subsistences, or manners of beings, will require three distinct
substances or beings: consequently three Gods: for if the infinite
godhead subsists in three separate manners or forms, then is not any
one of them a perfect and complete subsistence without the other two:
so parts, and something finite is in God; or if infinite, then three
distinct infinite subsistences; and what is this, but to assert three
Gods, since none is infinite but God? On the contrary, there being an
inseparability betwixt the substance and its subsistence, the unity
of substance will not admit a Trinity of incommunicable or distinct
subsistences.’
After several words on both sides, G. Whitehead, to bring this
strange doctrine nearer to the capacity of the people, comparing
their three persons to three apostles, said, he did not understand,
how Paul, Peter, and John could be three persons and one apostle.
At which one Maddocks, one of Vincent’s assistants, framed this odd
syllogism; ‘He that scornfully and reproachfully compares our doctrine
of the blessed Trinity of Father, Son, and Spirit, one in essence,
but three in persons, to three finite men, as Paul, Peter, and John,
is a blasphemer. But you, G. Whitehead, have done so. Ergo.’ A rash
conclusion; but how firm, let the judicious reader determine. I have
no mind to enter further into this quarrel, since the parties on both
sides went away unsatisfied: for Vincent had not been able to prove the
doctrine of the Quakers damnable, as he had asserted. But his passion
had transported him, as well as when he said from the pulpit to those
of his society, that he had as lief they should go to a bawdy-house,
as to frequent the Quakers’ meetings, because of their erroneous and
damnable doctrines. And pointing to the window he further said, ‘If
there should stand a cup of poison, I would rather drink it, than suck
in their damnable doctrines.’ But this untimely zeal did not profit
him; for it gave occasion to some of his hearers to inquire into the
doctrines of the Quakers; and thus some came to be convinced of the
truth thereof.
Now since the aforesaid dispute made a great noise at London, William
Penn published a book with this title, The Sandy Foundation Shaken, in
which he explained the points controverted, and defended his positions
with good reason and the Holy Scriptures. But yet this book, which he
himself spread, caused such a stir, that it was evil spoken of, and not
long after he was committed to the Tower, and some thought it was not
without his father’s being acquainted with it, perhaps to prevent a
worse treatment.
This was at the latter end of the year, about which time Josiah Coale
fell into a sickness, which took him off the stage of this life; he had
languished long, and yet did not at all spare his voice, but was used
both in preaching and praying so to raise it, that he spent his natural
strength exceedingly, though he was yet as in a flourishing age; nay,
it was his life and joy to declare the gospel, and to proclaim the
word of God, for which he had an excellent ability: and when he spoke
to the ungodly world, an awful gravity appeared in his countenance,
and his words were like a hammer and a sharp sword. But though he was
a son of thunder, yet his agreeable speech flowed from his mouth like
a pleasant stream, to the consolation and comfort of pious souls. Oh!
how pathetically have I heard him pray, when he, as transported and
ravished, humbly beseeched God, that it might please him to reach to
the hard-hearted, to support the godly, and to preserve them steadfast:
nay, with what a charming and melodious voice did he sound forth the
praises of the Most High in his public prayers! but his work was now
done, he had finished his course, and a time of rest from his labours
was come. Although he grew weak, yet his manly spirit and great courage
bore him up for some time; but his disease, which seemed to be a kind
of consumption, at length so increased, that he was fain to keep within
doors for several weeks; then mending a little, he went abroad again,
and came into a meeting in London, where I beheld his countenance
much unlike what it used to be, for it clearly manifested his bodily
indisposition: nevertheless he preached with a godly zeal, and his
salutary exhortations flowed like a stream from his lips, which seemed
to be touched with a coal from the altar of heaven, whilst he was
preaching the gospel to the edification of his hearers. Now he began
to lift up his voice again to that degree, that judging from thence,
one would have supposed him to have been pretty well restored: but the
ground of his distemper not being taken away, he was soon necessitated
to keep at home again; and his natural strength wasted away so fast,
and he so declined, that his death began to be expected, which not very
long after fell out accordingly. A little before he died, G. Fox being
come to see him, asked him, whether any thing lay upon him to write to
the friends in England? But he signified that he had nothing to write,
only desired that his love might be remembered to them, and desired G.
Fox to pray to God, that he might have an easy passage, for he felt
his end approaching. He having complied with his desire, and seeing
him begin to be heavy, bid him go and lie on the bed: which J. Coale
did; but finding this, as it seems, more uneasy, with the help of his
friends he rose again, and sat on the side of the bed; and his friends
sitting about him, he felt himself so lively and powerfully raised,
that he spoke to them after this manner:
‘Well, friends, be faithful to God, and have a single eye to his
glory; and seek nothing for self, or your own glory; and if any
thing of that arise, judge it down by the power of the Lord God,
that so ye may be clear in his sight, and answer his witness in
all people; then will ye have the reward of life. For my part, I
have walked in faithfulness with the Lord; and I have thus far
finished my testimony, and have peace with the Lord: his majesty
is with me, and his crown of life is upon me. So mind my love to
all friends.’ Then he ceased speaking; and a little time after he
said to Stephen Crisp, ‘Dear heart, keep low in the holy seed of
God, and that will be thy crown for ever.’ After a short pause,
he said, ‘a minister of Christ, must walk as he walked.’
A little afterwards fainting, and being stayed by his friends, he
departed in their arms, without the least sigh or groan, but as
one falling into a sweet sleep; and being filled with heavenly
consolations, he passed from this mortal life, to that which is
immortal, having attained the age of thirty-five years and two
months, and preached the gospel about twelve years. He had travelled
much in the West Indies, sustained great hardships, and laboured in
the ministry at his own charge, being freely given up to spend his
substance in the service of the Lord. And though he went through many
persecutions, imprisonments, and other adversities, yet he was not
afraid of danger, but always valiant; and continued in an unmarried
state, that so he might more freely labour in the heavenly harvest, and
many were converted by his ministry. He lived to see the desire of his
heart accomplished; for when first he was raised up to true goodliness,
being under the sense of his former transgressions, he cried to the
Lord for deliverance, and said with David, ‘If thou, O God, wilt help
me thoroughly, then will I teach transgressors thy ways, and sinners
shall be converted unto thee.’ He had been long in a mournful state,
though naturally of a cheerful temper; and having himself passed
through a path of sorrow, he was the more able to comfort the mourners
of Zion. The church was very sensible of this great loss; and I have
reason to think his corpse was attended to the grave by more than a
thousand of his friends, among whom I was then one; and his burying
being very public and well known, drew the eyes of many spectators
towards it. Let none think it strange, that I have here expatiated
somewhat largely, seeing he was indeed dear to me, and I have his kind
usage yet in fresh remembrance; for the piety of my mother, whom he
had seen in England, caused him to give me marks of the esteem he bore
to her memory: and his excellent endowments so affected me, that I was
eager to go to that meeting where I heard he was likely to be; nay, I
imagined I saw something in him so extraordinary valuable, that I bore
a very reverent respect to him, and the more, because difference of age
deprived me of a familiar conversation with him.
1669.
On the 20th of the First month called January, 1668-9, Francis Howgill,
after a sickness of nine days, died in the prison at Appleby, where he
had been kept above five years. During his sickness he was in perfect
good understanding, and often very fervent in prayer, uttering many
comfortable expressions, to the great refreshment of those about him.
He was often heard to say, ‘That he was content to die, and praised
God for the many sweet enjoyments and refreshments he had received in
that his prison-house-bed, whereon he lay, freely forgiving all who
had a hand in his restraint.’ And said he, ‘This was the place of my
first imprisonment for the truth, here at this town, and if it be the
place of my laying down the body, I am content.’ Several persons of
note, inhabitants of Appleby, as the mayor, and others, came to visit
him; and some of these praying that God might speak peace to his soul,
he returned, ‘he hath done it.’ About two days before his departure,
being attended by his wife, and several of his friends, he said to
them: ‘Friends, as to matter of words, ye must not expect much more
from me, neither is there any great need of it, or to speak of matters
of faith to you who are satisfied: only that ye remember my dear love
to all friends who inquire of me; for I ever loved friends well, or
any in whom truth appeared. Truly God will own his people, as he hath
ever hitherto done, and as we have daily witnessed; for no sooner had
they made the act of banishment, to the great suffering of many good
friends, but the Lord stirred up enemies against them, whereby the
violence of their hands was taken off. I say, again, God will own his
people, even all those that are faithful. And as for me, I am well,
and content to die. I am not at all afraid of death; but one thing was
of late in my heart, and that I intended to have written to George Fox
and others, even that which I have observed, viz. that this generation
passeth fast away; we see many good and precious friends within these
few years have been taken from us; and therefore friends had need to
watch, and be very faithful, that we may leave a good, and not a bad
savour, to the next succeeding generation; for we see that it is but a
little time that any of us have to stay here.’ A few hours before he
departed, some friends from other places being come to visit him, he
inquired about their welfare, and prayed fervently, with many heavenly
expressions, that the Lord by his mighty power, might preserve them out
of all such things as would spot and defile. His voice then, by reason
of his great weakness failed him, and a little after he recovering
some strength, said, ‘I have sought the way of the Lord from a child,
and lived innocently as among men; and if any inquire concerning my
latter end, let them know that I die in the faith in which I lived, and
suffered for.’ After these words, he spoke some others in prayer to
God, and so sweetly finished his days in peace with the Lord, in the
fiftieth year of his age.
He left a good name behind him amongst all who knew him.--Sometime
before his sickness, considering this mutable state, and finding in
himself some decay of nature, he made his will, in which, as his
love was very dear to his brethren, with whom he had laboured in the
ministry, so he gave to each of them a remembrance of his love; he left
also a legacy to his poor friends in those parts where he lived.
For although his moveable goods were forfeited to the king for ever,
yet the confiscation of his real estate was only for life; so that from
thence having something left, he could dispose of it by his will.
During his imprisonment, he neglected not to comfort and strengthen his
brethren by writing, effecting that by his pen, which he could not by
word of mouth: he also defended his doctrine against those who opposed
the same; and among others, he wrote a large treatise against oaths,
contradicting the opinion of those who account it lawful to swear under
the gospel.
About two years before his decease, he wrote an epistle of advice and
counsel as his last will and testament to his daughter Abigail, a
child whom he much loved, who was born in a time of deep exercises and
trouble, which nevertheless by the Lord’s goodness he was patiently
brought through; wherefore he named this child Abigail, signifying, the
father’s joy. In this testament he gave her instructions for the future
conduct of her life, the beginning whereof is thus:
‘Daughter Abigail, this is for thee to observe and keep, and
take heed unto all the days of thy life, for the regulating
thy life and conversation in this world, that thy life may be
happy, and thy end blessed, and God glorified by thee in thy
generation. I was not born to great possessions, or did inherit
great matters in this world; but the Lord hath always endowed me
with sufficiency and enough, and hath been as a tender father
unto me, because my heart trusted in him, and did love the way
of righteousness from a child. My counsel unto thee is, that
thou remember thy Creator in the days of thy youth, and fear
the Lord in thy youth, and learn to know him and serve him all
thy days: first seek the kingdom of God and the righteousness
thereof; it is not far from thee, it is within thee; it consists
in life and power, and it stands in righteousness, truth, and
equity, justice, mercy, long-suffering, patience, love, light,
and holiness, this is the being and centre thereof; therefore
seek not lo here, or lo there without thee, in this or that
outward observation, for many seek there and never find it; but
seek and thou shalt find, wait and thou shalt receive. If thou
inquire, in what must I seek? and what must I wait in? and how
must I seek? I inform thee, that thou must silence all thy own
thoughts, and thou must turn thy mind to that which is pure, and
holy, and good within thyself, and seek and wait in that in the
light of Jesus Christ, wherewith thou art enlightened, which
shows thee when thou dost evil, and checks and reproves; take
heed unto that, and it will show the evil motions and thoughts;
and as thou lovest it, it will subdue them, and preserve thee
for the time to come out of evil: for though thou be born into
the world a reasonable creature, yet thou must be born again,
and be made a new creature, or else thou canst not enter into
God’s kingdom; thou must know the seed of the kingdom in thyself,
of which thou must be born and formed again into God’s image.
I have told thee God hath sown it in thee, a grain of it, a
measure of it, a portion of it, a measure of light and truth, of
righteousness and holiness; keep in thy mind to that, and love
it, and thou wilt feel the heavenly Father working in thee, and
begetting thee to life through Jesus Christ that hath enlightened
thee, and thou wilt feel the power of the Lord strengthening
thee, in thy little, and making thee to grow in the immortal
seed of his kingdom, and outgrow and overgrow all evil, so that
thou wilt daily die to that, and have no pleasure in it, but
in the Lord, and in his goodness and virtue shed abroad in thy
heart, which thou wilt taste and feel within, and have joy and
comfort therein: love the Lord with thy heart and soul, even
him that made thee, and gave thee a being, and all things in
heaven and earth; and still wait for the knowledge of him in
thyself, he is not far from thee, but near unto thee, and unto
all that call upon him in an upright heart; and do thou inquire
of thy dear mother, she will inform thee, she knows him, and
the way to life and peace, and hearken to her instruction: God
is a spirit, of light, and life, and power, that searcheth the
heart, and shows thee when thou dost, or thinkest, or speakest
evil, and shows unto man or woman their thoughts. That which
shows the evil, is good, and that which shows a lie, is truth;
this is within, take heed to it, this is called God’s spirit in
the Scriptures, believe in it, love it, and it will quicken thy
heart to good, and it will subject the evil: here is thy teacher
near thee, love it, and if thou act contrary, it will condemn
thee; therefore take heed unto this spirit of truth, and it will
enlighten and enliven thee, and will open thy understanding,
and give thee to know what God is, and to do that which is good
and acceptable in his sight; this spirit never errs, but leads
out of all error into all truth. Be sober-minded in thy youth,
and wait on the Lord within, hearken unto him. God is light
immortal, life immortal, truth immortal, an everlasting eternal
Spirit: he speaks spiritually and invisibly within the hearts
and consciences of men and women: hear what he speaks, and obey
his voice, and thy soul shall live; fear to offend him, or sin
against him, for the wages of sin are death; therefore prize
his love in thy young and tender years, and do thou read the
Scriptures and Friends’ books, and take heed to what thou readest
to obey it, as far as thou understandest; and pray often unto
the Lord, that he will give thee his knowledge, and open thy
understanding in the things of his kingdom; search thy heart
often with the light of Christ in thee, manifest and bring thy
deeds to it, that they may be tried; and examine thyself how the
case stands betwixt the Lord and thee; and if thou seest thyself
wrong, humble thyself, and be sorry, and turn unto him, and he
will show thee mercy; and take heed for the time to come, that
thou run not into the same evil again; keep thy heart clean,
watch against the evil in thyself, in that which shows it;
therein there is power, and thereby thou hast power to overcome
all evil. And, dear child, mind not the pleasures of sin, which
are but for a moment, and the end is misery; but keep under and
cross thy will and affection, so thy mind will have no pleasure
in the evil, but in good; and thou wilt feel the immortal seed
springing up in thee, which God’s peace and love is to. O child!
these are great and weighty things, not to be slighted. Accompany
thyself always with them that fear the Lord, and fear and worship
him in spirit and truth, and lead a holy and blameless life and
conversation; deny them not, but love them, and suffer with them.
Take heed that thou follow not the hireling teachers, who preach
for gain and lucre, and abide not in Christ’s doctrine; believe
them not, heed them not, they do people no good; but thou
wilt see them thyself, they have an outside show of godliness
sometimes, but deny the power of God and true holiness; remember
I have told thee, who have had perfect knowledge of them. But be
sure that thou let nothing separate thy love from God and his
people; those are his people that keep his law, and obey Christ’s
voice, and lead a holy life, and they were ever hated and belied,
and persecuted, and evil-spoken of, always by bad and evil loose
people; these are God’s people, and his love, and peace, and
blessing is with them; do thou grow as a natural branch, (up
among them,) of the living vine, and continue all thy days in
obedience unto God’s will, and thou wilt feel joy and love in thy
heart, which above all things covet after, and thou shalt attain
and obtain everlasting peace, which the Lord grant unto thee,
according to the riches of his mercy and love, which endure for
ever and ever. Amen.
‘And now, Abigail, concerning thy well-being in this life, this
is my advice and counsel unto thee; love thy dear mother, and
ever obey her and honour her, and see thou grieve her not; be not
stubborn nor wilful, but submit unto her, and be as an obedient
child unto her, whose love and care hath been too great over
thee and thy sisters, which hath brought too much trouble upon
herself; learn in thy youth to read and write, and sew and knit,
and all points of good labour that belong to a maid, and flee
idleness and sloth, that nourisheth sin; and as thou growest up
in years, labour in the affairs of the country, and beware of
pride, and riotousness, and curiosity, but be well content with
such apparel as thy mother will permit thee, that thou mayest be
a good example unto others. Be not wanton, nor wild, nor light,
but temperate, moderate, and chaste, and not forward in words,
nor speech, but swift to hear, slow to speak; and do thou always
live with thy mother, and be a help unto her, and cherish her in
her old age and latter years, that she may be comforted in thee,
and her soul may bless thee. Love thy sisters, and be always
courteous to them and thy brother, encourage one another in good:
and if thou live to be a woman of perfect years, keep thyself
unspotted, and let not thy mind out after sports nor pastimes,
the end of all those is sorrow: neither after young men; if thou
have a desire to marry, do not thou seek a husband, but let a
husband seek thee; and if thou live in God’s fear, and an honest
life and virtuous, them that fear God will seek unto thee; let
not thy affections out unto every one that proffers love, but
be considerate, and above all things, choose one, (if thou dost
marry,) that loves and fears the Lord, whose conversation and
manner, and course of life, thou knowest well, before thou give
consent. Be discreet and wise, hide nothing from thy mother,
and she will advise thee, no doubt, for thy good; and if she be
living, marry not without her consent: and if thou join to a
husband, be sure thou love him in thy heart, and be obedient unto
him, and honour him among all, so will his heart be more to thee,
and his love increase; grieve him not, but be gentle, and easy
to be intreated, and mind thy own business; and if the Lord give
thee children, bring them up in God’s fear, and good exercise,
and keep them in subjection unto thee, and be an example of
virtue and holiness unto them, that the Lord’s blessing thou
mayest feel in youth and in age, and all thy life long. O
Abigail! remember these things, keep in mind these things, read
often this writing over, get it copied over, and lay up my words
in thy heart, and do them, so wilt thou be happy in this life,
and in the life to come: these things I give thee in charge to
observe, as my mind and will, and counsel unalterable unto thee,
as witness hereof I have set my hand,
Thy dear father,
FRANCIS HOWGILL.’
The 26th of the 5th Month, 1666.
In the beginning of this year the members of this society, held a
general Yearly-meeting at London, which since that time, hath been used
to be held there annually, in the week called Whitsun-week,[39] because
at that time of the year it is commonly best travelling, &c. Several
are deputed from all places to this meeting, and what concerns the
church in general, is there treated on.
[39] It hath since been fixed to be held on the Second-day
immediately following the third First-day in the 5th month.
Persecution for religion seemed now to be at a stand, which displeased
some of the most rigid sort of churchmen, which we not only have
already, but may again in due place demonstrate.
About this time, as I take it, a certain bishop said occasionally, that
the Quakers by their unlimited freedom, increased much, and therefore
it was very needful to take care of them, seeing they often had much
greater assemblies than the national church; ‘For,’ said he, ‘at such a
time I preached myself, and there were but a few hearers, when at the
same time the Quakers’ meeting just by was crowded full;’ and thereupon
he desired them to consider whether it was not high time to stop these
sectaries? After he had set forth his matter at large, another lord
then present among others, said, that indeed it seemed that the lord
bishop had spoken what was very reasonable, that the sectaries had
often more hearers than the national church-preachers, and that it
was not strange to him that it displeased him, since he took so much
upon himself: ‘For,’ said he, ‘his lordship observed, that he preached
himself; and the professed Quakers, who had such great assemblies,
preached Christ Jesus, and therefore no wonder that they had the more
hearers.’ This was such a witty turn upon the bishop, as no doubt
made him so sensible as not to think fit to enter upon the debate in
a doubtful dispute, for it is observable, this lord’s turn upon the
bishop was chiefly to stop him from promoting persecution.
This spring G. Fox travelling to York, went through several other
places in the North of England; and although he came near to his old
enemy, colonel Kirby, who had a fit of the gout, and had threatened
him, yet he passed on unmolested. So he went to Liverpool, whence
he, with some of his friends, passed over for Ireland: among others,
were Thomas Briggs and John Stubbs; and being arrived at Dublin, he
was kindly received by his friends; and journeying into the country,
he met with no small opposition from the Papists, of whom there are
many there. Being come to a certain place, he challenged the jesuits,
priests, and monks, to try whether their god, which they make of
a wafer, be an immortal god, but they could not be brought to it;
wherefore he said, they were worse than Baal’s priests, for Baal’s
priests tried their god. Then he went to Cork, where they had knowledge
of his coming, and intended to take him prisoner; for the Quakers in
Ireland were many years sharply persecuted, as their brethren were in
England, of which to mention all circumstances it would make a very
large treatise. At this time there were many prisoners at Cork, among
whom was Samuel Thornton, with whom I was well acquainted, who being
met with his friends in a chamber one First-day, the officer Quinnal
came and shut the door of the room, and locked them in, to the number
of eighty persons, and carried the key to the mayor, Matthew Dean, who
gave order that there should neither victuals nor drink be carried to
them, and they could only get what was pulled up with ropes through the
grate, or thrown in through a hole: under this chamber the soldiers
were ordered to keep guard, that none might get away, and they made so
great a smoke, that many of the prisoners were sick, among whom were
some weakly old people, and some women with child, and nurses, who
were almost stifled; and complaint thereof being made to the mayor,
he answered in a scoffing manner, ‘They are all brethren and sisters,
let them lie upon one another; and if they are stifled it is their own
fault.’ Thus they were kept twenty-four hours, and afterwards some of
them made prisoners.
Solomon Eccles, whom I also knew very well, was this year in prison
at Gallaway in Ireland, where he was put, by a strange accident. He
was an extraordinary zealous man, and what he judged evil he warmly
opposed, even to the hazard of his life. This zeal led him to perform
a strange action in a chapel of the Papists without the town; for he
went naked above his waist, with a chafing-dish of coals and burning
brimstone on his head, and entered the chapel when all the people were
on their knees to pray to their idol, and spoke as followeth: ‘Wo to
these idolatrous worshippers! God hath sent me this day to warn you,
and to show you what will be your portion except you repent.’ Which
when he had done, he went away to the town, where he was presently made
a prisoner. What the benefit of this strange action might be, I leave.
Amongst the martyrs of the reformed, we find some instances of persons
zealous to a strange degree, as of William Gardiner at Lisbon, and
Bertrand le Blas at Tournay, whose actions were not less remarkable;
for this last, his snatching the host from the priest in their
church as they were at mass, was certainly a bold attempt, and not
praiseworthy, if it was only an act of human contrivance; but I shall
leave the judgment thereof unto God, as I account it safest, and the
rather, because under the sharpest punishment they could inflict, they
seemed not to shrink, but rather to be strengthened. However so sharp
a trial did not fall to Eccles’s portion, and I think it safer not to
judge hastily of this uncommon performance. He was, to my knowledge,
a bold and undaunted man, and before this action in the chapel, as
above, he did something of a like nature at London at the fair-time,
amongst the plays, where he suffered much by the coachmen whipping him
grievously on his naked back; but that could not lay his fervent zeal,
which was kindled not only against the immodest and ungodly carriage
of the pretended fools, but also against those other vanities there
used. To what height his zeal carried him, the following instance will
show: he who had been a member of the church of England, and then went
to the Presbyterians, and afterwards among the Independents, and after
that was a Baptist, had been an eminent musician, so that by his art
he could get near 150_l._ a-year; but at last being a Quaker, he could
not follow for conscience-sake, what he now called his Babylonish trade
of music: wherefore he learned to make clothes to get his living by,
and sold his musical books and instruments; but, as he declared, he had
no peace in his conscience; for observing them to be instruments of
vanity, he judged they ought to be destroyed, and therefore bought them
again, although they were worth above 20_l._ and carried them, viz.
virginals, fiddles, &c. to Tower-hill, where laying them together, he
set fire to them; but when some who were by, endeavoured to hinder him,
and to get one of the virginals away, he stamped upon it with his foot,
and would not rest until he had destroyed it; and after that he said,
he found peace in his conscience, having made an offering of that which
he once entirely loved, and in the use of which he was educated; for
not only his father and grandfather, but his grandfather’s father had
been musicians, and he himself had the name of an eminent music-master.
Another account we have of his strange zeal: when he saw how the
Quakers were belied by William Burnet, Jeremy Ives, and Matthew Kiffin,
teachers amongst the Baptists, as if they believed not in Christ nor
the resurrection, he challenged all the teachers, and priests, and
jesuits, openly in a book which he printed, to come to a proof with
him, who were the true worshippers; first, to fast seven days and seven
nights, and neither to eat nor drink; and then the next seven days
not to sleep day nor night; but we may well think that none were to
be found to enter the lists with him, nor to put themselves on such a
test; and although some reckoned him out of his wits, yet he was not,
for I remember the time very well, and had many an opportunity both to
see and to hear him speak.
I now return to G. Fox at Cork in Ireland, where they intended to take
him, nevertheless they let him go unmolested, although he rode through
the market, by the mayor’s door, who not only saw him, but said, ‘There
goes G. Fox,’ and yet he let him pass quietly. After he had travelled
through many places in Ireland, he came again to Dublin, from whence
he returned to England, and coming into Gloucestershire, he heard at
Nailsworth of a report which had been spread abroad in the country,
that he was turned Presbyterian, and they had prepared a pulpit for him
in the open yard, where he was to preach. G. Fox hearing this, thought
it very strange, whereupon he went to the place spoken of, where he
indeed found a pulpit; but the case was this: a certain Presbyterian
preacher, named John Fox, who went preaching about the country, was
to preach there, and it seems some had changed his name from John to
George, whereupon it was reported that he was turned from being a
Quaker, to be a Presbyterian: this begat so great a curiosity in the
people, that many went thither to hear this Quaker turned Presbyterian;
so this John Fox came to have a great auditory of several hundreds, who
would not have went a foot to have heard him, had they known it. Now
some hundreds of them hearing afterwards that the real G. Fox was not
far off at a meeting, they went thither and were sober and attentive;
where they were by him directed to the grace of God in themselves,
which would teach them and bring them salvation. And when the meeting
was over, some of the people said, they liked George Fox the Quaker’s
preaching, better than G. F. the Presbyterian. Not long after this John
Fox was complained of in the house of commons, for having a tumultuous
meeting, in which treasonable words were spoken. This John Fox had
formerly been priest of Marshfield in Gloucestershire, and being put
out of that place, was afterwards permitted by a common-prayer priest
to preach sometimes in his steeple-house; at length this Presbyterian
priest presuming too far upon the parish priest’s former grant, began
to be more bold than welcome, and would have preached there whether
the priest would or not; which caused a great bustle and contest
between the two priests, and their hearers on either side, in which the
common-prayer book was cut to pieces, and it is said some treasonable
words were then spoken, by some of the followers of this John Fox;
which case was quickly put into the newspapers, and some malicious
Presbyterians caused it to be so worded as if it had proceeded from G.
F. the Quaker, but some members of the house of commons certified it
under their hands, that it was John Fox, formerly priest of Marshfield,
who was complained of to be the ringleader of that unlawful assembly.
After this G. F. travelled to Bristol, where he met with Margaret Fell,
then a widow, who came thither to visit her daughter Yeomans. He had
before this intimated to her his affection, and proposed to take her in
marriage at a suitable time; but though he had a sense in himself, it
was of the Lord, yet he did not at first find a freedom to accomplish
the same, but all obstructions being now removed, he so proposed the
matter, that if she was willing to give her consent, that the same
should be accomplished, she might first send for her children; who
being come, he asked both her daughters and their husbands, whether
they had any thing against his taking their mother to be his wife?
And they all severally expressed their satisfaction therein. Then he
asked Margaret, whether she had performed her husband’s will? And the
children, whether, if their mother married, they should lose by it? The
children said, she had answered it to them, and desired him to speak no
more of that. So observing they were all well satisfied, he proceeded
in his marriage, and took Margaret Fell to wife in a public meeting of
friends in Bristol. She was a woman of a noble endowment, and this I
know not only by her writings, but I have also heard her preach an hour
together, delivering her matter compactly and orderly.
G. F. being married, he stayed with his wife about a week in Bristol,
and then they went together to Oldstone, and there taking leave of each
other, they parted, she went homeward into the north, and he travelled
through Wiltshire, Berkshire, Oxfordshire, Bucks, and so to London: for
although now he had a wife, yet he did not neglect his care towards the
churches, all the nation over, in the gift which he had received of
God, both in word and writing to their edification, and among the rest
he had a special regard, that the poor might be taken care of, to which
end he wrote an epistle in London, to this effect, that poor children
should be put forth apprentices to trades, whereby in time, they might
help their aged parents, and enable them to bring up their families,
and maintain themselves handsomely.
1670.
G. Fox stayed not long in London; but the year 1670 being now come,
he travelled through Hertfordshire, Cambridgeshire, Huntingdonshire,
and Leicestershire, where he expected to have met with his wife; for
he had wrote her word, if she found it convenient, to meet him there;
but instead thereof he understood she was hauled out of her house
and carried to Lancaster prison, upon the old premunire, which was
executed upon her five years before, from which she was discharged by
order of the king and council the last year. Wherefore, after he had
visited friends in those counties, he returned to London, where he
found two of his wife’s daughters, whom he hastened to go to the king,
to acquaint him how their mother was dealt with, which they did, but
met with much difficulty; yet they diligently attended the same, as
it behoved them for their mother, who was a mother or overseer of the
church also, and therefore of the greater concern; but at last through
assiduous application, they got to the speech of the king, to whom one
of them said, that instead of their waiting upon him to return him
thanks for the discharge of their mother, they were now necessitated
to make complaint of their mother’s being cast into prison a second
time! Whereupon the king gave command to sir John Otway, to write to
the sheriff of Lancashire, to set her at liberty, which letter G. F.
accordingly hastened his daughters with into the country.
* * * * *
The parliament now sitting, made a law, entitled, An Act to prevent and
suppress seditious conventicles, which is as follows:
For providing further and more speedy remedies against the
growing and dangerous practices of seditious sectaries, and other
disloyal persons, who under pretence of tender consciences,
have or may at their meetings contrive insurrections, (as
late experience hath shown,) (2) Be it enacted by the king’s
most excellent majesty, by and with the advice and consent of
the lords spiritual and temporal, and commons in this present
parliament assembled, and by authority of the same, that if any
person of the age of sixteen years or upwards, being a subject of
this realm, at any time after the tenth day of May next, shall be
present at any assembly, conventicle, or meeting, under colour
or pretence of an exercise of religion, in other manner than
according to the liturgy and practice of the church of England,
in any place within the kingdom of England, dominion of Wales,
or town of Berwick-upon-Tweed, at which conventicle, meeting, or
assembly, there shall be five persons or more assembled together,
over and besides those of the same household, if it be in a house
where there is a family inhabiting; or if it be in a house,
field, or place where there is no family inhabiting; then where
any five persons or more, are so assembled, as aforesaid, it
shall and may be lawful to and for any one or more justices of
the peace of the county, limit, division, corporation or liberty,
wherein the offence aforesaid shall be committed, or for the
chief magistrate of the place where the offence aforesaid shall
be committed; and he and they are hereby required and enjoined
upon proof to him or them respectively made of such offence,
either by confession of the party, or oath of two witnesses;
(3) (which oath the said justice and justices of the peace, and
chief magistrate respectively, are hereby empowered and required
to administer,) or be notorious evidence and circumstance of the
fact, to make a record of every such offence under his or their
hands and seals respectively: which record so made, as aforesaid,
shall to all intents and purposes be in law taken and adjudged
to be a full and perfect conviction of every such offender for
such offence: and thereupon the said justice, justices, and chief
magistrate respectively, shall impose on every such offender
so convicted, as aforesaid, a fine of five shillings for such
first offence: which record and conviction shall be certified
by the said justice, justices, or chief magistrate, at the next
quarter-sessions of the peace, for the county or place where the
offence was committed.
II. And be it further enacted by the authority aforesaid, that
if such offender so convicted, as aforesaid, shall at any time
again commit the like offence or offences, contrary to this act,
and be thereof in manner aforesaid convicted, then such offender
so convict of such like offence or offences shall for every such
offence incur the penalty of ten shillings; (2) which fine and
fines, for the first and every other offence, shall be levied by
distress and sale of the offender’s goods and chattels; or in
case of the poverty of such offender, upon the goods and chattels
of any other person or persons who shall be then convicted in
manner aforesaid of the like offence at the same conventicle, at
the discretion of the said justice, justices or chief magistrate
respectively, so as the sum to be levied on any one person in
case of the poverty of other offenders, amount not in the whole
to above the sum of ten pounds, upon occasion of any one meeting,
as aforesaid; (3) and every constable, headborough, tithingman,
churchwardens, and overseers of the poor respectively, are hereby
authorized and required to levy the same accordingly, having
first received a warrant under the hands and seals of the said
justice, justices, or chief magistrate respectively, so to do;
(4) the said monies so to be levied, to be forthwith delivered
the same justice, justices, or chief magistrate, and by him or
them to be distributed, the one third part thereof to the use
of the king’s majesty, his heirs and successors, to be paid to
the high sheriff of the county for the time being, in manner
following; that is to say, the justice or justices of peace shall
pay the same into the court of the respective quarter-sessions,
which said court shall deliver the same to the sheriff, and make
a memorial on record of the payment and delivery thereof, which
said memorial shall be a sufficient and final discharge to the
said justice and justices, and a charge to the sheriff, which
said discharge and charge shall be certified into the exchequer
together, and not one without the other: and no justice shall or
may be questioned or accountable for the same in the exchequer or
elsewhere, than in quarter-sessions; another third part thereof
to and for the use of the poor of the parish where such offence
shall be committed; and the other third part thereof to the
informer and informers and to such person and persons as the said
justice, justices or chief magistrate respectively shall appoint,
having regard to their diligence and industry in the discovery,
dispersing and punishing of the said conventicles.
III. And be it further enacted by the authority aforesaid, that
every person who shall take upon him to preach or teach in any
such meeting, assembly or conventicle, and shall thereof be
convicted, as aforesaid, shall forfeit for every such first
offence the sum of twenty pounds, to be levied in manner
aforesaid upon his goods and chattels; (2) and if the said
preacher or teacher so convicted, be a stranger, and his name and
habitation not known, or is fled, and cannot be found, or in the
judgment of the justice, justices or chief magistrate before whom
he shall be convicted, shall be thought unable to pay the same,
the said justice, justices, or chief magistrate respectively, are
hereby empowered and required to levy the same by warrant, as
aforesaid, upon the goods and chattels of any such persons who
shall be present at the same conventicle; any thing in this or
any other act, law, or statute to the contrary notwithstanding;
and the money so levied, to be disposed of in manner aforesaid:
(3) and if such offender so convicted as aforesaid, shall at any
time again commit the like offence or offences contrary to this
act, and be thereof convicted in manner aforesaid, then such
offender so convicted of such like offence or offences, shall
for every such offence, incur the penalty of forty pounds, to be
levied and disposed, as aforesaid.
IV. And be it further enacted by the authority aforesaid, that
every person who shall wittingly and willingly suffer any such
conventicle, meeting, or unlawful assembly aforesaid, to be held
in his or her house, outhouse, barn, yard, or backside, and be
convicted thereof in manner aforesaid, shall forfeit the sum
of twenty pounds, to be levied in manner aforesaid, upon his
or her goods and chattels; or in case of his or her poverty or
inability, as aforesaid, upon the goods and chattels of such
persons who shall be convicted in manner aforesaid, of being
present at the same conventicle; and the money so levied, to be
disposed of in manner aforesaid.
V. Provided always, and be it enacted by the authority aforesaid,
that no person shall by any clause of this act be liable to pay
above ten pounds for any one meeting, in regard of the poverty of
any other person or persons.
VI. Provided also, and be it further enacted, that in all cases
of this act, where the penalty or sum charged upon any offender
exceeds the sum of ten shillings, and such offender shall find
himself aggrieved, it shall and may be lawful for him within
one week after the said penalty or money charged shall be paid
or levied, to appeal in writing from the person or persons
convicting, to the judgment of the justices of the peace in their
next quarter-sessions, (2) to whom the justice or justices of the
peace, chief magistrate, or alderman, that first convicted such
offender, shall return the money levied upon the appellant, and
shall certify under his and their hands and seals the evidence
upon which the conviction passed, with the whole record thereof,
and the said appeal: (3) whereupon such offender may plead and
make defence, and have his trial by a jury thereupon: (4) and
in case such appellant shall not prosecute with effect, or if
upon such trial he shall not be acquitted, or judgment pass not
for him upon his said appeal, the said justices at the sessions
shall give treble costs against such offender for his unjust
appeal: (5) And no other court whatsoever shall intermeddle with
any cause or causes of appeal upon this act, but they shall be
finally determined in the quarter-sessions only.
VII. Provided always, and be it further enacted, that upon the
delivery of such appeal, as aforesaid, the person or persons
appellant shall enter before the person or persons convicting,
into recognizance, to prosecute the said appeal with effect: (2)
which said recognizance the person or persons so convicting is
hereby empowered to take, and required to certify the same to the
next quarter-sessions: (3) and in case no such recognizance be
entered into, the said appeal to be null and void.
VIII. Provided always, that every such appeal shall be left with
the person or persons so convicting, as aforesaid, at the time of
the making thereof.
IX. And be it further enacted by the authority aforesaid,
that the justice, justices of the peace, and chief magistrate
respectively, or the respective constables, headboroughs, and
tithingmen, by warrant from the said justice, justices, or chief
magistrate respectively, shall and may with what aid, force and
assistance they shall think fit, for the better execution of this
act, after refusal or denial to enter, break open, and enter
into any house or other place, where they shall be informed any
such conventicle, as aforesaid, is or shall be held, as well
within liberties as without: (2) and take into their custody
the persons there unlawfully assembled, to the intent they
may be proceeded against according to this act: (3) and that
the lieutenants or deputy-lieutenants, or any commissionated
officer in the militia, or other of his majesty’s forces,
with such troops or companies of horse and foot; and also the
sheriffs, and other magistrates and ministers of justice, or
any of them, jointly or severally, within any of the counties
or places within this kingdom of England, dominion of Wales, or
town of Berwick-upon-Tweed, with such other assistance as they
shall think meet, or can get in readiness with the soonest, on
certificate made to them respectively under the hand and seal
of any one justice of the peace or chief magistrate, of his
particular information or knowledge of such unlawful meeting or
conventicle held, or to be held in their respective counties or
places, and that he with such assistance as he can get together,
is not able to suppress and dissolve the same, shall and may, and
are hereby required and enjoined to repair unto the place where
they are so held, or to be held, and by the best means they can,
to dissolve, dissipate or prevent all such unlawful meetings, and
take into their custody such and so many of the said persons so
unlawfully assembled as they shall think fit, to the intent that
they may be proceeded against according to this act.
X. Provided always, that no dwelling-house of any peer of this
realm, where he or his wife shall then be resident, shall be
searched by virtue of this act, but by immediate warrant from
his majesty, under his sign manual, or in the presence of the
lieutenant, or one deputy-lieutenant, or two justices of the
peace, whereof one to be of the quorum, of the same county or
riding.
XI. And be it further enacted by the authority aforesaid, that
if any constable, headborough, tithingman, churchwarden or
overseer of the poor, who shall know, or be credibly informed
of any such meetings or conventicles held within his precincts,
parishes, or limits, and shall not give information thereof to
some justice of the peace, or the chief magistrate, and endeavour
the conviction of the parties according to his duty; but such
constable, headborough, tithingman, churchwarden, overseers of
the poor, or any person lawfully called in aid of the constable,
headborough, or tithingman, shall wilfully and wittingly omit the
performance of his duty, in the execution of this act, and be
thereof convicted in manner aforesaid, he shall forfeit for every
such offence, the sum of five pounds, to be levied upon his goods
and chattels, and disposed in manner aforesaid: (2) and that if
any justice of the peace, or chief magistrate, shall wilfully
and wittingly omit the performance of his duty in the execution
of this act, he shall forfeit the sum of one hundred pounds,
the one moiety to the use of the informer, to be recovered by
action, suit, bill, or plaint, in any of his majesty’s courts
at Westminster, wherein no essoign, protection, or wager of law
shall lie.
XII. And be it further enacted by the authority aforesaid, that
if any person be at any time sued for putting in execution any
of the powers contained in this act, otherwise than upon appeal
allowed by this act, such person shall and may plead the general
issue, and give the special matter in evidence; (2) and if the
plaintiff be non-suit, or a verdict pass for the defendant, or
if the plaintiff discontinue his action, or if upon demurrer
judgment be given for the defendant, every such defendant shall
have his full treble costs.
XIII. And be it further enacted by the authority aforesaid,
that this act, and all clauses therein contained, shall be
construed most largely and beneficially for the suppressing of
conventicles, and for the justification and encouragement of all
persons to be employed in the execution thereof: (2) and that no
record, warrant, or mittimus to be made by virtue of this act,
or any proceedings thereupon, shall be reversed, avoided, or any
way impeached by reason of any default in form. (3) And in case
any person offending against this act, shall be an inhabitant in
any other county or corporation, or fly into any other county or
corporation after the offence committed, the justice of peace or
chief magistrate before whom he shall be convicted as aforesaid,
shall certify the same under his hand and seal, to any justice
of peace or chief magistrate of such other county or corporation
wherein the said person or persons are inhabitants, or are fled
into; (4) which said justice or chief magistrate respectively, is
hereby authorized and required to levy the penalty or penalties
in this act mentioned, upon the goods and chattels of such person
or persons, as fully as the said other justice of peace might
have done, in case he or they had been inhabitants in the place
where the offence was committed.
XIV. Provided also, that no person shall be punished for any
offence against this act unless such offender be prosecuted for
the same within three months after the offence committed. (2) And
that no person who shall be punished for any offence by virtue of
this act, shall be punished for the same offence by virtue of any
other act or law whatsoever.
XV. Provided, and be it further enacted by the authority
aforesaid, that every alderman of London for the time being,
within the city of London, and the liberties thereof, shall have,
(and they and every of them are hereby empowered and required to
execute,) the same power and authority within London, and the
liberties thereof, for the examining, convicting, and punishing
of all offences within this act committed within London, and the
liberties thereof, which any justice of peace hath by this act in
any county of England, and shall be subject to the same penalties
and punishments, for not doing that which by this act is directed
to be done by any justice of peace in any county of England.
XVI. Provided, and be it enacted by the authority aforesaid,
that if the person offending, and convicted as aforesaid, be a
feme-covert, cohabiting with her husband, the penalties of five
shillings, and ten shillings, so as aforesaid incurred, shall be
levied by warrant, as aforesaid, upon the goods and chattels of
the husband of such feme-covert.
XVII. Provided also, that no peer of this realm shall be attached
or imprisoned by virtue or force of this act; any thing, matter,
or clause, therein to the contrary notwithstanding.
XVIII. Provided also, that neither this act, nor any thing
therein contained, shall extend to invalidate or make void his
majesty’s supremacy in ecclesiastical affairs: (2) but that his
majesty, and his heirs and successors, may from time to time,
and at all times hereafter, exercise and enjoy all powers and
authority in ecclesiastical affairs, as fully and as amply as
himself or any of his predecessors have or might have done the
same: any thing in this act notwithstanding.
By this very law many an honest family was impoverished; for the
Quakers did not leave off meeting together publicly, but the most
sincere amongst them were the more zealous, and they were the more
winnowed from the chaff, which in time of ease gets in amongst
religious professors; and none need wonder at it, since the Quakers
having gained the repute of an upright-hearted people, some, for
by-ends, might creep in amongst them.
At London, as well as at other places, many were spoiled of their goods
very unmercifully, and many times people of good substance brought to
mere poverty, seeing not only the shop goods of some, but also their
household goods have been seized, insomuch that the very sick have had
their beds taken from under them, and they themselves laid upon the
floor; nay, they have been so cruel, as to leave them nothing; insomuch
that when the child’s pap hath stood in a pannikin, they have thrown
out the pap to take the pannikin away.
Should I sum up all the particulars I have received, and the account
I could give, it would make a volume of itself; for the informers
were generally poor, and sometimes also the justices, so that they
knew how to part their booty belonging to the king, as well as to
the poor; and thus the king and the poor got but little of their
plunder. Nevertheless it so happened sometimes, that those who were
finable, were freed by the justices; for they knew very well, that
these informers, who were also witnesses, were cunning sharkers, who
were also concerned to get their thirds of the booty, and therefore
found out a way by which they showed that they were knavish and unjust
in their office, therefore not fit to give evidence; so that it hath
sometimes fallen out, that an honest justice hath cleared those
informed against, when the informer missed in his evidence, either in
the day of the month, or the like, in the complaint.
At London there once appeared before the lord mayor, sitting at a
court of aldermen, an impudent informer having such a quantity of
informations for fines as would have wronged the parties to the value
of 1500_l._ but the mayor abominating such a practice, adjourned the
court, and went away. But this hardy informer was not content to let
the matter fall thus, but appeared before the court from time to time,
to make a booty of honest people’s goods; but they still put him off,
until at last he was himself arrested for debt, and carried to prison,
where he ended his days.
Although now the law against seditious conventicles had passed, upon
a supposition that the Presbyterians were ready to rise, considering
the bustle and tumult occasioned by John Fox in Gloucestershire, which
was much taken notice of, as I have mentioned before, yet nevertheless
the Quakers’ meetings became the chief object in the execution of this
law. Whereupon G. Fox being in London, set forth in print the injustice
of this law, in order, if possible, to moderate the government not to
put the same in execution. Nevertheless, being also sensible that a
great storm hung over the heads of friends, he also wrote an epistle
to them, to exhort them to faithfulness, and to encourage them to
stand fast in their testimony, and hear with Christian patience the
suffering that was come upon them. Now the First-day that this law
took place, he went to the meeting of friends at Gracechurch-street
in London; but being come to the place, he found the street full of
people, and a guard to keep them out of their meeting-house; whereupon
he went to Lombard street, (out of which there was also a passage to
the meeting-house,) and there he also found a guard; but there being
a court before the door, which was full of people, one of the Quaker
ministers was there preaching to the people, and when he had ended, G.
Fox stood up and said, “Saul, Saul, why persecutest thou me; it is hard
for thee to kick against the pricks.” Which words he thus explained:
that it was Saul’s nature that persecuted; and that they persecuting
Christ in his members, were kicking against the pricks; and that it
was the birth of the flesh that persecuted the birth of the Spirit;
and that it was the nature of dogs to tear and devour the sheep, but
that they suffered like sheep, who did not bite again; but were a
peaceable people, who loved even their persecutors. While G. Fox was
thus preaching, there came a constable and an informer, with soldiers,
who pulled him down from the place he stood on. Then, said he, “Blessed
are the peace-makers,” but the commander of the soldiers ordered
them to secure him: ‘For,’ said he, ‘you are the man I looked for.’
Wherefore he with two more of his friends, John Burnet and another,
were had before the lord mayor; and as they were going, the informer
said, ‘It will never be a good world, until all people come to the good
old religion that was two hundred years ago.’ G. Fox hearing this,
said, ‘Art thou a Papist? What! a Papist informer? For two hundred
years ago there was no other public profession of religion but that of
the Papists in this nation.’ It vexed the informer that G. Fox heard
him speak thus; for he now saw he was ensnared in his own talk. When
he came into the court before the lord mayor’s house, some people who
were there asked G. Fox, why he was brought thither prisoner? ‘Pray,’
said he, ‘ask that informer, and ask him his name;’ but he would not
tell his name. Then one of the mayor’s officers looking out at a
window, told him, he should tell his name before he went away: ‘For,’
said he, ‘the lord mayor will know by what authority you have intruded
yourself with soldiers in the execution of those laws which it belongs
to the civil magistrate to execute, and not the military.’ The informer
understanding this, got away, but not without some difficulty, because
they would not then let him out of the court; but he forcibly pulling
open the door, and being got into the street, the people gave a great
shout, crying out, ‘a Papist informer! a Papist informer!’ and he would
have come off but badly, had not G. Fox advised the constable and
soldiers to keep him out of the hands of the common people. Whereupon
he went into the house and changed his perriwig, and so got away.
When the lord mayor came home, and G. Fox was brought before him,
he said, ‘Mr. Fox, you are an eminent man among those of your own
profession, pray will you be instrumental to persuade them from meeting
in such great numbers: for,’ said he, ‘seeing Christ hath promised,
where two or three are met in his name, he will be in the midst of
them; and the king and parliament are graciously pleased to allow of
four to meet together to worship God, why will not you be content
to partake both of Christ’s promise to two or three, and the king’s
indulgence to four?’ To which G. Fox answered, that Christ’s promise
was not to discourage many from meeting together in his name; but to
encourage the few, that the fewest might not forbear to meet, because
of their fewness. But if Christ hath promised to manifest his presence
in the midst of so small an assembly, where but two or three were
gathered in his name; how much more would his presence abound where
two or three hundred are gathered in his name. G. F. wished him to
consider, whether this act would not have taken hold of Christ, with
his twelve apostles and seventy disciples, (if it had been in their
time,) who used to meet often together; and that with great numbers?
However, he told him, this act did not concern us; for it was made
against seditious meetings, of such as met under pretence and colour of
religion, to contrive insurrections, as, the act says, late experience
had shown; but we had been sufficiently tried and proved, and always
found peaceable: and therefore he should do well to put a difference
between the innocent and the guilty. He said the act was made against
meetings, and a worship not according to the liturgy. G. F. told him,
[according to,] was not the very same thing; and asked him, whether the
liturgy was according to the Scriptures? And whether we might not read
Scriptures, and speak Scriptures? he said Yes. And told him, that this
act took hold only of such as meet to plot and contrive insurrections,
as late experience had shown; but they had never experienced that by
us. Because thieves are sometimes on the road, must not honest men
travel therefore? And because plotters and contrivers have met to do
mischief, must not an honest, peaceable people, meet to do good? If we
had been a people that did meet to plot and contrive insurrections,
&c. we might have drawn ourselves into fours; for four might do more
mischief in plotting, than if there were four hundred; because four
might speak out their minds more freely one to another, than four
hundred could: therefore we being innocent, and not the people this act
concerns, we keep our meetings as we used to do; and said, he believed
that he knew in his conscience we were innocent.
After this and more discourse, the lord mayor, whose name was Samuel
Starling, let them go, seeing the informer was gone before, and now
nobody accused them. The treatment this informer met with, made others
scrupulous, yet several of their meetings in London were disturbed,
and some of their preachers cast into prison; but though the Baptists
and other dissenters ceased their public meetings, yet the Quakers
continued to keep theirs, as they used to do, whereby it happened that
some of their meeting-houses were pulled down, and amongst others that
at Ratcliffe, which was a substantial building, almost new.
After some time, the heat of persecution in the city began to abate,
but in other places it raged more fiercely; this engaged G. Fox to
leave the city, and travel about the country in divers places to visit
his friends.
This year G. Fox, had a very great fit of sickness, to such a degree,
that he became both blind and deaf, insomuch that his recovery was
despaired of by some; but after a time he grew better.
In the meanwhile persecution in many places grew very dismal; for many
of the friends were beaten with swords, and pikes, and muskets, to that
degree, that their blood ran along the ground, and the informers were
so very eager to hunt after their prey, that they informed of meetings
when there was none. Amongst others, this following was an instance.
A Droitwitch, John Cartwright came to a friend’s house there, who
sitting down to supper, he prayed before they ate, which being heard
by an informer, the room being next to the street, he thereupon went
immediately and informed that there was a meeting in the house, and so
got a warrant to distrain the goods; and when he came riding with them
in the evening, he fell from his horse, and brake his neck, thereby
getting his death instead of his prey, which he hunted after.
Now, although persecution was not so hot in London, as in other places
in the country, yet sometimes even there it was very severe, as may be
seen by the instance of William Penn, and William Mead, who were taken
from a meeting and imprisoned, and tried for the same in the month of
September.
The indictment contained, ‘That William Penn, and William Mead,
with divers other persons, to the number of three hundred, at
Gracechurch-street, in London, on the 15th of August, with force and
arms, had tumultuously assembled together, and that William Penn, by
agreement between him and William Mead, had preached there in the
public street, whereby was caused a great concourse and tumult of the
people,’ &c. That there was a public meeting in the street, proceeded
from necessity; because a guard was placed in the passage to hinder
friends from going into their meeting-house; but it was a great untruth
that they met with force and arms, which were never used by the
Quakers. This indictment being read before the court, the prisoners
were demanded, according to custom, whether they were guilty, or not
guilty? Whereupon W. Penn said, ‘It is impossible that we should be
able to remember the indictment verbatim, and therefore we desire a
copy of it, as is customary on the like occasions.’ The recorder,
John Howel said hereupon, ‘You must first plead to the indictment
before you can have a copy of it.’ Then W. Penn said, that he first
desired that no advantage might be taken against him, nor he deprived
of any benefit, which he might otherwise receive, and that the court
would promise him a fair hearing, and liberty of making his defence.
Upon which the court said, that no advantage should be taken against
him, and that he should have liberty, and should be heard. W. Penn
then said, he pleaded not guilty in manner and form. Then W. Mead
was demanded, whether he was guilty, or not guilty, and he answered
the same as W. Penn. The court then proceeded with the business of
trying thieves and murderers, making the prisoners stay waiting five
hours, and then returned them to prison; and after two days brought
them again before the court. And the officers of the court having
taken off the prisoners’ hats, the lord mayor, Samuel Starling, showed
himself displeased with it, and ordered the officers to put on their
hats again, which being done, the recorder John Howel, who upon all
occasions showed his fierceness, accused him, that they showed no
respect to the court, and condemned them for it, in a fine of forty
marks each, because they had not taken off their hats. Thereupon W.
Penn said, that he desired it might be observed, that they came into
court with their hats off, (that is, taken off,) and if they had been
put on since, it is by order from the bench, and therefore not the
prisoners, but the bench should be fined. The jury then being sworn,
and the indictment read again, the witnesses were called, who declared
that they saw W. Penn speaking to the people, who were assembled in a
great number in Gracechurch-street, but they could not hear what he
said.
The recorder then asked William Mead, whether he was there? Who
answered, that ‘It is a maxim in your own law, _nemo tenetur accusare
seipsum_, which if it be not true Latin, I am sure it is good English.
That no man is bound to accuse himself; why then dost thou offer to
ensnare me with such a question?’ Hereupon the recorder showed himself
so displeased, that he said, ‘Sir, hold your tongue, I did not go about
to ensnare you.’ Then William Penn said, ‘we confess ourselves to be
so far from recanting, or declining to vindicate the assembling of
ourselves, to preach, pray, or worship the Eternal, Holy, Just God,
that we declare to all the world, that we do believe it to be our
indispensable duty, to meet incessantly, upon so good an account; nor
shall all the powers upon earth be able to divert us from reverencing
and adoring our God who made us.’ The sheriff, Richard Brown, said.
‘You are not here for worshipping of God, but for breaking the law. You
do yourselves a great deal of wrong in going on in that discourse.’
Hereupon W. Penn answered, ‘I affirm I have broken no law, nor am I
guilty of the indictment that is laid to my charge: and to the end,
the bench, the jury, and myself, with these that hear us, may have a
more direct understanding of this procedure, I desire you would let me
know by what law it is you prosecute me, and upon what law you ground
my indictment?’ The recorder answered, ‘Upon the common law.’ ‘Where
is,’ asked W. Penn, ‘that common law?’ ‘You must not think,’ said the
recorder, ‘that I am able to run up so many years, and over so many
adjudged cases, which we call common law, to answer your curiosity.’
‘This answer,’ replied W. Penn, ‘I am sure is very short of my
question, for if it be common, it should not be so hard to produce.’
The recorder replied, ‘Sir, will you plead to your indictment?’ ‘Shall
I,’ answered W. Penn, ‘plead to an indictment that hath no foundation
in law? If it contain that law ye say I have broken, why should you
decline to produce that law, since it will be impossible for the jury
to determine, or agree to bring in the verdict, who have not the law
produced, by which they should measure the truth of this indictment,
and the guilt or contrary of my fact.’ The recorder being angry, said,
‘You are a saucy fellow, speak to the indictment.’ W. Penn replied,
‘I say, it is my place to speak to matter of law; I am arraigned a
prisoner, my liberty, which is next to life itself, is now concerned,’
&c.
At this time several upon the bench urged hard upon the prisoner to
hear him down. W. Penn said, ‘You are many mouths and ears against
me, and if I must not be allowed to make the best of my cause, it is
hard; I say again, unless you show me and the people the law you ground
your indictment upon, I shall take it for granted your proceedings are
merely arbitrary.’ The recorder then replying, said, ‘The question
is, whether you are guilty of this indictment.’ ‘The question,’ said
W. Penn, ‘is not whether I am guilty of this indictment, but whether
this indictment be legal: it is too general and imperfect an answer,
to say it is the common law, unless we know both where, and what it
is: for where there is no law, there is no transgression; and that
law which is not in being, is so far from being common, that it is
no law at all.’ The recorder snapped him hereupon, with, ‘You are an
impertinent fellow, will you teach the court what law is? It is _lex
non scripta_, that which many have studied thirty or forty years to
know, and would you have me tell you in a moment.’ ‘Certainly,’ replied
W. Penn, ‘if the common law be so hard to be understood, it is far from
being very common; but if the lord Coke in his institutes, be of any
consideration, he tells us, that common law is common right; and that
common right is the great charter privileges confirmed, 9 Hen. 3. 29.
25 Edw. 1. 1. 2 Edw. 3. 8. Coke’s Institutes, 2. p. 56.’ The recorder
taking no pleasure in that speech, said, ‘Sir, you are a troublesome
fellow, and it is not for the honour of the court to suffer you to go
on.’ ‘I have,’ replied W. Penn, ‘asked but one question, and you have
not answered me; though the rights and privileges of every Englishman
be concerned in it.’ ‘Well,’ said the recorder, ‘if I should suffer you
to ask questions till to-morrow morning, you would be never the wiser.’
‘That is,’ said W. Penn, ‘according as the answers are.’ ‘But,’ says
the recorder, ‘we must not stand to hear you talk all night.’ Whereupon
W. Penn replied, ‘I desire no affront to the court, but to be heard in
my just plea; and I must plainly tell you, that if you deny me the oyer
of that law, which you suggest I have broken, you do at once deny me an
acknowledged right, and evidence to the whole world your resolution to
sacrifice the privileges of Englishmen, to your sinister and arbitrary
designs.’ This so enraged the recorder, that he called out to the
officers, ‘Take him away.’ And to the lord mayor he said, ‘My lord, if
you take not some course with this pestilent fellow, to stop his mouth,
we shall not be able to do any thing to-night.’ Then the lord mayor
cried, ‘Take him away; take him away; turn him into the bail-dock.’
W. Penn seeing how force and violence prevailed, said, ‘These are but
so many vain exclamations; is this justice or true judgment? Must I
therefore be taken away because I plead for the fundamental laws of
England?’ Then addressing himself to the jury, he said, ‘However, this
I leave upon your consciences who are of the jury, and my sole judges,
that if these ancient fundamental laws which relate to liberty and
property, and are not limited to particular persuasions in matters of
religion, must not be indispensably maintained and observed, who can
say he hath right to the coat upon his back? Certainly our liberties
are openly to be invaded, our wives to be ravished, our children
enslaved, our families ruined, and our estates led away in triumph,
by every sturdy beggar and malicious informer, as their trophies, by
our pretended forfeits for conscience-sake. The Lord of heaven and
earth will be judge between us in this matter.’ The hearing of this
emphatical speech was so troublesome to the recorder, that he cried,
‘Be silent there.’ At which W. Penn returned, ‘I am not to be silent in
a cause wherein I am so much concerned, and not only myself, but many
ten thousand families besides.’
He being now hauled into the bail-dock, it was W. Mead’s turn to plead,
who spoke thus, ‘Ye men of the jury, I now stand here to answer to an
indictment against me, which is a bundle of stuff full of lies and
falsehoods: for therein I am accused, that I met _vi & armis, illicite
& tumultuose_. Time was when I had freedom to use a carnal weapon, and
then I thought I feared no man: but now I fear the living God, and dare
not make use thereof, nor hurt any man, nor do I know I demeaned myself
as a tumultuous person. I say, I am a peaceable man; therefore it was
a very proper question that W. Penn demanded in this case, an oyer of
the law, on which our indictment is grounded.’ To this the recorder
said, ‘I have made an answer to that already.’ W. Mead then turning
his face to the jury, said, ‘Ye men of the jury, who are my judges, if
the recorder will not tell you what makes a riot, a rout, or unlawful
assembly, Coke, he that once they called the lord Coke, tells us what
makes a riot, a rout, or unlawful assembly. A riot is when three or
more are met together to beat a man, or to enter forcibly into another
man’s land, to cut down his grass, his wood, or break down his pales.’
The recorder interrupting him, and scornfully pulling off his hat,
said, ‘I thank you, sir, that you will tell me what the law is:’ and
Richard Brown, that inveterate enemy of the Quakers, said, ‘He talks at
random, one while an Independent, another while of some other religion,
and now a Quaker, and next a Papist.’ Mead, not being minded openly to
affront this alderman, told him this well-known Latin verse.
_Turpa est doctori cum culpa redarguit ipsum_,
for Brown himself formerly had been an Independent, though now he
belonged to the church of England, and was of the court party. But the
lord mayor, who it seems was a great friend of Brown’s, said to Mead,
‘You deserve to have your tongue cut out.’ ‘And,’ added the recorder,
‘if you discourse on this manner, I shall take occasion against you.’
To which Mead returned, ‘Thou didst promise me I should have fair
liberty to be heard. Why may I not have the privilege of an Englishman?
and you might be ashamed of this dealing.’ At this the envious recorder
said, ‘I look upon you to be an enemy to the laws of England, which
ought to be observed and kept; nor are you worthy of such privileges as
others have.’ Mead well seeing that force and violence prevailed, and
that his speaking could not avail him, said with a composed mind, ‘The
Lord be judge between me and thee in this matter.’
Upon which he was taken away into the bail-dock, and the recorder gave
the jury the following charge: ‘You have heard what the indictment is;
it is for preaching to the people, and drawing a tumultuous company
after them; and Mr. Penn was speaking. If they should not be disturbed,
you see they will go on; there are three or four witnesses that have
proved this, that he did preach there; that Mr. Mead did allow of
it; after this, you have heard by substantial witnesses what is said
against them. Now we are upon the matter of fact, which you are to keep
to, and observe, as what hath been fully sworn, at your peril.’ That
the recorder spoke this to the jury in the absence of the prisoners,
was indeed irregular; wherefore W. Penn, who heard this from afar,
spoke with a very raised voice, that so he might be heard by those on
the bench, after this manner, ‘I appeal to the jury, who are my judges,
and to this great assembly, whether the proceedings of the court are
not most arbitrary, and void of all law, in offering to give the jury
their charge in the absence of the prisoners. I say it is directly
opposite to, and destructive of the undoubted right of every English
prisoner, as Coke in the 2 Inst. on the chap. of Magna Charta, speaks.’
The recorder being thus unexpectedly lashed for his extra-judicial
procedure, said with a disdainful smile, ‘Why, ye are present; you do
hear, do you not?’ To which Penn returned, ‘No thanks to the court,
that commanded me into the bail-dock: and you of the jury take notice,
that I have not been heard, neither can you legally depart the court,
before I have been fully heard, having at least ten or twelve material
points to offer, in order to invalidate their indictment.’ This plain
speaking of W. Penn, so enraged the recorder, that he cried, ‘Pull
that fellow down; pull him down.’ For Penn it seems, to be heard the
better, was clambered up a little by the rails of the bail-dock. Then
W. Mead said, ‘Are these according to the rights and privileges of
Englishmen, that we should not be heard, but turned into the bail-dock
for making our defence; and the jury to have their charge given them in
our absence? I say, these are barbarous and unjust proceedings.’ The
recorder yet more incensed, cried, ‘Take them away into the hole: to
hear them talk all night as they would, that I think doth not become
the honour of the court.’
The prisoners being kept in a stinking hole, the jury were commanded
up, to agree upon their verdict; and after an hour and half’s time,
eight came down agreed, but four remained above: the court then sent
an officer for them, and they accordingly came down; but the court
used many indecent threats to the four that dissented, and after much
menacing language, and a very imperious behaviour against the jury, the
prisoners being brought to the bar, the foreman was asked, ‘How say
you; is William Penn guilty of the matter whereof he stands indicted
in manner and form, or not guilty?’ Foreman: ‘Guilty of speaking in
Gracechurch-street.’ The next question was, ‘Is that all?’ Foreman:
‘That is all I have in commission.’ This answer so displeased the
recorder, that he said, ‘You had as good say nothing.’ And the lord
mayor, Starling, said, ‘Was it not an unlawful assembly? You mean
he was speaking to a tumult of people there?’ To which the foreman
returned, ‘My lord, this was all I had in commission.’ Some of the jury
seemed now to buckle to the questions of the court; but others opposed
themselves, and said they allowed of no such word as an unlawful
assembly in their verdict: at which some of the bench took occasion to
vilify them with opprobrious language. And because the court would not
dismiss the jury before they gave a more satisfactory verdict, they
called for pen, ink, and paper, and so went up again: and after half an
hour returning, delivered the following verdict in writing.
‘We, the jurors hereafter named, do find William Penn to be
guilty of speaking or preaching to an assembly, met together
in Gracechurch-street, the 14th of August last, 1670, and that
William Mead is not guilty of the said indictment.
_Foreman._ _Thomas Veer_,
_Edward Bushel_,
_John Hammond_,
_Henry Henly_,
_Henry Michel_,
_John Brightman_,
_Charles Milson_,
_Gregory Walklet_,
_John Baily_,
_William Lever_,
_James Damask_,
_William Plumsted_.’
This verdict the mayor and recorder resented at so high a rate, that
they exceeded the bounds of all moderation and civility; and the
recorder said, ‘Gentlemen, you shall not be dismissed till we have
a verdict, that the court will accept; and you shall be locked up,
without meat, drink, fire, and tobacco: you shall not think thus to
abuse the court; we will have a verdict by the help of God, or you
shall starve for it.’
Now, though the jury had given in their verdict, and signified that
they could give no other, yet all was in vain; and W. Penn seeing
how they were treated against all reason, said, ‘My jury, who are my
judges, ought not to be thus menaced; their verdict should be free,
and not compelled; the bench ought to wait upon them, but not forestal
them. I do desire that justice may be done me, and that the arbitrary
resolves of the bench may not be made the measure of my jury’s
verdict.’ This modest speech so incensed the recorder, that he cried,
‘Stop that prating fellow’s mouth, or put him out of the court.’ And
the lord mayor said to the jury, ‘You have heard that he preached,
that he gathered a company of tumultuous people, and that they do
not only disobey the martial power, but the civil also.’ To which W.
Penn returned, ‘That is a great mistake; we did not make the tumult,
but they that interrupted us. The jury cannot be so ignorant, as to
think, that we met there with a design to disturb the civil peace,
since, first, we were by force of arms kept out of our lawful house,
and met as near it in the street as the soldiers would give leave.
And, secondly, because it was no new thing, nor with the circumstances
expressed in the indictment, but what was usual and customary with us.
It is very well known that we are a peaceable people, and cannot offer
violence to any man.’
The court now being resolved to send the prisoners to their jail, and
the jury to their chamber, Penn spoke as followeth: ‘The agreement of
twelve men is a verdict in law, and such an one being given by the
jury, I require the clerk of the peace to record it, as he will answer
it at his peril. And if the jury bring in another verdict contradictory
to this, I affirm they are perjured men in law.’ And looking upon the
jury, said, ‘You are Englishmen, mind your privilege; give not away
your right.’ To which E. Bushel, one of them, returned, ‘Nor will we
ever do it.’ Another of the jurymen pleaded indisposition of body, and
therefore desired to be dismissed; but the lord mayor said, ‘You are
as strong as any of them; starve then, and hold your principles.’ To
which the recorder added, ‘Gentlemen, you must be content with your
hard fate; let your patience overcome it; for the court is resolved to
have a verdict, and that before you can be dismissed.’ And though the
jurymen said, ‘We are agreed, we are agreed, we are agreed,’ yet the
court swore several persons, to keep the jury all night, without meat,
drink, fire, or any other accommodation; nay, they had not so much as
a chamber-pot, though desired. Thus force and violence prevailed. The
next day, though it was the first of the week, vulgarly called Sunday,
the court sat again; and the prisoners being brought to the bar, the
jury were called in, and their foreman was asked, ‘Is William Penn
guilty of the matter whereof he stands indicted, in manner and form
aforesaid, or not guilty?’ To which he answered as before, ‘William
Penn is guilty of speaking in Gracechurch-street.’ The lord mayor then
asking, ‘to an unlawful assembly?’ Edward Bushel answered, ‘No, my
lord, we give no other verdict than what we gave last night; we have no
other verdict to give.’ ‘You are,’ returned the lord mayor, ‘a factious
fellow: I will take a course with you.’ ‘I have,’ said Bushel, ‘done
according to my conscience.’ This so displeased the mayor, that he
said, ‘That conscience of yours would cut my throat; but I will cut
yours so soon as I can.’ To which the recorder added, ‘He has inspired
the jury; he has the spirit of divination; methinks I feel him: I will
have a positive verdict, or you shall starve for it.’
Then W. Penn said, ‘I desire to ask the recorder one question: do you
allow of the verdict given of W. Mead?’ to which the recorder answered,
‘It cannot be a verdict, because you are indicted for a conspiracy; and
one being found not guilty, and not the other, it cannot be a verdict.’
This made Penn say, ‘If not guilty be not a verdict, then you make of
the jury and Magna Charta but a mere nose-of-wax.’ ‘How!’ asked W. Mead
then, ‘Is not guilty no verdict?’ ‘No,’ said the recorder, ‘It is no
verdict.’ To which Penn replied, ‘I affirm that the consent of a jury
is a verdict in law; and if W. Mead be not guilty, it consequently
follows, that I am clear, since you have indicted us of conspiracy, and
I could not possibly conspire alone.’ After this, the court spoke to
the jury, and caused them to go up again, if possible to extort another
verdict from them. Then the jury being called, and asked by the clerk,
‘What say you? is William Penn guilty of the matter whereof he stands
indicted, in manner and form aforesaid, or not guilty?’ The foreman
answered, ‘Guilty of speaking in Gracechurch-street.’ To which the
recorder returned, ‘What is this to the purpose? I say I will have a
verdict.’ And speaking to E. Bushel, said, ‘You are a factious fellow,
I will set a mark upon you; and whilst I have any thing to do in the
city, I will have an eye upon you.’ To this the mayor added, ‘Have you
no more wit than to be led by such a pitiful fellow? I will cut his
nose.’
Thus the court endeavoured to baffle the jury; and therefore it was not
without very good reason that W. Penn said, ‘It is intolerable that my
jury should be thus menaced: is this according to the fundamental laws?
are not they my proper judges by the great charter of England? what
hope is there of ever having justice done, when juries are threatened,
and their verdict is rejected? I am concerned to speak, and grieved to
see such arbitrary proceedings. Did not the lieutenant of the tower
render one of them worse than a felon. And do you not plainly seek to
condemn such for factious fellows, who answer not your ends? unhappy
are those juries, who are threatened to be fined, starved, and ruined,
if they give not in their verdicts contrary to their consciences.’
These plain expressions so troubled the recorder, that he said to the
lord mayor, ‘My lord, you must take a course with this fellow.’ And
then the mayor cried, ‘Stop his mouth; jailer, bring fetters, and
stake him to the ground.’ To which W. Penn said, ‘Do your pleasure;
I matter not your fetters.’ The recorder then ventured to say, ‘Till
now I never understood the reason of the policy and prudence of the
Spaniards in suffering the Inquisition among them. And certainly it
never will be well with us, till something like the Spanish Inquisition
be in England.’ The jury being required to find another verdict, and
they saying they could give no other, the recorder grew so angry, that
he said, ‘Gentlemen, we shall not be at this pass always with you; you
will find the next sessions of parliament there will be a law made,
that those that will not conform, shall not have the protection of the
law. Your verdict is nothing, you play upon the court. I say, you shall
go together, and bring in another verdict, or you shall starve, and I
will have you carted about the city, as in Edward the third’s time.’
The jury refusing to give in another verdict, since they had all agreed
to that which they had given, and showing themselves unwilling to go up
again, the lord mayor bid the sheriff to make them go. The sheriff then
coming off his seat, said, ‘Come, gentlemen, you must go up; you see I
am commanded to make you go.’ Upon which the jury went up, and several
were sworn to keep them without accommodation as aforesaid, till they
brought in their verdict: and the prisoners were remanded to Newgate,
where they remaining till next morning were then brought to the court
again: and being set to the bar, and the jury called, and asked, ‘Is
William Penn guilty of the matter whereof he stands indicted in manner
and form, &c. or not guilty?’ the foreman answered, ‘You have there
read in writing already our verdict, and our hands subscribed.’ Now
the clerk who had that paper, was by the recorder stopped from reading
it; and it was said by the court, that paper was no verdict. Then the
clerk asked, ‘How say you? Is William Penn guilty, &c. or not guilty?’
to which the foreman answered, ‘Not guilty.’ The same question being
put concerning W. Mead, the foreman answered likewise, ‘Not guilty.’
The jury then being asked by the clerk, whether they said so all, they
answered, ‘We do so.’ The bench still unsatisfied, commanded that
every person should distinctly answer to their names, and give in
their verdict, which they unanimously did, in saying, ‘Not guilty.’
The recorder, who could not hear this, said, ‘I am sorry, gentlemen,
you have followed your own judgments and opinions, rather than the
good and wholesome advice which was given you. God keep my life out of
your hands: but for this the court fines you forty marks a man, and
imprisonment till paid.’
W. Penn then stepping up towards the bench, said, ‘I demand my liberty,
being freed by the jury.’ ‘No,’ said the lord mayor, ‘you are in for
your fines.’ ‘Fines!’ returned Penn, ‘for what?’ ‘For contempt of the
court,’ said the lord mayor. ‘I ask,’ replied Penn, ‘if it be according
to the fundamental laws of England, that any Englishman should be
fined or amerced, but by the judgment of his peers or jury? since it
expressly contradicts the 14th and 29th chapters of the great charter
of England, which say, ’No freeman ought to be amerced but by the
oath of good and lawful men of the vicinage.‘ Instead of answering
to this question, the recorder cried, ’take him away, take him away;
take him out of the court.‘ On which W. Penn said, ’I can never urge
the fundamental laws of England, but you cry, take him away, take him
away. But it is no wonder, since the Spanish Inquisition hath so great
a place in the recorder’s heart. God Almighty, who is just, will judge
you for all these things.’ W. Penn was not suffered to speak any more,
but he and W. Mead were hauled to the bail-dock, and from thence sent
to Newgate, and so were their jury. How they came at length to be
freed, I do not know.
The trial was afterwards published in print more at large than is set
down here, and an appendix subjoined to it; in which are showed not
only the invalidity of the evidence, but also the absurdity of the
indictment, and the illegal proceedings of the court; and from the
great charter, that they had been dealt with contrary to law. The
case of the lord chief justice Keeling is also mentioned, who having
put restraints upon juries, a committee of parliament, the 11th of
December, 1667, came to this resolution, ‘That his proceedings were
innovations, in the trial of men for their lives and liberties; and
that he had used an arbitrary and illegal power, which was of dangerous
consequence to the lives and liberties of the people of England, and
tended to the introducing an arbitrary government. Moreover, that in
the place of judicature he had undervalued, vilified and condemned
Magna Charta. And therefore, that he should be brought to trial, in
order to condign punishment, in such manner as the house shall judge
most fit and requisite.’ Two days after, viz. _Die veneris_, the
13th of December, it was resolved, that the precedents and practice
of fining or imprisoning jurors for verdicts is illegal. The book
containing the fore-mentioned trial of W. Penn and W. Mead was
reprinted I think more than once; for it came to be much in request,
because the liberties of the people were therein well defended, and
arbitrary power controlled. The title of it was, The People’s Ancient
and Just Liberties asserted; and underneath was added this well known
verse of Juvenal,
_Sic volo, sic jubeo; stat pro ratione voluntas._
This matter was more circumstantially treated of in a book in print,
by Thomas Rudyard a lawyer, who showed therein at large the right of
juries, and the unlawfulness of the proceedings then in vogue; which
he made appear plainly, both from law, and by citations from the books
of eminent lawyers. And having sometimes vigorously pleaded the cause
of the oppressed, he also became the object of persecuting fury, which
could not endure his faithful defending of the innocent. And therefore
this summer the magistrates of London issued out a warrant to break
open his house in the dead of the night, in order to apprehend him;
and this warrant was executed by the soldiers of one captain Holford;
and the next day he was sent to Newgate by a mittimus under the hands
and seals of the lord mayor Samuel Starling, William Peak, Robert
Hanson, and several others, under pretence, that he stirred up persons
to disobedience of the laws, and abetted and encouraged such as met in
unlawful and seditious conventicles, contrary to the late act. But his
case being brought before the justices of the court of Common Pleas, at
Westminster, by an _habeas corpus_, that court, after solemn debate,
gave their judgment, that Thomas Rudyard was unjustly imprisoned, and
unjustly detained. And so he was set at liberty. But the lord mayor
Samuel Starling fretting at this discharge, found out new stratagems
to compass his ends upon him. For an indictment was formed against him
for having hindered due course of law against one Samuel Allingbridge.
But Rudyard so well defended himself, that he was acquitted; which so
incensed the lord mayor, that not long after he was again committed to
Newgate, on a religious account, viz. for having been in the meeting
at Whitehart-court in Gracechurch-street. The proceedings against him
and others on that account were no less arbitrary than those against
W. Penn and W. Mead, already mentioned, and therefore Rudyard exposed
his and their trials in print; and seeing he understood the law, he
was the more able to show the unjustness of these proceedings, and how
inconsistent such prosecutions were with the laws of the land.
But to avoid prolixity I shall relate but little of them, since many
things occur therein, which have been mentioned already in other cases.
How the recorder Howel was inclined in respect to religion, may be
deduced from what hath been said already of his panegyric upon the
Spanish Inquisition. And to Rudyard and his fellow-prisoners, he gave
no obscure evidence what religion he preferred; for they saying, that
they were always quiet and peaceable in their assemblies, and that
the laws against riots were never intended against them, but popish,
or such like disturbers of the peace. The recorder returned, that the
Papists were better subjects to the king, than they were; and that
they were a stubborn and dangerous people, and must either be brought
under, or there was no safe living by them. The prisoners offering to
vindicate themselves from these odious and foul aspersions, were not
suffered to say any thing in their own defence; but instead of hearing
them, they were by order of the lord mayor and the recorder thrust into
the bail-dock, and treated almost at the same rate as W. Penn and W.
Mead had been before.
But violence prevailed now; and the recorder, because of his outrageous
behaviour against the Quakers, was so much in favour of the court of
justice, that alderman Jo. Robinson did not stick to tell them, that
the recorder deserved an hundred pounds for his service done at the Old
Bailey, the last sessions. And his proposal so took, that the court
consented to pay him for the said service an hundred pounds, by the
chamberlain of London. And since this was so well known to T. Rudyard,
that in a book he published, he named the date of the said order, viz.
the 8th of October, 1670: and that other orders had been given for
two hundred pounds more to him, within eight months last past; he, to
reprehend such doings in a satirical way, called them, ‘an excellent
way to ease the treasury of being over-burdened with orphans’ money,’
by which sinister ends, and dispositions of its cash, the chamber was
so deeply in debt, that it was almost incredible.
Now, since Rudyard as a lawyer, had a more full knowledge of these
unlawful proceedings against him and his friends, than many others, he
composed a treatise of those prosecutions, which he called the Second
Part of the People’s Ancient and Just Liberties asserted. And true
lovers of their country were pleased with it: for that party which
countenanced popery, and therefore endeavoured to violate the people’s
rights, strove to get the upper hand.
Persecution was now very hot and fierce all over the country, because
a door was opened for all base and wicked fellows to get booty by
informing; for by the act against meetings, which, though religious,
were branded with the name of seditious, the informer, was to have a
third part of the imposed fine. This set on many vile persons, and
among these sometimes thieves and infamous fellows, to render any
comings together of Quakers, though it was but a visit or a burial, the
name of a meeting, and to swear that a meeting had been kept there.
Nay, sometimes they swore only by guess, that in such a place a meeting
had been kept, though the witnesses had not seen it, as was requisite
by law. And this informing came so much in vogue, that some magistrates
themselves turned informers.
---- _Quid non mortalia pectora cogis
Auri sacra fames!_[40]
[40] What will not the cursed thirst of gold force mankind to perform!
I might write a large volume of these abominable deeds, if I could find
leisure for it; yet now and then I will mention a few instances, by
which the reader may make a conjecture of the rest.
This year at Alford in Somersetshire, in the month called August,
the corpse of one Samuel Clothier was buried, and though in the
burying-place all were silent, yet the justice, Robert Hunt, fined some
that had been at the burial, for having assisted at this pretended
meeting.
In Nottingham it happened in the latter end of this year, that the
justice, Penniston Whaley, who had fined many of those called Quakers,
for frequenting their religious meetings, encouraged the people at
the sessions to persecute the Quakers without any pity, saying to
them, ‘Harden your hearts against them; for the act of the 35th of
queen Elizabeth, is not made against the Papists, since the church
of Rome is a true church, as well as any other church; but these
Quakers are erroneous and seditious persons.’ By these words one may
easily judge to what religion this justice of peace was inclined; but
such dissemblers feigned to the Protestants, that so they might hear
honourable offices. I pass by unmentioned many persons, who by beating,
pushing, and trampling, were grievously abused in their meetings, to
that degree, that some not long survived the violence committed on
them, and felt the painfulness or smart of it till death.
This year about midsummer, Thomas Budd deceased at Ivelchester in
Somersetshire, after having been prisoner about eight years and a half,
because for conscience-sake he could not swear. Some hours before his
death, he was heard to say, that he had renewed his covenant with God,
and was well satisfied in it; and that he believed God would sustain
him by the right hand of his justice; and that he rejoiced and thanked
God that all his children walked in the way of the Lord.
At Warborough in Oxfordshire, those called Quakers were also most
grievously abused in their religious meetings, and even aged women not
spared; which often caused the cry of innocent children to go up to
heaven, when they saw their mothers thus ill treated. For magistrates
themselves to break their canes to pieces on those that were met
together, was but an ordinary thing; and then sometimes other sticks
were made use of: often also women were stripped of their upper
garments; and this accompanied with the spoil of goods. That the
persecutors were thus enraged was not strange, when we consider that
some were stirred up to it by their teachers; an instance of which was
given by Robert Priest of the same place, who once said in his sermon,
that the king’s laws, though they were contrary to the law of God, yet
ought to be obeyed. Quite otherwise was the doctrine of the apostle
Peter and John, when they said to the Jewish council, ‘Judge ye whether
it be right in the sight of God, to hearken unto you more than unto
God.’
In Northamptonshire, where persecution was also very hot, the bishop of
Peterborough said publicly in the steeple-house, after he had commanded
the officers to put in execution the last act against seditious
meetings, ‘Against all fanatics it hath done its business, except the
Quakers; but when the parliament sits again, a stronger law will be
made, not only to take away their lands and goods, but also to sell
them for bond slaves.’ Thus the churchmen blew the fire of persecution.
At York also, the spoiling of goods was fiercely driven on by alderman
Richardson; and even boys and girls, that were under sixteen years of
age, and therefore not subject to the penalty of the law, were fined;
and when the constables showed themselves unwilling to assist in the
robbery, they were snarled at, and one persecuted for not performing
his duty, because he had refused to take away a man’s cloak. But if I
should mention the ill-usage committed in all counties and places, when
should I come to a conclusion!
Thomas Green, a grave man, with whom I have been very familiarly
acquainted, being in prayer at a meeting at Sawbridgworth in
Hertfordshire, was pulled off his knees, and dragged out; and being
brought before the justices Robert Joslin and Humphrey Gore, they fined
him twenty pounds, for speaking or preaching at the said meeting;
and granted a warrant to John Smith and Paul Thomson, constables, to
distrain; upon which they went into the said Thomas Green’s shop, in
Royston, and took away as much goods as were worth fifty pounds. But
this did not quench his zeal; for like a true and faithful pastor, he
continued to feed the flock, and to edify the church with his gift: in
which he was very serviceable.
At another time, the justices Peter Soames and Thomas Mead, gave a
warrant to distrain twenty pounds worth of goods from the said Thomas
Green, for preaching at a meeting in Upper Chissel in Essex. And the
officers going to Thomas Green’s shop, took all they could get, leaving
nothing in the shop but a skein of thread, which was fallen on the
ground, and not observed by them.
Theophilus Green suffered also great spoil of goods: for having
preached in a meeting at Kingston-upon-Thames, he was put into the
stocks for some hours, and fined twenty pounds. And having preached the
three next first-days of the week at Wadsworth, was for each fined at
the same rate.
The week following, being at Uxbridge, and visiting some poor children
of his friends, whose father and mother died shortly one after another,
he took two of them as his own, and looked after the disposing of the
rest. And staying there till the first day of the week, he went to the
meeting, and exhorted his friends to keep their meetings in the name of
Jesus: at the speaking of which words the constable and informer came
in, and carried him away to justice Ralph Hawtrey, who fined him twenty
pounds, and sent him prisoner to Newgate in London, with a mittimus;
wherein he charged him, that he had exhorted the people to keep their
meetings in the name of Jesus, notwithstanding the laws of men to the
contrary. Warrants being issued forth to make distress for the above
mentioned fines, which amounted to one hundred pounds, five shillings,
they came and opened his doors, and took away all his goods they found,
leaving him neither bed nor stool. And after he had been kept prisoner
three months, he with seven more was brought to the session’s-house at
Hicks’s Hall, and the oaths of allegiance and supremacy were tendered
to them. To which his plea was, ‘As an Englishman, I ought either to be
acquitted or condemned, for the cause for which I was committed, before
I should answer to any other matter or cause. Besides, I look upon
myself to be illegally committed, as being fined and committed for the
same fact.’ But they told him, he must answer whether he would swear
or no, and then he should be heard. But continuing to refuse swearing,
he was remanded to prison with the rest; and afterwards being sent for
again, and still unwilling to break Christ’s command, not to swear at
all, the sentence of premunire was read against him and his fellow
prisoners, and so they continued in jail above two years, till they
were discharged by an act of grace from the king.
The meetings of those called Quakers were miserably disturbed in
Horslydown in the county of Surry. On the 25th of September several
musketeers came into the meeting-house, and hauling those that were
met together in the street, the troopers came riding amongst them, and
beat and abused them violently, pushing them with their carbines, which
the others did with the butt-ends of their muskets, to that degree,
that above twenty persons were wounded and sorely bruised; nay, so
desperately wicked were these mischievous fellows, that a party of
horse sought to ride over these harmless people; but the horses, more
merciful than the riders, and not going forward, they turned them, and
by curbing and reigning them backward, strove to do what mischief they
could. On the 2d of October these peaceable people being kept out of
their meeting-place, there came a party of foot, and a party of horse,
and abused them no less violently than the week before; insomuch that
with beating and knocking they broke several of their muskets and
pikes, and one carbine, and above thirty persons were so sorely wounded
and bruised, that their blood was spilt in the streets.
On the 9th of the said month the soldiers, both horse and foot, came
again to the meeting at the aforesaid place, and one of them having
a shovel, threw the dirt and mire from the channels, on both men and
women; and after him the horse and foot came, and fell upon them,
striking and knocking down, without respect to age or sex, until they
drew blood from many; and when some of the inhabitants in pity took
them into their houses, and saved their lives, the soldiers forced
open the doors, and hauled them into the street again, and plucked off
their hats, that they might strike on their bare heads; insomuch that
many had their heads grievously broken. Some troopers also tore the
women’s clothes off their backs, and hauled them through the mire by
their horse sides; and some of the foot soldier’s put their hands in
a most shameful manner under the women’s coats: nay, a soldier twice
struck a woman that was big with child, with his musket on the belly,
and once on the breast, whilst another flung dirt in her face: so that
she miscarried. And above fifty persons were this day sorely wounded
and bruised. The 16th of the said month these conscientious people
meeting again to perform their worship to God, a great party of horse
and foot came, and fell to beating them so violently, as if they would
have killed all on the spot; so that the blood ran down about the ears
of many; and one of the constables endeavouring to stop the wicked crew
from shedding more blood, they fell upon him also, and broke his head;
and when they were rebuked for their cruel dealing, some said, ‘If
you knew what orders we have, you would say we dealt mercifully with
you.’ And being asked, ‘How can ye deal thus with a people who make no
resistance nor opposition;’ they answered, ‘We had rather, and it would
be better for us, if ye did resist and oppose.’ From which it appeared
plainly, that this mischief was done to provoke opposition, that they
might have imbrued their hands in the blood of these sufferers, and so
have had their lives and goods for a prey. It was therefore thought
convenient to acquaint the king and his counsel with this barbarous
cruelty; which had such effect, that some stop was made to these
excessive cruelties, though their abuses did not altogether cease.
About this time it happened that Solomon Eccles came to Cork in
Ireland, and went into the cathedral, where the priest, Benjamin
Cross, preached in a surplice; and having formerly been a Presbyterian
preacher in Dorsetshire in England, had there said, that he had rather
go to a stake and be burned, than to put on a surplice. This priest,
(now become a turn-coat for gain,) having finished his sermon and
concluded with a prayer, Solomon Eccles said, that the prayer of the
wicked was an abomination to the Lord. And knowing the deceitfulness of
the said priest, and his being an apostate, he added, ‘What shall be
done to the man that makes shipwreck of a good conscience?’ For this
he was taken, and by the mayor committed to prison, where being kept
ten days, he was accused as a vagabond, and without any examination,
whipped along the streets of Cork, from North-Gate to South-Gate, and
received about ninety stripes, and then was expelled. We have seen
heretofore instances of his great zeal; and though in some respect he
might by it have been transported a little too far, yet he gave proofs
of a sincere heart; for having said some years after to one John Story,
who launched out into great haughtiness and arrogancy, that it was
the word of the Lord that he should die that year, (which by somebody
to set a gloss upon it, was interpreted to be meant of the spiritual
death,) yet Eccles himself said afterwards, both at London and Bristol,
and elsewhere, that he had not spoken this according to the counsel
of the Lord; but that it had been in his own will, and from a forward
mind; and that he had felt the anger of the Lord, because he had called
these his own words the word of the Lord; which he really repented of.
1671.
In the beginning of the year 1671, G. Fox was at London, and though by
reason of a heavy sickness, of which he began to recover, he continued
still weak, yet he did not omit preaching; and about this time he made
the following prayer to the Lord, which he put in writing:
‘O Lord God Almighty! prosper Truth, and preserve justice and
equity in the land, and bring down all injustice and iniquity,
oppression and falsehood, and cruelty, and unmercifulness in the
land, that mercy and righteousness may flourish.
‘And, O Lord God! establish and set up verity, and preserve it in
the land: and bring down in the land all debauchery, and vice,
and whoredoms, and fornication; and this raping spirit, which
causeth and leadeth people to have no esteem of thee, O God! nor
their souls or bodies, nor of Christianity, modesty, or humanity.
‘And, O Lord! put it in the magistrates’ hearts, to bring down
all this ungodliness, and violence, and cruelty, profaneness,
cursing and swearing: and to put down all these whore-houses
and play-houses, which do corrupt youth and people, and lead
them from the kingdom of God, where no unclean thing can enter,
neither shall come; but such works lead people to hell. And the
Lord in mercy bring down all these things in the nation to stop
thy wrath, O God, from coming on the land.
This Prayer was wrote the 17th day,
at Night, of the 2d Month, 1671.
G. FOX.’
G. Fox thinking his wife now at liberty, understood that her enemies,
notwithstanding the king’s order to release her, had found means to
hold her still in prison. Therefore he did not give himself rest, till
by the help of others he obtained from the king a discharge under the
great seal, to clear both her and her estate, after she had been ten
years a prisoner, and premunired. This royal order he sent forthwith
down to her, and thus she was set at liberty.
Now since the heat of persecution began to cool, he felt himself
inclined to make a voyage to America, to visit his friends there. Of
this his intention he gave notice to his wife by a letter, and desired
her to come up to London; which she did accordingly. And he having
taken leave of her, set sail in the latter part of the summer towards
America, with several of his friends that accompanied him.
Now whilst I leave him on ship-board, I cannot forbear to mention,
that this year at London came forth a witty pamphlet with this title,
An easy Way to get Money _cum Privilegio_, without fear or cumber,
printed for the society of informers. This book contained a satirical
rebuke to the informers, and began thus: ‘To all you that can work,
and will not; and to all those that through other ways of extravagancy
have brought yourselves into debt, necessity, or other wants, (for your
speedy supply and future support,) there is an opportunity put into
your hands, that is both safe, profitable, and honourable. It is to be
informers.’
Next the author said, ‘That it was an easy way, since it was no
more than to seek out where there were in any house, barn, stable,
or backside, five persons besides those of the family; though they
spoke never a word. If you do but swear it, (thus he continued,) to
be a conventicle, then it is a conventicle. It is no matter if there
were never a thought in their hearts as to plotting or contriving
insurrections; (for which the law was made,) they being there, it is
sufficient to have them fined five shillings apiece the first time,
and twenty pounds for the house: and for the second time ten shillings
apiece; and if the justices be not well advised, it may be for the
second time for the house you may get twenty pounds more, although the
act doth not grant it. And of all this it is said, the thirds is yours:
this you may easily have; for the justices are afraid of your power,
since you have them under your lee; so they will not much question you,
lest they be counted fanatics; and they know that if they do not please
your wills, your power is such, that you may recover fifty pounds for
your parts, by action, suit, bill or plea, in any of his majesty’s
courts at Westminster, wherein no essoign, protection, or wager of law
shall lie. Can your hearts desire more? who will not be informers? that
must have all clauses construed most largely and beneficially to their
justification and encouragement!’
As to the profitableness, the author said, ‘Besides the twenty pounds
and ten shillings apiece for meeting, if you can but tempt any by your
questions, or other provocations, to speak but a word to answer you, it
will serve to make him a preacher, and then for the first time there is
twenty pounds, and for the second forty pounds. It is no matter what is
spoke, or to what concern; if you swear you did hear such an one speak,
it is enough to make him a preacher. And as to the inability, there is
no danger that you should fall short of your salary; for you can by
your power make void that old proverb, Where it is not to be had, the
king must lose his right. But your prerogative is such, that if the
offender hath it not, you can command your servants to levy it on any
other that is not an offender in that nature, provided he be there,
otherwise an appeal will be granted.’
At this rate the author treated the matter, taking out of the way all
difficulties and scruples which any might have objected; and though
he did this mostly in a burlesque way, yet what he said was so firm
and strenuous, that he gave proofs of being a man of understanding,
and of a great wit; for though in an ingenious way he showed the
abominableness of this informing trade, yet he proposed it safe every
way: and if any might tell them they were knights of the post; yet
however the thing fell out, it was never attended with loss, but
always with a certain gain; since in the prosecution nothing could be
objected, but what might be easily quashed, and the opposers thus
frustrated.--‘And when to all these infallible profits was added the
honourableness of the office, what could one desire more? for was
it not honourable indeed to command both magistrates and military
officers, to follow the informers where they will? and to obtain
this office, one needed not to be at great cost to purchase it, nor
to break his pate with studying; since at the very first conventicle
they entered they might commence doctors.’ But of what religion or
profession these informers should be, the author himself seemed not to
know: ‘They must be no jews,’ said he, ‘for these were not to covet
their neighbours’ ox, nor ass, nor any thing that was their neighbours;
neither should they be gentiles, for they had conscience accusing, and
did by nature the things contained in the law, having the law writ
in their hearts. And Christians they could be by no means; for they
say they forsake the devil and all his works, and all the lusts of
the flesh, and not to hurt any by word nor deed, which is less than
by swearing,’ [the common fact of the informers.] To conclude, the
author said: ‘for any into whose hands this may come, if they fear any
danger in it, they ought not to conceal it, but to bring it before some
justice, or the chief magistrate of the place, with an account how they
came by it, and then they are innocent: then if it cannot clear itself,
let it lie in prison till it perish.’
Now I return to George Fox, whom we left in the ship going to America.
During his voyage he suffered much in his body; for the many hurts
and bruises he had formerly received, and the griefs and infirmities
he had contracted in England by cold, and hardships, and long
imprisonments, returned upon him now he came to sea, and caused great
pain. And after having been seven weeks and some odd days at sea, he,
with his fellow-travellers, came safe to the island of Barbadoes. His
occurrences there he hath described at large in his journal. Many of
the great ones, especially the governor, showed him much kindness. And
after he had edified his friends there on many occasions, and exhorted
them to the maintaining of good order, both in things relating to the
church, and in the governing of their blacks; he now, being restored
to health again, departed the island after a stay of three months, and
set sail for Jamaica, where he had not been long, ere Elizabeth Hooton,
several times mentioned in this work, departed this life, having been
well the day before she died; and thus she finished her days in a good
frame of mind. After he had been there about seven weeks, he performed
his service to his satisfaction.
1672.
In the beginning of the year 1672 he took shipping for Maryland,
where being come, he with those with him travelled through woods and
wildernesses, over bogs and great rivers, to New England. By the way
he had sometimes opportunity to speak to the Indians and their kings;
and at other times he met with singular cases, all which, for brevity’s
sake, I pass by in silence. He went also to the town formerly called
New Amsterdam, which name is now changed into that of New York. Here
he lodged at the governor’s house, and had also a meeting there. From
thence he returned again to Maryland, and came also into Virginia, and
Carolina, and thus spent above a year travelling to and fro in America.
Whilst he was there, England and France were entered into war against
Holland. Now though I have yet in fresh remembrance those sad times,
and in what a wonderful manner it pleased the Lord to save our
country from being quite overrun and subdued, yet I shall not mention
those things, since they are at large set down by other writers. Yet
transiently I will give a touch of the remarkable exaltation of William
III. prince of Orange, and afterwards king of Great Britain.
I have already said in its due place, how it was endeavoured to exclude
him by the perpetual edict from ever being stadtholder or deputy.
But how strong soever this edict was sworn to, yet heaven brought it
to nought, and broke the ties of it by the refuse of the nation: for
women, and many others of the mob, forced the magistrates, when the
French were come into the province of Utrecht, and all seemed to run
into confusion, to break their oaths, and to restore that young and
magnanimous prince to the honour and dignity of his renowned ancestors.
The miserable fate of the two brethren, John and Cornelius de Wit, who
had been chief instruments in making the said perpetual edict, and were
killed and butchered in a most abominable manner by the inhabitants of
the Hague, was not without good reason disapproved by many grave and
serious people. It is true, it was a great mistake that they acted so,
that they seemed to set limits to the Almighty; though I do not believe
their intent was such, but rather that what they did in making void the
stadtholdership, they judged conducive to the benefit of their country.
After they were murdered, the widow of Cornelius de Wit seemed to
have a firm belief that they were entered into everlasting glory: for
though for some time after their death she was under a great concern,
considering how on a sudden, and at unawares, they were hurried out of
this life; yet at length, early in the morning, either in a dream or
in a vision, she beheld them both in a cloud in a glorious form, with
hands lifted up, and clothed with pure white raiment. By this sight all
her former solicitude and fear was taken from her, and she was fully
satisfied concerning their eternal well-being. I have this relation
from several credible persons, who said they had it from her own mouth;
and they all agreed in the material circumstances.
1673.
In England, where it was observed that persecution for religion, during
the war, could not but be prejudicial to the public, the king published
a declaration, whereby the execution of the penal laws was suspended.
But since the Papists, against whom the most of these laws had been
made, thus got liberty to enter into offices of trust, many of the
people grew jealous on this account; insomuch that the parliament in
the year 1673, showed their dislike to the king, telling him, that the
penal statutes about ecclesiastical matters could not be suspended but
by an act of parliament. The king, wanting money to continue the war,
yielded somewhat to parliament, in respect to the popish priests and
jesuits, consenting that the laws against them should continue in force.
This summer G. Fox returned to England, and arrived at Bristol, of
which he gave notice to his wife by a letter; and she delayed not to
go to him; with her came also her son-in-law Thomas Lower, and two of
her daughters: her other son-in-law John Rouse, accompanied by William
Penn, &c. came also from London; and since at that time there was a
fair at Bristol, many of his friends came thither from other parts of
the country, and so were at a great meeting he had there, in which
he preached concerning the three chief teachers, viz. ‘That God was
the first teacher of man and woman in paradise; and that as long as
they kept to God’s teaching, they kept in the image of God, and in
righteousness, holiness, and dominion over all that God hath made: but
when they hearkened to the false teaching of the serpent, who was out
of truth, and so disobeyed God, they lost the image of God, to wit,
righteousness and holiness; and so coming under the power of satan,
were turned out of paradise. That this serpent was the second teacher,
and that man following his teaching, came into misery, and into the
fall. And that Christ Jesus was the third teacher, of whom God said,
“This is my beloved Son in whom I am well pleased, hear ye him:” and
that this Son himself said, “Learn of me:” that he was the true gospel
teacher, that never fell, and therefore was to be heard in all things,
since he was the Saviour and the Redeemer, and having laid down his
life, had bought his sheep with his precious blood.’ Of this he treated
at large in the said meeting. After some stay at Bristol, he went to
Gloucestershire; and going from thence to Oxfordshire, he came at
length to London, where persecution being not so hot now as formerly,
the Baptists and Socinians were very active in blackening the Quakers,
by publishing several books against them, in which they averred that
the Quakers were no Christians. But these malicious books were not left
unanswered, nor the falsehoods contained in them.
After G. Fox had been some time at London, he went with his wife and
Thomas Lower to Worcester; and when he signified to her that it was
like a prison would be his share, she seemed not without reason grieved
at it. And not long after had a meeting at Armscot in Tredington
parish, after the meeting was ended, he, with Thomas Lower, sitting in
the parlour, and discoursing with some friends, they both were under
pretence of having kept great meetings that might be prejudicial to the
public peace, taken by Henry Parker, justice, and sent to Worcester
jail, on the 17th of December, and his wife with her daughter returned
into the north; and by that time he thought she could be got home,
he wrote a short letter to her, and exhorted her, to be content with
the will of the Lord. He also wrote a letter to the lord Windsor, who
was lieutenant of Worcestershire, and other magistrates, wherein he
informed them of his imprisonment, and that he had not been taken in a
meeting, but in a house where he had some business. He also signified,
that he intended to have visited his mother, from which he had now been
stopped. But he could not thus obtain his liberty; yet Thomas Lower
might have got free if he would; for his brother Dr. Lower, being one
of the king’s physicians, had procured Henry Savil, a gentleman of the
king’s bed-chamber, to write to the said lord Windsor to release Thomas
Lower: but his love to his father-in-law, G. Fox, was such, that he
kept the said letter by him unsent; and so they were both continued
prisoners.
Now whilst I leave them in prison, I return once more to Miles Halhead,
of whom mention hath been often made already. He being at Plymouth in
this year, felt himself stirred up to go see John Lambert, who having
formerly been a general, was now, as hath been said in due place,
confined to perpetual imprisonment, in a little island not far from
Plymouth. To this island Halhead passed over, and though he found there
a strong guard of soldiers, yet he got leave to see Lambert; and being
come to him, he said, ‘Friend, is thy name John Lambert?’ To which
Lambert answered, ‘Yea:’ which made Miles say, ‘Then I pray thee,
friend, hear what the servant of the Lord hath to say to thee:’ and he
continued thus: ‘Friend, the Lord God made use of thee and others for
the deliverance of his people, and when you cried to him, he delivered
you in your distresses, as at Dunbar, and other places, and gave an
opportunity into your hands to do good: and you promised what great
things you would do for the Lord’s people: but truly John Lambert, ye
soon forgot your promises ye made to the Lord in that day and time
of your great distress, and turned the edge of your sword against
the Lord’s servants and handmaids, whom he sent forth to declare his
eternal truth; and made laws, and consented to laws, and suffered
and permitted laws to be made against God’s people.’ To this Lambert
said, ‘Friend, I would have you know, that some of us never made laws,
nor consented to laws to persecute you, or any of your friends; for
persecution we ever were against.’ To which Miles returned, ‘It may be
so; but the Scripture of truth is fulfilled by the best of you: for
although thou and some others have not given your consent to make laws
against the Lord’s people, yet ye suffered and permitted it to be made
and done; and when power and authority was in your hands, ye might have
spoken the word, and the servants and handmaids of the Lord might have
been delivered out of the devourers’ hands; but none was found amongst
you that would be seen to plead the cause of the innocent; so the Lord
God of life was grieved with you, because ye slighted the Lord and his
servants, and began to set up your self-interest, and to lay field to
field, and house to house, and make your names great in the earth. Then
the Lord took away your power and authority, your manhood and your
boldness, and caused you to flee before your enemies, and your hearts
fainted with fear, and some ended their days in grief and sorrow, and
some lay in holes and caves to this day. So the Lord God of heaven and
earth will give a just reward to every one according to his works. So,
my dear friend, prize the great love of God to thee, who hath not given
thy life into the hands of the devourers, but hath given thee thy life
for a prey, and time to prepare thyself, that thou mayest end thy days
in peace. And truly the Lord is good to all them that fear him, and
believe in his name: for, though all the powers of the earth rise up
against a poor innocent people, yet the Lord God of life and love was
with them, and pleaded their cause, although all men slighted them: and
truly, the best was but as a brier, and the most upright among them as
a thorn hedge. If the Lord had not pleaded our innocency, we had not
had a being in the land of our nativity, glory to his name forever, who
hath not suffered or permitted more of the wrath of man, nor laws, nor
decrees of men, to come against his people, that believe in his name,
than hath been for his honour, and for his glory, and for the eternal
good of all his sons and daughters, and servants; and the remainder,
the Lord God of life and love hath restrained to this day: glory, and
honour, and living eternal praises be given and returned to the Lord
God, and the Lamb for ever!’
Thus Halhead ended his speech, and Lambert, who had heard him with
good satisfaction, desired him to sit down, which Halhead did; and
then Lambert called for beer, and gave him drink; after which he said
to him, ‘Friend, I do believe thou speakest to me in love, and so I
take it,’ And then he asked him, if he was at Dunbar fight? To which
Halhead having answered ‘No:’ he further asked, ‘How do you know what
great danger we were in at that time?’ Upon which Halhead gave him to
understand, that he coming that way a little time after the fight,
and having viewed the town of Dunbar, and the ground about it where
the English army lay, how the sea was on one hand of them, and the
hills and mountains on the other, and the great Scotch army before and
behind them, he then took into serious consideration, the great danger
the English had been in, and thought how greatly the Englishmen were
engaged to the Lord for their deliverance, to serve him in truth and
uprightness of heart all the days of their life. ‘Truly John,’ said
Halhead then to Lambert, ‘I never saw thy face before to know thee,
although I have been brought before many of our English commanders
in the time of Oliver Cromwell.’ Lambert then asking, who they were,
Halhead named the generals Fleetwood and Desborough, major Blackmore,
and colonel Fenwick, before whom he had been when he was governor of
Edinburgh. Lambert then said, he knew the most of those men to have
been very moderate, and that they ever were against persecution. To
which Miles replied, ‘Indeed they were very moderate, and would not
be much seen to persecute, or be severe with the Lord’s people; but
truly they permitted others to do it, and took little notice of the
sufferings of the people of God: so that none were found to plead our
cause, but the Lord God.’ To this Lambert said, ‘Although you and
your friends suffered persecution, and some hardships in that time,
your cause therein is never the worse for that.’ ‘That is very true,’
returned Miles, ‘but let me tell thee, in the plainness of my heart,
that is no thanks to you, but glory to the Lord for ever.’ About two
hours Miles discoursed with Lambert, and his wife and two daughters,
and after he had cleared himself, he took leave of them, and so parted
in love.
Now before I leave Halhead, I will insert here a copy of a letter he
wrote in the year 1674, to G. Fox, who was then prisoner in Worcester
jail: the said letter was thus:
‘_George Fox_,
‘Thou dear and well beloved of the Lord, whom he sent, out of
his eternal love to me, and many more, who were in darkness and
in blindness, seeking the living among the dead, to show and
direct us the way that leads out of sin and evil, up to God
eternal, blessed for evermore. The living, eternal God of life
and love, that sent thee into the north, keep and preserve me, by
his eternal arm and power and all my dear friends and brethren
truly sensible of his eternal love, which I hear record hath
been exceeding great, since the day the Lord made his precious
truth known amongst us. Therefore, dear George Fox, pray for
me, for I am old, and infirm of body, and the sight of my eyes
grows exceeding weak, that I may be kept faithful and upright
to the Lord, in my measure I have received of the Lord, in this
day of his eternal love; that I may give my account with joy and
rejoicing, and gladness of heart, and be presented with thee, and
all my brethren, blameless to the Lord, that I may go to my grave
in peace, and rest for evermore. Amen.
‘My dear love to my good old friends, Margaret Fox, and Thomas
Lower; their dear and tender love and care to me in months past,
by me cannot be forgotten, as I dwell and abide faithful to him,
who is my light and life, my joy and peace, God over all, blessed
for evermore. Amen.
MILES HALHEAD.’
1674.
In the month called January, 1673-4, G. Fox and Thomas Lower, were
brought to their trial in the court at Worcester, it being the last day
of the sessions; and when they came in, those on the bench were struck
with paleness in their faces, and continued awhile speechless, insomuch
that a butcher in the hall said, ‘What! are they afraid? Dare not the
justices speak to them?’ At length justice Parker, by whose order G.
Fox and T. Lower had been committed, made a long speech, much to the
same effect as the contents of the mittimus, and added, that he thought
it a milder course to send them two to jail, than to put his neighbours
to the loss of two hundred pounds, which they must have suffered, if
he had put the law in execution against conventicles. But this was a
very poor shift, and silly evasion; for there being no meeting when he
came, nor any to inform, he had no evidence to convict them, or his
neighbours by. When Parker had ended his speech, the justices spoke
to the prisoners, and began with Lower, whom they examined why he
came into that country. And when they had done with him, they asked
of G. Fox an account of his travel, which he gave them, and showed
them clearly, that he and his friends, of whom so great a noise had
been made by justice Parker, as if many had come together from several
parts, were in a manner all but one family. When he had ended speaking,
the chairman Simpson said, ‘Your relation or account is very innocent.’
Then he and Parker having whispered awhile together, the said chairman
stood up, and said, ‘You, Mr. Fox, are a famous man, and all this may
be true which you have said; but that we may be the better satisfied,
will you take the oaths of allegiance and supremacy?’ Now, though G.
Fox answered to this, that they had said they would not ensnare him,
and that this was a plain snare, since they knew he and his friends
would not take any oath; all was in vain, and they caused the oath to
be read, which being done, he told them, ‘I never took oath in my life,
but I have always been true to the government. I was cast into the
dungeon at Darby, and kept prisoner six months there, because I would
not take up arms against king Charles, at Worcester fight; and for
going to meetings, I was carried out of Leicester, and brought before
Oliver Cromwell, as a plotter to bring in king Charles; and ye know in
your own consciences, that we, the people called Quakers, cannot take
an oath, or swear in any case, because Christ hath forbidden it; but
as to the matter or substance contained in the oaths, this I can and
do say, that I do own and acknowledge the king of England to be lawful
heir and successor to the realm of England; and do abhor all plots
and plotters, and contrivances against him; and I have nothing in my
heart but love and good will to him and all men, and desire his and
their prosperity; the Lord knows it, before whom I stand an innocent
man. And as to the oath of supremacy, I deny the pope and his power,
and abhor it with my heart.’ Whilst he was yet speaking, they cried,
‘Give him the book,’ viz. the Bible. ‘The book,’ saith G. Fox, ‘saith
“Swear not at all:”’ and he going on to declare his mind further, they
cried, ‘Take him away, jailer:’ who not showing himself very forward,
they cried again, ‘Take him away: we shall have a meeting here; why
do you not take him away?’ And one of the bench said, ‘That fellow,’
meaning the jailer, ‘loves to hear him preach.’ The jailer then taking
him away, as he was turning from them, he said, ‘The Lord forgive you,
who cast me into prison for obeying the doctrine of Christ.’ After G.
Fox was led away, the justices told T. Lower, he was at liberty; for
they did not think it safe to deal with him at the same rate as they
did with G. Fox, because they thought he had some protection at court.
Lower asked then, why his father-in-law might not be set at liberty,
as well as he, since they were both taken together, and their case was
alike? But they telling him they would not hear him, said, ‘you may
be gone about your business, for we have nothing more to say to you,
seeing you are discharged.’
This was all he could get from them; therefore after the court was
risen, he went to speak with them at their chamber, desiring to
know, what cause they had to detain his father, seeing they had
discharged him; and wishing them to consider, whether this was not
partiality.--Upon this Simpson said, ‘If you be not content, we will
tender you the oath also, and send you to your father.’ To which Lower
replied, ‘You may do that, if you think fit; but whether ye send me
or no, I intend to go, and wait upon my father in prison; for that is
now my business in this country.’ Then justice Parker said to him, ‘Do
you think, Mr. Lower, that I had no cause to send your father and you
to prison, when you had such a great meeting, insomuch that the parson
of the parish complained to me, that he had lost the greatest part of
his parishioners; so that when he comes amongst them, he hath scarce
any auditors left.’ To this Lower returned, ‘I have heard that the
priest of that parish comes so seldom to visit his flock, but once, it
may be, or twice in a year, to gather up his tithes, that it was but
charity in my father, to visit such a forlorn and forsaken flock: and
therefore thou hadst no cause to send my father to prison for visiting
them, or for teaching, instructing, and directing them to Christ their
true teacher, who had so little comfort or benefit from their pretended
pastor, who comes amongst them only to seek for his gain from his
quarter.’ Upon this the justice fell a laughing; for Dr. Crowder, the
priest spoken of, was then in the room, sitting among them; though
Lower did not know him, and he had the wit to hold his tongue, and not
to vindicate himself. But after Lower was gone away, the justices so
jested on Crowder, that he grew ashamed; and was so nettled with it,
that he threatened to sue T. Lower in the bishop’s court upon an action
of defamation: which Lower having heard of, sent him word that he might
begin if he would; and that he would answer him, and bring his whole
parish in evidence against him. And he told him the same afterwards to
his face; which so cooled the priest’s eagerness, that he thought it
more safe for him to let him alone.
Soon after the sessions were over, an _habeas corpus_ was sent down to
Worcester, for the sheriff to bring up G. Fox to the king’s bench bar;
whereupon his son-in-law, Lower, conducted him: for the under sheriff
had made Lower his deputy, to convey G. Fox to London, who being
arrived there, appeared before the court of king’s bench, where he
found the judges moderate, and they patiently heard him, when he gave
them an account how he had been stopped in his journey, and committed
to jail; and how at his trial, the oath of allegiance and supremacy had
been tendered to him; and also what he had offered to the justices as
a declaration, that he was willing to sign, instead of the said oaths.
To this it was told him, by the chief justice, that they would consider
further of it. Being then delivered to the keeper of the king’s bench,
he was suffered to go and lodge at the house of one of his friends; for
though he continued a prisoner, yet they were sufficiently persuaded
that he would not run away. But after this, justice Parker, as it was
said, moved the court that G. Fox might be sent back to Worcester, that
his cause might be tried there; for Parker saw clearly, that if G.
Fox had been acquitted here, this would have tended to his shame, for
having committed him unjustly.
A day then being appointed for another hearing, and G. Fox appearing
again at the king’s bench, and hearing that it was under deliberation
to send him back to Worcester, signified, that this was only to ensnare
him, by putting the oath to him, that so they might premunire him, who
never took oath in his life. And he further told them, if he broke his
yea, or nay, he was content to suffer the same penalty as those that
break their oaths. Now seeing Parker had spread a report at London, and
it had been said in the parliament-house, that when he took G. Fox,
there were many substantial men with him, out of several parts of the
nation, and that they had a design or plot in hand, G. Fox did not omit
to show the fallacy of that malicious story: and since he thus laid
open Parker’s shame, it was not strange, that by his friends at court,
he procured that the king’s judges complied with his desire that G.
Fox should be remanded to Worcester jail; insomuch that whatever he
said, he could not prevent it; only this favour was granted him, that
he might go his own way, and at his leisure, provided he would be there
without fail, by the assizes, which were to begin on the 2d day of the
month called April.
G. Fox then after some stay, went down leisurely, and being come to
Worcester, he was on the 2d day of the aforesaid month, brought from
the jail, to an inn near the sessions hall; but not being called that
day, the jailer came to him at night, and told him he might go home,
meaning to the jail: whereupon he walked thither, being accompanied by
one of his friends. Next day being brought up again, a boy of about
eleven years old was set to be his keeper. Having in my relation of
the proceedings before the king’s bench, passed by most part of the
pleading, so I shall do here likewise, to avoid repetitions of what
hath been several times related already, concerning such kind of
trials; yet I cannot pass by in silence, that after he had given an
account of his journey before he was taken, he added, that since his
imprisonment, he had understood that his mother, who was an ancient and
weak woman, and had desired to see him before she died, hearing that he
was stopped and imprisoned in his journey, so that he was not likely
to come and see her, it struck her so, that she died soon after; which
had been very hard to him. Judge Turner, who formerly had been very
severe to him, seemed now, as some thought, inclined to have him set at
liberty, since he saw they had nothing justly against him; but Parker
who had committed him, endeavoured to incense the judge against him;
for if he had been released, then he himself must have borne the blame
of having committed G. Fox unjustly; and therefore he told the judge
that G. Fox was a ringleader, that many of the nation followed him; and
one knew not what it might come to. Yet the judge gave but little ear
to all this, being willing to be easy; but he could not resolve to do
this, by setting G. Fox at liberty, lest he should displease others;
and thus in conclusion, G. Fox and his cause were referred to the
sessions again, and he continued prisoner, but with this proviso, that
he should have the liberty of the town; which accordingly he had.
By this he got opportunity to speak with many persons, and sometimes
with priests too, one of which asked him, whether he was grown up to
perfection? To which he answered, what he was, he was by the grace
of God. ‘This is,’ replied the priest, ‘a modest and civil answer.’
‘But,’ continued he in the words of the apostle John, “If we say that
we have no sin, we deceive ourselves, and the truth is not in us.”
And asking what he said to that? G. Fox returned with the words of
the same apostle, “if we say that we have not sinned, we make him a
liar, and his word is not in us.” Moreover he said, ‘Christ came to
destroy sin, and to take away sin. There is a time for people to see
that they have sinned, and there is a time for them to confess their
sin, and to forsake it, and to know the blood of Christ to cleanse
from all sin.’ After some more reasoning, the priest said, ‘We must
always be striving;’ to which G. Fox returned, that it was a sad and
comfortless sort of striving, to strive with a belief that we should
never overcome: and he told him also, that Paul, who once cried out
because of the body of death, did also thank God, who gave him the
victory; and that he said there is no condemnation to them that are
in Christ Jesus: so that there was a time of crying out for want of
victory, and a time of praising God for the victory. ‘But,’ said the
priest, ‘Job was not perfect.’ To which G. Fox returned, that God hath
signified in Scripture, that Job was perfect and upright, and that he
eschewed evil: and that the devil himself was forced to confess, that
God had set an hedge about him; which was not an outward hedge, but
the invisible heavenly power. Yet said Job, replied the priest, ‘he
charged his angels with folly, and the heavens are not clean in his
sight.’ ‘That is a mistake,’ said G. Fox, ‘for it was not Job said so,
but Eliphaz, who contended against Job.’ ‘Well, but,’ said the priest,
‘what say you to that Scripture, the justest man that is, sinneth seven
times a day?’ ‘There is,’ answered G. Fox, ‘no such scripture.’ So the
priest was silent, and this conference broken off, of which I have
related thus much to show that G. Fox was not such a simple person, as
some from mere envy have represented him: for he was never at a loss
for an answer, but had it always in readiness.
Now the time of the sessions being come again, where the justice,
who was chairman, was one Street, G. Fox was called there before the
justices, and then the said justice exceedingly misrepresented the
case, by telling the people, that G. Fox had a meeting at Tredington
from all parts of the nation, to the terrifying of the king’s
subjects; for which he had been committed, and that for the trial of
his fidelity, the oaths had been tendered to him. And then turning to
G. Fox, he asked him, since he had time to consider of it, whether
he would now take the oaths? G. Fox having obtained liberty to speak
for himself, gave a relation of his journey, and showed that he and
his friends had in no wise kept a meeting that occasioned terror to
any of the king’s subjects; and as to the oaths, he showed why he
could not take them, and what he could declare instead thereof. But
notwithstanding all this, the oaths were read to him again; and he
persisting in his refusal to take them, the indictment was read also;
and afterwards the chairman asked him ‘if he was guilty?’ G. Fox
answered, ‘No, since the indictment was a bundle of lies,’ which he
proved in several particulars, asking him, if he did not know in his
conscience that they were lies? To which he said, it was their form.
Whereupon G. Fox returned, it was not a true form. Then the chairman
told the jury what they should do in this case: and before they gave
in their verdict, G. Fox said to them, that it was for Christ’s sake,
and in obedience to his and his apostle’s command that he could not
swear: ‘and therefore,’ said he, ‘take heed what ye do; for before his
judgment-seat ye shall all be brought.’ The chairman then said, ‘This
is canting.’ ‘Why,’ said G. Fox, ‘if to confess Christ our Lord and
Saviour, and to obey his command, be called canting by a judge of a
court, it is to little purpose for me to say more among you. Yet ye
shall see that I am a Christian, and shall show forth Christianity;
and my innocency shall be manifest.’ By this his speaking, the people
generally were affected; but the jury however found the bill against
him; which G. Fox nevertheless traversed. Thus the matter could not be
finished now, and therefore he was asked to put in bail, till the next
sessions; this he refused, and warned his friends that seemed willing
to be bound for him, not to meddle with that, since there was a snare
in it. Yet he told the justices, that he would promise to appear, if
the Lord gave him health and strength, and he were at liberty. Some
of the justices showed themselves loving, and endeavoured to stop the
rest from indicting him, or putting the oath to him. But the chairman
said he must go according to law. Yet liberty was given G. Fox to go at
large, till next quarter-sessions.
He then went up to London; where the time of the yearly meeting
approached; but at the instance of some of his friends, he appeared
again before the judges of the king’s bench, and delivered to them
the following declaration, setting forth what he was ready to promise
instead of the oaths of allegiance and supremacy.
‘This I do in the truth, and in the presence of God declare,
that king Charles the Second is lawful king of this realm, and
of all others his dominions; and that he was brought in, and set
up king over this realm by the power of God: and I have nothing,
but love and good-will to him and all his subjects, and desire
his prosperity and eternal good. And I do utterly abhor and deny
the pope’s power and supremacy, and all his superstitious and
idolatrous inventions; and do affirm, that he hath no power to
absolve sin: and I do abhor and detest his murderings of princes,
or other people, by plots and contrivances. And likewise I do
deny all plots and contrivances, and plotters and contrivers
against the king and his subjects; knowing them to be works of
darkness, and the fruits of an evil spirit, and against the peace
of the kingdom, and not from the spirit of God, the fruit of
which is love. I dare not take an oath, because it is forbidden
by Christ and the apostle; but if I break my yea or nay, then let
me suffer the same penalty, as they that break their oaths.
GEORGE FOX.’
This declaration, being the substance of what oaths of allegiance and
supremacy contain, G. Fox presented to the judges of the king’s bench;
but the proceedings having gone on at Worcester, they were unwilling to
meddle with the business, but referred it to the next quarter-sessions
at Worcester.
The yearly-meeting at London, at which he was, being over, he returned
again to Worcester, where the sessions being held in the month called
July, and he called to the bar, and the indictment read, justice Street
caused the oaths to be read also, and tendered to him again. G. Fox
then said, that he was come to traverse his indictment. But when he
began to show the errors that were in the indictment, viz. such as were
sufficient to quash it, he was soon stopped, and the oath required of
him; and he persisting in the refusal, was by the jury found guilty.
The chairman, how active soever he had been against G. Fox, yet was now
troubled, and told him of a sad sentence he had to speak against him.
To which G. Fox returned, that he had many and more errors to assign in
the indictment, besides those he had already mentioned. Whereupon the
chairman told him, he was going to show him the danger of a premunire,
which was the loss of his liberty, and all his goods and chattels, and
to endure imprisonment during life. ‘But,’ added he, ‘I do not deliver
this as the sentence of the court, but as an admonition to you.’ Then
the jailer was bid to take him away; and G. Fox afterwards understood
concerning this pretended admonition, that the chairman had said to the
clerk of the peace, that what he had spoken should stand for sentence.
Now whilst G. Fox was in prison, there came to him, amongst others,
the earl of Salisbury’s son, who was very loving, and much concerned
that they had dealt so with him; and he himself took a copy in writing
of the errors that were in the indictment. And G. Fox afterwards got
the state of his case, drawn up in writing, delivered to judge Wild.
He also wrote a letter to the king, wherein he gave an account of the
sentiments of those called Quakers concerning swearing; and how they
abhorred all plottings and contrivances against the king. Not long
after he fell into such a sickness, that some began to doubt of his
recovery; and then one of his friends went to justice Parker, by whose
order he had been first committed to prison, and desired him to give
order to the jailer, that he might have liberty to go out of the jail
into the city. Whereupon Parker wrote the following letter to the
jailer.
‘_Mr. Harris_,
‘I have been much importuned by some friends to George Fox, to
write to you. I am informed by them, that he is in a very weak
condition, and very much indisposed. What lawful favour you can
do for the benefit of the air, for his health, pray show him. I
suppose the next term they will make application to the king. I
am,
Sir, your loving friend,
HENRY PARKER.’
Evesham, the 8th of October, 1674.
This letter was sufficient warrant for the jailer to permit G. Fox to
be brought from prison to the house of one of his friends. His wife
was come to him before that time, and after having been with him about
seventeen weeks, and no discharge like to be obtained for him, she went
up to London, and being come to Whitehall, and meeting with the king
there, she gave him an account of her husband’s long imprisonment, and
how weak he was, and not without danger of his life. To which the king
said, he could do nothing in it, but she must go to the chancellor.
And so she went to the lord Finch, who was then chancellor; and having
given him an account of the matter, she told him that the king had
left it wholly to him; and if he did not show pity, and release her
husband out of prison, she feared he would end his days there. But the
chancellor said to her, that the king could not release him, otherwise
than by a pardon. Now G. Fox could not resolve to be freed thus,
as well knowing he had done no evil; and therefore he would rather
have lain in prison all his days, than to be thus set at liberty;
otherwise he needed not to have lain so long, since the king had been
willing long before to have given him a pardon; and also had said to
one Thomas More, that G. Fox needed not scruple being released by a
pardon; for many a man, that was as innocent as a child, had had a
pardon granted him. G. Fox unwilling to have a pardon, but desiring
to have the validity of his indictment tried before the judges, the
lord chancellor, who showed himself a discreet man, procured that
an _habeas corpus_ was granted to bring G. Fox to London, once more
to appear before the king’s bench. The _habeas corpus_ was with the
first opportunity sent down by his wife to Worcester; but there they
would not part with him at first, (being now recovered a little of his
sickness,) under a pretence that he was premunired, and was not to go
out in that manner. Thus it became necessary to send to London again;
and another order was got and sent down, to bring up G. Fox before the
king’s bench. Being still weak, he was carried up to London in a coach,
the under-sheriff and the clerk of the peace accompanying him.
Being come down, he was brought before the four judges at the king’s
bench, where counsellor Thomas Corbet pleaded his cause, and acquitted
himself exceeding well; for he started a new plea, and told the judges,
that by law they could not imprison any man upon a premunire. The
judges then saying they must have time to look in their books, and to
consult the statutes, the hearing was put off till the next day. And
since it appeared that Corbet was in the right, they chose to let their
plea fall, perhaps for fear of worse consequences. And thus they began
to examine the errors of the indictment, which proved to be so many
and so gross, that all the judges were of opinion, that the indictment
was quashed and void, and that G. Fox ought to have his liberty. The
same day several lords and other great men, had the oaths of allegiance
and supremacy tendered to them in open court; and some of G. Fox’s
adversaries moved the judges, that the oaths might be tendered to him
again, saying, he was a dangerous man to be at liberty. But judge
Matthew Hale, who was then lord chief justice of England, and really an
excellent and pious man, as hath been hinted already here before, said,
he had indeed heard some such reports of G. Fox, but he had also heard
more good reports of him. This saying was serviceable; and Hale and the
other judges ordered G. Fox to be freed by proclamation. Thus he was
set at liberty in an honourable way, and his counsellor Corbet, who
had pleaded for him, got great fame by it; for many other lawyers told
him, he had brought that to light, which had not been known before. And
after the trial, one of the judges said to him, ‘You have obtained a
great deal of honour by your way of pleading G. Fox’s cause in court.’
The year was now come to an end. But before I go over to the next, I
am to mention that the Baptists in England, losing from time to time
some of their best members, wrote therefore very fiercely against the
Quakers, endeavouring thereby to render them no Christians. But those
writings were continually answered, and that with so many convincing
reasons, that the Quakers got more adherents by it. The consequence
of this was, that a public dispute was appointed to be held between
the Baptists and the Quakers, in the meeting-house of the Baptists
at London. For the Quakers, there spoke by turns, George Whitehead,
Stephen Crisp, William Penn, and George Keith; and the opponents were
Jeremy Ives, William Kiffin, Thomas Plant, Thomas Hicks, and Robert
Ferguson, a Presbyterian, afterwards eminently known in Holland, by the
fierce declaration drawn up by him in the name of the duke of Monmouth,
when that unhappy prince went over to England with forces, to dispute
the throne against king James.
Jeremy Ives was an eminent teacher among the Baptists, that had been
in prison in London fourteen years before on a religious account, and
chiefly because for conscience-sake he refused to take the oath.
Not long after he wrote a smart letter from the prison, to two of his
society, (who having been imprisoned with him for the same cause, had
taken the oath, thereby to obtain their liberty,) wherein he reproved
them for their falling away, and signified that thus they had increased
the burden of their faithful brethren, from the bearing of which they
had withdrawn themselves. But what a changeable creature is man, if
he doth not continue watchful, and keep close to the divine grace,
continually laying hold thereon! For scarce five days passed, but this
inconstant Jeremy grew weary of imprisonment, and took the oath also to
get out of prison. Neither did he stop here; for it is plain that he
was now departed from his profession. To temporize therefore, and to
find out excuses for what he had done, he put forth a book in print,
wherein he asserted the lawfulness of swearing. It was asked of him,
whether he was that same Jeremy Ives, that once had been of such a
tender conscience, that he durst not take an oath, and had afterwards
publicly defended swearing as lawful? And he did not deny the fact, for
it was notoriously known: but he went about to disguise the matter, and
said, ‘I am that Jeremy who took the oath of allegiance, and wrote a
book to prove that some oaths were lawful, though not all.’ Neither did
he deny the fore-mentioned letter, for it was extant, and written as
followeth:
‘_Brother Pitman and Brother Shewel_,
‘I am at this time surprised with a holy passion; and though
Jonah could not say concerning the gourd, that he did well to be
angry; yet, if my experience in the word of the Lord doth not
deceive, I can truly say, I do well to be angry with you; whom
I have had a godly jealously of all along, viz. That you would
be as easily persuaded to part with, as unwilling to suffer for,
your spiritual liberties. Oh my brethren! Where is your first
love? How unlike the Christians in former times are you? Whose
zeal was so hot for God, that their eyes prevented the morning,
that thereby they might prevent the rage of the adversary, who,
as it is now, commanded them no more to worship in the name of
the Lord.--I always did conclude, that those that would--quit
the cause of righteousness--would quit the ways of holiness, as
yesterday’s sad experience hath taught, to the perpetual joy
of your adversaries, and the saddening the hearts, and adding
afflictions to the bonds of the prisoners of the Lord. I do
therefore conjure you, as you will answer the great God another
day, to consider, that now is the time for you to look to your
ministry, and to the flock over which the Lord hath made you
overseers, that you may be able through grace to say, ‘You are
clear from the blood of all men;’ and observe, that God is now
come to prove you, to see whether you will keep his commandments
or not. Remember when that apostate’s case was debated, you had
no zeal nor indignation against him, but you smothered all with
this, ‘If it were in a matter of faith and worship that he had
fallen from, you would have been as one man against it.’ Well,
behold the Lord is come home to you; the matter now is purely for
worshipping God; now God is proving you to see whether you will
obey him or no: and did not yesterday’s work witness, that you
were willing to prefer the fear of a man, that must die, before
the fear of the great God; and the fear of them that can kill the
body, before the fear of the Lord, that can cast body and soul
into hell? I have no more to say but this, that your cowardly
temporizing and complying with the precepts of men, makes me
jealous, that your fear towards the Lord is taught by the
precepts of men. I would not be too censorious, but my grounds
are great; and my bonds are my crown; but your cowardly spirit is
my great cross. You little think what a scandal it is amongst us
to hear it affirmed that one of you should say, you had rather
have given fifty pounds than have sworn, and yet swear that you
swear willingly. Oh! for the Lord’s sake, do somewhat that may
roll away this reproach; which that you may, is the prayers of
your brother, who could be contented to write himself,
Your companion in tribulation,
JER. IVES.’
Jan. 14, 1660.
‘Brother Ward, my fellow-prisoner, desires to present his love to
you, and so do some others.’
Thus zealously Jer. Ives wrote to his fellow-teachers, who for human
fear, and to avoid sufferings, had, against their profession, and the
conviction of their consciences, taken the oath. But who could have
imagined on sight of such letter, that he himself within so short a
space of time, should have done that which he reproved so severely in
others. Certainly in this case the saying of the prophet Jeremiah seems
to be very applicable, “The heart is deceitful above all things, and
desperately wicked; who can know it? Let therefore him who standeth,
be cautious lest he fall.” Happy had this man been, if he had been so
sensible of his transgressions as one Edward Chilton, who though by
profession a Quaker, yet when it came to a trial, either to take the
oath of allegiance, or to be premunired, he wavered and fainted; yet
not so, that he fell away totally: for he became so penitent for the
evil he had committed, that he found himself constrained to give proof
thereof by a letter he wrote to his friends, who remained prisoners,
because for conscience-sake they could not swear; whereas he, to be
released from imprisonment, had taken the oath that was demanded of
him. But of what a bitter relish this became to him, and what terror
and horror he was seized with, the following letter will show:
‘_My dear Friends_,
‘I desire to lay before you this my condition in this my fall,
that my fall may be no cause for you to stumble, but that you
by it may be the more encouraged to stand; for I have yielded
to the betrayer, and so betrayed the innocent seed in me; for I
forsook the counsel of the Lord, and consulted with flesh and
blood, and so I fell into the snare of the world, and yielded to
the covenant; and so I rested satisfied in what I had done, for
some certain hours; but when the Lord in his power looked back
upon me, then I remembered what I had done; then I remembered
that I had denied truth, which once I had professed, though once
I thought I should have stood when others fell. So the terrors of
the Lord have taken hold on me, and I lie under the judgments of
the Lord.
‘And now I feel the truth of the words that were spoken by
Christ, ‘that he that faileth in one tittle, is guilty of all;’
and now I feel the truth of that, ‘that it is better to forsake
wife and children, and all that a man hath, even life itself,
for Christ and the truth’s sake, than to break one tittle of the
law of God written in the heart.’ So I hope that, by mercy and
judgment, the Lord will redeem me to himself again. The Lord
may suffer some to fall, that the standing of them that stand
faithful may seem to be the more glorious, and for them to take
heed lest they fall.
‘Now I know and feel, that it is better to part with any thing of
this world, though it be as dear to one as the right hand, or the
eye, than to break our peace with God.
‘Pray for me; for my bonds are greater than yours.
EDWARD CHILTON.’
Windsor, the 22d of the 11th month,
1660.
It is remarkable, that this Chilton in the conclusion of his letter
saith, that his bonds were greater than those of his friends, who
neither feared a premunire, nor loss of their liberty, when they must
pay so dear for it, as the taking of an oath. For when any one truly
abides in the fear of God, he dares not, against the convictions of his
conscience, transgress the Divine commandments, and seek evasions to
avoid the stress thereof: for certainly God will not be mocked. Could
our Saviour have spoken in more plain and express terms than he did,
when he said, “Swear not at all?” And yet what cunning devices have
been invented by those who boast of the name of Christians, to enervate
the force of these express words. It is not a proper place here to
refute their reasons; but yet I cannot think it unsuitable to show
briefly how dangerous it is to act against the express commandments of
sacred writ, and against the conviction of one’s conscience, thereby
to avoid persecution: for not only the apostle James saith, “Whosoever
shall offend in one point, he is guilty of all;” but our supreme
lawgiver Christ himself saith, “Whosoever shall deny me before men, him
will I also deny before my Father which is in heaven. And whosoever
shall be ashamed of me, and of my words, of him also shall the Son
of Man be ashamed, when he cometh in the glory of his Father, with
the holy angels.” And to encourage us to faithfulness he hath also
said, “Fear not them which kill the body, but are not able to kill the
soul; but rather fear him which is able to destroy both soul and body
in hell.” Which words indeed are so emphatical, that it ought not to
displease any that I repeat them, as they have been left on record by
the evangelist Luke, viz. thus, “I say unto you, my friends, be not
afraid of them that kill the body, and after that have no more that
they can do. But I will forewarn you whom ye shall fear: fear him,
which after he hath killed, hath power to cast into hell: yea, I say
unto you, fear him.” Can it be otherwise, but that such words must
needs make a powerful impression on a real Christian? And the more
when we consider, that nothing in the world can retrieve or restore a
perishing soul, as may appear from these of our blessed Lord, “What
is a man profited, if he shall gain the whole world, and lose his own
soul? Or what shall a man give in exchange for his soul?” A clear proof
that the whole world, and all that is contained therein, is not able
to save one soul, or to afford any thing that can redeem it. If I here
thought it requisite, a godly zeal at present would make me say more on
this subject; but not to expatiate too far beyond the limits of this
historical tract, I shall not pursue this digression any further, but
return to my relation from whence I thus stepped aside.
To take up again then the broken thread of my discourse, I once more
come to Jeremy Ives, who, to avoid persecution, had taken the oath
contrary to his understanding; and it was Thomas Rudyard, mentioned
here before, who objected this to him; and he feeling himself pinched
by it, endeavoured to break the stress thereof by saying, that the
reason why in a letter he had blamed a friend, was for his saying
he had rather have given fifty pounds than have took the oath of
allegiance, and yet swore he took it freely and willingly. But who sees
not what a poor shift this was?
Now to come to the dispute; I already mentioned it was asserted, that
the Quakers were no Christians; and to maintain this, Thomas Hicks
said, ‘They that deny the Lord’s Christ, are no Christians: but the
Quakers deny the Lord’s Christ,’ &c. To which W. Penn said, ‘I deny
the minor, viz. that the Quakers deny the Lord’s Christ.’ And T. Hicks
returned, ‘They that deny Christ to be a distinct person without them,
deny the Lord’s Christ; but the Quakers deny Christ to be a distinct
person without them: therefore,’ &c. W. Penn then desired that T.
Hicks would explain what he meant by the term person. And T. Hicks
answered, ‘I mean the man Christ Jesus.’ To which W. Penn replied,
‘Then I deny the minor, viz. that we deny the man Christ Jesus.’ To
which Hicks returned, ‘I prove ye deny the man Christ Jesus. One of
your own writers saith, that Christ was never seen with carnal eyes,
nor heard with carnal ears,’ &c. To this J. Ives added, ‘He that
denies that Christ was ever seen with carnal eyes, &c. denies the man
Christ: but the Quakers deny that Christ was ever seen with carnal
eyes,’ &c. George Keith then said, ‘I answer by distinguishing: Christ
as God was never seen with carnal eyes; but as man he was seen with
carnal eyes.’ To this J. Ives returned: ‘But he was Christ as he was
man: how then was not Christ seen with carnal eyes?’ To this question
G. Keith answered thus: ‘We are to consider that the terms or names
Jesus Christ, are sometimes applied to him as God, and sometimes to
him as man; yea, sometimes to the very body of Jesus: but the question
is, whether do those names more properly, immediately, and originally
belong to him as God, or as he was before he took the manhood upon
him; or to the manhood? We affirm, those names are given to him most
properly and eminently as God; and less properly, yet truly, as man;
and least properly to his body, yea to his dead body.’ Then J. Ives
asked, ‘Where do you read that the carcase was called the Christ?’ This
irreverent expression so displeased many, that some cried out, ‘Where
didst thou ever read that Christ’s dead body was called a carcase?’
From this disgust W. Penn said, ‘I beseech you for the Lord’s sake,
that we may treat of these things as becomes Christians.’
G. Keith then resuming the discourse, answered J. Ives’s question thus:
‘I prove that the dead body of Jesus was called Christ, from the words
of Mary, “Where have ye laid him?” For she had just before called the
body her Lord: likewise the angel said to her, “See the place where
the Lord lay:” and that he was Jesus Christ before he took flesh,
I prove from the saying of the apostle, “Who created all things by
Jesus Christ.”’ Then T. Hicks said, ‘I will prove the Quakers to be no
Christians:’ and J. Ives added, ‘They that say that Christ cannot be
seen with carnal eyes, and was never visible to wicked men, do deny the
Lord’s Christ; for he was seen with carnal eyes, and by wicked men.’ To
this W. Penn said, ‘I distinguish upon the word seen; wicked men might
see him in that bodily appearance, and yet not see him to be the Christ
of God; they saw his manhood, but not his Christship: this I will prove
from Christ’s words to Peter, when he confessed him to be Christ, the
Son of the living God, viz. “Flesh and blood hath not revealed this
unto thee, but my Father which is in heaven:” therefore Peter with a
carnal eye could not have seen the Lord’s Christ, much less wicked
men. My second proof is from the apostle’s words, “Whom none of the
princes of this world knew; for had they known him, they would not have
crucified him.”’ W. Penn enlarging a little more on this subject, said
also, that seeing and knowing in Scriptures are sometimes equivalent.
And G. Keith added, ‘Christ said, “He that hath seen me, hath seen the
Father:” but no wicked man hath seen the Father, therefore no wicked
man hath seen Christ, as such.’ Ives and his companions scoffed at
this distinction: but the Quakers averred, that all who saw Jesus
as the carpenter’s son, did not see him as the Christ of God. Then
Ives asked, ‘Is the manhood a part of the Lord’s Christ?’ To which W.
Penn returned, ‘Is this to prove the charge of our denying the Lord’s
Christ? It seems we must be here to be catechised, and ye will not
answer us one question, yet I shall answer J. Ives his question, if he
will promise to answer mine.’
Ives then saying that he would answer it, W. Penn returned, ‘I here
declare, that we do faithfully believe that holy manhood to be a member
of the Christ of God:’ and directing his question to Ives, he said,
‘Was he the Christ of God before he was manifest in the flesh?’ ‘He
was,’ answered Ives, ‘the Son of God.’ ‘But,’ replied W. Penn, ‘Was
he the Lord’s Christ? I will prove him to have been the Lord’s Christ
as well before as after: first from the apostle Paul’s words to the
Corinthians, “That rock was Christ:” next from Jude, where some Greek
copies have it thus, “That Jesus brought the people of Israel out of
Egypt.”’ But to this Ives gave no answer, how often soever he was
called upon for it. And this was no great wonder, since it was well
known that there were such among the Baptists who favoured the Socinian
principles. But Ives, that he might not appear altogether mute, came
on again with a question, viz. ‘Do ye believe that Christ in his human
nature is in heaven?’ This made G. Whitehead say to the auditory,
‘Ye have heard the charge against us, and the distinction that hath
been made between seeing, and seeing of Christ, as namely between the
spiritual saving sight of the Lord’s Christ, and the seeing of his
outward man, person, or body. In this last sense it could never be
intended that it was not visible to the outward eye; but it was the
spiritual rock which all Israel drank of, and as he was before Abraham
was, and as glorified with the Father before the world began; and as
Christ himself said to Philip, “He that seeth me, seeth my Father
also:” and only saints, or children of light, could truly say, “We have
seen his glory as the only begotten of the Father, full of grace and
truth.” In all which considerations, or senses of seeing, the Lord’s
Christ was only seen spiritually, and not with carnal eyes.’ This
Ives granted, that so it might be left: yet presently after, instead
of proving the Quakers no Christians, he asked again, ‘Do ye believe
or own that Christ is in heaven with his human nature?’ To which W.
Penn answered, ‘We do believe the man Christ Jesus to be glorified in
heaven.’ Which answer Ives refusing to accept, because it was not in
the terms of his question, Penn asked, ‘What difference dost thou make
between the manhood and human nature of Christ?’ ‘None,’ returned Ives,
‘if you mean candidly.’ To which Penn replied, ‘I do mean and speak
candidly; we do believe that holy manhood to be in heavenly glory.’
Now since it began to grow dark, the Baptists desired to leave off,
and to resume the matter at another time; as was done also: but the
parties did not agree for all that; for though the Baptists continued
to assert that the Quakers were no Christians, yet these had abundance
of reasons to maintain the contrary; and this they did so effectually,
that those of the other party, under a pretence of the meeting-place
being overcharged with people, and that the gallery gave way, broke up
the meeting, without a final conclusion.
Prosecution in this year was not very sharp at London, but for all
that, active in other places, so that I do not want matter to make a
relation of it; but to shun prolixity, I will mention but one case.
One Robert Tilles, in Buckingham, sick of a consumption, and believing
his death to be nigh at hand, desired some of his friends to visit him.
At this invitation some came to his house, yet not above the number
of fourteen persons; and two informers went and acquainted a justice
of the peace thereof, who recorded this small assembly as a seditious
meeting, and fined the sick man twenty pounds for this pretended
transgression; and so his goods were seized, and six cows taken from
him. And one Robert Smith, being overheard by the informers to have
spoken five or six words, was fined also twenty pounds as a preacher;
which fine was afterwards extorted from some others then present.
The peace between England and Holland was concluded this year, at the
instance of Spain, but the war between Holland and France continued
still.
1675.
I now pass over to the year 1675. About the beginning whereof G. Fox
came to London, whilst the parliament was sitting, who advised the
king to the suppressing of the growth of popery; but in the meanwhile
the Quakers bore the chiefest shock; for their religious meetings were
styled seditious conventicles.
After G. Fox had been at the yearly-meeting of his friends at
London, he left the city, and went to Lancaster, and from thence to
Swarthmore, where having a dwelling-place of his own, he staid about
two years to rest himself: having contracted distempers by hardships
and imprisonments, which had much weakened his body. Being there,
he understood that four young students at Aberdeen were convinced
at a dispute held by Robert Barclay and George Keith, with some of
the scholars of that university. And being visited by some of the
neighbourhood, among others came also to him colonel Kirby, his old
persecutor, who now carried himself very lovingly, and bid him welcome
into the country. Yet notwithstanding this appearance of kindness,
sometime afterwards he ordered the constables of Ulverstone to tell G.
Fox, that they must have no more meetings at Swarthmore, for if they
had, they were commanded by him to break them up; and they were to come
the next Sunday after. But this threatening did not make G. F. afraid;
for he, with his friends, had a meeting on that First day of the week,
and none came to disturb them. During his abode at home, when he did
not travel to and fro in the country, as he used to do, to edify his
friends by his ministry, he supplied this with his pen, and exhorted
them by writing, where he could not do it by word of mouth: besides he
wrote other serviceable treatises, for he was a diligent man.
In the meanwhile persecution for the worship of God did not cease
altogether: the act against seditious conventicles gave opportunity
to the malicious to disturb the religious meetings of the Quakers,
who never met in a clandestine manner, but always publicly: and on
this account fines were extorted from them; to which may be added,
that oftentimes they were still very ill treated, and most grievously
abused, as among the rest at Long Clawston in Leicestershire, where
some women were dragged by the neck along the street; and among these a
widow, the skin of whose neck was rubbed off by this rudeness; and an
ancient woman, above seventy, was violently cast down to the ground.
Some of the men were dragged by the hair, and others by their legs,
besides the many blows given them: and some were trodden upon till
the blood gushed out of their mouth and nose. Yet all this they bore
patiently, without making any resistance; whereby it happened sometimes
that some who had not the gift of preaching, reached others by their
patient suffering; showing by their meek behaviour, that their works
did agree with their Christian profession: and though many were robbed
of all they had, even clothes and beds not excepted, yet they continued
steadfast without fainting; though often it was called a meeting when
some were come together, not properly to perform religious worship, as
hath been related already.
At Kirby Muckloe, where some were come to the house of John Penford, to
provide for their poor, the priest of the parish, called John Dixon,
informed against them by letter to Wenlock Stanly of Branston, who
sent three of his servants to take inspection of the said meeting;
and though these looking into the book, in which the charitable
distributions were entered, found that this meeting had been only to
consider of the necessities of the poor, yet several were fined, and
Penford himself twenty pounds for his house, and ten pounds for the
preacher, when there was never any one there; but they having heard him
speak, this was counted sufficient to make him pass for a preacher.
Now though he and Richard Woodland appealed for justice, yet the court
positively denied their appeal, unless they would first take the oath
of allegiance. This was the old snare, so that the hearing of the
matter was denied, and treble damage given against them.
At Lewes in Sussex, the priest, William Snat, became himself an
informer, and went several times to the Quakers’ meeting there; and
from thence to the justice Henry Shully, to whom he declared on oath,
in whose house the meeting had been, and who had preached; and this
was so gross, that once he gave a false information with respect to the
house; but the gain proceeding from this work, how abominable soever,
did shine so alluringly, that his kinsman, James Clark, entered upon
this informer’s office: which any one could easily do, without making
suit for it.
In Norfolk, the rage of the persecutors was such, that some having been
bereaved of all, were obliged, even in winter time, (as amongst the
rest, Joseph Harrison, with his wife and children,) to lie on straw;
and yet they, unwearied, did not leave frequenting their religious
meeting; nay, even the dead were not suffered to rest, for outrageous
barbarity came to that pitch, that Mary, the wife of Francis Larder,
being dead and buried, was, by order of one Thomas Bretland, dug up
again, whereby the coffin was broken, which they tied together, and
carrying it away, exposed the corpse in the market-place. Thus this
deceased woman was no more suffered to lie quiet in her grave, than in
her sick bed, where the day before her death, she had been threatened
by order of one Christopher Bedinfield, to have her bed taken from
under her while living. Now the reason of thus taking up the corpse
was, that though her husband was one of those called Quakers, yet she
not being properly a member of that society, it was taken ill that
she had been buried in a plain way, without paying to the priest his
pretended due, for the ordinary service over the dead.
In Somersetshire thirty-two persons were fined for having been at
a burial. The like happened in the county of Derby, where Samuel
Roe, (his wife being deceased,) was fined twenty pounds, because his
friends met in his house to conduct the corpse to the grave. Of this
the priest, John Wilson, was informer to the justice of peace, John
Loe; and out of the house of the said Samuel Roe, was taken the value
of thirty pounds; so that the share of the informer was no less than
ten pounds; since according to law, his due was a third of the spoil.
I could here relate several instances of great adversities, and sad
mischiefs that befel cruel persecutors; but not to expatiate too far, I
have silently passed by many remarkable cases.
Yet, in general terms I may say, that many of the persecutors, both
justices, informers, and others, came to a miserable end: some being
by sudden, or unnatural death, and others by lingering sicknesses, or
distempers, or by foul and stinking diseases, taken out of this life;
whilst some, who by spoil had scraped much together, fell to great
poverty and beggary; whose names I could set down, and mention also
time and place; and among these some rapacious ecclesiastics, who came
to a sad end; but I studiously omit particularizing such instances,
to avoid the appearance of grudging and envy. Some of those that had
been so active in spoil, signified themselves the terrible remorse of
conscience they felt, because of their having persecuted the Quakers;
insomuch, that they roared out their gnawing grief, mixed with despair,
under the grievous pains they suffered in their body. And it was judged
by many a very remarkable case, that one Christopher Glin, priest at
Burford, who had acted with a very indiscreet zeal against the Quakers,
having about the year 1663, read his text in the pulpit, and then
intending to read his sermon, was on a sudden struck with blindness,
and continued blind till he died. But none of the persecutors seemed
to take notice, or to regard such instances; for they let their rage
loose against the Quakers; who, for all that continued in patience,
though they did not think it unlawful to give notice of the grievous
oppression their friends suffered, to those that were in authority;
lest they might have excused themselves as ignorant of these violent
proceedings. Therefore it was not omitted to publish in public print,
many of those crying instances that have been related here, and to
present them to the king and parliament, with humble addresses to that
purpose. But all this found but small entrance. King Charles it seems
was not to be the man that should take off this yoke of oppression;
this work was reserved for others. His brother James that succeeded
him, made a beginning thereof, with what intention Heaven knows; and
William III. that excellent prince, brought it to perfection as far as
it was in his power.
This year deceased at sea William Bayly, coming from the West Indies,
in the ship called the Samuel, of London, in the latitude of 46 degrees
and 36 minutes: he had been a teacher among the Baptists, and had read
much in the books of Jacob Behmen, but could not find thereby true
satisfaction to his soul. And being afterwards entered into society
with the Quakers, so called, he became a zealous preacher among
them. When in this his last voyage he was grown sick, and felt death
approaching, he bid John Clark, master of the said vessel, remember him
to his dear wife and little ones, and also to G. Fox, G. Whitehead and
others; and being filled with joy, began to sing, saying, ‘The creating
word of the Lord endures for ever.’ He took several that were about
him by the hand, and exhorted them to fear the Lord, and not to fear
death: ‘Death,’ said he, ‘is nothing in itself; for the sting of death
is sin. Tell the Friends at London, that would have been glad to have
seen my face, I go to my Father and their Father, to my God and their
God. Remember my love to my dear wife; she will be a sorrowful widow:
but let her not mourn too much, for it is well with me.’ And having
spoken something concerning his outward business to the master, he said
in regard to his wife and children, ‘I have left them no portions, but
my endeavour hath been to make God their father. Shall I lay down my
head upon the waters? Well, God is the God of the whole universe; and
though my body sink, I shall swim atop of the waters.’ Then taking his
leave of the company, he said, ‘I see not one of you, but I wish you
all well.’ And one asking, how it was with him? he answered, ‘I am
perfectly well.’ After having spoken many more sensible words, about
four in the morning he departed quietly, as if he had fallen asleep.
His wife Mary, the same that had formerly been at Adrianople, and
spoken with the emperor of the Turks, gave an excellent testimony in
writing concerning him; and J. Crook, in a preface to W. Bayly’s works,
said of him, (the truth of which I know by my own experience,) ‘As he
was bold and zealous in his preaching, being willing to improve his
time, as if he had known it was not to be long amongst us; so was he as
valiant in suffering for his testimony, when called thereunto. Methinks
I see how once I saw him stand at the bar to plead his innocent cause,
like holy Stephen, in the senate-house, when the threats of his
persecutors resembled the showers of stones, falling upon that blessed
martyr, crying out with a hideous noise, ‘take him away, jailer,’
&c. and yet all this while he changed not his countenance, except by
the additional ornaments of some innocent smiles. Sometimes by cruel
persecutors he hath been thrown down, and dragged upon the ground by
the hair of his head, and his mouth and jaws endeavoured to be rent
and broke asunder, so that the ground whereon he lay was smeared with
his blood: yet, as if this butchering had not been enough to make
him a fit sacrifice for the shambles of their cruelty, a heavy gross
bodied persecutor stamped upon his breast with his feet, endeavouring
to beat the breath out of his body: and when this persecutor had done
his pleasure, he commanded the jailer to take him away, and put him in
some nasty hole for his entertainment and cure. And had not the God of
Israel been his physician there, he had been taken from us long before
this.’ Thus far John Crook.
1676.
At the beginning of this year, 1676, died at London, Matthew Hide,
who had made it his business, during the space of about twenty years,
publicly to contradict the Quakers in their meetings, and to disturb
them in their worship of God, thinking from a blind zeal, that he did
God an acceptable piece of service, by zealously opposing what he
judged to be heresy. Now how much soever this man was bent against
them, yet he showed this moderation, that in his gainsaying he did not
behave himself furiously, but appeared to be well meaning, although
he erred exceedingly, and often hindered the preaching of ministers
among the Quakers; which induced W. Penn sometimes to pray to God very
earnestly for him, and to tell him in the presence of many auditors,
that God would plead with him by his righteous judgments; and that the
time would come he should be forced to confess to the sufficiency of
that light he then opposed, and to acknowledge that God was with those
called Quakers.
This same Hide being by sickness brought to the brink of death, desired
that G. Whitehead, and some of his friends, might be sent for: and to
one Cotton Oade, who asked him, if he had any thing to say to clear
himself, concerning his having so often opposed the friends called
Quakers, in their declarations and prayers, he said, that he was sorry
for what he had done: for, added he, they are the people of God. G.
Whitehead, then, though it was late in the evening, being come to
him, with some others, said, ‘I am come in love and tenderness to see
thee.’ To which Hide returned, ‘I am glad to see you.’ And Whitehead
again, ‘If thou hast any thing on thy conscience to speak, I would have
thee to clear thy conscience.’ To this Hide replied, ‘What I have to
say, I speak in the presence of God: as Paul was a persecutor of the
people of the Lord, so have I been a persecutor of you, his people,
as the world is who persecute the children of God.’ More he spoke,
but being very weak, his words could not well be understood. Then G.
Whitehead resumed, ‘Thy understanding being darkened when darkness was
over thee, thou hast gainsaid the truth and people of the Lord; and I
knew that that light which thou opposedst, would rise up in judgment
against thee. I have often with others, laboured with thee to bring
thee to a right understanding.’ To which Hide said, ‘This I declare in
the presence of God, and of you here, I have done evil in persecuting
you who are the children of God, and I am sorry for it: the Lord Jesus
Christ show mercy unto me, and the Lord increase your number, and be
with you.’ After some pause G. Whitehead said to him, ‘I would have
thee, if thou art able to speak, to ease thy conscience as fully as
thou canst. My soul is affected to hear thee thus confess thy evil, as
the Lord hath given thee a sense of it. In repentance there is mercy
and forgiveness; in confessing and forsaking sin, there is mercy to
be found with the Lord, who in the midst of judgment remembers mercy,
that he may be feared.’ Hide being in great anguish, and striving for
breath, said, a little after, ‘I have done evil in opposing you in your
prayers; the Lord be merciful unto me; and as I have been an instrument
to turn many from God, the Lord raise up many instruments to turn many
to him.’ G. Whitehead resumed, ‘I desire thou mayest find mercy and
forgiveness at the hand of the Lord. How is it with thy soul? Dost not
thou find some ease?’ ‘I hope I do,’ answered Hide, ‘and if the Lord
should lengthen my days, I should be willing to hear a testimony for
you, as publicly as I have appeared against you.’ His wife then said,
‘It is enough; what can be desired more?’ ‘If,’ queried Whitehead,
‘the Lord should not lengthen out thy days, dost thou desire what
thou sayest should be signified to others?’ ‘Yes,’ answered Hide, ‘I
do, you may; I have said as much as I can say.’ After some silence,
he being much straitened for breath, Whitehead said, ‘If this company
be wearisome unto thee, we may withdraw.’ To which he returned, ‘you
may use your freedom.’ G. Whitehead then taking leave of him, said,
‘I shall leave thee to the Lord, desiring he may show mercy and
forgiveness unto thee, as I hope he will.’ Upon which Hide replied,
‘The Lord be with your spirits.’
All this was spoken to G. Whitehead and his friends, in the presence
of Hide’s wife, and some others of his acquaintance, about two hours
before his death: and thus he gave manifest proofs of a sincere
repentance; for Elizabeth his wife, having perceived him to be much
troubled in his mind, had asked him, if he would speak with some of
the Quakers? and he smiting his hand on his breast, said, ‘With all
my soul.’ After G. Whitehead and his friends were gone, it being the
seventh day of the week, he desired several times that he might live
till morning, and might hear on that day, viz. the first day of the
week, a testimony for the truth, he had on that day so often opposed;
yet he signified that he had found some ease to his spirit. He also
exhorted his wife, who conversed much with people that were great in
the world, to use the plain language of the Quakers. And after some
more words to this purpose, spoken by him, with good understanding, he
stretched himself out, and died very quietly. An evident token of God’s
unspeakable mercy, who wills not the death of a sinner, but that he
should repent and live; and who entirely knowing the real disposition
of man’s heart, forgives sin by mere grace, without any merit in man,
but for his own sake, as he hath said himself, “I am he that blotteth
out thy transgressions for mine own sake, and will not remember thy
sins.” The truth of which saying very plainly appeared in the converted
thief on the cross, though his impenitent fellow-sufferer hardened his
heart against it.
In this year, while G. Fox was at Swarthmore, died William Lampitt, the
priest of Ulverstone, who formerly had been a great friend to Margaret,
now the wife of G. Fox, but grew so envious against the friends she was
in society with, that he said in the year 1652, he would wage his life
upon it, that the Quakers would all vanish and come to nought within
half a year. But on his death-bed he said to one of his hearers, who
came to visit him, ‘I have been a preacher a long time, and thought I
had lived well; but I did not think it had been so hard a thing to die.’
At Norwich now great spoil was made upon the Quakers, for their
religious assemblies. Erasmus Cooper coming once into the house of
Anthony Alexander, said to his wife, who was big with child, he came to
seize all she had. ‘All,’ said she, ‘and that for seven pounds fine,
that is hard.’ But he slighting what she said, replied, he would not
leave her a bed to lie on. And then began to break the doors with a
pick-axe; he and his companions behaving themselves so desperately,
that it drew tears from some of the neighbours who beheld it; and the
warranted spoilers forced Alexander’s man to help them; which made
Alexander say, that it was a most unreasonable thing, to require a
servant to assist in the taking his master’s goods: for which the
warden, Robert Clerk, snarled at him, saying, ‘They are our goods.’
To the house of Samuel Duncon, the aforesaid officers came also, and
with them the informer, Charles Tennison, and the hangman. Here they
staid several days and nights, and kept Samuel’s wife, who was big with
child, as a prisoner in her own house, not suffering her to speak with
any, so much as at the door, nor any to come to her. And after they
had broken open all the locked doors, they took away to the value of
about forty-three pounds in goods; and so insolent the informers were,
that one did not stick to say, ‘I will make the mayor wait upon me as
often as I will, at my pleasure.’ Nay, this wicked crew was become
so powerful, that none durst oppose them, for fear of falling into
disgrace with the court: since they were encouraged by such as were in
high stations, and probably at the instance of the Papists, or popishly
affected. The constable, William Poole, coming this summer into a
meeting at Norwich, with an informer, who made him come, and hearing
efficacious preaching there, cried with tears in his eyes, ‘What shall
I do! I know the power of God is among you:’ and told the informer,
that if there were a curse hung over any people upon the earth, it was
over the informers. And Tennison the informer, who had assisted in
taking away Samuel Duncon’s goods, being afterwards committed to prison
for debt, confessed he never prospered since he took in hand that work;
and said if he were at liberty, he would never meddle with it more.
In Nottinghamshire also great spoil and havoc was made, to which the
justice Robert Thoroton, was greatly instrumental; for at Sutton he
gave forth a warrant to seize the goods of two persons, one of which
was a woman, who having in a meeting spoken five or six words, which,
according to the testimony of some officers that were present, were
not at all like preaching, was however informed against as a preacher,
and so by the said Thoroton fined twenty pounds; and she being unable
to pay, the one half of the fine was charged upon her, and the other
half upon John Fulwood. At another time Thoroton gave order to seize
the goods of William Day, a miller, because he having been at a meeting
at Sutton, in the street, the fine of a pretended preacher, that was
unable, was charged upon him; though Day proved, and the officers who
kept the friends out of their meeting place, declared also, that those
words, which were called preaching, were no more than an answer to
what another had spoken. But for all that, Thoroton, to protect, and
to gratify the informer, said, ‘Though but one word were spoken, it is
sufficient.’ A poor woman at South Collingham, who was already bereaved
of almost all that she possessed, and since by her friends provided
with a bed and other necessaries, was also deprived of this little,
because she continued to frequent meetings. Matthew Hartly, a poor
man, who lived by spinning of wool, was likewise, for frequenting the
meeting there, bereaved of what he had; and so it was with many others,
whose names and surnames I could mention, if I had a mind to enlarge.
And if their friends had not taken care of them, and other impoverished
families, who had lost all by spoil, many might have perished.
In the town of Hereford the meetings were also disturbed from time to
time, chiefly by boys, who threw among those that were met, not only
stones, and excrements, but burning squibs; and used all manner of
insolency and mischief they could think of, against these harmless
people, either by breaking the glass windows, or the forms and
seats. One of the leaders of this turbulent company, was the son of
one Abraham Seward, who about this time was elected mayor; but when
complaints were made to him of the outrageous actions of the said
wicked crew, he pretended to be ignorant of his son’s doings, and for
all that threatened those that came to him, with the execution of the
law upon them, if they did not leave off to keep meetings. And as it
was well known that the chief master of the town-school was displeased
at the extravagant insolency of some of his scholars, so it was
reported also, that he was forbidden to correct them for it; and that
the college priests had set them on, and said they would hear them
out in what they did; for some of those brutish boys were choristers.
Two friends went to the justices, Robert Simons and Thomas Simons, to
acquaint them with the excessive abuses they met with. But the justices
not at all regarding their complaint, the said Robert endeavoured to
draw some confession of a meeting from one of them, intending, as he
himself said, immediately to have fined him, if he had confessed; but
he was wary. Now since the insolency of the boys was thus encouraged by
authority, it was no wonder it continued there a whole year. At length
eight men were taken from the meeting, by the aforesaid mayor, Abraham
Seward, and carried to the town-hall; and in their passage along, he
said, they should never meet there more. To which a friend, going
with him, said, ‘We are a people gathered by the power of the Lord;
and therefore the power of man cannot scatter us.’ Being come to the
town-hall, the oaths of allegiance and supremacy were tendered to them,
on which they said, ‘We are Christians, therefore cannot break the
command of Christ, which forbids to swear at all; but to render just
and lawful allegiance to the king, we do not deny, nor refuse.’ And
they persisting in their refusal to swear, were committed to prison.
The next day after, one Walter Rogers, a prebend, walking by the
meeting-house, and observing how it was broken, said to some, that they
were very good boys, and had done their work better than he thought
they had.
At one of the quarter-sessions in Nottingham, one John Sayton appeared,
who, being fined twenty pounds for suffering a conventicle at his
house, in the parish of Blyth, came to appeal for justice. The witness
produced against him, said, ‘I was there on that day, and there were
several people met, but were all silent, and no words spoken amongst
them; but I did not see John Sayton there.’ And that the said John
Sayton was above sixty miles from home the same day, for which he was
fined twenty pounds, was made appear in open court by substantial
evidence. Then the counsel for the appellant said, in the first place,
forasmuch as there was neither preaching, praying, nor reading, as
their own witness doth testify, therefore it was no conventicle.
Secondly, being they cannot prove he was there, therefore how can it
be judged, that he did either wittingly or willingly consent to that
meeting, if they could make it a conventicle? To this the informer’s
counsel objected, that although there was neither preaching, praying,
nor reading, yet it was evident enough that they met under a pretence
of religious exercise; and seeing there were more than five, and not
of John Sayton’s family, therefore it must needs be a conventicle. And
as to the second, seeing they cannot prove he was there, we must leave
it to the consciences of the jury, whether he did willingly consent
to that meeting or no. After the counsel had spoken on both sides,
Peniston Whaley, one of the justices, who sat in the chair as judge
of the court, stood up, and said to the jury, ‘Although there was no
visible exercise that can be proved, yet the Quakers say, they worship
God in spirit and truth; and we know their manner is to sit sighing and
groaning,’ &c. The jury returning, and being asked by the court, ‘Do
you find it for the king, or for the appellant,’ answered, ‘For the
appellant.’ This so displeased the said justice Whaley, that he bid
them go forth again. But one of the jurymen saying, they were agreed,
and they had considered the thing very well, he thereupon fell into
such a rage, that he said, ‘You deserve all to be hanged; for you are
as ill as highwaymen.’ Perhaps he himself was either an informer, or a
special friend to such, and therefore was sorry that the jury deprived
him of the booty, or a share of it.
There was now great persecution in all parts of England, neither did
it go better in the principality of Wales. Nine persons being taken
prisoners, and brought this summer to the assizes held for the county
of Merioneth, in the town Bala, upon an indictment for not resorting
to their parish churches, the oaths of allegiance and supremacy were
tendered to them, Kemick Eyton, and Thomas Walcot being judges; and
upon their refusal of taking these oaths, the said judges declared it
as their opinion in open court, that in case the prisoners would refuse
the oaths the second time, they should be prosecuted as traitors, the
men to be hanged and quartered, and the women to be burnt. But this
threat could not make them afraid; for at the next assizes the oaths
being tendered them again, they continued in refusing, though they
solemnly acknowledged allegiance to the king as supreme magistrate; and
thereupon were remanded to close imprisonment, where Edward Rees, one
of them, being above sixty years of age, and not able to hear the cold,
died about the height of the frost, not having been allowed the use of
fire.
Sometime before, it happened within the corporation of Pool, in
Montgomeryshire, that the justice, David Maurice, coming into a house
where a small number of people were peaceably met, and all silent,
required them to depart. Hereupon Thomas Lloyd, one of the company,
began to speak a few words, by way of defining true religion, and what
true worship was; and what he said was so reasonable, that the said
justice approved of it as sound, and according to the doctrine of the
church of England; yet notwithstanding he fined the said Thomas Lloyd
in twenty pounds for preaching.
This year died in prison John Sage, being about eighty years of age,
after having been in prison at Ivelchester in Somersetshire, almost
ten years, for not paying of tithes. And it appeared that since the
restoration of king Charles, above two hundred of the people called
Quakers, died in prisons in England, where they had been confined
because of their religion. I could relate abundance of occurrences
this year, if I had a mind to extend my work, but I study brevity; yet
cannot omit to mention, that in this year, in the island of Barbadoes,
in the West Indies, a law was made to prevent negroes coming into the
meetings of the Quakers, which was of this tenor:
‘Whereas of late, many negroes have been suffered to remain at
the meetings of the Quakers, as hearers of their doctrine, and
taught in their principles, whereby the safety of the island
may be much hazarded: be it enacted, that if at any time after
publication hereof, any negro, or negroes, be found with the
people called Quakers, at any of their meetings, as hearers of
their preaching, he or they shall be forfeited, one half to such
as shall seize, or sue for him or them, if belonging to any
of the Quakers, and the other moiety to the public use of the
island; provided that if he or they be seized, such as seize,
shall bring their actions upon this statute, within three months,
against the owner of the negro, or negroes: wherein the defendant
having ten days summons, shall appear, plead, and come to trial
at the first court after summons, or judgment to be given by
nihil dicit, and execution immediately to issue. And if such
negro, or negroes, do not belong to any of the persons present
at the same meeting, any person or persons may bring an action
upon this statute, against any of the persons present at the said
meeting, at the election of the informer, and so recover ten
pounds for every negro, or negroes, present at the said meeting
as aforesaid, to be divided as aforesaid, and in such actions
proceedings to be as aforesaid. And no person whatsoever, shall
keep any school, to instruct any child in any learning, unless
within one month after the publication hereof, he first take the
oaths of allegiance and supremacy, before some justice of peace
of the parish where the party lives, and have a certificate
thereof, or have a special license from the governor, on pain
of three months imprisonment, and forfeiture of 300 lbs. of
Muscovado sugar, the one moiety to the informer, and the other
to the public use of the island, to be recovered as aforesaid.
And no person whatsoever, who is not an inhabitant and resident
of this island, and hath been so for twelve months together,
shall hereafter publicly discourse, or preach at the meeting of
the Quakers, on pain of six months imprisonment, and forfeiture
of 1000 lbs. Muscovado sugar, the one moiety to such as sue for
it, the other to the public use of the island, to be recovered
as aforesaid: provided that all actions upon this statute, be
brought within six months after the offence.
‘Read, and passed the council the 21st of April, 1676,
and consented to by his excellency [the governor] the
same day.
EDWARD STEED, _Deputy-secretary_.’
Although in the beginning of this statute, the instructing of the
negroes in the doctrine of the Quakers, is represented as a thing
whereby the safety of the island might be much hazarded, yet the sequel
shows that this was not the matter, but that it was endeavoured to
deprive the Quakers of their due liberty. What was the issue hereof I
am unacquainted with.
This year Robert Barclay wrote a letter to the heer Adrian Paets, with
whom he had some discourse when the said heer returned from Spain,
where he had been ambassador for the States of the United Provinces.
This Paets having a strange opinion of the doctrine of the Quakers,
had a good while ago wrote a letter[41] to Christian Hartzoeker, at
Rotterdam, about their doctrine; and having afterwards discoursed with
Barclay concerning the inward and immediate revelation of the Spirit
of God, this induced Barclay to write a letter on the said subject in
Latin, to the aforementioned heer, wherein he made a more large reply
to his arguments, than he had done by word of mouth. This letter being
sent over from Scotland to Holland, was delivered by Benjamin Furly
at Rotterdam, to the said heer Paets, with a desire that he might be
pleased to return an answer to it, which he promised he would. But he
continuing deficient in the case, Furly at last published the said
letter in print, but without mentioning the name of him to whom it was
written, only his character, viz. _Cuidam legato_.[42]
[41] To be found in the book called _Præstantium ac eruditorum
virorum Epistolæ Ecclesiastique & Theologicæ_. Amstelodami _apud_
Franciscum Halman. 1704.
[42] To a certain ambassador.
In this letter was set down first the objection of the heer Paets,
to wit, that since the being and substance of the Christian religion
consisted in the knowledge of, and faith concerning, the birth, life,
death, resurrection, and ascension of Christ Jesus, he considered
the substance of the Christian religion as contingent truth; which
contingent truth was matter of fact. And matter of fact could not be
known but by the relation of another, or by the perception of the
outward senses; because there are naturally in our souls no ideas of
contingent truths, such as are concerning necessary truths, viz. that
God is, and that the whole is greater than the part. And since it might
without absurdity be said, that God cannot make a contingent truth to
become a necessary truth; neither can God reveal contingent truths or
matters of fact, but as contingent truths are revealed; and matters of
fact not being revealed but by the outward senses, the conclusion drawn
from thence is, that men are not obliged to believe God producing any
revelation in the soul concerning matter of fact, whether of a thing
done, or to be done, unless there be added some miracles obvious to
the outward senses, by which the soul may be ascertained that that
revelation cometh from God. All these arguments Barclay answered very
circumstantially, premising first, that it was falsely supposed that
the essence of the Christian religion consisted in the historical
faith and knowledge of the birth, life, death, resurrection and
ascension of Christ. That faith and historical knowledge is indeed a
part of the Christian religion, but not such an essential part as that
without which the Christian religion cannot consist; but an integral
part, which goes to the completing of the Christian religion, as the
hands or feet of a man are the integral parts of a man, without which
nevertheless a man may exist, but not an entire and complete man.
Yet he agrees, that the historical knowledge of Christ is commonly
manifested to us by the holy Scriptures as the means; but nevertheless
he asserts, that God could without such an outward mean manifest the
said historical knowledge to our minds: and also, that a contingent
truth may be known by a supernatural knowledge. And he saith, that when
God doth make known unto men any matter of fact by divine immediate
revelation, he then speaks as to the ear of the heart of the inward
man. And, that as when any natural idea is excited in us, we clearly
know it; so also when a supernatural idea is raised, we clearly know
that whereof it is the idea. He also holds forth, what properly is the
inward supernatural sense in man; and then he distinguisheth between
contingent and necessary truths, and shows how a divine revelation
may be known to be such, saying that natural and spiritual senses are
distinguishable by their objects, and demonstrating how godly men may
know they are in the favour of God, and how the wicked feel the wrath
of God as fire. He also relates after what manner the spiritual senses
distinguish the good and the evil; and he confesseth there is in all
men, as well the godly as the ungodly, some sort of idea of God, as
of a most perfect being: but he asserts, that the supernatural idea
of God differeth much from the natural; and that in all men there is
a supernatural idea of God. He also shows, wherein the motions of
the mind differ from those of the body; and that there are ideas as
well of supernatural, as of natural things. And showing from whence
the errors of false likenesses of reason proceed, he says, that the
natural reason cannot perceive supernatural things. He also asserts,
that the revelations to the prophets were by inward inspirations in
their minds; and that they were most certainly persuaded that they
were divinely inspired, even without any outward miracle; and that it
is by the inspiration of the same divine Spirit, by which the prophets
prophesied, that we do believe their words and writings to be divine,
concerning contingent truths, as well past as to come. Moreover he
inquires, whether faith comes by outward hearing, and he shows how the
outward senses may be deceived; nay, that often they are vitiated both
by outward casualties and natural infirmities, whereunto the godly are
no less subject than the wicked.
All this is treated at large by Barclay, as may be seen in the said
letter, and several years after, when the heer Paets was at London,
being one of the commissioners for the Dutch East India company,
Barclay spoke with him again, and so represented the matter, that he
readily yielded that he had been mistaken in his notion of the Quakers;
for he found they could make a reasonable plea for the foundation of
their religion. And thereupon R. Barclay translated the said letter
into English as follows:
‘_My Friend_,
‘Albeit I judge I did fully answer to all thy arguments in that
conference we had, concerning the necessity and possibility of
inward immediate revelation, and of the certainty of true faith
from thence proceeding; nevertheless, because after we had made
an end, and were parting, thou wouldest needs remit to my further
consideration the strength of thy argument, as that in which
thou supposedst the very hinge of the question to lie: that I
might satisfy thy desire, and that the truth might more appear,
I did further consider of it, but the more I weighed it, I found
it the weaker. And therefore that thou thyself mayest make the
truer judgment of it, I thought meet to send thee my further
considerations thereon; (which I had done ere now, had not I,
both at London and elsewhere, been diverted by other necessary
occasions,) wherein I doubt not, but thou wilt perceive a full
and distinct answer to thy argument. But if thou canst not as
yet yield to the truth, or thinkest mine answer in any part to
be defective, so that there yet remains with thee any matter
of doubt or scruple; I do earnestly desire thee, that as I for
thy sake, and out of love to the truth, have not been wanting to
examine thy argument, and to transmit to thee my considerations
thereon; so thou mayest give thyself the trouble to write and
send me what thou hast further to say: which my friend, N. N. who
delivers thee this will, at what time thou shalt appoint, receive
from thee, and transmit to me thy letter; that at last the truth
may appear where it is.
‘And that the whole matter may the more clearly be understood, it
will be fit in the first place, to propose thy argument, whereby
thou opposest the immediate revelation of God in the saints:
thence concluding thou hast fully overturned the foundation of
the people called Quakers. Which argument of thine is;
‘That since, (as thou judgest,) the being and substance of the
Christian religion consisteth in the knowledge of, and faith
concerning, the birth, life, death, resurrection, and ascension
of Christ Jesus, thou considerest the substance of the Christian
religion as a contingent truth; which contingent truth is matter
of fact. Whence thou reasonest, that:
Matter of fact cannot be known but by the relation of another,
or by perception of the outward senses; because there are
naturally in our souls no ideas of contingent truths, such as
are concerning necessary truths: to wit, that God is; and that
the whole is greater than the part.--And since it may without
absurdity be said, that
God cannot make a contingent truth to become a necessary truth;
neither can God reveal contingent truths or matters of fact,
but as contingent truths are revealed: but matters of fact
are not revealed but by the outward senses.--From whence thou
concludest, that
Men are not even obliged to believe God producing any revelation
in the soul concerning matter of fact, whether of a thing done,
or to be done, unless there be added some miracles obvious to
the outward senses, by which the soul may be ascertained, that
that revelation cometh from God.
‘All this thou endeavourest also to prove from the Scripture,
Rom. x. where the apostle saith, “Faith cometh by hearing:” and
because the apostle speaketh afterwards of those who were sent
in the plural number; thence thou concludest that to be spoken
of outward preaching by the ministry of men: and since the
apostle uses a question, saying, “How shall they believe unless
they hear,” thou gatherest from the induction and connexion
of the text, that the apostle treats only of outward hearing;
thence concluding, that without outward hearing, faith cannot
be produced: and therefore, that there can be no immediate
revelation by the simple operation of the Spirit in the mind,
unless there be somewhat proposed to the outward senses.
‘Before I proceed to a direct answer to this argument, some
things are necessary to be premised:
‘First then; That it is falsely supposed, that the essence of
the Christian religion consists in the historical faith and
knowledge of the birth, death, life, resurrection, and ascension
of Jesus Christ. That faith and historical knowledge is indeed a
part of the Christian religion; but not such an essential part,
as that without which the Christian religion cannot consist: but
an integral part, which goes to the completing of the Christian
religion; as the hands or feet of a man are integral parts of
a man, without which nevertheless a man may exist, but not an
entire and complete man.
‘Secondly, If by immediate revelation be understood such a
revelation of God, as begets in our souls an historical faith
and knowledge of the birth of Christ in the flesh, without
the means of the holy Scripture, we do not contend for such a
revelation, as commonly given, or to be expected by us, or any
other Christians. For albeit many other evangelical truths be
manifested to us by the immediate manifestation of God, not
using the Scripture as the means; yet the historical knowledge
of Christ is not commonly manifested to us, nor to any others,
but by the holy Scripture, as the means, and that by way of a
material object: even as when we see the person of Peter or Paul
to our visive faculty immediately, yet not without the medium
of that person concurring as a material object to produce that
sight; while the light of the sun concurs, as the formal object
of that visit or sight. So that when we livingly and spiritually
know the history of the birth of Christ in the flesh; the inward
revelation or illumination of God, which is like the sun’s light,
proceeding from the divine sun, doth shine into the eye of the
mind, and by its influence moves the mind to assent unto the
historical truth of Christ’s birth, life, &c. in the reading or
hearing the Scripture, or meditating therein.
‘Thirdly, Nevertheless we do firmly assert, that God can most
easily, clearly, and certainly, manifest to our minds the
historical truths of Christ’s birth, &c. when it so pleaseth
him, even without the Scripture, or any other outward means. And
because this argument seems to be formed against the possibility
of such a revelation, therefore I shall proceed to discuss it:
but first thou mayest mind, that the prophets who foretold
Christ’s coming in the flesh, and being to be born of a virgin,
and afterwards to suffer death, did know these truths of fact by
the inward inspiration of God, without outward means: for which
see 1 Pet. i. 10, 11. Now that which hath been may be.
‘Fourthly, This argument doth at most conclude, that we cannot
know naturally any truth of fact, but by the relation of another
without, us, or by the preception of the outward senses; because
there are naturally in our minds no ideas concerning contingent
truths, (and every truth of fact is a contingent truth,) as
there are of necessary truths. This then proveth, that we cannot
naturally know any contingent truth, but by the relation of
another, or perception of the outward senses: but that hindreth
not, but we may know a contingent truth by a supernatural
knowledge, God supplying the place of an outward relator; who is
so true, that he may, and ought to be believed, since God is the
fountain of truth.
‘Fifthly, When God doth make known unto men any matter of fact
by divine immediate revelation or inspiration, God speaking as
to the ear of the heart of the inward man, or as by his finger
writing therein, two things are to be considered in such an
immediate revelation.
[Greek: Τὸ: To][43] _Materiale_, The matter of fact, or thing
revealed, which is contingent.
[43] _The_ in Greek. Latin lacks a definite
article.--_Transcriber._
[Greek: Τὸ: To][44] _Formale_, The form or mode, how the
revelation is made: which form is an inward, divine, and
supernatural revelation, which is the voice or speech of God,
inwardly speaking to the ear of the inward man or mind of man,
or a divine writing supernaturally imprinted therein. Now as
to the material part, or the thing and matter revealed, this is
indeed a contingent truth, and of itself is not manifest to the
mind; but because of the form, that is, because of the divine
mode, and supernatural inward operation, the matter is known to
be true. For that divine and supernatural inward operation, which
the mind doth feel and perceive in itself, is the voice of God
speaking unto man, which by its nature and specific property is
as clearly distinguished and understood to be the voice of God,
as the voice of Peter or James is known to be the voice of such
men. For every being as a being is knowable, and that by its own
specific nature, or property proceeding from its nature; and
hath its proper idea, by which it is distinguishable from every
other thing, if so be its idea be stirred up in us, and clearly
proposed to us.
[44] _The_ in Greek. Latin lacks a definite
article.--_Transcriber._
‘Sixthly: Now as some beings are natural, some supernatural,
so some ideas are natural, some supernatural: and as when any
natural idea is excited in us, we clearly know it; so also when a
supernatural idea is raised, we clearly know that, whereof it is
the idea. But the voice of God speaking to the mind of man, is a
supernatural being, and stirreth up in us a supernatural idea, by
which we clearly know that inward voice to be the voice of God,
and not the voice or operation of another, or of any evil spirit,
or angel, because none of these have a supernatural idea, as the
voice of God, and his divine operation hath: for it is full of
vigour, virtue, and divine glory, as saith the psalmist, who had
often experience of it; and we also in our measures are witnesses
thereof, for the voice of God is known to be his by its divine
virtue.
‘Seventhly: The senses are either outward or inward: and the
inward senses are either natural or supernatural; we have an
example of the inward natural sense in being angered or pacified,
in love and hatred; or when we perceive and discern any natural
truth, such as the natural maxims, to wit, that the whole is
greater than the part, &c. or when we deduce any conclusion by
the strength of natural reason, that perception also in a larger
sense, may be called an inward sense. But an example of an inward
supernatural sense is, when the heart or soul of a pious man,
feels in itself divine motions, influences, and operations,
which sometimes are as the voice or speech of God, sometimes
as a most pleasant and glorious illustration or visible object
to the inward eye, sometimes as a most sweet savour or taste,
sometimes as an heavenly and divine warmness, or, so to speak,
melting of the soul in the love of God. Moreover, this divine and
supernatural operation in the mind of man, is a true and most
glorious miracle; which when it is perceived by the inward and
supernatural sense divinely raised up in the mind of man, doth so
evidently and clearly persuade the understanding to assent to the
thing revealed, that there is no need of an outward miracle: for
this assent is not because of the thing itself, but because of
the revelation proposing it, which is the voice of God. For when
the voice of God is heard in the soul, the soul doth as certainly
conclude the truth of that voice, as the truth of God’s being,
from whom it proceeds.
‘These things being thus premised, I now proceed to a direct
answer. For what is said, that God cannot make a contingent truth
to become a necessary truth, I agree; but when any contingent
truth is manifest to us by the immediate revelation of God,
there is in it two things to be considered, to wit, the thing
revealed, which is contingent; and the revelation itself:
which upon the supposition, that it is a divine revelation,
is no contingent truth, but a most necessary truth. And this
all mankind will say, that this proposition, every divine
revelation is necessarily true, is as clear and evident, as that
proposition, that every whole is greater than its part.
‘But thou wilt say; how knowest thou that a divine revelation is
a divine revelation? I answer, how knowest thou that a whole is a
whole, and a part is a part? thou wilt say, by the natural idea
excited in me of a whole, and of a part. I answer again; even so
a divine revelation is known to be such by a supernatural idea of
divine revelation stirred up in us, and that by a divine motion,
or supernatural operation. But it is no wonder that men, who have
no experience of supernatural ideas, or at least do not heed
them, do deny them; which is, as if a man naturally blind denied
light or colours; or a deaf man sounds, because they experience
them not. Therefore, we cannot dissemble, that we feel a fervent
zeal even divinely kindled in us against such an absurd opinion,
as affirms, that God cannot ascertain us of his will in any
contingent truth, but by proposing it to the outward senses. This
opinion does in a manner turn men into brutes, as if man were not
to believe his God, unless he propose what is to be believed to
the outward senses, which the beasts have common with us; yea, it
derogates from God’s power, and imputes weakness to him, as if
he could not do that, which not only both good and evil angels
can do, but which the meanest creatures can do, and the most
insensible. As for instance: the heat of the fire, the coldness
of the air and water worketh upon us; yea, if a pin prick us, we
feel it, and that by the outward sense; because the objects are
outward and carnal: but since God is a most pure and glorious
Spirit, when he operateth in the innermost parts of our minds by
his will; shall not he and his will be clearly felt according to
his nature, that is, by a spiritual and supernatural sense? For
as the nature of God is, so is the nature of his will, to wit,
purely spiritual, and therefore requireth a spiritual sense to
discern it; which spiritual sense, when it is raised up in us by
a divine operation, doth as clearly and certainly know the voice
or revelation of the will of God, concerning any thing which God
is pleased to reveal, however contingent, as the outward sense
knows and perceives the outward object. And it is no less absurd,
to require of God, who is a most pure Spirit, to manifest his
will to men by the outward senses, else not to be credited; as to
require us to see sounds, and hear lights and colours. For as the
objects of the outward senses are not to be confounded, but every
object is to have its proper sense; so must we judge of inward
and spiritual objects, which have their proper sense, whereby
they are to be perceived. And tell me, how God doth manifest his
will concerning matters of fact, when he sends his angels to men,
since angels, (as is commonly received,) have not outward senses,
or at least not so gross ones, as ours are? Yea, when men die,
and appear before the tribunal of God, whether unto eternal life
or death, how can they know this, having laid down their bodies,
and therewith their outward senses? And nevertheless this truth
of God is a truth of fact, as is the historical truth of Christ’s
birth in the flesh. And which is yet more near: how do good and
holy men even in this life most certainly know, that they are
in the favour and grace of God? no outward revelation doth make
this known unto them; but the Spirit, as saith the apostle,
beareth witness with our spirits, that we are the children of
God. For the mere testimony of a human conscience, without inward
testimony of the holy Spirit, cannot beget in us a firm and
immoveable testimony of our sonship, because the heart of man is
deceitful; and if the testimony thereof were true, at most it is
but a human testimony, which begetteth in us only a human faith:
but that faith, by which holy men believe they are the sons of
God, is a divine faith, which leans upon a divine testimony of
the holy Spirit, witnessing in them that they are the sons of
God. Moreover, when a good man feels in himself that undeclarable
joy of the holy Spirit, concerning which the holy Scripture
speaks, and which is the common privilege of the saints, how or
whence feels he this joy? Truly, this argument concludes no less
against this heavenly spiritual joy, which is begotten in the
souls of the saints by the holy Spirit, than it does against the
immediate revelation of God: for there is no natural idea of this
spiritual joy, else mere natural men, yea, such as are profane
and ungodly, would feel it as much as the godly: but because it
is a supernatural thing, therefore it can have no true idea but
what is supernatural. Moreover, whence is it that profane men
feel sometimes in themselves the wrath of God as fire, when all
things, as to the outward, go as prosperously with them as with
the godly, and oftentimes more prosperously? For there is no
natural idea in men of this inward wrath of God. There is also an
inward grief oftentimes raised up in wicked men from the sense of
this wrath of God, which very much vexeth and tormenteth their
minds; and nevertheless this grief hath no natural idea in us:
for oftentimes wicked men feel not this sorrow; for God sometimes
is, as it were, silent, while the wicked sin, as in Psalm 1.
‘All which things do most clearly demonstrate, that there are
in men supernatural ideas of supernatural beings; which ideas
are nevertheless not perceived by us, unless they be stirred
up by some supernatural operation of God, which raiseth up in
us supernatural and spiritual senses, which by their nature
are as distinguishable from the natural senses, whether inward
or outward, as the natural senses are distinguished one from
another by their specific difference. Of which spiritual senses
the Scripture speaks frequently, as Heb. v. and xiv. where is
spoken of the spiritual senses in general, by which the spiritual
man hath the discerning of good and evil: which good is of a
spiritual nature, and conduceth to feed in us a spiritual and
divine life; and the evil is of that kind, by which the spiritual
life is in us hurt; to wit, sins, whether carnal or spiritual;
all which cannot be discerned but by such who have spiritual
senses stirred up in them, as saith the apostle. In other
places the Scripture also speaketh of these spiritual senses
in particular; as of the spiritual seeing, Psalm xxxiv. 9. Of
the spiritual hearing, Psalm lxxxv. 9. Of spiritual tasting,
Psalm xxxiv. 8. Of spiritual smelling, Cant. i. 3. Of spiritual
touching, Acts xvii. 8, and in many other places of Scripture
we read of those spiritual senses in particular. Yea, it is the
promise of the gospel, that the glory of God shall be seen of
holy men, such as are clean of heart, even in this life: Isaiah
xxxiii. 17. Mat. v. 8. Which were fulfilled in the primitive
Christians, see John i. 14. 1 John i. 2, 3, 4. 2 Cor. iii. 18,
and chap. iv. 6. But what is this vision of God and divine glory,
which the souls of the saints enjoy in this life, which is only
as the earnest or first-fruits of that more abundant glorious
vision in the life to come, concerning which the Scripture so
much declareth, which is the highest happiness of the immortal
soul.
‘For this argument seemeth to do no less injury to the saints,
than to rob them of this most glorious treasure both in this
life, and that to come. For there is in us no natural idea of
this divine glory, as there is not of God himself which is any
ways proportionable unto so great happiness, which the Scripture
so much declareth of, by which the godly are rewarded partly in
this life, and plenarily in that which is to come. We confess
indeed, there is in all men, as well the godly as ungodly,
some sort of idea of God, as of a most perfect being; and that
therefore this proposition, there existeth a most perfect being,
doth as clearly appear to human understanding, as that the whole
is greater than the part: and therefore this proposition, that
a most perfect being existeth, ought to be numbered among the
principles, that of themselves are manifest. But this idea of God
is as manifest to ungodly, as to godly men; yea, it is clearly
perceived by the devil, as by the most holy angels: for all the
devils know that God is; but yet how blind is the devil, and all
wicked men, as to the vision of God, which is the chief reward of
the saints.
‘There is then either no such vision of God, neither in this
life, nor in that to come; or there is a supernatural idea of
God in us, by which we are made capable of this vision; which
supernatural idea of God differeth much from that natural idea of
God, which Cartesius and his followers so much talk of, (albeit
others long before Cartesius did observe this natural idea of
God, and spoke of it.) But the happiness of the saints consists
not in contemplating this natural idea of God, else the wicked
would be as happy as the godly; yea, the very devil as the most
holy angel: since, as is said, both the devil and most wicked men
do as clearly perceive this natural idea of God, as the most holy
men or angels.
‘If the Scripture then be true, there is in men a supernatural
idea of God, which altogether differs from this natural idea: I
say, in all men; because all men are capable of salvation, and
consequently of enjoying this Divine vision. Now this capacity
consisteth herein, that they have such a supernatural idea in
themselves: for if there were no such idea in them, it were
impossible they should so know God. For whatsoever is clearly
and distinctly known, is known by its proper idea; neither can
it other-ways be clearly and distinctly known: for the ideas of
all things are divinely planted in our souls; for they are not
begotten in us by outward objects, or outward causes, as the
better philosophy teacheth, but only are by these outward things
excited or stirred up. And this is true not only in supernatural
ideas of God, and things divine, and in natural ideas of the
natural principles of human understanding, and conclusions thence
deduced by the strength of human reason: but even in the ideas
of outward objects, which are perceived by the outward senses;
as that noble Christian philosopher Bœtius hath well observed;
to which also the Cartesian philosophy agreeth. For when I see
any outward object, whether it be a man, or horse, or bird, the
outward object does not treat in my eye, nor yet in my mind the
idea of those things; for the outward object does nothing but
imprint in our sensible organs a corporeal motion. Now there
is nothing in a corporeal motion that can form in us the ideas
of those things; for all ideas are of a spiritual nature: now
nothing that is corporeal can produce that which is spiritual,
because the less excellent cannot produce the more excellent,
else the effect would exceed its cause: which is against all
sound reason, that it should bring forth what were of a higher
and more excellent kind. Therefore all ideas, whether of natural
or spiritual things, are divinely implanted in our minds; which
nevertheless do not always appear, but sometimes appear, and
sometimes are as it were hid in us, and sometimes are stirred
up in us by causes outward or inward, and again do as it were
sleep and shun our observation, and seem not to be otherways
distinguished by our minds, but as thoughts and perceptions of
the mind from the mind itself; that is, as the mode from the
subject, or as a bodily motion from the body, whereof it is the
motion: for as is the relation of a bodily motion to a body,
so is the relation of a thought or perception of the mind to
the mind. In this nevertheless they differ, that the mind can
move itself, and operate in itself: which a body cannot do: but
as a body can be moved by another, so also can the mind after
this manner be moved by another, and that both by outward and
inward causes, but chiefly by God himself, in whose hand all
souls and creatures are. But of these things there is enough
said at present; and I hope, I have not thus far impertinently
philosophised.
‘As there are then natural ideas concerning the things of the
natural world; as for instance, ideas of light and colours,
ideas of voice and sound, ideas of savouring and smelling, ideas
of tasting and feeling, as of heat and cold, of grief and joy;
it follows also, that there are ideas of supernatural things,
concerning the divine and supernatural things of the divine and
supernatural world; as ideas of those things above-mentioned
in the spiritual world. And as the natural ideas are stirred
up in us by outward and natural bodies, so those divine and
supernatural ideas are stirred up in us by a certain principle,
which is a body in naturals, in relation to the spiritual world,
and therefore may be called a divine body; not as if it were
a part of God, who is a most pure spirit; but the organ, or
instrument of God, by which he worketh in us, and stirreth up in
us these ideas of divine things. This is that flesh and blood of
Christ, by which the saints are nourished; which is a mystery to
all unregenerated and mere natural men, never to be reached by
them, while they remain in that state.
‘Now if there be such supernatural ideas, there are also senses,
or perceptive faculties by which those ideas are perceived; for
those are two relatives that suppose and infer one another:
but in wicked men those senses or faculties do as it were
sleep, as the visive faculty of a blind man; but in the godly
they are stirred up. Now by these divine and spiritual senses,
which are distinct and distinguishable from all the natural
faculties of the soul, whether of imagination, or natural reason,
spiritual minded men do behold the glory and beauty of God, in
respect whereof, and for which, all the glory of this world is
despicable to them; yea, even as dross and dung. And they also
hear God inwardly speaking in their souls, words truly divine
and heavenly, full of virtue and divine life; and the savour and
taste of divine things, and do, as it were, handle them with the
hands of their souls. And those heavenly enjoyments do as really
differ in their nature from all false similitudes, and fictitious
appearances of them, which either the mind of man by its own
strength can imitate, or any evil spirit to deceive man can
counterfeit; as a true man differs from the dead image of a man,
or true bread, honey, wine, or milk, doth from the mere picture
of those things. And albeit either the imagination of man, or
subtilty of the devil, may counterfeit false likenesses of these
enjoyments, by which men may be deceived; and no doubt many are
deceived; that doth not hinder, but that those divine enjoyments
are clearly perceived in such, in whom the divine and spiritual
senses are truly opened, and the true supernatural ideas of those
things truly raised up.
‘And if there be at any time a mistake, the divine illumination
is not the cause of that mistake, but some evil disposition
of the mind; as happeneth in those things relating to natural
reason. For there are many false appearances of reason, which
differ as much from true reason, as those false and pretended
revelations, and diabolical inspirations from such as are truly
divine. Now, how many men who would be esteemed philosophers,
are miserably deceived by those false likenesses of reason,
judging their false reasons to be the true similitudes of things
and solid ratiocinations; which nevertheless moveth no man of
sound reason, to reject sound and solid reason, as doubtful and
uncertain? For even sound natural reason is an excellent gift of
God, and very useful to mankind, when used in its proper place:
but let none think to comprehend by their natural reason things
that are of a divine and supernatural kind. And as we use to
do, when any one is deceived by false appearances of reason, we
endeavour to reduce them to contemplate the first natural ideas
of natural things, and to meditate therein, which is as a test or
touchstone, by which all the appearances and likenesses of reason
are to be examined; if they contradict them, to be rejected; so
also when any one is deceived by his own imagination, or the
cunning of satan, thinking any evil inspiration of the devil to
be a true divine revelation, he that is so deceived, is to be
reduced to the natural ideas of things, (if so be that pretended
revelation doth contradict them, for no true divine revelation
can contradict the true natural ideas,) or to the supernatural
ideas of divine things, which are most simple, clear, and obvious
to the minds of men, if they will turn their minds to the divine
seed in them; or at least those ideas are readily and easily
stirred up. For as in natural ideas, so in supernatural, some are
more easily raised than others: for there is a certain order both
of natural and supernatural ideas, whereby they are gradually
excited: nor is there any mortal man, in whose mind at some
time or other there is not stirred up some idea that is truly
supernatural and divine, and who hath not felt in himself both
the wrath and judgment of God for his sins; and also some tender
and gentle taste of God’s love and goodness, by which wicked
men are invited to repentance. Now that which is thought to be
a divine revelation, and is felt to contradict any divine and
supernatural idea, which is clearly perceived in the soul, it is
a manifest token that it is not a divine revelation, but either a
false imagination, or the wicked suggestion of some evil spirit.
‘But to proceed: if we will hear the Scripture, (as all
Christians ought,) it testifies to us, that God hath declared
his mind and will even concerning contingent truths to come, in
the prophets; as that of the first to the Hebrews doth evidently
declare: “God, who at sundry times, and in divers manners spoke
to our fathers in the prophets.” Yea, let us hear the prophets
themselves; Hosea, chap. i. saith plainly, “That the word of the
Lord was made in him,” as it is in the Hebrew. Habakuk also says,
As he was standing on his watch, to see what Jehovah would speak
in him. And it is so manifest that the most heavenly revelations
are by inward illustrations, and inspirations in the very minds
of the prophets, that it is strange how any that believe in the
Scripture should doubt of it. And if it happened at any time,
such revelations were made in the natural imaginations of the
prophets, or any of their inward natural senses, then it may be
confessed, they could not be infallibly certain they came from
God; unless they also felt God in the divine and supernatural
senses, by which they did most nearly approach to him, from these
superior and most inward senses, working upon the lower and less
noble faculties of the mind. But whichever way the prophets were
certain, that they were inspired of God, even when they foretold
contingent truths to come, it is without doubt, they were most
certainly persuaded, that they were divinely inspired, and that
frequently without any outward miracle. For John the Baptist did
no miracle; and many prophesied, where there appeared no miracle:
as in the Scriptures may be often observed. And we also by the
inspiration of the same Divine spirit, by which the prophets
prophesied, do believe their words and writings to be divine,
concerning contingent truths, as well past as to come; else that
faith, by which we believe the Scripture, would not be divine,
but merely human. And thence we need no outward miracles to move
us to believe the Scriptures; and therefore much less were they
necessary to the prophets who wrote them. For we see in many
places of the prophets, where they declare prophesies as revealed
to them of God, there is not a word mentioned of any outward
miracle, as that by which alone they were certain of it.
‘Moreover, the falseness of this argument doth appear, in that
the Scripture doth declare many contingent truths to have been
revealed to the prophets in dreams. Now as natural and wicked men
do not see what they dream by a real perception of the outward
senses, but by inward ideas which are presented to the mind, and
perceived by it, so it is also in divine revelations of this
nature. Of which we have a clear example in Joseph, the husband
of the blessed Virgin, who, when he observed his wife with
child, was told in a dream, that she had conceived by the Holy
Ghost: now I would know, to which of Joseph’s outward senses was
this revealed? or what miracle had he to induce him to believe?
which could neither be proved, so as to make an infallible
application to Mary, by the testimony of the Scripture; and which
being against the order of nature, did choke his reason. The
Scripture mentions no miracle in this matter; and yet no doubt
Joseph had highly sinned had he not believed this revelation,
and notwithstanding, rejected his wife as an adultress. But if
thou sayest, that according to thy hypothesis there must have
been a miracle; that is only to beg the question: and how false
this hypothesis is, the apostle shows clearly, 1 Cor. ii. 14.
the natural or animal man knoweth not, receiveth not, the things
of God. Now divine revelations are of this nature; if either
chiefly or only those things were to be judged by the outward
senses, it would contradict the apostle. For natural men, yea,
the most wicked, have the use of the outward senses as true and
exact as the most godly. And whereas the apostle adds, “For
they are spiritually discerned,” it puts the matter out of all
question: for thence it abundantly appears, that this discerning
is not by the outward senses according to the following verse;
for the apostle saith, “The spiritual man judgeth all things:”
this then must be done by some senses or properties peculiar to
the spiritual man, and in which he excels the natural man, which
is not in the outward senses, as we all do know. Therefore the
perception of “spiritual things cannot be by the outward senses,
either as the chief or only means,” as is falsely contended for.
‘Now as to these words of the apostle, Rom. x. That faith comes
by hearing; Zuinglius observed well, that the apostle intended
not to affirm faith to come by the hearing of the outward word;
neither do the following words prove it, “How shall they believe,
unless they hear? and how shall they hear without a preacher?
and how shall they preach, unless they be sent?” for the apostle
uses these words, not as his arguments, but as objections which
might be formed; as the same apostle uses in other places; to
which objections he answers in the same chapter, as appears
verse 18. “But I say, have not they all heard? yes, truly their
voice went into all the earth:” that is, of the Father and Son,
or the Father in the word; which word is not only near us, but
according to the same apostle in the same chapter, in our mouths,
and in our hearts. But further thou canst conclude nothing from
this, but that faith is begotten by outward hearing only, and no
otherwise: for this is the strength of thy argument, that since
faith cannot be without outward hearing, therefore nothing can
certainly be believed, but where somewhat is proposed to the
outward hearing. For if thou acknowledge faith can be begotten
any otherwise than by hearing, thou losest the strength of thy
argument: and if that argument hold, that faith comes only by
outward hearing, thou destroyest the whole hypothesis. For having
before affirmed, that outward miracles are sufficient to render
one certain of the truth of any revelation; whether it be the
healing of the sick, or the raising of the dead, would avail
nothing, because those, (as for the most part all miracles,) are
obvious to the sight, not to the hearing: and if it be not by
outward hearing only, thou canst conclude nothing from this place.
‘But I the more wonder thy using of this argument, considering
the discourse we had together before we entered upon this debate:
for when we were speaking of the opinion of a certain person, who
denied the certainty of every thing, but what was discerned by
the outward senses, thou condemnedst it as most absurd; but why,
I cannot conceive, since there is no great difference betwixt
these two opinions: the one saith there can be no great certainty
concerning any truths, whether they be necessary or contingent,
but by the perception of the senses: the other affirms the same
of contingent truths, though not of necessary truths. But among
the number of contingent truths thou esteemest what belongs to
Christian religion, for thou reckons the necessary truths only
to belong to natural religion. This then is all the difference,
that that other person says, there is no certainty of any
religion, neither natural nor Christian, but by the perception
of the outward senses: but thou sayest though thou esteemest
the certainty of natural religion to be without them, yet not
of the Christian religion. But again, since thou esteemest that
not natural religion but the Christian religion is necessary to
salvation, thou must necessarily conclude, that those truths
which are necessary to salvation, are only known and believed by
the benefit of the outward senses: in which conclusion, (which is
the sum of all,) thou yieldest the matter to that other person.
‘But lastly: if all the certainty of our faith, hope, and
salvation, did depend upon the infallibility of outward
senses, we should be most miserable; since these senses can be
easily deceived, and, by many outward casualties and natural
infirmities, whereunto the godly are no less subject than the
wicked, are often vitiated; and there are, (as the Scripture
affirms,) false miracles, which, as to the outward, cannot be
distinguished from the true; of which we cannot infallibly judge
by the outward senses, which only discern what is outward.
‘There is a necessity then to have recourse to some other means.
‘From all which it does appear, how fallacious and weak this
argument is: but thanks be unto God, who would not that our faith
should be built upon so uncertain and doubtful a foundation. And
whoever hath known true faith, or hath felt the divine testimony
of God’s spirit in his soul, will judge otherwise, neither will
be moved by such reasonings. I pray God therefore to remove these
clouds, which darken thy understanding, that thou mayest perceive
the glorious gospel of Christ; this is that saving word of grace
which I commend thee unto; and that God may give thee a heart
inclinable to believe and obey the truth, is the desire of
Thy faithful friend,
R. BARCLAY.’
From the prison of Aberdeen, in
Scotland, where I am confined for
the sake of the testimony of Jesus.
November 24, 1676.
This letter, a year ago, at the desire of my friend R. B. I
delivered into the hands of the afore-named ambassador,
desiring his answer in writing, which he then promised; but not
having as yet done, it was seen meet to be published.
B. F.
Rotterdam, the 28th of March, 1678.
* * * * *
_A brief and distinct Solution of the Argument which the
Ambassador aforesaid useth against_ Robert Barclay’s Thesis,
_whereby he attempts to evince, that not the inward revelation
of the_ Holy Spirit, _but the outward by the Scripture, is the
principal rule, and foundation of our faith: at least to us
Europeans, who have the Scriptures._
As to his argument, as it was transmitted to us, if he considers the
strength and substance of it, thus it stands: ‘The history of the
outward coming, nativity, death, resurrection, and ascension of Jesus
Christ, is either necessary to their salvation, to whom the Scriptures
came, or it is not necessary, viz. to be known and believed. If we
say the second, namely, that the history is not necessary to be known
and believed in order to the salvation of us Europeans who have the
Scriptures, then it will follow that we are not Christians, because we
deny that true, essential, and constitutive character of the Christian
religion, which consists in believing that Christ was sent into the
world, born of the Virgin Mary, dead and buried, rose again the third
day, ascended into heaven, where he sitteth at the right hand of the
Father, &c. But if they say the first, viz. That the knowledge and
faith of the history are necessary to our salvation, then it will
follow, that the Scripture, and not the inward revelation of the holy
Spirit, is the principal rule and foundation of that historical faith
and knowledge.
Now this he endeavours to prove, both from some other principles of the
Quakers, so called, and from R. B.’s sixth Thesis, after this manner:
That, said the ambassador, is the principal rule and foundation
of our faith, which is the only medium or mean, whereby that
historical knowledge and faith are brought unto us: but,
according to the Quakers, and the sixth Thesis, the Scripture is
the only medium or mean, whereby that historical knowledge and
faith are brought unto us: therefore, according to the Quakers,
and the sixth Thesis, the Scripture is the principal rule and
foundation of our faith.
The minor he proves thus: the author of the Thesis, (says he,)
confesseth in his sixth Thesis, that there is a people, to whom
God, by some inevitable accident, hath made that historical
knowledge and faith impossible: and the reason why that
historical knowledge and faith are impossible to that people, is
because they are destitute of the Scriptures, and live in those
corners of the world, whereunto the outward preaching of the
history never came; from which argument it will follow, that the
Scriptures are the only medium or mean, whereby the historical
knowledge and faith of Christ came to any people.
For the clearer understanding the solution of this argument, some
things worthy observation are to be considered:
1. First then observe, that the force of this argument at most
intends to prove this, viz. That the Scripture is the principal
rule and foundation of historical faith and knowledge; but we
with good reason distinguish between historical and saving
knowledge, and between historical and saving faith; because
many may have an historical knowledge and faith, who have not
that which is saving. Yea, it is possible, that a man, by the
inward revelation of the holy Spirit, may have an historical
knowledge and faith, who yet may not have that faith which is
saving; because saving faith hath regard to God, not precisely as
revealing some outward history concerning God and Christ but as
revealing very God and Christ by his grace, goodness, mercy, and
power, ready and willing to save us, according to his unspeakable
good-will towards us: by which saving faith we rest upon God
through Christ, our light and life, as upon our most merciful
Father; which faith can neither exist, nor be conceived without
love to God, humility before God, denial, and diffidence of self;
and therefore such a faith is saving. But historical faith,
though wrought in the hearts of men by the inward revelation and
operation of the holy Spirit, may be without that divine love,
humility and self-denial: wherefore precisely considered in its
own nature, it is not saving. It was this kind of knowledge and
faith which wicked Balaam had, who saw and knew many historical
futurities, and believed them, but had not saving faith.
2. Observe, secondly, That the knowledge and faith necessary to
salvation, are to be understood two ways, either by a necessity
antecedent, or in way of priority, or by a necessity consequent,
or in way of posteriority. Necessity antecedent, or in way of
priority, is, when something is absolutely necessary to our
salvation, that we both know and believe it; and because it is
necessary, God doth therefore reveal it to us; of which sort are
such principles as these, viz. That God follows men with his love
and good-will; that he invites and persuades them to come unto
him; that he is ready to show favour to men, and pardon their
sins, if they sincerely repent themselves of their past misspent
life, and lead a new one for the time to come; that God hears
the prayers of those that are truly humble and suppliant; that
he is a glorious rewarder of all that live soberly, righteously,
and godly; that he is a most just avenger against all those who
despise his grace and love, and repent not of their sins, &c.
All which, in some degree, are to all men, even to those who are
destitute of the Scriptures, revealed by that inward evangelical
light, which enlightens all men. Necessity consequent, or in
way of posteriority, is, when something is not absolutely
necessary to our salvation, but after a certain sort, or under
some respect, condition, and limitation; of which kind are those
things which are not revealed, because they are necessary; but
because they are revealed, they are necessary to be believed by
us: for example; if God should reveal to any man, that it was
his will and command, he should go to Rome to reprove tyranny
and superstition; certainly this revelation were necessary to
be believed to that man’s salvation, by a necessity consequent,
because that faith is an act of obedience; and to obey God is
necessary to salvation.
3. Observe in the third place, that among those things that are
necessary to be believed to salvation by a necessity consequent,
there are some things, though not absolutely necessary, yet are
they very profitable and conducive means to our salvation; of
which sort are the historical knowledge and faith concerning God,
the creation and government of the world. Christ’s taking flesh,
and dying therein for our sins, &c. whether that historical
knowledge come to us, either by the sole inward revelation of
the holy Spirit, without the medium or mean of Scripture, or
also by both, to wit, both by the inward inspiration of the holy
Spirit, and by the Scriptures; which two mediums or means, do
sometimes concur in producing in men historical knowledge and
faith concerning God and Christ, as is said before, but in a
different manner. The outward revelation, as it is called, of
Scripture, is a medium or mean, by way of material object, in
producing that historical knowledge and faith: but the inward
inspiration and revelation wrought in the hearts of men by the
holy Spirit, are a medium or mean by way of formal object,
in producing the same historical knowledge and faith. By the
material object we understand that which is believed; and
therefore the Scriptures which are believed, are the material
object of historical knowledge and faith. By the formal object
we understand the principal motive in respect to the object,
for which the Scriptures are believed. But the principal motive
in respect of the object, is not the Scripture itself, but that
inward testimony of the holy Spirit, which when we hear or read
the Scriptures, when it pleaseth the most good and great God to
inspire the hearts of men, works an assent in us, whether it
inclines us to assent to the historical truths hitherto declared
in the Scriptures or no: wherefore we do not affirm that the holy
Spirit doth ordinarily and commonly speak in us something that is
new, or declare to our inward hearing those particular histories
of God and Christ, (though God may, if he shall please, do it at
this day;) but we say, that God doth by his holy Spirit, through
his sensible and perceptible motions and operations objectively
representing themselves, move and incline us to assent unto, and
believe the Scriptures, and the historical truths declared of in
the Scriptures.
These things considered, we affirm, that though the Scriptures
are ordinarily and commonly a certain medium or mean, by way of
material object or condition, for the producing of historical
knowledge and faith in us; and that, commonly speaking, a
necessary mean too, as being that without which God doth not
ordinarily reveal the outward history of God and Christ; yet we
utterly deny that in true Christians the Scripture, or outward
history in the Scriptures, is the principal motive, foundation,
or principal rule of that historical faith, much less of saving
faith, to the producing of which the letter of the Scripture doth
very frequently, (as to many of its acts, if not all,) not concur
or co-operate, either as a material object, or as a necessary
condition, which is wont commonly to be called in the schools,
_Causa sine quâ non_, or a cause or condition without which a
thing cannot be done, though it doth not influence the effect.
Now for a direct solution of the argument aforesaid, we answer,
that the historical knowledge and faith concerning Christ’s being
born, dead, buried, &c. to us Europeans, who have the Scriptures,
are necessary to salvation, that is to say, by a necessity
consequent, or in way of posteriority, (as was before explained,)
which assertion of ours nevertheless militates not against the
sixth Thesis, which granteth, that that historical knowledge
and faith are impossible to those who live in those corners of
the world, where the knowledge of the history is wanting: which
impossibility is not absolutely to be understood, but after a
sort, and in some respect; because, without doubt, God doth
ordinarily communicate that historical knowledge unto men, by the
medium or mean of the Scriptures; yet not as the principal medium
or mean, much less as by the only one: because certainly that
inward motion of the holy Spirit wrought in our hearts, moving
and inclining us objectively to assent unto, and believe the
Scriptures, is the principal motive in respect of the object, for
which we believe the Scriptures, and therefore is the foundation
and principal rule of our historical faith also.
Wherefore we answer unto the minor proposition of the last
syllogism, by plainly and directly denying that minor
proposition, viz. That the Scriptures are the only medium or
mean for attaining to the knowledge of the history: they are
indeed one certain medium or mean, and that necessary; but they
are not the only or principal. An example for the illustration
hereof, occurs in natural and outward vision: for when I see a
white or red rose, that white or red rose is the material object
of my sight, and one necessary medium for the producing of that
sight; yet that rose is not the only medium or mean; for the
light is another, no less necessary, concurring to produce my
sight, by way of formal object, by means of which I see that rose
represented under such or such a colour and figure. Moreover, in
that he asserts, these inward motions wrought by the holy Spirit
in the hearts of believers, are so undiscernible by us, that
believers cannot clearly and infallibly distinguish them from
their own private and proper motions; this he supposes but proves
not. And therein he is deceived, either through his inexperience,
or want of that due waiting, and attention to those motions in
the divine illumination of Christ, wherewith he hath enlightened
both him [the ambassador] and all men coming into the world. But
our experience, together with the experience of the holy prophets
and apostles, is a stronger motive to induce us to believe, that
divine inward revelation is sufficiently clear and convincing
by its own light and evidence, than his own bare and jejune
supposition to the contrary, by reason of his want of experience
or attention.
As to the Latin, we have not been very curious in this writing,
by reason of haste; yet have briefly answered the argument as
a friend communicated it to us by letter; if he hath omitted
any thing in this transmission, or we may seem not to have
understood, or touched the strength of the argument, let it be
remitted to us; and we, through divine assistance, shall answer
it at large.
GEORGE KEITH, AND
ROBERT BARCLAY.
This solution was delivered to the said
ambassador, not long before the epistle cited
page 537, and at page 17, in the Appendix to
Sewel’s Dutch History.
* * * * *
_A brief Enodation of an Argument proposed by another person._
Moreover as to what relates to another person’s argument against that
part of R. B.’s second Thesis, which asserts, that divine inward
revelation is that which is evident and clear of itself, moving the
well-disposed understanding by its own evidence, &c. to the end of the
Thesis.
The argument is thus formed: Such an evidence as is asserted in the
Thesis, is destructive of faith, because it is not the evidence of
faith. He proves the antecedent by the words of the Apostle, “Faith
is the evidence of things not seen.” Heb. xi. 1. By which words the
apostle seems to intimate, that faith hath not this kind of evidence;
for if it were of things seen, it would contradict the apostle.
The solution of this argument is easy; for evidence is three-fold.
The first is the evidence of things sensible, appertaining to the
outward senses.
The second is the evidence of things intellectual, but natural,
appertaining to natural reason.
The third is the evidence of things spiritual and supernatural, as
they are proposed to the understanding by the inward illumination and
revelation of the Holy Spirit.
The first evidence may be called the evidence of sense, or animal
evidence.
The second, the evidence of reason, or rational evidence.
The third, the evidence of faith, or spiritual evidence.
But faith is the evidence of things not seen, that is, neither visible
by the outward senses, or by natural reason; yet these things hinder
not, but that faith may be the evidence of things not seen by the
understanding of a man, not as operating in its own natural way, but as
divinely elevated and assisted by the inward illumination and operation
of the holy Spirit. Wherefore, though things appertaining to faith may
be very obscure, and as it were mere darkness, both to the outward
senses, and natural reason; yet they have their evidence, if duly
proposed to an understanding divinely enlightened. Is it not said in
the same chapter to the Hebrews, concerning Moses, that by faith he saw
God? That is to say, not by the outward eye, nor by the eye of natural
reason, but by the eye of faith.
The curious may see the original Latin, from which the preceding are
translated, in the Appendix to William Sewel’s Dutch History of the
Quakers.
THE TENTH BOOK. 1677-1688.
1677.
The year 1677 was scarce begun, when G. Fox, though the roads were yet
covered with snow, travelled again. After he had passed many places,
and preached in the meetings of his friends, he came to York, and going
from thence to Nottingham, went to the house of John Reckless, who was
sheriff there when G. Fox preached the first time in that town, and
was imprisoned on that account: but he taking G. Fox into his house,
had been so reached by what he spoke, that he embraced the doctrine
he held forth, and never departed from the profession thereof. From
hence G. Fox passed through Leicestershire, Derbyshire, Warwickshire,
Buckinghamshire, and Bedfordshire, where he met with William Dewsbury,
and so came again to London, where having assisted at the annual
meeting, he, with William Penn, Robert Barclay, George Keith, &c. went
over to Holland, to see his friends there, and to edify them with his
gift. William Penn and Robert Barclay travelled up into Germany, and
since R. Barclay the year before had spoken with the princess Elizabeth
of the Palatinate, daughter of Frederick, king of Bohemia, and sister
of Sophia, late duchess of Hanover, mother of George, king of Great
Britain, W. Penn had also written two letters to her from England,
which she answered by this following:
_Hereford, May 2, 1667._
‘This, friend, will tell you that both your letters were very
acceptable, together with your wishes for my obtaining those
virtues which may make me a worthy follower of our great King and
Saviour Jesus Christ. What I have done for his true disciples
is not so much as a cup of cold water: it affords them no
refreshment; neither did I expect any fruit of my letter to the
duchess of L. as I have expressed at the same time unto B. F.
But since R. B. desired I should write it, I could not refuse
him, nor omit to do any thing that was judged conducing to his
liberty, though it should expose me to the derision of the world.
But this a mere moral man can reach at; the true inward graces
are yet wanting in
Your affectionate friend,
ELIZABETH.’
G. Fox also from Amsterdam wrote a letter to this virtuous princess,
wherein he commended her modest and retired life, and exhorted her to
piety and godliness: to which she answered with this letter:
‘_Dear Friend_,
‘I cannot but have a tender love to those that love the Lord
Jesus Christ, and to whom it is given not only to believe in
him, but also to suffer for him: therefore your letter, and your
friends’ visit, have been both very welcome to me. I shall follow
their and your counsel, as far as God will afford me light and
unction; remaining still
Your loving friend,
ELIZABETH.’
Herford, the 30th of August, 1677.
This correspondence gave occasion to William Penn and Robert Barclay,
to pass towards Herford, a town on the frontiers of Paderborn, and to
give the said princess, who resided there, a visit. With her lived Ann
Maria, countess of Hornes; and in one of the chambers of the princess,
William Penn and Robert Barclay had a meeting with the princess, the
countess, and several others, to their great satisfaction. And the
countess, who was one of Labadie’s adherents, signified to William
Penn, that she wished a meeting might be had where the inferior
servants might freely appear. William Penn not refusing this, the
princess consented to it; and after the meeting, (where she was not
present, that so her servants might have a more free access,) she
expressed much satisfaction in having had that good opportunity. And
then so earnestly invited William Penn and Robert Barclay, (who lodged
at an inn,) to sup with her, that they not being well able to refuse
the invitation, yielded to it. There was then with her a French woman
of quality, who having had before a very slight opinion of the Quakers,
now became deeply broken, and very affectionately kind and respectful
to William Penn and Robert Barclay. The next day was the first of the
week; and it being agreed with the princess to have another meeting,
William Penn desired that not only as many of her own family, but as
many of the town as would willingly be there, might be admitted. To
this she yielded. And thus William Penn and Robert Barclay had a large
opportunity to preach effectually, and to discharge themselves. After
the meeting was done, the princess came to William Penn, and taking
him by the hand, she spoke to him of the sense she had of the power
and presence of God that had been among them; and thus going on she
broke forth into an extraordinary passion, crying out, ‘I cannot speak
to you, my heart is full,’ clapping her hand upon her breast. This
affected William Penn not a little, yet he spoke a few words to her by
way of admonition; and then taking his leave of her, she said, ‘Will
you not come hither again? Pray call here as ye return out of Germany.’
To this he returned, ‘We are in the hand of the Lord, and being at
his pleasure, cannot so fully dispose of ourselves.’ Solemn leave
then being taken, Robert Barclay returned to Amsterdam, and William
Penn went to Paderborn, and so by the way of Cassel, (where he spoke
with the aged and learned Dureus,) to Frankfort. Here he found several
persons of note, with whom he had several times a meeting, and once
at the house of a young gentlewoman, noble of birth, called Johannah
Eleonora Merlane, who said to him, ‘Our quarters are free for you, let
all come that will come; and lift up your voices without fear.’
Departing thence William Penn came to Chrisheim, a village near
Worms, where then lived some of his friends, who afterwards went to
Pennsylvania, and settled themselves there. Whilst William Penn was
in the Palatinate, he wrote an exhortatory epistle[45] to Elizabeth
princess Palatine, and Anna Maria countess of Hornes; and then went to
Heidelberg, the chief city of the Palatinate, to speak with the prince
Elector, Charles Ludowick, brother of the said princess Elizabeth; but
the said prince then happened to be out of town: and since this chief
message was to desire the prince that the Quakers at Chrisheim might
be treated more mildly, for tithes were exacted from them not only by
the parson of the village, but also by the popish priests of Worms; and
the vaught, or mayor of the town, endeavoured to restrain their due
liberty of religious meeting together, he from thence took occasion to
write a letter in their favour to the said prince,[46] because he had
not been able to speak to him. Returning afterwards to Chrisheim, and
preaching there in a meeting of his friends, he was overheard by the
vaught, or chief officer, who stood at the back-door that he might not
be seen, who was so well pleased with what he heard, that he afterwards
told the parson, that it was his work, if the Quakers were heretics,
to discover them to be such: ‘But for my part,’ continued he, ‘I heard
nothing but what was good; and therefore I would not meddle with them.’
For the parson had busied himself to persuade the vaught that it was
his duty to suppress heresy: but the vaught made it appear that he had
no mind to persecute for religion’s sake. W. Penn having now cleared
his conscience, returned by way of Frankfort, Cologne, Cleves, &c. to
Amsterdam, where at Cologne he received a letter from the princess
Elizabeth, in answer to that he had written to her from the Palatinate:
the said letter was as followeth:
[45] See Penn’s Travels in Holland, &c. 3d impression, p. 77.
[46] Ibid. p. 84.
‘_The 4/14 of September, 1677._
‘DEAR FRIEND,
‘I have received your greetings, good wishes, and exhortations,
with much joy, and shall follow the latter as far as it will
please our great God to give me light and strength. I can say
little for myself, and can do nothing of myself; but I hope the
Lord will conduct me in his time, by his way, to his end, and
that I shall not shrink for his fire. I do long for it; and
when he assures my ways, I hope he will give me power to hear
the cross I meet therein; I am also glad to hear the journey
hath been prosperous both in the constitutions of your bodies,
to withstand the badness of the weather, and in the reception
you had in Cassel, Frankfort, and Chrisheim. Nothing surprised
me there but the good old Dury, in whom I did not expect so
much ingenuousness, having lately wrote a book, intitled, _Le
vêritable Chrétien_, that doth speak in another way. I wish to
know what reception you have had at Fredericksburg, and if this
find you at Cleves, I wish you might take an occasion to see the
two pastors of Mulheim, which do really seek the Lord, but have
some prejudice against your doctrine, as also the countess there.
It would be of much use for my family to have them disabused; yet
God’s will be done in that, and all things else concerning
Your loving friend in the Lord Jesus,
ELIZABETH.’
Whilst William Penn made this journey into Germany, George Fox was gone
to Hamburg and Frederickstadt, to visit his friends there; and Penn
being returned to Amsterdam, went from thence to Friesland, and met
George Fox as he was coming back to Holland, at Leewarden; from whence
he made a step to Wiewart, where a society of the Labadites dwelt.
Here he spoke with the famous Anna Maria Schurman, the gentlewomen
Somerdykes, the French pastor Peter Yvon, and others. After some
discourse from both sides, when Yvon had given a relation concerning
John de Labadie, how he was bred among the Jesuits, and deserted them,
and embraced the Protestant religion, and how becoming dissatisfied
with the formal Protestants, he with some that adhered to him, had
separated themselves from the vulgar assemblies, Anna Maria Schurman
began to speak, and gave an account of her former life, of her pleasure
in learning, and her love to the religion she was brought up in,
but confessed she knew not God or Christ truly all that while. And
though from a child God had visited her at times, yet she never felt
such a powerful stroke, as by the ministry of John de Labadie: and
then she saw her learning to be vanity, and her religion like a body
of death; and therefore resolved to despise the shame, desert her
former way of living and acquaintance, and to join herself with this
little family, that was retired out of the world. This and much more
she spoke in a sensible frame, and with a serious mind, not without
some trembling. And then one of the Somerdykes gave also an ample
relation, concerning her inward state, and how she had been reached
by the preaching of Labadie; and how before that time she had mourned
because of the deadness and formality of the vulgar Christians, and
said within herself, ‘O the pride, the lusts, the vain pleasures in
which Christians live! Can this be the way to heaven? Is this the way
to glory? Are these followers of Christ? O no! O God where is thy
little flock? Where is thy little family that will live entirely to
thee, that will follow thee? Make me one of that number.’ Then she
told how being pricked to the heart, when she heard Labadie preach,
she had resolved to abandon the glory and pride of this world; and
further said, that she counted herself happy to have joined with this
separated family. After some others had likewise given an account of
their change, William Penn also gave a circumstantial relation, how he
had been gradually drawn off from the vanity and pride of life; what
adversities he had met with in the university at Oxford, because of his
not joining with the debauchery committed there; and how, after having
lived some time in France, he had been convinced by the effectual
ministry of Thomas Loe, and so came to be joined with the despised
Quakers. This his relation he concluded with a serious admonition how
they ought to go on, and to grow in the true fear of God. At parting,
one of the pastors asked him if the truth rose not first amongst a
poor, illiterate, and simple sort of people. ‘Yes,’ answered William
Penn; ‘and it is our comfort that we owe it not to the learning of
this world.’ To which the pastor returned, ‘Then let not the learning
of this world be used to defend that which the Spirit of God hath
brought forth; for scholars now coming among you, will be apt to mix
school learning amongst your simpler and purer language, and thereby
obscure the brightness of your testimony.’ W. Penn, having answered
to the purpose, took his leave, and travelled by way of Groninghen to
Embden, where the Quakers at that time were persecuted severely with
imprisonments and banishments: but I wave the relation thereof, because
it hath long ago been published in print, and the magistrates there,
being afterwards moved to pity by the persecution the protestants
suffered in France, came to a better resolution, as may be mentioned in
the sequel.
When W. Penn came to Embden, he went to speak with the burgomaster
André, at his house, and asked him if he and the senate had not
received a letter in Latin[47] from an Englishman about two years
since, concerning their severity towards the people called Quakers?
The burgomaster said he had. W. Penn then replied, ‘I am that man, and
am constrained in conscience to visit thee on their behalf,’ &c. The
burgomaster deported himself with more kindness than was expected, and
gave some faint hope of alteration; but it appeared sufficiently that
the senate was not as yet so disposed, for persecution continued there
yet a long while.
[47] Which being translated into English, runs thus, and deserves
the serious consideration of all magistrates.
To the Council and Senate of the City of Embden.
_The King of kings, and Lord of lords, who is God of all the
families of the earth, incline your hearts to justice, mercy,
and truth._
The noise of your severe treatment of several persons that are
inhabitants of your state, reproachfully termed Quakers, hath
reached these parts, and filled several with compassion and
surprise; compassion to hear of the [48]miseries of men innocent
and upright, against whom you have nothing to object, but the
pure exercise of their conscience to God; surprise, that you,
a Protestant state, should employ your civil power to deter,
punish, and grievously afflict men for answering the convictions
of their consciences, and acting according to the best of their
understanding. Methinks you should not be oblivious of your
own condition in the loins of your ancestors, who, you think,
with great reason and justice, strenuously advocated the cause
of liberty of conscience against the pope’s bulls and the
Spanish inquisition; how did they antichristian all force on
conscience or punishment for non-conformity? Their own many and
large apologies, and particularly their demands at the diets of
Nurimburg and Spire, are pregnant proofs in the case; and your
practice doth not lessen the weight of their reasons; on the
contrary, it aggravates your unkindness, let me say, injustice.
[48] Our account says, some were cruelly beaten by order;
others banished; some put in a dungeon, and fed with bread
and water only; several fined greater sums of money, it is
thought, than they had to pay.
Protestants, (and such you glory to be thought,) got their name
by protesting against imposition; and will you turn imposers?
They condemned it; and will you practise it? They thought it
a mark peculiar to the beast; and can you repute it the care
of a Christian magistracy? I mean, that persons must not live
under your government, unless they receive your mark in the
forehead or right hand? Which in plainer terms is, to submit
their consciences to your edicts, and to ask your leave what
religion they should be of. Remember, that faith is the gift of
God; and, that what is not of faith is sin: nothing can be more
unreasonable, than to compel men to believe against their belief,
or to trouble them for practising what they believe, when it
thwarts not the moral law of God.
You doubtless take yourselves to be Christians, and would esteem
it no little injury to be otherwise represented; yet what more
unchristian, than to use external force to sway the consciences
of men about the exercise of religious worship.
Christ Jesus, the Lord and author of the Christian religion,
censured his own disciples, that would have had fire from heaven
to destroy those that conformed not to what their blessed
Master taught: are you surer of your religion? Are you better
Christians? Or, have you more Christian authority, than they
that were the chosen witnesses of Jesus? However, remember, they
called but for fire from heaven; and can you kindle fire on
earth to devour them? Them, I say, that are of your own people,
merely for their religious dissent from you? Doubtless, if that
was then thought no fit argument to induce men to conformity
by him that was wiser than Solomon; it reflects greatly upon
your modesty and prudence, that you should find out new ways,
or rather old exploded ones to effect so ill a design. Besides,
you do not say you know all you ought to know, or that there
is nothing further to be revealed; have a care therefore, that
you persecute not angels, by being harsh to that which you call
strange; think not ill, much less speak, and least of all act,
that which is so against what you do not perfectly understand. I
am well persuaded, that those you inflicted such severe penalties
upon, mean well in what they believe, (to be sure much better
than you think they do, or else you are extremely to blame,) and
that the reason of their present distance from you, is not to
introduce or insinuate dangerous or exotic opinions, but to live
a life of more holiness, purity, and self-denial, than before:
they do not think that you walk up to your own principles; and
have reason to believe the power of godliness is much lost among
you; and having long lain under a decay and languishing of soul
for want of true spiritual nourishment, they have now betaken
themselves to that heavenly gift and grace of God in themselves
for divine satisfaction, even that holy anointing that is able to
teach them all things necessary for them to know; as the blessed
apostle speaks; and they find the joys of the Holy Ghost in so
doing: and I am persuaded they are not less peaceable, sober,
just, and neighbourly than formerly, and altogether as consistent
with the prosperity of civil society; and I am sure it is both
found and confest among us here by some men of quality, learning,
and virtue. Further, be pleased to consider with yourselves,
that you justify the ancient persecutions of the Christians and
first reformers, whose superiors thought as ill of them, as you
do of these men; nay, you show the Papists what to do in their
dominions to your own brethren. Do as you would be done by: if
you would have liberty, give it; you know that God’s witness in
your hearts dictates this to you as an immutable law.
Could you give faith, it were more excusable for you to punish
such as should resist; but since that is impossible, the other
is unreasonable; for it is to afflict men for not being what
they cannot be unless they turn hypocrites: that is the highest
pitch your coercive power can arrive at; for never did it convert
or preserve one soul to God; instead thereof it offers violence
unto conscience, and puts a man either upon the denial of his
faith and reason, or being destroyed for acting according to
them: but what greater disproportion can there be, than what
lieth between the intellect of man, and prisons, fines, and
banishments? They inform no man’s judgment, resolve no doubts,
convince no understanding: the power of persuasion is not to be
found in any such barbarous actions, no more than the doctrine of
Christianity. This course destroys the bodies and estates of men,
instead of saving their souls: were they in the wrong, it would
become you to use God’s weapons, his sword of the Spirit, that
saveth the creature; and slayeth the evil in him; this course
tends to heart-burnings and destruction; I am sure it is no
gospel argument.
I beseech you for the sake of that Lord Jesus Christ, that
suffered so patiently for his own religion, and so sharply
prohibited making other men to suffer for theirs, that you would
have a care how you exercise power over men’s consciences. My
friends, conscience is God’s throne in man, and the power of
it his prerogative: it is to usurp his authority, and boldly
ascend his throne, to set lords over it. Were their conversation
scandalous, and destructive to the good of your state, you
were to be held excusable: but verily, no man of mercy and
conscience, can defend your practice upon poor men so peaceable
and inoffensive. Gamaliel will rise up in judgment against you,
if you persevere in this course. Do not you help to fill the
catalogue of persecutors: in much love I intreat you; but as
becomes Christian men and true Protestants, leave men to their
particular persuasions of affairs relative of the other world,
which have no ill aspect on the affairs of this: but vice hath an
evil consequence as to both: therefore punish vice, and affect
truth and righteousness, and bend not your civil power to torment
religious dissenters, but to retrieve good life, lamentably lost
amidst the great pretences that are made to religion. Doubtless
magistracy was both ordained of God, and elected by men, to be
a terror of evil-doers, and not to them that do well, though of
different judgments. You oppugn the Roman church for assuming
infallibility to herself, and yet your own practice maketh you
guilty of the same presumption or worse: for either you do
exercise that severity upon an infallible knowledge, or you do
not; if you do, you take that to yourselves your principle denies
to any church whatever, which is a contradiction; if you do not,
you punish people for not conforming to what you yourselves deny
any certainty about: and how do you know but you compel them
to that which is false, as well as that which is true? Verily,
this dilemma is not easily avoided, as well as that this inhuman
practice will stain your profession, infame your government, and
bring a blot upon your posterity.
Remember that they are men as well as yourselves, born free,
and have equal plea to natural and civil common privileges with
yourselves: the different persuasion of their consciences about
things relating to another life, can no ways render them unfit
for this; it neither unmans nor uncivilizes them. They have the
same right to their liberty and property as ever, having by no
practice of theirs in the least forfeited any of those human
advantages, the great charters of nature and Scripture have
conferred upon them: and the opulency of your neighbours and
prosperity of their affairs, prove to you that indulgence is
not inconsistent with policy; howbeit, you have now tried the
sincerity of their procedure by what you have already inflicted,
and they sustained; let the time past suffice, and make them
not sacrifices for their conscientious constancy. If they are
in the wrong, it is more than they know; will you persecute men
for being what they must be, if they will be true to themselves;
this were great violence; rather commiserate than thus violently
compel them. I beseech you, seek some cheaper way to accommodate
yourselves, than by their destruction, who are so very remote
from seeking yours. Oh! the day will come, wherein one act of
tenderness about matters of conscience, shall find a better
reward, than all the severity by which men use to propagate their
persuasions in the world; and there is great reason for it, since
the one flows from the Saviour, the other from the destroyer of
men. In fine, let your moderation be known unto all men, for the
Lord is at hand, whose reward is with him; and he will recompense
every man, family, state, kingdom, and empire, according to the
nature of their works, committed in his mortal body; at whose bar
it shall never be laid to your charge, that out of fear of taking
God’s office out of his hands, and being unmerciful to tender
consciences, you admitted men of differing judgments to dwell
quietly among you: truly, you cannot be too tender in this point.
Imitate the God of nature and grace, by being propitious to all;
his sun shineth on all; his rain falls on all, he gives life and
being to all; his grace visits all, and in times of ignorance
he winketh: and though such you may repute ours, I hope you
cannot think you wink at it, who make such broad tokens of your
displeasure. Oh! how forbearing and merciful is he towards you?
Have you so lately escaped the wrath of enemies, and can you
already thus sharply treat your friends? Had he entered into
judgment with you, what had become of you? Let his goodness to
you prevail with you, to express clemency to others, that so
the great God of the whole earth, even the God of the spirits
of all flesh, who respects not the persons of the rich, poor,
or powerful in judgment, may show you mercy in the day of his
righteous judgments. Amen.
Your friend with the greatest integrity in the
universal principle of love and truth,
W. PENN.
_London, December 14, 1674._
After W. Penn had staid some time at Embden, he took a turn again to
Herford, where he was received very kindly by the princess Elizabeth,
and the countess of Hornes; and more than once he had a meeting in her
chamber; and the princess was so reached and affected by his speaking,
that she said, ‘I am fully convinced; but oh my sins are great!’ this
gave occasion to W. Penn to speak to the princess and the countess
apart, with respect to their particular conditions; which made a deep
impression on their minds, especially the countess’s. Being much
pressed by the princess to stay and sup with her, he yielded: and
the countess from a serious sense of her compliance with the world,
told him, ‘_Il faut que je rompe, il faut que je rompe_,’ i. e. ‘I
must break off, I must break off.’ And at another time with a weighty
countenance she cried out, ‘O the cumber and entanglements of this
vain world; they hinder all good.’ Once the princess said to them,
‘It is a hard matter to be faithful to what one knows. I fear that I
am not weighty enough in my spirit.’ At another time she told him,
‘Among my books I have records that the gospel was by the English first
brought from England into Germany; and now it is come again.’ Thus this
excellent princess signified how highly she valued the preaching of
the gospel to her by W. Penn, and how much she esteemed his labour and
ministry. When he took his leave of these eminent persons, having taken
the princess by the hand, which she received with a weighty kindness,
being much broken in spirit, he wished the blessing and peace of Jesus
with and upon her; and then exhorting the countess, she frequently
besought him to remember her, and implore the Lord on her behalf.
Next taking wagon for Wesel, from thence he travelled to Duisburgh,
Dusseldorp, and Cologne, and then back again to Dusseldorp, to see if
he could get an opportunity at Mulheim, to speak with the countess
of Falkenstein, who was reported to be a very religious person, and
therefore in his former journey he had endeavoured to visit her, but in
vain; for the count of Bruch and Falkenstein, her father, kept her as
it were under a confinement, because she was of a religious temper; and
therefore he called her a Quaker, though she did not at all converse
with any of the Quakers. He had also used W. Penn very roughly, when,
being necessitated to pass by his castle, he being lord of that
country, asked him and his friends from whence they were, and whither
they went? to which they answered, that they were Englishmen come from
Holland, and going no further in those parts than his town Mulheim: but
they not pulling off their hats, the count called them Quakers, and
said, ‘We have no need of Quakers here. Get you out of my dominions,
you shall not go to my town.’ And he commanded some of his soldiers,
to see them out of his territory. Thus W. Penn, and those with him,
were necessitated to lie that night in the open air. But the next day
he wrote a letter to the said count, and therein told him, ‘For thy
saying, we want no Quakers here, I say, under favour, you do; for a
true Quaker is one that trembleth at the word of the Lord, that worketh
out his salvation with fear and trembling.’
W. Penn being come to Mulheim, could now no more find opportunity to
speak with the countess than the first time he was in those parts; and
therefore he went to Duisburgh, Wesel, and Cleves, where having had
conferences with some religious people, he returned by way of Utrecht
to Amsterdam, where G. Fox was also come back again.
Here W. Penn and G. Fox had a conference and dispute with Dr. Galenus
Abraham, an eminent Baptist teacher, and some of that persuasion.
Galenus asserted, that nobody now-a-days could be accepted as a
messenger of God, unless he confirmed his doctrine by miracles. W. Penn
wanted no arguments to contradict this, since the Christian religion
had been once already confirmed by miracles, and that therefore this
now was needless among Christians. G. Fox now and then spoke also
something to the matter; but he being somewhat short breathed, went
several times away, which some were ready to impute to a passionate
temper; but I well know that therein they wronged him. This dispute
was indeed a troublesome business; for the parties on both sides were
fain to speak by an interpreter, which generally was performed so
imperfectly, that at last the conference was broke off, without coming
to a decision, although many weighty arguments were objected against
the position. Certainly it cannot be denied that John the Baptist was
sent of God to preach repentance; and yet in sacred writ it is said
positively, John did no miracle; and yet many believed in him. And
although there were some among the prophets that wrought miracles, yet
we do not find in the holy Scriptures that Jonah, who was indeed a
notable preacher of repentance, did any miracle, and nevertheless the
Ninevites believed him, and deprecated those judgments he denounced,
unless they repented. Of several other true prophets we find not the
least mention of any miracles they did; but on the contrary, the
Scriptures signify, that possibly false prophets might arise, and give
signs or wonders; and that the doing of miracles could not always be a
proof, or sure evidence, that any one was sent of God, appears plainly
from what our Saviour himself said, viz. that among those to whom he
should one day say, “Depart from me,” would be such that should say,
“Have we not in thy name cast out devils, and in thy name done many
wonderful works?” And what shall we think of the sorcerers of Egypt;
did not they seem to do the same wonders as Moses and Aaron did? And
yet those wonders wherewithal they deceived Pharaoh and his men, were
in no ways wrought by a divine power. Now, since it appears plainly
from the holy Scriptures, and Christ himself said, “There shall arise
false prophets, and shall show great signs and wonders,” we might
with good reason suspect the doctrine of one, who now-a-days wrought
miracles, on purpose to make what he denounced, pass for truth.
This being duly considered, it seems to be very absurd, to require
miracles again for confirmation of the same gospel which once hath been
confirmed by miracles; and to desire that the truth of what once hath
been declared by the apostles, and strengthened by wonderful works,
should be sealed anew with outward wonders. But it would indeed have
been another case, if a new gospel was preached, and that any pretended
to give forth new holy Scriptures; for then it might be said with some
reason, that it was necessary that this new gospel should be made
credible, and confirmed by visible miracles. But where no other gospel
is preached, than what hath been once delivered to the Christians by
the first promulgators of the Christian religion, and where this is
not done amongst heathens, but amongst Christians, or at least such
as hear the name, there it cannot in justice be required to confirm
this doctrine once more with miracles, the rather because, as hath
been showed already, the doing of miracles may not always pass for an
irrefragable proof of one’s being really pious and godly. To this may
be added, that the miracles which Christ and his apostles wrought, to
give credit to the appearing of the Son of God in the flesh, may be
considered as types and figures of those spiritual wonders which should
be wrought in the souls of people, when Christ was to be seen the
second time, and to appear by his spirit, to the salvation of those who
wait for him; for the eyes of the mind being blinded, must be opened
and enlightened by him; and many that are dead in sin and trespasses,
shall by him be raised, and made alive. This I think may suffice to
show, that the position of Dr. Galenus could not stand the test; but
whatever was objected, he continued to maintain his opinion.
Not long after this dispute, G. Fox and W. Penn returned to England,
where, having sustained a violent tempest at sea, they arrived safely
at Harwich: passing from thence to London, W. Penn there received the
following letter from the princess Elizabeth, in answer to his:
_Herford, Oct. 29, 1677._
‘DEAR FRIEND,
‘Your tender care of my eternal well-being doth oblige me much,
and I will weigh every article of your counsel to follow it as
much as lies in me, but God’s grace must be assistant, as you
say yourself; he accepts nothing that does not come from him. If
I had made me bare of all worldly goods, and left undone what
he requires most, I mean to do all in and by his Son, I shall
be in no better condition than at this present. Let me feel him
first governing in my heart, then do what he requires of me; but
I am not able to teach others, being not taught of God myself.
Remember my love to G. F. B. F. G. K. and dear Gertrude.[49] If
you write no worse than your postscript, I can make a shift to
read it. Do not think I go from what I spoke to you the last
evening; I only stay to do it in a way that is answerable before
God and man: I can say no more now, but recommend to your prayers,
[49] This was Gertrude Dericks, who had visited the princess,
and afterwards came to live in England, and was married to
Stephen Crisp.
Your true friend,
ELIZABETH.’
‘P. S. I almost forget to tell you, that my sister writes me
word, she had been glad you had taken your journey by Osenburgh,
to return to Amsterdam. There is also a Drossard of Limbourg near
this place, (to whom I gave an examplar of R. B.’s apology,) very
desirous to speak with some of his friends.’
Yet another letter W. Penn received from the said princess, in answer
to one he wrote from the Briel, at his passage towards England, which
was as followeth:
To the princess Elizabeth, Salvation in the Cross, Amen.
‘_Dear and truly respected friend_,
‘My soul most earnestly desireth thy temporal and eternal
felicity, which standeth in thy doing the will of God now on
earth, as it is done in heaven. O dear princess, do it! Say the
word once in truth and righteousness, “Not my will, but thine
be done, O God!” Thy days are few, and then thou must go to
judgment.[50] Then an account of thy talent God will require from
thee. What improvement hast thou made? Let it prove and show its
own excellency, that it is of God, and that it leadeth all that
love it, to God. O that thou mayest be able to give an account
with joy!
[50] She died about four years after.
‘I could not leave this country, and not testify the sentiments
I hear in my mind, of that humble and tender entertainment thou
gavest us at thy court: the Lord Jesus reward thee: and surely he
hath a blessing in store for thee. Go on, be steadfast, overcome,
and thou shalt inherit. Do not despond; one that is mighty is
near thee; a present help in the needful time of trouble. O let
the desire of thy soul be to his name, and to the remembrance of
him. O wait upon the Lord, and thou shalt renew thy strength! The
youth shall faint, and the young men shall fail, but they that
trust in the Lord shall never be confounded.
‘I wish thee all true and solid felicity, with my whole soul.
The Lord God of heaven and earth have thee in his keeping, that
thou mayest not lose, but keep in that divine sense, which by his
eternal word, he hath begotten in thee. Receive, dear princess,
my sincere and Christian salutation: grace, mercy, and peace, be
multiplied among you all that love the Lord Jesus.
‘Thy business I shall follow with all the diligence and
discretion I can, and by the first give thee an account, after it
shall please the Lord to bring me safe to London. All my brethren
are well, and present thee with their dear love; and the rest
with thee that love Jesus, the light of the world, in thy family.
Thou hast taught me to forget thou art a princess, and therefore
I use this freedom; and to that of God in thee am I manifest; and
I know my integrity. Give, if thou pleasest, the salutation of my
dear love to A. M. de Hornes, with the inclosed. Dear princess,
do not hinder, but help her. That may be required of her, which,
(considering thy circumstances,) may not yet be required of thee.
Let her stand free, and her freedom will make the passage easier
unto thee. Accept what I say, I intreat thee, in that pure and
heavenly love and respect, in which I write so plainly to thee.
Farewell, my dear friend, and the Lord be with thee. I am more
than I can say,
Thy great lover, and
Respectful friend,
W. PENN,’
‘I refer thee to the inclosed for passages. We visited Gichtel
and Hooftman, and they us: they were at one or two of the
meetings at Amsterdam. _Vale_ in _æternum_.’
To this letter the princess returned the following answer.
‘_This 17 November, 1677._
‘DEAR FRIEND,
‘I have received a letter from you that seemeth to have been
written at your passage into England, which I wish may be
prosperous: without date, but not without virtue to spur me on
to do and suffer the will of our God. I can say in sincerity and
truth, Thy will be done, O God, because I wish it heartily; but I
cannot speak in righteousness, until I possess that righteousness
which is acceptable unto him. My house and my heart shall be
always open to those that love him. Gichtel has been well
satisfied with the conferences between you. As for my business,
it will go as the Lord pleaseth, and I remain in him
Your affectionate friend,
ELIZABETH.’
G. Fox now being come to London, received there letters from New
England, with an account of the cruel proceedings of the magistrates
against his friends there: for persecution being hot in Old England, it
made those in New England the worse; insomuch that they did not only
whip the Quakers that were there, but also some masters of ships that
were no Quakers, only for bringing some of that persuasion thither. But
about that time the Indians made an inroad upon the English, and slew
three-score of their men; and having taken one of their captains, they
flead off the skin of his head, while he was alive, and carried it away
in triumph.
Now since the people called Quakers were also much persecuted in
Scotland, they drew up an account of their sufferings, and delivered
it to the king in the beginning of this year; but whether they got any
ease thereby, I cannot tell.
In the latter part of this year, G. Fox travelled through many places
of England. In the meanwhile I will again make some mention of the
persecution there. At Plymouth about this time, those called Quakers
were generally kept out of their meeting-house, and then performing
their worship in the open street, as a duty they owed to God, and for
the omission of which they judged no man could be dispensed with, they
suffered exceedingly, not only in winter, by the sharpness of the
weather, but also in summer; for it was more than twelve months that
they thus kept their meetings in the open street, being grievously
abused by the rabble and the soldiers; for beating and punching seemed
not sufficient; fiery squibs and burning coals were thrown among them,
and filthy excrements cast down upon them out of a window: besides,
fines were extorted for their having been at the meeting, on the
account of one Richard Samble, who was fined as preacher, for having
been on his knees at prayer, which fine was laid upon four of them that
were at the said meeting.
At Frenchay in Gloucestershire, the justice, John Merideth, behaved
himself exceedingly furious in disturbing the Quaker’s meetings; for he
himself did not only beat them, but more than once drew his knife to
mark them, as he called it, had he not been restrained by his servants,
who for all that could not prevent his taking some by the hair of the
head, and pulling them away, nay, the havoc and spoil which was made,
was so extravagant, that from one Thomas Holbrow, an ancient blind man,
they took his bed from under him, so that he and his wife lay about
a quarter of a year on straw; and when his friends provided him with
some clothing against winter, part of that was also taken from him: for
such plundering now went on with a full career; and the basest men were
authorized to deprive others of their goods, if there was but a justice
that favoured such.
At Buyton, in Suffolk, Edmund Bally was by warrant from justice Burwel,
despoiled of what he had, both within doors and without, his goods
having been distrained five times; and though he was fain to lie on
straw, yet he was not left unmolested, for they came in the night,
armed with pistols, and broke open his door, threatening to destroy
him. It happened there also, that a poor blind widow, on her sick bed,
was visited by some persons; and this was made a conventicle, and they
were fined, and warrants issued out by the aforesaid justice to make
distress on their goods. In many other places things went no better;
but I may not detain my reader with every particular.
This year died in prison William Dobson, of Brightwell in Berkshire,
having been spoiled of his goods from time to time, during the space
of thirteen years, and almost always in prison too, till his hard
sufferings ended with his life.
It was also in this year that William III. prince of Orange, came
from Holland into England, and there entered into matrimony with the
princess Mary, eldest daughter of the duke of York, which in process of
time made way for him to the throne of Great Britain. He accomplished
his marriage there on the 4th of November, being his birth-day; and not
long after returned to Holland with his spouse.
1678.
About the beginning of the year 1678, G. Fox came to London, and the
parliament sitting at that time, he and G. Whitehead presented to them
an account of the grievous sufferings of their friends, by laws made
against the Papists; and they were not without hopes of obtaining some
ease, because several of the members of that august assembly seemed to
favour them; but the parliament was suddenly prorogued, whereby a stop
was put to their endeavours.
G. F. then travelling through many places, came home to Swarthmore in
the latter part of the year; and since many of his friends at this time
were under great persecution, and in prison, he wrote the following
epistle to them:
‘_My dear Friends_,
‘Who are sufferers for the Lord Jesus’ sake, and for the
testimony of the truth, the Lord God Almighty with his power
uphold you, and support you in all your trials and sufferings;
and give you patience, and content in his will, that ye may
stand valiant for Christ and his truth upon the earth, over the
persecuting and destroying spirit, which makes to suffer, in
Christ, (who bruises his head,) in whom ye have both election
and salvation. And for God’s elect sake the Lord hath done much
from the foundation of the world; as may be seen throughout the
Scriptures of Truth; and they that touch them, touch the apple
of God’s eye, they are so tender to him. And therefore it is
good for all God’s suffering children to trust in the Lord, and
to wait upon him; for they shall be as mount Sion, that cannot
be removed from Christ, their rock and salvation, who is the
foundation of all the elect of God, of the prophets and the
apostles, and of God’s people now, and to the end: glory to the
Lord and the Lamb over all. Remember my dear love to all friends;
and do not think the time long, for all time is in the Father’s
hand, his power. And therefore keep the word of patience,
and exercise that gift; and the Lord strengthen you in your
sufferings, in his holy Spirit of faith. Amen.
GEORGE FOX.’
Swarthmore, the 5th of the 12th
month, 1678.
Persecution was now very hot in many places. At Bawnasse, in
Westmoreland, it happened that those of the society called Quakers
being religiously met together, were much abused by the rude people;
and besides other insolencies that were committed, a dog being thrown
among them, one John Thompson said to this wicked crew, that they
ought to behave themselves civil and moderate; and for saying so he
was informed against as a preacher, and on that account fined twenty
pounds. Mary Tod, a poor ancient widow in Yorkshire, having had a
meeting at her house, was also fined twenty pounds by justice Francis
Driffield; and when the informers told him that her goods were not
worth so much, he ordered them to take all that they could find: this
they did, and did not leave her a bed to lie on; nay, took away all
her clothes.
This year the ambassadors of the king of France, and those of the
United Netherlands, with those of several other potentates, were met
at Nimeguen, to treat about a general peace; and therefore Robert
Barclay wrote an epistle to them in Latin, to exhort them to this good
work: the epistle, together with his Apology for the true Christian
Divinity, in Latin, was delivered to each of the said ambassadors, viz.
a book for every one of them, and one for their principals. George Fox
also wrote an exhortatory epistle to them, which being translated and
printed in Latin, was also sent to them. And before this year came to
an end, the peace was concluded.
1679.
In the meanwhile persecution went on in England, and those that were
envious did not want a specious pretence to gild their malice; for
about this time a plot of the Papists being discovered, there seemed a
necessity to watch against seditious assemblies; insomuch, that those
who had no mind to persecute, were in a manner constrained to it; of
which an instance was seen in the year 1679, at Castle Dumington in
Leicestershire: for John Evat having been fined for a meeting at his
house, and goods enough to answer not being found, the constable, and
three other officers were fined each five pounds, because they had been
backward to take away the said Evat’s goods. But the ecclesiastics
showed themselves more covetous, to get what they pretended to be their
due; and one Michael Reynolds, at Farringdon in Berkshire, was this
year despoiled of cattle, barley, and beans, for tithes, to the value
of more than ninety-seven pounds, and all this only for one year.
Thus honest men were oppressed, which gave occasion to a certain writer
of that time, (who in print gave many instances of this nature,) to
say, ‘Truly the Papists may laugh because of their victory, now they
have got a law, whereby one Protestant fights against another.’ This
was chiefly levelled against conventicles; for thereby many families
were impoverished, because often they were robbed of thrice as much as
the fine amounted to; and the basest means that could be thought of
were used to enrich the persecutors with the spoil of the innocent:
for it happened that four of those called Quakers travelling on the
way, this was deemed a transgression, by adding a fifth to their
number who was not of their society. And thus the informers, (some of
whom were often whores, or wives of informers,) made a meeting of it,
and this passed; so great was the power of these profligates; and on
this account the goods of the said four persons were distrained. More
abominable actions of that kind I could mention, if I did not think it
might seem tedious. Such despoiling was permitted now to any naughty
fellow, and this made them so insolent, that one John Hill, constable
at Walsingham in Norfolk, when he was showed the injustice of the
warrant he had, said ‘Justice or no, I will take it for all that.’
At Norwich lived one William Wat, who for several years had carried on
the trade of informing, but whatever he got by it turned to no account;
and often he was seized with such fits of weakness, that he could not
stand on his legs; but this year, in October, the hand of God fell so
heavy upon him, that it put a period to his life. He had supped at
night, and was as well, according to his wife’s relation, as ever; but
on a sudden he sunk down to the ground, and his daughter crying aloud,
he seemed to look at her, and so died without more ado: but what was
looked upon as a very strange thing, his corpse stunk so grievously,
that none were willing to carry it, and the overseers of the poor were
necessitated to hire four men to hear it to the grave.
Far otherwise was the exit of Isaac Pennington, an eminent minister
and author among those called Quakers, and a man of an acute wit, and
great endowments, who in the year 1658, on Whitsunday, so called,
being in a meeting at the house of John Crook in Bedfordshire, was so
reached by the preaching of G. Fox, that he, who before that time, had
contradicted the Quakers with his natural wisdom, now embraced their
doctrine as truth, and did not stick to make public profession of it,
for which he afterwards several times suffered imprisonments during
the space many of years; but he continued steadfast to the end without
fainting, and died piously in October, at his house near Goodnestone in
Kent, from whence his corpse was carried to Buckinghamshire, where he
formerly lived, and was honourably interred there.
Some time before, G. Fox had written some queries to the pope and
the Papists, which being translated into Dutch, and printed, I was
desired by him to translate into Latin, and to send them to Rome to the
pope.[51] This I did at his desire, but never received or heard of any
answer to them.
[51] These queries in Latin, with what the author W. S. wrote to
the pope on that occasion, are to be seen in the Appendix to the
Dutch history, which being translated into English, the reader
may take as follows.
_To Innocent XII. Pope of Rome, S._
‘GREAT PRELATE,
‘Thou wilt perhaps at first sight admire that the writing
inclosed should be sent to thee; but know it was done at the
command of the author; and not undeservedly; for if thou
rightly weighest and considerest the matter, thou must with
us acknowledge, that it would be very unworthily done to keep
this little treatise from thy view, which hath been already
printed in the Dutch language, and carries the pope’s name in
the frontispiece. Nor wilt thou be able to deny, that thou art
not only not injured hereby, but that we have also performed a
duty that we owed thee, in transmitting these questions which
properly belong to thee. But if thou pleasest to read them and
return an answer, thou wilt both oblige the author, and also
remove the suspicion of error from your religion, in the sight of
all Christendom, provided thou canst give a clear answer to the
objections, not only in word, but in deed also.
I write this at the request of certain
of my friends called Quakers.
W. SEWEL.’
Amsterdam, the 23d day of the month
called April, 1679.
* * * * *
_Some questions presented to the Papists, and the pope of Rome,
as the supreme head of their church, and commended to their
consideration by George Fox._
‘FRIENDS,
‘1. How comes it to pass, that the pope and cardinals grant not
to the Protestants living in Spain, Italy, and at Rome, that
liberty of meeting together for the right performing of divine
worship, which ye yourselves enjoy in England, Holland, and other
places, where the Protestants have the chief power?
‘Would not the pope and his ministers persecute, deliver to the
inquisition and burn them, if they should at any time set up as
many meetings in Spain, Italy, and at Rome, as ye yourselves
enjoy in many places in Protestant countries?
‘Is the royal law of God thus fulfilled, which teacheth, to do
to all men whatsoever we would have done to ourselves? Matt.
vii. 12. Would ye have those things done to you by Protestants,
which ye have done to them? But if not, where then are the
royal law and gospel among you? God forbid, that we should deny
liberty to any one that acknowledgeth God, and believeth in his
Son, the Lord Jesus Christ. It seems therefore very strange to
us, that the pope and papists do deny the same liberty in the
pre-mentioned places, which they themselves enjoy among the
protestants; because it is not only contrary to reason, but
always to law and gospel; for the apostle affirmeth, “That he
that was born after the flesh persecuted him that was born after
the Spirit.” Gal. iv. 29. Have not the papists therefore openly
showed in themselves the fleshly birth, which is contrary to
reason, law, and gospel.
‘2. Where did Christ or his apostles ever command men to bow
themselves to images, and to worship them, and keep holydays?
Where did they command holydays to be appointed in remembrance of
themselves, and the same to be honoured? Why do ye not tell us
where in the gospels, epistles, or in the revelation, any such
thing was commanded those churches, which were in the time of the
apostles and primitive Christians?
‘Where, I say, did Christ or his apostles give command to whip,
hang, or burn men; or, to speak as gently as may be, at least
to imprison any because they dissented from them, and could not
adhere to their religion?
‘3. Where ever did Christ or his apostles in the primitive
churches command that candles should be lighted at noon-day?
Well, show us where it is written, whether it be in the gospels,
or epistles. Is not therefore the Roman church degenerated
from the church of the primitive times? Is she not fallen from
spiritual weapons to carnal; hath she not revolted from that
purity and virginity, wherein she witnessed in time past Christ
to be the head of the churches?
‘4. Did the churches of ancient time make choice of a private
man, and account him for head of the universal church? Where ever
did the primitive church command infants to be sprinkled with
water? Did not Christ say, “Teach all nations, baptizing them,”
&c. Mat. xxviii. 19. Ought they not therefore to be taught before
they were baptized? Are ye not degenerated from that faith which
Christ is the author and finisher of, and which purifieth the
heart, and giveth victory over sin, and evil, which separate from
God, and by which we have access to God, and wherewith he is well
pleased? Are ye not degenerated from the light, truth, grace,
power and spirit, wherein the apostles were?
‘5. Have ye not degenerated from the ancient church, because
ye suffer not the people to read the holy Scripture in their
mother-tongue? For doth not the apostles say, “And when this
epistle is read amongst you, cause that it be also read in the
church of the Laodiceans,” Col. iv. 16, and elsewhere, “I charge
you by the Lord, that this epistle be read unto all the holy
brethren,” 1 Thess. v. 27. Yea, did not Christ also say, “O
fools, and slow of heart, to believe all that the prophets have
spoken.” Luke, xxiv. 25.
‘How can it possibly be, that your common people should believe
those things which Christ, the prophets, and apostles have
spoken, unless it be granted them to read or recite the same in
their own tongue, to the end they might both hear and understand
them by the Spirit which gave them forth? Why then do ye take
away the use of the holy Scriptures from the common people? Are
ye afraid lest the truth should appear manifest, whereby they
might see and believe what is written in the law and prophets,
and by Christ and his apostles? Had not the Jews the law and the
prophets in their mother-tongue, that their children might read
them? Ought not therefore all Christians likewise to have the
New Testament, that makes mention of Christ and his apostles,
in their mother-tongue? But if not, why do ye not show us where
Christ or his apostles have forbidden it?
‘But what do ye say of the sacrament of the altar, as it is
called? Why have ye slain many, and burnt others alive in
England, France, the Low Countries, and other places, because
they could not approve or receive it? Ye assert it as a thing
certain, that the bread and wine, as soon as ye have consecrated
them, are made Christ, yea, whole Christ, consisting of soul,
spirit, flesh, blood, and bones. Besides ye boldly affirm, that
all who receive that sacrament do receive whole Christ, and that
after your consecration, that very thing becomes immortal and
divine.
‘Wherefore come, O pope, cardinals and priests, let us take a
bottle of wine and a loaf of bread, and equally divide the wine
into two basons, and cut the bread into two parts: then let the
pope, cardinals, or priests consecrate one part, which they
please; which being done, let us lay up the consecrated and the
unconsecrated together, in some close place, and secure the same
with seven locks and keys on your part, and with as many on ours,
both papists and protestants keeping watch over it. But if it
plainly appear, that the consecrated bread and wine are immortal
and divine, and lose nothing of their virtue and savour, nor grow
mouldy or sour, as though they had been unconsecrated, then we
will come over to you: but if they lose their property, quality,
and savour, and both parts of the bread do alike grow mouldy,
then it will be reasonable for you to come over to us, and
confess that your sacrament of the altar, so called, is neither
Christ nor his flesh, nor anything immortal or divine; for his
flesh saw no corruption, Acts, ii. 27. 31.--xiii. 35. 37, and his
precious blood, which delivers from sin and corruption, cannot be
corruptible.
‘Let trial then be made hereof; but let judgment be left to just
and equal arbitrators, both papists and protestants, and that in
a place where the protestants may have the same power that ye
have: for it would be unjust to make this trial or experiment,
where ye have the whole administration of the commonwealth, and
an equal liberty is denied the protestants. This thing will make
the truth manifest, and turn to the honour of God: for ye have
shed much blood upon this occasion.
‘Wherefore suffer your Christ, whom ye have made, to be tried,
that it may be seen whether he be the true Christ, or antichrist;
whether he be the true God, or a false one? For it would be
somewhat hard that Baal’s prophets should outdo you, for they
were willing to have their god tried, though they had before
slain many of the people of God, because they would not worship
their god; as ye also have often done.
‘Come ye forth therefore publicly, and make trial; that it may
appear at length to all Christendom, whether yours be the divine
and immortal Christ and God, or no? Or is not rather that mortal
and corruptible Christ, which ye yourselves have made, and for
whose sake ye have slain multitudes of the people of God, because
they could not believe or comply with you?
‘7. Further, where did Christ or his apostles ever speak to the
saints of purgatory, wherein men should be purged from their sins
after death. Show us where it is written in the New Testament.
Is it not therefore a plain denying that Christ’s blood purgeth
from all sin, to tell the people a fable of a certain purgatory
to purge them from sins after death? Is it not likewise a denying
of Christ’s baptism with the holy Spirit, and of spiritual
circumcision, and faith in Christ, which purgeth in this life,
and giveth the victory?
‘Did not Christ answer some that desired fire might come down
from heaven and consume those that would not receive him; “Ye
know not what manner of spirit ye are of?” Did not he rebuke
them, saying “That he came not to destroy men’s lives but to save
them?” Luke, ix. 54, 55, 56.
‘Ye therefore who have destroyed such a vast number of men and
women for their dissenting from you about rites and ceremonies,
and taken away their lives by such kind of instruments, racks
and fires, as were never sent down from heaven, but devised and
invented by yourselves; are ye not worse than they, who desired
fire to be called from heaven to destroy men’s lives? And seeing
Christ told them, that they knew not what manner of spirit they
were of, do ye know what manner of spirit ye are of, who have
devised so many ways and torments for the killing of men, and
have actually made use of them?
‘With what front can ye persuade us to commit our souls, bodies,
and lives, to you, who know not of what spirit ye are children,
neither have the mind of Christ who said, “He came not to destroy
men’s lives, but to save them?”
‘Are ye not all therefore, as many as take away men’s lives for
worship devised by you, obnoxious to the rebuke of Christ? For
when did Christ or any of his apostles ever give command, or by
their example teach, that any one that was disobedient to them,
or rejected their doctrine and religion, should be persecuted and
imprisoned, or punished by any carnal weapons? Tell us where any
thing of this kind is contained, either in the four evangelical
histories, or in the epistles written to the Christian Churches?
‘Did ever Christ or his apostles go to the rope-makers to buy
whips and halters, to whip and hang men for dissenting from them
as ye have done? Did they ever go to the blacksmiths to make
chains, fetters, bolts and locks? Or to the gunsmiths to buy guns
and muskets; or to the sword-cutlers to buy swords and halberts?
Did they ever build prisons, or get holes and vaults dug, to
force men by such means to their religion? Show us an example and
precept given by Christ or his apostles, which commands and makes
the use of such weapons and instruments lawful.
‘But if ye cannot make proof thereof, it is necessary for you
to confess and acknowledge, that ye are fallen and degenerated
from the true Christian weapons, which the apostles and primitive
Christians used, saying, “The weapons of our warfare are not
carnal, but mighty through God,” that is, spiritual, 2 Cor. x. 4.
G. FOX.’
_To Innocent XI. Pope of Rome, S._
‘Behold, great prelate, a few questions written for the sake
of thee, and thy adherents, a copy whereof we sent thee by the
post, about three months ago; but being uncertain whether it
was delivered into thy hands or no, we thought good to write
the questions over again, and send them to thee, that it might
not belong to us, that thou dost not read them. For we think
it convenient, that thou shouldst earnestly concern thyself to
inspect what was printed in Dutch, and inscribed to the pope
and his adherents, which if thou shalt please to do, and also
vouchsafe thy pains in answering them both by fact and writing,
it will satisfy the author’s desire, and remove a doubt or
scruple out of many persons’ minds. Farewell.
This I have written in the name of some
of my friends called Quakers.
WILLIAM SEWEL.’
Amsterdam, the 24th of the month
called July, 1679.
This year there was a great commotion in England about a plot carried
on by the Papists against the life of the king, who made his brother,
the duke of York, go beyond sea for some time; for the parliament
suspecting him, a motion was made in the house of commons to exclude
him from the succession to the crown; but this project was quashed.
1680.
In the beginning of the year 1680, it happened that George Whitehead
and Thomas Burr coming to Norwich, and preaching there in the meeting
of their friends, were taken prisoners, as it was said, under a
frivolous pretence, as if G. Whitehead might have been a Jesuit: and
being brought before justice Francis Bacon, who then was recorder
of the city, he after some odd examination, demanded of them, as
preachers, the fine of twenty pounds a man; which they refusing, he
asked them, whether they would take the oath of allegiance; and they
answering, that they could take no oath for conscience-sake, he said,
if they would neither pay the fines, nor take the oath, he would
commit them to jail. They having showed that they were no vagrants,
but men of competent estates, that had settled habitations, as was
well known, Bacon said, _De non apparentibus, & non existentibus eadem
est ratio_: i. e. Of things not appearing, and things not in being,
there is the same reason: just as if he had said, your estates that are
at London, where G. Whitehead lived, and Ware, where T. Burr dwelt,
appear not at Norwich, and therefore they are not in being. Now though
they showed the absurdity of this strange kind of logic, yet Bacon
would not hearken to it, but called them seducers, and seditious, and
told them, there was a statute yet in force, that was made in queen
Elizabeth’s days, to hang such persons as they were. And they asking
him, if he could prosecute them upon that law, or execute it upon them,
he answered, ‘Yes, if the king should give order to have it put in
execution, I would do it, and have you hanged, if you would not quit
the realm.’ From this it may appear what a violent man this recorder
was, and that the prisoners could not expect any good treatment from
him. So night being come, he sent them to the jail.
About a month after, at the quarter-sessions, they were called into
the court of judicature to be tried; and being brought to the bar,
George Whitehead said, ‘We have been five weeks in prison; it is meet
the court should know for what; pray let our mittimus be produced.’ But
the recorder who sat as judge in the court, said, ‘There is no need of
your mittimus to be read here: I will give an account of the cause.’
And then he told the court, ‘how they had gathered together a company
of about two hundred, and that officers went from him to dissipate
them, but could not; that thereupon he sent the sheriff, who took them
away; and that they being brought before him, he proffered them, if
they would pay their fines, he would not commit them; and that they
refusing, he tendered the oath of allegiance to them; which they not
being willing to take, he sent them to jail.’
And though G. Whitehead with good reason said, that they being
Englishmen had a right to travel in any part of the nation: and T. Burr
added, that he being a person that was concerned in trading in corn,
by the law of England he might travel from place to place about his
concerns; yet this so displeased the recorder, that he said, ‘Had not
you better have been turning your malt at home, than to come here to
preach? The Scripture says, God added to the church such as should be
saved; but ye draw from the church: and,’ said he further, ‘the church
of England will never be at quiet till some of you be hanged.’ G.
Whitehead then showing how unreasonably the recorder behaved himself,
and that a judge ought not thus to inveigh against the prisoners, and
threaten them, alleged to that end a notable instance, how, in the
case of Humphrey Stafford, an arch traitor, the chief justice Hussey
had been unwilling, (in compliance with the king’s desire,) to declare
his opinion concerning him before he was judicially proceeded against.
The recorder then asked, what king’s reign was that in? ‘In king Henry
VII.’s’ replied George Whitehead. ‘I perceive you are read,’ returned
the recorder. And so he was indeed; and he defended his cause so well
in the court, that the magistrates seemed at a loss; for he showed so
evidently that he was unjustly committed to prison, that the mayor, (to
whom, and to the justices he had appealed,) said, ‘You have appealed
to me; truly we are tradesmen, and no lawyers: we leave matters of
law to the recorder; he knows the law, and we must acquiesce in his
judgment.’ If I should repeat here all that was spoken pro and contra,
so as I find it extant, I should be fain to be almost as large as I
have been in the relation of the trials of John Crook and William Penn:
and therefore I will only say briefly, that, after much reasoning,
the recorder tendered the oath of allegiance again to them, that so
by their refusal he might get occasion to premunire them. But this
recorder, before the whole process came to an end, being turned out by
the magistrates, it did not come to that pitch; though it was a good
while yet before the aforesaid George Whitehead and Thomas Burr were
released, after they had shown the illegality of their imprisonment;
first, by more than one warrant from the recorder, and afterward, to
colour the error the better, by an order from the quarter-sessions.
This year those called Quakers, at London, published a brief relation
of the sufferings of their friends, since the king’s restoration, and
presented it to the king and parliament, showing therein, how many had
been fined by the bishops’ courts, robbed of all they had, put into
prisons, and there died; the number of which was computed to be two
hundred and forty-three persons, many whereof had been so grievously
beaten and wounded because of their frequenting religious assemblies,
that they died of their hurts and wounds. There came forth also a
printed account of the unjust proceedings of the informers, and how at
their instance, without a juridicial process, the accused were bereaved
of their goods, the unlawfulness of which was plainly shown from the
books of eminent lawyers.
G. Fox now travelled through many places, and came to London about the
time of the annual meeting; and travelling afterwards again into the
country, he returned into the said city, and staid there the most part
of the winter.
The parliament was then very busy with enquiring into the plot carried
on by the Papists; and the house of commons especially were very active
in the case, so that a bill to exclude the duke of York from the
succession to the crown, passed after a third reading: but this was
opposed in the house of lords; for by a majority, among which were the
bishops, who would not consent to the exclusion, the bill was rejected.
Now since some ill-natured Episcopalians were very forward to place
the Quakers amongst the plotters, G. Fox gave forth the following
declaration.
‘It is our principle and testimony, to deny and renounce all
plots and plotters against the king, or any of his subjects;
for we have the Spirit of Christ, by which we have the mind of
Christ, who came to save men’s lives, and not to destroy them:
and we would have the king and all his subjects to be safe.
Wherefore we do declare, that we will endeavour, to our power,
to save and defend him and them, by discovering all plots and
plotters, which shall come to our knowledge, that would destroy
the king or his subjects: this we do sincerely offer unto
you. But as to swearing and fighting, which in tenderness of
conscience we cannot do, ye know, that we have suffered these
many years for our conscientious refusal thereof. And now that
the Lord hath brought you together, we desire you to relieve us,
and free us from those sufferings: and that ye will not put upon
us to do those things, which we have suffered so much and so long
already for not doing? for if you do, ye will make our sufferings
and bonds stronger, instead of relieving us.
GEORGE FOX.’
1681.
Not long after he also wrote a paper to all rulers and magistrates
in England, Scotland, and Ireland, to dissuade them from persecution
for religion. His labour seemed not altogether ineffectual with the
parliament, for about the beginning of the year 1681, the house of
commons resolved,
That it is the opinion of the house, that persecution of
Protestant dissenters upon the penal laws, is at this time
grievous to the subjects; a weakening of the Protestant interest,
an encouragement to popery, and dangerous to the peace of this
kingdom.
But though the house of commons came to this resolution, yet it did
not stop persecution; for as long as the laws, (by virtue whereof
they persecuted,) were not repealed, which could not be done without
the concurrence of the house of lords and the king, those that were
malicious continued in their old way, which lasted yet three or four
years.
George Fox now also came into some trouble; since he and his wife
were sued for tithes, though she had lived three and forty years at
Swarthmore, and in all that time no tithe had been paid nor demanded.
Of this George Fox had certificates; but since they would not accept
them without an oath, it made his case the more difficult. He proposed
the matter to four judges at London, and found one more moderate than
the others; which put a stop to what her enemies designed. And the
judges wondered when they heard he had made a promise in writing, not
to meddle with his wife’s estate.
This year the king dissolved the parliament, and called a new one, to
sit at Oxford, and so it did; but for all that he could not make it
comply with his demands, and so he dissolved this also. Some time after
he desired the prince of Orange to come over, who thereupon came from
Holland into England, and after a short stay, returned to the Hague.
It was also in this year that the king gave a country or great tract of
land in America to William Penn, with a patent under the great seal, to
him and his in perpetuum, since the king owed him still a considerable
sum for the services of his father the admiral sir William Penn. This
tract of land on the river Delaware, from the fortieth degree to the
three and fortieth, with all the isles belonging to it, the king gave
to W. Penn, with full power to erect a new colony there, to sell
lands, to create magistrates, to make laws, not contrary to the laws
of England, and power to pardon crimes: and in the patent, the king
declared that this tract of land henceforth should hear the name of
Pennsylvania. This favour of the king, William Penn chiefly owed, I
think, to James, then duke of York, who being chief admiral of England,
sir William Penn, the father, on his dying bed, desired him to protect
his son against his enemies, who, because of his religion, were like
to fall hard upon him. This the duke promised, and performed; and it
was not without reason that William Penn afterwards, when the said duke
had ascended the throne, showed himself ready to be serviceable to him
in all that he thought might be beneficial to the kingdom. William
Penn now went with much company to America. And having seen the land
given him, he founded there the chief city Philadelphia, and some other
towns. And that he might the more peaceably enjoy the country, he
purchased from the Indians so much land that he became proprietor of a
country twice as big as all the United Provinces, as he himself once
told me: and this colony increased so suddenly, that after a few years,
at Philadelphia, there were built six hundred brick houses.
William Penn’s father was deceased long before, and on his dying bed
he declared that he had a gracious God, and he gave marks of a true
Christian disposition of mind: he also gave his son several wholesome
admonitions how to behave himself in this world. He complained much of
the wickedness of the times, and was heard at sundry times to say, ‘Wo
to thee, O England! God will judge thee, O England! Great plagues are
at thy door, O England!’ He also said, ‘God hath forsaken us. We are
infatuated; we will shut our eyes. We will not see our true interest
and happiness: we shall be destroyed.’ When he was near death, and took
his leave of his relations, he said to William Penn, ‘Son William,
if you and your friends keep to your plain way of preaching, and keep
to your plain way of living, you will make an end of the priests to
the end of the world. Bury me by my mother, live all in love, shun all
manner of evil; and I pray God to bless you all; and he will bless
you.’ Thus died the valiant admiral Penn, father of William Penn,
proprietor of Pennsylvania: and now I return to other matters.
1682.
I left George Fox at London, and since he continued there and
thereabout a good while, I will take a turn to Bristol, where in the
year 1682, a dismal scene of persecution was opened: for the meetings
of those called Quakers were disturbed, not only by grievously abusing
and imprisoning them; but they were also vexed by breaking into their
houses, and committing all manner of violence, as among the rest in the
house of Richard Marsh, an eminent merchant in that city: for, to get
of him the fine that was pretended, first a cask of wine, worth twenty
pounds, was taken, and sold for four pounds; as often it happened, that
the goods thus taken, were sold for less than the half, because honest
people being unwilling to buy such goods, they were sold to any one
that would but bid some money, how little soever: for what was wanting
of the fine was taken anew from the fined person, and so they did here
also; for they broke open his counting-house, sought for money, and
took away his ledger, journal, cash-book, and other books and accounts,
besides many household goods; and several chambers were rifled, though
the wife, of the said Marsh lay in child-bed at that time. The chief
actors of these insolencies were the sheriff John Knight, and John
Helliar an attorney, who, with his companions Lugg, Tilley, Casse,
Patrick, Hoar, and Watkins, served for informers. Knight and Helliar
came frequently with a multitude of boys and rude rabble to disturb the
meetings of the Quakers; and then they carried them to the prisons,
which grew so full, that about fifty persons were crowded into one
room, which was so nasty, that one of the aldermen, viz. sir Robert
Cann, said, if he had a dog which he loved he would not put him there.
And though sir Thomas Earl, mayor of the city, and some justices and
aldermen, at the request of others, showed themselves inclined to allow
the prisoners a better place, yet the power of the aforesaid sheriff
John Knight, was such, that he hindered it.
The meetings of other Protestant dissenters were now also disturbed,
but they fainted and gave way; whereas the Quakers stood firm, how much
soever vexed; which often was done in a very outrageous manner: for
their meetings were not only disturbed often with the noise of drums
and fiddles, but liberty was given to the vilest fellows to commit all
kind of insolency without showing any regard to those of the female
sex, whose hoods and scarfs were torn; and Helliar, to give the boys
a sign to attack the women, was used to say to these, ‘have a care of
your hoods and scarfs;’ for then the boys fell upon them, and both aged
women and ancient men were carried to prison, and forced to go faster
than they well could, by pushing them, and pinching their arms black
and blue; and when once a girl spoke a word against this cruelty, she
was pulled by the hair, and hauled to prison; nay, little boys were
beaten on the head till they grew giddy, and then they were carried to
Bridewell, where Helliar charged the keeper to get a new cat of nine
tails, endeavouring to terrify the children, by making them believe
they should be whipped, unless they would promise to come no more to
meetings: but this succeeded not; for his extravagant malice did not
subdue the constancy of these children.
With such diabolical rage they persecuted this people at Bristol, and
not a stone was left unturned to afflict them. Once they were nailed
up in their meeting-house, and thus kept about six hours; which could
not but be very hard to nature, since there were also women of no mean
families, and among these the widow of the upper sheriff Lane. So many
also were taken prisoners, that at length there was no more room in the
jails. By these proceedings many families were ruined: for their goods
were taken from them, not only on the account of meeting, but when
any were believed to be of good estates, the oath of allegiance was
tendered to them. At court it seems they were the more offended against
the Quakers, because in the election of members of parliament some had
voted for such as they believed to be moderate, and no favourers of
popery; and therefore it was said underhand, that if Mr. Penn or Mr.
Whitehead would undertake for the Quakers not to vote at elections of
parliament-men, there should be no further persecution of them.
In the meanwhile the behaviour of the persecutors in the meetings was
brutish in the highest degree; insomuch that a certain woman, seeing
that the attorney Helliar lifted up her child by the hair of his head,
and asking him, why he so abused her child, was therefore ill treated
herself by him. And by order of the said Helliar a lass was committed
to Bridewell, because she gave an impudent boy, that would have turned
up her coats, a box on the ear; for which defending of her modesty,
this brutish Helliar called her a rioter and seditious person: for he
was, as hath been said already, a leader of insolent and saucy boys,
which he from time to time took along with him to disturb the meetings
of the Quakers. And sheriff Knight did often with his cane very
violently beat those that were met together, and once grievously abused
an ancient man called Britton; and some women were pinched violently
in their arms. Susannah York, an aged woman, was thrown down to the
ground; Mary Hooper was very roughly handled by Helliar, had her scarf
torn off her back, and was so thrust and flung about, that she was much
out of order long after; and Mary Page, being big with child, was so
violently hauled out of the meeting, that her life was endangered by
it. With Helliar it became customary to call men rogues, and the women
whores, jades, carrions, and damned bitches: he also bid the boys to
tear their scarfs and take up dirt, and throw upon them. Of this his
beastly rage there were many witnesses; for these abominable dealings
displeased many people of other persuasions: but it seems these enraged
fellows had encouragement at court, whereon they durst rely: for the
sheriff John Knight was knighted, and therefore grew more insolent.
Once it happened that Helliar having disturbed a meeting, drove the
women along the streets as if they had been cattle; and being asked
whether he made beasts of them, he answered, ‘Ye are worse than beasts;
for beasts will be driven, but you will not.’
This disturbing of meetings continued till almost all the men belonging
thereto were clapped up in prison; and some of them sending a petition
to the mayor and justices of the city, that they might be pleased to
let them have larger rooms, since not only their health, but their
lives also were endangered, the said magistrates showed themselves
inclined to allow the prisoners some ease or enlargement: but the
power of sheriff Knight was such, that whatever they said or did,
all proved in vain. The mayor also signified to the sheriff, that he
would have all convictions made above board, and not in ale-houses
and taverns; and that he would have the distrained goods brought into
a public warehouse, and not in a by-lane. But though the mayor _ex
officio_ might have commanded the sheriff, yet this officer was so
countenanced, that he did not care for whatever the mayor said; nay,
so exorbitant was he, that his adherents began to threaten the mayor,
he should not be a parliament-man; insomuch that he was forced to
comply in some degree. In the meanwhile the havoc and spoil was so
enormous, that generally twice as much was taken as the fine amounted
to. The prisoners, some of whom lay on the floor, others in hammocks,
and some in a cold and open room, exposed to the wind, and injury
of the weather, suffered great inconveniences, and the jailer Isaac
Dennis imagining that nothing could be too bad for them, would not
show them any favour, but at a very unreasonable rate; and his wife
showed herself no less unreasonable than he, so that one extortion
was at the heels of another. Four physicians of Bristol, viz. John
Griffith, William Turgis, J. Chauncy, and T. Bourn, seeing how straitly
the prisoners were penned up and thronged together, gave a certificate
under their hands, in which they declared, that they resenting their
condition with compassion, and considering what dangerous consequence
such close confinement might be of, were moved to certify, that the
prisoners being destitute of room for rest, it had a ready tendency to
breed infectious distempers, to the endangering of their lives, &c. But
all this did not avail them, it being not counted worth the while to
be concerned for them. Nay, so desperately wicked was the jailer, that
when the prisoners complained for want of room, he said to his man, if
he could but shut the door, it would be well enough. But in due time we
shall see what anguish and horror befel him.
After most of the people called Quakers at Bristol were in prison, the
women who continued to keep up their religious meetings, were also
seized, and confined to that degree, that at length few or none but
children, that staid with the servants in the houses of their parents,
were left free. The number of the prisoners for the sake of their
religion amounted now to one hundred and fifteen, and some of them
were confined in Bridewell, among whom were also Barbara Blaugdone,
(several times mentioned before,) and Catharine Evans, who had learned
at Malta what it was to suffer a tedious and hard imprisonment. It is
very remarkable that children under sixteen years of age now performed
what their parents were hindered from: for these children kept up their
religious meetings as much as was in their power. But though they were
not within the reach of the law, yet once nineteen of these youths were
taken and carried to the house of correction, where they were kept for
some time. And though they were threatened with whipping if ever they
returned to the meeting, yet they continued valiant without fainting,
although they suffered exceedingly from the wicked rabble. But so
great was their zeal, that they despising all reproach and insolence,
remained steadfast; and thus showed in spite of their enemies, that
God would not suffer that the Quakers’ meeting should be altogether
suppressed, as it was intended. This persecution continued till the
next year, as it did in several other places also; for there wanted
no informers, who continually lay in wait for prey, even to such a
degree, that I find that some of those called Quakers, being come
from other places to market, and being gone into an inn to refresh
themselves, a snatching informer did not stick to declare upon his
oath, that the Quakers had kept a meeting there.
But before I leave Bristol, I must give some account of a ridiculous
act, performed on one Erasmus Dole, who bore the name of a Quaker. He
having said that he scrupled not to declare the contents of the oath
of allegiance, it was contrived that he should speak after the clerk,
and skip over such words he disliked, and pronounce another in its
room, as I declare, instead of I swear. This went on, and whilst he was
thus speaking, the jailer held his hand to the book, and when Erasmus
had said all, put it to his mouth, to make this pass for kissing it.
With this the court seemed satisfied; and the bishop of Bristol seeing
these apish tricks, told the court, that altered it not from being an
oath, at which they gloried, as having obtained a conquest. But this
was but a pitiful one; for Erasmus being a man of an irregular life,
the Quakers had but little cause to regret the loss of such a member,
who grew so dissolute, that in process of time they found themselves
necessitated to deny him, because of his offensive conversation.
In Gloucestershire the people called Quakers were also under great
sufferings by imprisonment, for keeping their meetings; and the wife
of one John Boy, being at a peaceable meeting at Little Badmanton, was
through instigation of the priest of the parish, in a violent manner
dragged out of the meeting by the lord Herbert’s footmen; through which
abuses the woman fell sick and miscarried, to the endangering of her
life; and her husband, who was also taken prisoner at the same place,
was not suffered at his request to see his wife.
In Leicestershire it went no better: one Elizabeth Hill being in a
meeting at Broughton, was by the rude boys dragged out, and so abused,
that she was seemingly quite spent, and near dead; and laying in the
dirt, one of the boys, to try whether she was still alive, put his
finger into her mouth, and perceiving her to breathe, said, ‘Let us at
her again. The devil is yet in her, and we will squeeze him out.’ These
cruel abuses made a neighbourly woman cry out, ‘What, will you kill the
woman?’ To which the boys said, ‘What care we? Mr. Cotton bid us do
so.’ ‘Did he indeed?’ asked the woman. ‘Aye, indeed,’ replied the boys.
‘Then,’ said she, ‘he may be ashamed of it.’ Thus these boys openly
said, that it was the parson, viz. Thomas Cotton, who was the priest
of the parish, encouraged them to this excessive wickedness; and his
man said in plain terms, his master was one of the best men in England;
for if every one would serve them so, this heresy would be rooted out.
And this man, whose name was Thomas Ambrose, did not stick to say,
that nothing would drive the Quakers away, but either fire or water;
and if the house was his, (meaning the house where they met together,)
he would burn it on their heads. More instances of such exorbitant
wickedness which happened at sundry places, I could mention, if I did
not study brevity.
George Fox being this year at London about the time of choosing new
sheriffs for the city, he wrote a few lines to those who, standing
candidates for that office, desired his friends to give their voices
for them. And he said in the conclusion, ‘Shall we be free to serve
and worship God, and keep his commands, if we give our voices for you?
For we are unwilling to give our voices for such as will imprison and
persecute us, and spoil our goods.’ The constables now at London were
sent sometimes with warrants to disturb the Quakers’ meetings; but
it was easily seen that they would rather have been freed from such
a commission: for coming there, they would bid George Fox or others
that preached, to give over speaking; but they and the soldiers who
sometimes came along with them, generally behaved themselves moderate,
sufficiently showing that they were not for persecution, and that
what they did was for the sake of their office. Sometimes indeed they
hindered the friends going into their meetings; but these then being
thus kept out, the number notwithstanding increased.
Once it happened that George Fox was stopped by the constables from
going into Devonshire-house meeting; and after having stood awhile in
the yard, till he was weary, one gave him a stool to sit on; after
awhile he stood up and preached, and in his declaration said, ‘Ye need
not come against us with swords and staves, for we are a peaceable
people, and have nothing in our hearts but good-will to the king and
magistrates, and to all people upon the earth. And we do not meet
under pretence of religion, to plot against the government, or to
raise insurrections; but to worship in spirit and in truth.’ When he
had spoken what was upon him at that time, he sat down, and after a
while concluded the meeting with prayer, at which the constables and
soldiers as well as others put off their hats; and when the meeting was
finished, a constable putting off his hat, seriously said, ‘The Lord
bless you;’ and all were suffered to pass away unmolested.
Thus this year came to an end. All other Protestant dissenters were
now suppressed; for they were restrained from exercising any public
worship; and some there were, who, in their nocturnal meetings, would
pray God, that it might please him to keep the Quakers steadfast, that
so they might be as a wall about them, in order that other dissenters
might not be rooted out. And yet these, to render the Quakers odious,
formerly had been very active in setting them forth in very ill
colours. But the said people continued now so valiant, and without
fainting, that some of their persecutors have been heard to say, that
the Quakers could not be overcome, and that the devil himself could not
extirpate them.
1683.
In the year 1683, persecution continued in many places; and by
computation it appeared that above seven hundred of those called
Quakers yet suffered imprisonment in England. I could mention several
instances of persecution in Leicestershire, Northamptonshire, and
elsewhere; but to avoid being prolix, I will only take a turn again to
Bristol, where persecution continued still; for if sometimes any of the
people called Quakers came to a meeting, they presently were committed
to prison; among these was one Richard Lindy, a blind man, of about
fourscore and ten years of age, who was carried to jail, and forced to
sit up three nights in a chair, though others offered to pay for his
lodging, if some convenient place to lie down on had been allowed him.
Some of the prisoners, being tradesmen, would willingly have worked
in prison, to earn something for their sustenance: but the jailer
Isaac Dennis, would not permit them that liberty. Other prisoners
fell sick of the spotted fever, and some died of it: yet all this did
not soften the said hard-hearted jailer. But at length a heavy stroke
fell from heaven upon him. About the middle of the month of October
he fell sick, and was seized with terrible anguish of mind. Then he
wished he had never seen the inside of the jail; and he desired some
of the Quakers to pray for him, and to forgive him for what he had
done. To which they answered, that they forgave him; but he should
ask forgiveness of God. But still his anguish increased; and when the
physicians ordered him to be let blood, he said, no physic would do him
good, his distemper being another thing: and that no man could do him
good, his day being over; and there was no hope of mercy from God for
him. Some of those called Quakers seeing him in this woful condition,
signified, that they desired, if it was the will of the Lord, he might
find a place of repentance. And it was told him, they hoped his day was
not over, because he had such a full sense of his condition. To which
he answered, ‘I thank you for your good hope; but I have no faith to
believe.’ And he further said, ‘Faith is the gift of God.’ Whatever was
spoken to him, he continued in saying, that his day was over, and there
was no mercy for him. Such a gnawing worm is the guilt of conscience;
and in this desperate state he continued above a month, and died the
last of November, without any visible signs of forgiveness; but the
judgment thereof we must commit to God.
Although the people called Quakers were oppressed by sufferings all
over the country, yet generally they continued valiant; and as George
Fox did not omit from time to time to encourage them by letters to
faithfulness and steadfastness, so several others of their teachers did
not neglect to exhort them to perseverance both by word and writing:
and what was indeed remarkable, those who travelled to and fro in
the country, and publicly preached in the meetings of their friends,
generally went free; and the informers were often disappointed of
catching a preacher. I find it left upon record by Charles Marshall,
who was none of the least, that though in the time when persecution was
most hot, he travelled through the nation, yet none laid hands on him,
or fined him for his preaching, which was the more remarkable, because
he being a very zealous man, was used to lift up his voice in a very
powerful manner.
William Dewsbury, who was now grown ancient in his imprisonment at
Warwick, had wrote an epistle of consolation to his suffering friends,
which was thought fit to be reprinted, and is as follows:
‘_Dear Brethren and Sisters_,
‘Hear the word of the Lord. Thus saith the Lord, ‘Though you now
drink the cup of adversity, and eat the bread of affliction,
and are trampled upon, as though you were not worthy to live
upon the earth, yet notwithstanding all the fury of men, you are
resolved in the strength of my Spirit for ever to be deprived
of the sweet enjoyments of wife, husband, tender children,
parents, and outward possessions, liberty, and life, before you
deny the testimony of my name before the sons of men. Oh! you
dear and tender children, who love not your lives unto death
this day, that you may furnish a good testimony for the glory
of my name, saith the Lord God; lift up you heads in the light
of my covenant, and believe in my name, for I am near unto you,
saith the mighty God of safety; and let not any weight or burden
lie upon you: for I will be more than husband to wife, and more
than wife to husband, or parents to children, or children to
parents; yea, I will be a husband to the widow, and a father
to the children who are deprived of their tender parents for
my name’s sake: I will enlarge your borders in the life of my
righteousness: you that suffer in true innocency, will I refresh
with the depth of my mercies, yea, I will guard you with the
angel of my presence, and all that devise mischief against you
shall be confounded before the glory of my power, with which
I will keep and preserve you in the word of my patience, and
safety, in my presence,’ saith the Lord God.
‘Therefore, you dear children, who drink the deepest in
sufferings, think it not hard, for it is my purpose unto you all
that have not an eye to self, but alone seek my glory in all
you do; I will make you more and more honourable in the glory
of my life, and double my blessings upon you and yours; for I
have beheld your integrity, and my bowels are mightily moved
with compassion towards you; therefore am I risen for your sakes
this day, to declare unto you, my suffering people, that not an
hair of your head shall perish, neither shall you be detained
in prisons and desolate holes any longer than I have determined
shall be for your eternal good, and the glory of my name for
ever; therefore in my life stand faithful, in resistance of every
evil thought, or whatever would cause you to murmur, or desire
any thing but what you know will advance the glory of my name,
and the exaltation of my truth, over all that riseth up against
it, in your being truly subject to the measure of my light and
life, that will not let any seek a pre-eminence or esteem amongst
men; neither let self-striving nor self-serving have power in
any; but in true humility, love, and meekness watch one over
another; and let the strong take the weak by the hand, that
you may all gently, in love, meekness, and holy fear, dread my
name, and serve one another; that your love may be manifest unto
me, saith the Lord your God, and one unto another in the naked
simplicity of your spirits; then will I make my dwelling amongst
you, and with you; and my dreadful and glorious presence you
shall all feel mightily in you, and amongst you, moving in the
exercise of my Spirit, to the renown of my name, and the comfort
of one another; and I will crown you with heavenly blessings,
and the glory of my powerful life; and you shall praise my name
for ever, that I made you my jewels, and counted you worthy to
suffer for the testimony of my name. I will go before you through
all the waters and floods of afflictions; and I will appear with
you before all the councils of the sons of men; and my saving
power shall compass you about in your hot and sharp afflictions,
all you who have your confidence alone in me, the Lord your God.
Therefore, trust in my name, ye my dear children, and cast all
your care upon me; and if any of you joyfully suffer the spoiling
of your goods, I will supply with what is needful for you and
yours; and if any of you seal your testimony in the word of my
patience with your blood, I will take care of your tender wives
and children, or parents, for whom your souls have been poured
forth in prayers unto me for their good.
‘Therefore hear my word, which is sounded unto you from the
throne of my grace and eternal glory: rejoice not too much in
spirits being made subject, but throw down your crowns before
me, that there be not a self-seeking, self-serving spirit in
the family of my people, but all feel the birth immortal raised
up in the resurrection of my life in you all, which truly makes
self of no reputation, so that all loftiness be laid low, and
all haughtiness bowed down in every one, that I the Lord God in
you all may be loved, obeyed, and exalted; who is taking, and
will take to me my great power, to exalt the meek upon the earth,
and reign over all the pride of the children of men, (that is
exalted above my witness in their conscience,) that so my sons
may be brought from far, and my daughters from the ends of the
earth, in the sight of all people, whom I will make to confess,
in subjection to my power, that you are the beloved people of
the most high God, and of the righteous seed which the Lord hath
blessed; and not any weapon formed against you shall prosper,
but come to nought, which will be hastened to your comforts, and
certainly performed according to what is here declared, to your
eternal joy; and you shall assuredly know the mouth of the Lord
hath spoken it.
‘The word of the Lord, before
expressed, came to me in the
prison-house at Warwick, the 13th
day of the First-month, 1664,
which constrained me to send it
to be read amongst you, dear,
faithful, and suffering people of
the Almighty God, in whom I remain
your brother and companion in
tribulation and kingdom of patience
in the Lord Jesus Christ.
WILLIAM DEWSBURY.’
Whilst persecution was on foot in England, there was some division
among those called Quakers, which had its rise some years before.
Those who first appeared to head it, were John Wilkinson and John
Story, preachers among them, who showed themselves discontented against
George Fox, chiefly about the management of church affairs, because
things went not always so as they would have it: and since George
Fox had been the first institutor of good order amongst his friends,
he was the chief object of the envy of the malcontented. And because
in the beginning there were no such meetings, or discipline, and yet
they had lived in mutual peace and unity; it was asserted, that such
meetings were needless, and that every one ought to be guided by the
Spirit of God in his own mind, and not to be governed by rules of man.
By which it appeared, that they were against the establishing of any
order of government in the church. But they were greatly bent against
the women’s meetings, who as deaconesses, met together at set times,
to provide for poor families, and sick people that were in want. It
is true, it was objected that in those meetings sometimes was debated
what was not so convenient in every respect; because young women were
admitted there also, to see and learn how matters were treated by the
grave and ancient women: and what if some had been a little too forward
to meddle with affairs properly belonging to the men? The creeping in
of a wrong use can by no means justify the abrogating what is really
useful; and that honest and ancient women took care for the poor and
indigent members of the church, was indeed laudable. But as in great
communities generally are found some men who love to govern, without
being fit for it; so some of these soon adhered to Wilkinson and Story:
besides several others, who in time of persecution, rather would have
met privately, than have come into public meetings, and so be exposed
to the fury of their enemies; and such also as rather would pay tithes
to the priests, than suffer spoil or imprisonment for the refusal
thereof.
Hence rose a schism or rent first in the north of England, and some who
went under the denomination of Separatists, began to keep meetings by
themselves, and so to leave their former friends, though they pretended
to agree with them in matter of doctrine. To these Separatists
afterwards resorted such as were not strict livers, and therefore were
unwilling to submit to church discipline: for this was now become the
common saying of these people, that every one having received a measure
of the Spirit of God, ought to regard that leader, without minding any
rules prescribed by others.
In process of time William Rogers and Thomas Crisp appeared in print
against their quondam brethren, and upbraided them with every imprudent
behaviour, or inconsiderate act: besides that, on mere hearsay, they
published a multitude of untruths, and decried even lawful things; an
instance of which appeared when Rogers in paltry verses scornfully
reviled them, that some sustenance had been given from the public
cash to indigent preachers, who, to shun the neglect of their public
ministry, could not duly mind their private affairs; though this
supply never exceeded necessary provision. To this it was answered,
that if it pleased God to call to his ministry persons of mean estate,
the church was not warranted to hinder it, and let such suffer want;
since he, as Sovereign of the universe, could not be limited in the
distribution of his gifts. Rogers would continually appeal to the
primitive times, and to give some colour to what they asserted, he
and his adherents published a paper with Edward Burrough’s name to
it, who had been dead above twenty years; but G. Whitehead and others
gave good proofs, that the apostate John Perrot, had been the author
of that so much applauded paper. At length this rent appeared also in
London, where likewise malcontents were not wanting, who not being
strictly conscientious, would rather live without any restraint; and
even some that were honest, were by fair words persuaded to separation;
for among the Separatists one Charles Harris preached, who was pretty
fluent in speech, and not unelegant in his expressions, as I have
seen and heard myself. But how specious soever the pretence of these
Separatists was, and whatever endeavours were made, yet they were not
able to continue and subsist firmly; but at length they decayed and
vanished as snow in the fields; for the best among them came in time to
see that they had been deceived; and the less honest grew worse, for
among themselves, they were not free from division: and though George
Keith, (whose apostacy will be mentioned in the sequel,) endeavoured
to skulk among them, yet he got no adherents there. I have often
wondered how Wilkinson, Harris, and Keith, (all of whom I have known,)
could apostatize to such a degree as they did: but yet this is not so
exceeding strange as some may think it to be; for we find on record,
that even in the primitive apostolical church, was an Alexander the
coppersmith, and Hymeneus and Philletus, who made shipwreck of the
faith, and caused a rent, insomuch that it is said, their words would
eat as did a canker.
At London the meetings this year were often disturbed; but the
magistrates themselves seemed not to approve of it, for they clearly
saw there was nothing to be feared from the Quakers, and yet they were
loth to give offence to the court party which then prevailed. G. Fox
coming once to the meeting in Gracechurch-street, and being kept out
by the constables, stood up in the court and preached to the people;
but a constable plucked him down, and afterwards let him go free. At
another time having been in the meeting at the Savoy, and being brought
to a justice, there was one Gabriel Shad, an informer, who was so full
of impertinent talk, that the justice grew angry; and yet he thought
himself bound to do something; and so asked G. Fox if he did not preach
in the meeting; to which he warily answered, that he did confess what
Christ had done for his soul, and did praise God; and that he thought
he might have done that in the streets, and in all places: and this he
was not ashamed to confess, neither was this contrary to the liturgy of
the church of England. To this the justice said, the laws were against
such meetings as were contrary to the church of England; and at length
spoke of sending G. Fox to Newgate, and said, he would make a mittimus
after he had dined; but the constable coming then, the justice bid him
come again after the evening service; which the constable doing, the
justice told him, he might let G. Fox go: and next day he signified to
one of G. Fox’s friends, that by some accident he had been disappointed
of fining him.
Thus G. Fox was freed, and was now much at London, where a plot was
said to be on foot against the king and the duke of York, of which the
duke of Monmouth was said to be the head. This design, whatever it was,
cost the lives of several persons, among whom was the earl of Essex,
who unfortunately perished in the Tower, and the lord Russel, who was
fain to stoop to the axe.
Now since persecution continued with some colour of justice, those
called Quakers drew up the following address to the king:
TO THE KING.
_The humble Address of the people commonly called Quakers._
‘O KING,
‘The King of kings, and Lord of the whole earth, incline thy
heart to that which is just and merciful in his sight, and to
make such clear and equal distinctions, as that the innocent may
not suffer in any case for the guilty; that it may ever redound
to thy honour and safety, and the peaceable subject’s comfort.
‘Our innocency, love, and good-will to thy person and government
that God has committed to thee, encourage us in this our humble
address and application.
‘Whereas the plot against the king, and his brother the duke
of York, &c. is made an occasion to persecute many of us for
our religious meetings, more severely than formerly; we do
solemnly declare that it is known to the Divine Majesty, and
the all-seeing wisdom whereby kings reign, and princes decree
justice, that our manifold, extreme, and continued sufferings,
being only on a religious account, have not been the least motive
or provocation to us to desire, much less to contrive the least
hurt, either to thy person or government, or to the person of thy
brother the duke of York, &c. We are clear in the sight of God,
angels, and men, from all hellish plots, traitorous conspiracies,
and from all murderous designs and undertakings against the king,
his brother, or any person on earth whatsoever, being works of
the devil and darkness; having contrariwise learned of Christ
Jesus our Lord, by his light and grace in our hearts, not so
much as by force to defend, much less avenge ourselves from the
injuries done us, but to commit the cause to him that judgeth
righteously, as peaceable followers of our Saviour and Redeemer,
in his patient example and sufferings, who is the Prince of
Peace.
‘O king, we do further declare, that God Almighty hath taught
and engaged us to acknowledge, and actually to obey magistracy,
as his ordinance, in all things not repugnant to his law and
light in our consciences, which is certainly agreeable to the
holy Scripture, and admits not of any immoral or injurious
actions, and that even where, through tenderness of conscience
we cannot conform, it is our duty patiently to suffer, and not
to rebel, nor seek revenge; and we hope, by his divine grace,
ever to demean ourselves as peaceable minded Christians, in our
conversations, under the civil government; and as we do sincerely
and with reverence, confess to Divine power and Providence in
thy restoration and preservation of thy person hitherto; so our
prayers and supplications are to the Almighty for thy future
safety and peace, and that in a thankful remembrance of God’s
great mercies towards thee, thou mayest be thereby obliged to
show mercy, and relieve the oppressed from these unmerited
afflictions and persecutions, which a great number of us thy
peaceable subjects do even at this day suffer under, in our
persons and estates; not only by laws made against, but also
by laws never intended against us; and which is more extreme,
divers severities of late have been, and still are inflicted, for
which no colour or pretence of law hath been, or can be alleged;
several jails being so filled, as that they want air, and many
innocent persons held under extreme distress, without regard to
age, sex, or condition, to the loss of some lives already, and
apparent hazard of many more; if not to the endangering infection
in divers cities and places in this nation; and so many houses,
shops, barns, and fields, ransacked and swept of goods, corn, and
cattle; tending also to the great discouragement of trade and
husbandry, and to the impoverishing of a great number of quiet
and industrious people; and that for no other cause, but for
their religious worship and exercise of their tender consciences
towards Almighty God that made them, who is the sovereign Lord of
all, and King in men’s consciences.
‘Therefore we humbly intreat thee, O king, in princely justice,
Christian charity, and compassion, to open our prison doors, and
take off our bonds, where the innocent and oppressed in thy land,
that fear God, and, in conversation, truly honour the king; and
suffer not the ruin of such as are quiet in the land, the widow
and the fatherless for their peaceable consciences, to lie at the
door of a prince professing the tender and compassionate religion
of Christ.’
This address was presented to the king at Windsor, on the 8th of the
month called August, in this year, by George Whitehead, Alexander
Parker, Gilbert Latey, and Francis Camfield, in behalf of themselves
and their friends; and it was read to him and his brother the duke of
York, then present with some others; but no considerable ease followed:
king Charles, it seems, was not to be the instrument thereof: and
though that prince by nature was not hard-hearted, yet there were some
that could persuade him to severity.
I find about this time, that one Gabriel Shad, who had made it his
business to serve as informer against the Quakers, and who had lately
informed also against G. Fox, as hath been said, being confined in
Newgate at London, for stealing goods from one William Leman, to the
value of three hundred pounds, had been found guilty of felony at
the Old Bailey; but he had such friends, that he was freed from the
gallows, and having obtained the benefit of the clergy, was discharged
with being burnt in the hand. Such infamous persons were the informers;
for honest people scorned to meddle with such a base and abominable
work.
This year the princess Anne, daughter of the duke of York, was married
to prince George of Denmark. The duke of Monmouth having been under
disgrace, came into favour again; for the king his father indeed loved
him, though he was loth, in prejudice of his brother the duke of York,
to declare him his legitimate son, as some great men wished he had. But
the king persisted in his declaration, that he never had been married
to Monmouth’s mother.
1684.
In the next year, viz. that of 1684, G. Fox and Alexander Parker, came
into Holland to visit their friends there; and after some stay, they
returned to their native country.
In this year died Thomas Stordy of Moorhouse in Cumberland, a gentleman
who twenty-two years before had been condemned to a premunire, because
for conscience-sake he could not swear; for which sheriff John Lowther
seized his estate, real and personal, for the king’s use, and kept
him prisoner eleven or twelve years, till discharged by the king’s
declaration in 1672, or 73, and his real estate restored. After which,
he suffered under great fines and spoil for meeting, and after that was
prosecuted on the act for twenty pounds a month for not coming to their
worship; on which he continued prisoner several years, till he died
in December, having been made willing rather to lose all for Christ’s
sake, than to be disobedient to him. This Thomas Stordy released to the
land-owners, and their heirs for ever, an impropriation of ten pounds
per annum, which descended to him from his father and grandfather,
making conscience as well of receiving as paying tithes. Not long
before his decease, he exhorted those that were come to visit him, to
faithfulness; ‘For,’ said he, ‘if ye continue faithful to the Lord
whilst ye live in this world, he will reward you, as now he rewardeth
me, with his sweet peace.’ Thus piously Thomas Stordy departed this
life, showing forth that he was really a gentleman, whose chiefest
nobility consisted in virtue. I could mention some other instances, or
cases of persecution; but to make the more speed towards a conclusion,
I will not detain my reader with the relation thereof.
1685.
Thomas Briggs, who also had suffered very much, having been one of
the first preachers among the Quakers, and being become old and weak,
about this time wrote a letter to G. Fox, in which he signified his
perseverance in godliness; and not long after, viz. about the beginning
of the year 1685, he died.
It was about this time also, that the king was seized with such
violent fits of convulsion, that he died in the month called February.
The throne by his death being become vacant, was filled again by
his brother James the Second, who succeeding him, was the same day
proclaimed king. Now I cannot but take notice, that persecution went on
to the death of king Charles, and continued hot to that very instant;
and he being gone off the stage, many seemed to fear that worse times
were at hand, and that burning of heretics would come in vogue again,
as in the former age: yet some there were who imagined that ease was
like to follow; and that they guessed not amiss, time showed.
King James had not been long at the helm of the government, but the
dissenters applied to him for liberty of worship, and among these were
also the Quakers, who made the following petition:
_To the King and both houses of parliament, the suffering
condition of the peaceable people called Quakers, only for
tender conscience towards Almighty God, humbly presented._
‘Showing, that of late above one thousand five hundred of the
said people, both men and women, having been detained prisoners
in England, and part of them in Wales, (some of which being since
discharged by the judges, and others freed by death, through
their long and tedious imprisonment,) there are now remaining,
according to late accounts, about one thousand three hundred,
eighty and three; about two hundred of them women. Many under
sentence of premunire, both men and women, and more than three
hundred near it; not for denying the duty, or refusing the
substance of allegiance itself, but only because they dare not
swear: many on writs of excommunication and fines for the king,
and upon the act for banishment: besides above three hundred and
twenty have died in prison, and prisoners, since the year 1660,
near one hundred whereof, by means of this long imprisonment, as
it is judged, since the account delivered to the late king and
parliament, in 1680; thereby making widows and fatherless, and
leaving them in distress and sorrow: the two last hard winters
restraint, and the close confinement of great numbers in divers
jails, unavoidably tending towards their destruction, their
healths being evidently impaired thereby.
‘And here in London, the jail of Newgate hath been from time to
time crowded, within these two years, (sometimes near twenty in
one room) to the prejudice of their health; and several poor
innocent tradesmen, of late, have been so suffocated by the
coldness of the prison, that they have been taken out sick of a
malignant fever, and died in a few days after.
‘Besides these long-continued and destructive hardships upon
the persons of men and women, as aforesaid, great violences,
outrageous distresses, and woful havoc and spoil have been, and
still are frequently made upon our goods and estates, both in
and about this city of London, and other parts of this nation,
by a company of idle, extravagant, and merciless informers, and
their prosecutions upon the conventicle act; many being convicted
and fined, unsummoned and unheard in their own defence. As also
on _qui tam_ writs, at the suit of informers, who prosecute for
one-third part for themselves, and on other processes, for twenty
pounds a month, and two-thirds of estates, seized for the king;
all tending to the ruin of trade, husbandry, and farmers, and the
impoverishing of many industrious families, without compassion
shown to widows, fatherless, or desolate: to some not a bed
left to rest upon; to others, no cattle to till their ground,
nor corn for bread or seed, nor tools to work withal: the said
informers and sheriffs bailiffs in some places being outrageous
and excessive in their distresses, and seizures, breaking into
houses, and making great waste and spoil. And all these and other
severities done against us by them, under pretence of serving the
king and the church, thereby to force us to a conformity, without
inward conviction or satisfaction of our tender consciences,
wherein our peace with God is concerned, which we are very tender
of.
‘The statutes on which we, the said people, suffer imprisonment,
distress, and spoil, are as followeth:
‘The 5th of Eliz. ch. 23. _De excommunicato Capiendo._
‘The 23d of Eliz. ch. 1, for twenty pounds per month.
‘The 29th of Eliz. ch. 6, for continuation.
‘The 35th of Eliz. ch. 1, for abjuring the realm, on pain of
death.
‘The 1st of Eliz. ch. 2, for twelve pence a Sunday.
‘The 3d of K. James I. ch. 4, for premunire, imprisonment during
life, and estates confiscated.
‘The 13th and 14th of K. Charles II. against Quakers, &c.
transportation.
‘The 22d of K. Charles II. ch. 1, against seditious conventicles.
‘The 17th of K. Charles II. ch. 2, against non-conformists.
‘The 27th of Hen. VIII. ch. 20, some few suffer thereupon.
‘Upon indictments at common law, pretended and framed against our
peaceable religious assemblies, for riots, routs, breach of the
peace, &c. many, both men and women, thereupon fined, imprisoned,
and detained for non-payment, some till death. Instance, the city
of Bristol, what a great number have been these divers years
straitly confined and crowded in jail, mostly above one hundred
on such pretence, about seventy of them women, many aged. And in
the city of Norwich, in the years 1682 and 83, about seventy kept
in hold, forty-five whereof in holes and dungeons for many weeks
together, and great hardships have been, and are in other places.
So that such our peaceable meetings are sometimes fined on the
conventicle act, as for a religious exercise, and other times
at common law, as riotous, routous, &c. when nothing of that
nature could ever be proved against them, there being nothing of
violence or injury either done, threatened, or intended, against
the person or property of any other whatsoever.
‘The during and tedious imprisonments, are chiefly on the writs
_de excommunicato capiendo_, upon the judgment of premunire, and
upon fines, said to be for the king.
‘The great spoil and excessive distresses and seizures, are
chiefly upon the conventicle act, and for twenty pounds a month,
two-thirds of estates, and on _qui tam_ writs. In some counties
divers have suffered by seizures and distresses above eight years
last past, and writs issued out for further seizures in several
counties, for twenty pounds a month, amounting to the value of
many thousands of pounds, sometimes seizing for eleven months at
once, and making sale of all goods and chattels, within doors and
without, both of household goods, beds, shop-goods, moveables,
cattle, &c. and prosecution hereupon still continued, and in
divers counties much increased; so that several, who have long
employed some hundreds of poor families in manufacture, and paid
considerable taxes to the king, are greatly disabled from both,
by these writs and seizures, as well as by long imprisonments. So
many serge-makers of Plymouth, as kept above five hundred poor
people at work, disabled by imprisonment. Many in the county of
Suffolk, under a long imprisonment, sentenced to a premunire, one
whereof employed at least two hundred poor people in the woollen
manufacture, when at liberty. Omitting other instances, that we
may not seem too tedious, these may evince how destructive such
severities are to trade and industry, and ruinous to many poor
families.
‘On the conventicle act, within these two years last past, many
in and about this city of London have been extremely oppressed,
impaired, and spoiled in their estates and trades, upon numerous
convictions and warrants, made against them in their absence,
upon the credit of informations sworn by concealed informers,
divers of them impudent women, who swear for their profit in part
of the fines and seizures, their husbands being prisoners for
debt through their own extravagancies. The warrants commonly made
to break open and enter houses, which is done with rigour and
great spoil, not sparing widows, fatherless, or poor families,
who are sustained by their daily care and industry, not leaving
them a bed to rest upon. The fines upon one justice’s warrants
amounting to many hundreds of pounds; frequently ten pounds a
warrant, and two warrants at once for twenty pounds, executed
upon one person; and three warrants at once from another justice,
for sixty pounds upon another person, and all his goods carried
away in about ten cart loads; and five warrants at once for fifty
pounds upon another, &c. besides what we have suffered by others
in the like kind. And in this destructive course the informers
have encouragement, and are suffered still to go on, to the
ruining many families in their trades and livelihoods; divers so
discouraged and disabled, that they are forced to give over their
shops and trades.
‘These informers being accepted for credible witnesses, yet
parties, swearing for their own profit and gain, in the absence
of the persons prosecuted; this we think is very hard, and undue
proceeding, and not consistent with common law or justice.
‘As also convicting and fining us upon their depositions,
unsummoned and unheard in our own defence, and so keeping us
ignorant of our accusers, unless upon traverse of our appeals.
This procedure appears contrary to the law of God, common
justice, and equity, and to the law and justice of the ancient
Romans, and of nations.
‘And although it has been openly manifested, upon trial of
appeals, at several quarter-sessions, both for Middlesex and
London, and other places, that the depositions of divers
informers have been false in fact: yet the great trouble and
charge in the traverse of appeals, and the great encouragement
informers have from him who grants the most warrants, hath been
a discouragement to many from seeking such difficult remedy,
considering also the treble costs against the appellant, in case
he succeeds not, or is not acquitted upon trial: whereas there is
no costs nor restitution awarded nor given against the informers,
for unjust prosecution. Some also have refused to grant appeals,
others denied copies of warrants to prevent appeals: which,
whether this be equal or just, pray consider, ye that are wise
and judicious men: and whether it be for the king’s honour, and
the people’s interest, that idle, drunken, extravagant informers,
should either be encouraged or suffered to go on thus to ruin
trade, husbandry and families, or to command and threaten
justices of peace, with the forfeiture of an hundred pounds, if
they do not make convictions, and issue out warrants upon their
late informations, and uncertain depositions, frequently in the
absence of the accused.
‘And lastly, one-third part of the fines being assigned to the
king, he can only remit that; but the informers and poor being
assigned two-third parts, seems not to allow him to remit them,
how much cause soever may appear to him, to extend his favour
in that case. Is not this against the king’s prerogative, to
restrain his sovereign clemency? And how far it reflects upon
the government, and is scandalous thereto, for beggarly rude
informers, some of them confident women, not only to command,
threaten, and disquiet justices, peace-officers, &c. but to
destroy the king’s honest, industrious and peaceable subjects,
in their properties and estates, is worthy of your serious
considerations: and whether the said conventicle act ought not
therefore justly to be repealed. A noted instance of the like
case, we have, concerning the statute of the 11 Hen. VII. ch.
3, for determining certain offences and contempts only upon
informers’ prosecutions, being repealed in the first year of
K. Hen. VIII. ch. 6, though that, in some respects, was more
tolerable than this.
‘Be pleased to make our case your own, and do to us as you
would be done unto; as you would not be oppressed or destroyed
in your persons, or estates, nor have your properties invaded,
and posterities ruined for serving and worshipping Almighty
God, that made all mankind, according to your persuasions and
consciences, but would, no doubt, enjoy the liberty thereof, so
we intreat you to allow the same liberty to tender consciences,
that live peaceably under the government, as you would enjoy
yourselves; and to disannul the said conventicle act, and to stop
these devouring informers, and also take away all sanguinary
laws, corporal and pecuniary punishments, merely on the score
of religion and conscience; and let not the ruin and cry of the
widow, fatherless, and innocent families, lie upon this nation,
nor at your door, who have not only a great trust reposed in you
for the prosperity and good of the whole nation, but also do
profess Christianity, and the tender religion of our Lord Jesus
Christ.
‘And notwithstanding all these long-sustained extremities, we,
the said suffering people, do solemnly profess and declare
in the sight of the all-seeing God, who is the searcher of
hearts, that as we have never been found in any seditious or
treasonable designs, they being wholly contrary to our Christian
principle and profession, so we have nothing but good will, and
true Christian affection to the king and government, sincerely
desiring his and your safety, prosperity, and concurrence in
mercy and truth, for the good of the whole kingdom.
‘Having thus given you, in short, the general state of
our suffering case, in matter of fact, without personal
reflection, we, in Christian humility, and for Christ’s
sake, intreat that you will tenderly and charitably
consider of the premises, and find out some effectual
expedient or way for our relief from prisons, spoil,
and ruin.’
The following application was likewise presented.
TO KING JAMES THE SECOND.
_The humble application of the people called Quakers._
‘Whereas it hath pleased Almighty God, by whom kings reign, to
take hence the late king Charles the Second, and to preserve thee
peaceably to succeed; we thy subjects heartily desire, that
the Giver of all good and perfect gifts, may please to endue
thee with wisdom and mercy in the use of thy great power, to his
glory, the king’s honour, and the kingdom’s good; and it being
our sincere resolution, according to our peaceable principles
and conversation, by the assistance of Almighty God, to live
peaceably and honestly, as becomes true and faithful subjects
under the king’s government, and a conscientious people, that
truly fear and serve God; we do humbly hope that the king’s
tenderness will appear and extend, with his power to express the
same; recommending to his princely clemency, the case of our
present suffering friends hereunto annexed.
TO THE KING.
_The distressed Case and request of the suffering
people commonly called Quakers, humbly presented._
‘SHOWING,
‘That according to accounts lately given, above fourteen hundred
of the said people, both men and women, are continued prisoners
in England and Wales, only for tender conscience towards Almighty
God that made them; many under sentence of premunire, and many
near it, not for refusing the duty or substance of allegiance
itself, but only because they dare not swear; others under fines
upon the act of banishment, many on writs of excommunication;
besides some hundreds have died prisoners; many by means of this
long imprisonment since the year 1680, (as it is judged,) thereby
making widows and fatherless, and leaving poor innocent families
in distress and sorrow; these two hard winters confinement,
tending also to the destruction of many in cold holes and
jails, their healths being greatly impaired thereby; besides
the violence and woful spoil made by merciless informers on the
conventicle act, upon many, convicted unsummoned and unheard
in their own defence, both in city and county, as also on _qui
tam_ writs, and other process, on twenty pounds a month, and
two-thirds of estates seized for the king, all tending to the
ruin of trade, husbandry, and industrious families; to some
not a bed left; to others no cattle to till their ground, or
give them milk; nor corn for bread or seed; nor tools to work
withal. And also these and other severities done under pretence
of serving the king, and church, thereby to force us to violate
our consciences, and consequently to destroy our souls, which
we are very tender of, as we are of our peace with God, and our
own consciences, though accounted as sheep for the slaughter:
and notwithstanding all these long extremities, we the said
people do solemnly profess and declare in the sight of the heart
Searcher, that we have nothing but good-will and true affection
to the king, praying for his safety, and the kingdom’s peace. We
have never been found in any seditious or treasonable designs,
as being wholly contrary to our Christian principles and holy
profession.
‘And knowing that where the word of a king is, there is
power, we in Christian humility, and for Christ’s sake,
intreat, that the king will please to find out some
expedient for our relief in these cases, from prison,
spoil, and ruin, and we shall, as in Christian duty
bound, pray God for the king’s welfare in this world,
and his eternal happiness in that which is to come.’
_An account of the number of the said prisoners called Quakers,
in the several counties._
Prisoners.
Bedfordshire 30
Berkshire 37
Bristol 103
Buckinghamshire 19
Cambridgeshire 8
Ely 11
Cheshire 9
Cornwall 32
Cumberland 22
Derbyshire 1
Devonshire 104
Dorsetshire 13
Durham 39
Essex 10
Gloucestershire 66
Hertfordshire 18
Herefordshire 1
Huntingdonshire 10
Kent 16
Lancashire 73
Leicestershire 37
Lincolnshire 12
London and Middlesex 66
Norfolk 52
Northampton 59
Nottinghamshire 6
Oxon 17
Shropshire 18
Somersetshire 36
Southampton 15
Staffordshire 1
Suffolk 79
Surry 29
Sussex 17
Warwickshire 31
Westmoreland 5
Wiltshire 34
Worcestershire 15
Yorkshire 279
Wales 30
----
Sum of Prisoners 1460
Delivered to the king the 3d of the
First month called March, 1684-5.
This list, with the aforesaid petition to the king and parliament, was
not altogether ineffectual: for there was much talk now of liberty
of conscience; but since all the liberty that was enjoyed was only
precarious, it could be but little depended upon; yet many seemed to be
in expectation that some grant of that liberty would be published in
print, and thus it became a common saying that liberty of conscience
was in the press, which being of an equivocal signification, sometimes
afforded matter of sport. But many of the Episcopal church were so
strongly bent to withhold that liberty from other Protestants, that
there were no ill-grounded reports, that some in authority had promised
the king, to give their vote for liberty of conscience to the Papists,
provided it was not granted to other dissenters. Nevertheless the
abovesaid petition of the Quakers had such effect, that the king
resolved to ease them from the burden of their oppression, by way of
pardon; for thus far his power reached; but the abrogating of laws
could not be done without the consent of the parliament, which grew
jealous that by the repeal of those laws, the Papists, who now had
a king of their own religion, would become too powerful. In the
meanwhile the king published the following proclamation:
‘_James R._
‘Whereas our most entirely beloved brother, the late king,
deceased, had signified his intentions to his attorneys general
for the pardoning such of his subjects who had been sufferers
in the late rebellion for their loyalty, or whose parents or
nearest relations had been sufferers in the late rebellion for
that cause, or who had themselves testified their loyalty and
affection to the government, and were prosecuted, indicted,
or convicted for not taking, or refusing to take the oaths of
allegiance and supremacy, or one of them, or had been prosecuted
upon any writ, or any penalty, or otherwise, in any of the courts
of Westminster Hall, or in any of the ecclesiastical courts, for
not coming to church, or not receiving the sacrament:
‘And whereas the several persons, whose names are mentioned in
the schedule annexed to this our warrant; have produced unto us
certificates for the loyalty and sufferings of them and their
families:
‘Now in pursuance of the said will of our said most dear brother,
and in consideration of the sufferings of the said persons, our
will and pleasure is, that you cause all process and proceedings,
_ex officio_, as well against the said persons mentioned in the
said schedule hereunto annexed, as against all other persons as
shall hereafter be produced unto you, to be wholly superseded
and stayed; and if any of the said persons be decreed or
pronounced excommunicated, or have been so certified, or are in
prison upon the writ _de excommunicato capiendo_, for any of the
causes aforesaid, our pleasure is, that you absolve and cause
such persons to be absolved, discharged, or set at liberty, and
that no process or proceedings whatsoever be hereafter made in
any court against any of the said persons for any cause before
mentioned, until our pleasure therein shall be further signified.
‘Given at our Court at Whitehall, this 18th of April, 1685, in
the first year of our reign.
‘To all archbishops and bishops, to their chancellors
and commissioners, and to all archdeacons and their
officials, and all other ordinaries and persons
executing ecclesiastical jurisdiction.
By his majesty’s command,
SUNDERLAND.’
This was the king’s first step towards liberty of conscience, as well
for Papists, as other persons mentioned in the schedule annexed, which
put an effectual stop to persecution, and the power of the informers
was thereby much broken. And since the most of these were generally
base fellows, and profligate persons, who did not care what they did,
provided they might enrich themselves, they often dealt treacherously
even with the persecuting justices; who also were eager for having part
of the prey, and yet by the artifices of these rapacious wretches were
deprived of it, which some of them now smarted for. Among the rest, I
find that one John Hilton was committed to jail, as may appear from
this warrant of the recorder.
_To the keeper of Newgate._
‘Receive into your custody the body of John Hilton, herewith sent
you, being charged upon oath before me, for compounding several
warrants under my hand and seal, for levying of several sums of
money on persons convicted for being at several conventicles in
Kent, London, and Middlesex; and being also indicted for the same
in the several counties aforesaid, and the bills found against
him; and also that he the said John Hilton, hath refused to obey
the right honourable sir Edward Herbert, lord chief justice’s
warrant. And him safely keep, until he shall be discharged by due
course of law. And for so doing this shall be your warrant. Dated
the 23d of December, 1685.
THO. JENNER, _Recorder_.
‘Let notice be given to me before he be discharged.’
Thus the informers met with a stop, and the persecuted Quakers got some
rest; for persecution not only ceased, but many, who for religion’s
sake had been several years kept in prison, obtained liberty by the
favour of a popish prince, which they had not been able to get from his
brother, king Charles the Second. Now many of the fierce persecutors
came to shame, some to poverty, and others to a miserable end, of which
no small number of instances might be produced, if I were minded to
enlarge; however I will mention one or two.
One Edward Davis, who once professed to be a Quaker, but not being
sincere, found that way too narrow for him, and so left his friends,
whom afterwards, being become keeper of the jail of Ivelchester in
Somersetshire, he vexed most grievously; and from mere malice fettered
some, saying to John Whiting, and another, whom he had hand-bolted
together, those bolts should not be taken off if lice did eat them
up. And his comrade Joseph Newberry was but little better, for when
somebody told him, that their hands did swell with the irons, he said,
he did not care if their hearts did swell also. And when one John Dando
once asked Davis, what he thought would become of him when he came
to die; he answered, that he knew what would become of him then, and
therefore he would make the best of his time now. Also, that he knew
where he went out, and where he must come in again, if ever he was
saved; and if he thought he should never return again, he would be as
wicked as he could. Truly a most desperate saying, just as if the door
of mercy always continued open for man, and the day of the visitation
of God’s love never passed over his head, though he persevered in
rebellion. But this Davis came to a most pitiful state, so that he
fell into poverty, and was himself imprisoned for debts, of which more
hereafter. And Newberry fell into a sad condition, being taken with
a severe palsy, and yet he did not leave off cursing and swearing,
talking of the devil in a dreadful manner. And by lying long in bed,
the flesh rotted on his back, and he who had formerly said concerning
the hand-bolted prisoners, he did not care if their hearts did swell,
got now such a sore tongue, that it swelled out of his mouth, and
grew black, and so he died miserably on the 10th of December. Thus
God sometimes punisheth the wicked even in this life. And though
persecutors come not always to such a miserable end, yet many of these
fell into poverty, and others were discontented because they saw that
those whom they had cruelly persecuted, now enjoyed an undisturbed
liberty; for the king who was now on the throne, continued to give
liberty to those that had been oppressed for religion.
But before I say more of this, I cannot but mention something of the
design of the unhappy duke of Monmouth, who at the death of his father
king Charles the Second, was gone to Brussels, and being come from
thence into Holland, he was spurred on so vigorously by some hot-headed
Englishmen, that having got money and assistance of malcontents, he
went over to England with three men of war and some forces, having
given forth a declaration against king James, which vented a fiery
passion toward that prince, and was written, as I have been credibly
told, by the violent Robert Ferguson. Monmouth being landed with his
forces in the West of England, near Lime, and afterwards routed by the
king’s troops, was taken prisoner by the perfidiousness of a certain
lord, who thereby obtained pardon for himself; but Ferguson escaped by
a cunning artifice, crying along the road where he came galloping on
horseback, ‘The rebels are routed, the rebels are routed!’ Just as if
he had been a courier sent on purpose to court and elsewhere. But thus
he escaped, and come again into Holland, he told this crafty trick to
his acquaintance. Monmouth having been declared guilty of high treason
by a bill of attainder, as soon as the news came of his design, was
but two or three days after his arrival at London, beheaded. I count
it not unworthy to be mentioned, that he undauntedly received the news
of the death-warrant being come; and on the scaffold on Tower-Hill, he
told the bishops that accompanied him, ‘If I had no true repentance,
I should not be so free from the fear of death.’ And when it was
objected, that he ought not to rely too much on that, since that might
be the effect of natural courage, he said, ‘No; I do not ascribe this
to my nature; for naturally I am more fearful than others; but now I
am freed from fear; because I feel something in me, which gives me
assurance that I shall go to God.’ The executioner gave him several
strokes with the axe, before the head was severed from the body; and
some ecclesiastics afterwards said, he died an enthusiast: for not
showing himself very ready to comply with their service, and his saying
that something within him assured him that he should go to God, seemed
to them an enthusiastical tenet. But whatever it was, yet it seems very
probable to me, that he was a true penitent, and so he died in peace;
for though I cannot but disapprove his design, yet by true repentance
he might not only have obtained forgiveness of God, but also have had a
full assurance of it.
The earl of Argyle, who rebelled in Scotland against king James, had no
better lot; but I will not detain my reader therewith, neither with a
relation of the dismal execution of many, who having been found guilty
of high treason, either for actual rebellion, or having been abetters
of Monmouth, were sentenced to death by the infamous Jeffries, who then
was lord chief justice, and afterwards chancellor; the fierceness of
cruelty of this judge being such, that some lost their lives only for
having given some hay or victuals to Monmouth’s soldiers. But this not
being within my circuit, I will pass it by, and go over to the year
1686.
1686.
Therefore leaving England, I will take a turn to Embden, in East
Friesland, where a small company of those called Quakers had been
under a severe persecution for several years, as I have hinted before.
But the magistrates having persecuted by the instigation of their
preachers, the citizens began to be displeased with it. And since the
Protestants in France were now persecuted violently, and the Popish
prince had mounted the English throne, those at Embden grew more
inclined to moderation. Probably the decay of trade also contributed
a little to this change; for it appeared that the magistrates were
for getting more inhabitants into their town, though they should be
Quakers: and this was counted a matter of such moment, that the common
council deliberated on the subject; and two of the members of that
board, viz. Polman and Bonhuyren, were sent to Magdalena van Loar, an
inhabitant of Embden, desiring her to write to England and Holland,
that the magistrates of the city had resolved to give liberty to the
people called Quakers, to live, trade, and traffic there; which grant
they proffered to confirm by the city seal. According to their desire
notice was given to those of that persuasion at Amsterdam, from whence
an answer being returned to the said Magdalena van Loar, she gave it
to the counsellor Polman, and he delivered it to the senate. After
some deliberation, the magistrates with the council of forty, and
the ecclesiastical court met together, and came to a resolution, of
which a copy was sent to Amsterdam. In this writing were mentioned
some conditions on which the magistrates at Embden were willing to
grant liberty to the Quakers, to live in their city. But those of
that society at Amsterdam, having weighed and duly considered the
thing, found that the proposal contained some expressions, which by
others, who afterwards might come to the helm, and not be so moderate
as these at present, might be used as snares against the Quakers, if
they now should enter upon such terms as were prescribed. Therefore
it was thought more safe not to enter into any engagement, whereby
great inconvenience might afterwards attend their friends, when the
magistracy came to be in other hands. Yet the conclusion was, to
acknowledge the good intention of the magistrates of Embden, by drawing
up the following letter, and sending it to them.
_To the Lords, Burgomasters, Counsellors, and Rulers of the
city of Embden._
‘These are to acquaint you with due respect, that a scheme or
plan of yours, dated the 16/26 of February, 1686, is come to
our hands, which having been perused by us, we have thought it
convenient in the fear of the Lord, to send you the following
answer.
‘First, we thank God Almighty for the ease and liberty which our
friends at present enjoy under your government, and are like to
enjoy in the future. And, secondly, we cannot but acknowledge
very acceptably your clemency and meekness, which ye show by
taking notice of the state of a despised and oppressed people,
who because of their way and worship, differing from the many
ways in the world, are gainsayed every where. And therefore it is
that we are the more stirred up in our minds to pray fervently to
the Lord God for your peace and prosperity, and the continuance
of your good resolution; that so all those who serve the Lord in
uprightness of heart may lead a peaceable and godly life among
you, by showing forth the fruits of true Christianity in truth,
sincerity, and righteousness. Now as to what ye have been pleased
to declare, that ye were willing to confirm the aforesaid your
good resolution by a public act, we let you know, that we are
so well satisfied with your word and oral declaration concerning
the aforementioned thing, that this is more to us than any
thing we could further desire, as knowing that good men think
themselves bound by their good words to perform what is good. And
since ye are sensible on what ground ye came to the aforesaid
resolution, and declared yourselves thus, we doubt not but the
same persuasion and reason continuing with you, will prove a more
strong engagement to you to perform the same, than any outward
seal can be. And in that engagement we were willing to acquiesce,
and should not have mentioned any other, unless some among
you, as we have been informed, first had made mention thereof.
And as to what ye demand of us, we declare in the nakedness
and simplicity of our hearts, that in regard of our temporal
conversation and deportment, we desire no further protection,
than when we deal righteously to all, and walk according to that
golden rule, that we do unto all men, what we desire should
be done to us. And concerning our religion and worship, which
we believe we owe to Almighty God, it is thus: That since it
differs from other persuasions, it makes us obnoxious not only
to the mockings and revilings of ignorant people, but exposeth
us also to the malice and envy of many, who hate us without a
just cause; and therefore it is that we stand in need of your
favourable interpretation, and your best construction of what
we do, and what we leave undone. And if we should err in those
matters, we shall be the greatest losers by it; and if truth be
on our side, then our adversaries shall not be able to prevail;
for truth is the strongest, and it is not good for any to fight
against it. Howsoever then it may be with us in this matter, yet
we hope that ye will be pleased, if we behave ourselves peaceably
and honest towards you and all men, to let us be partakers
with our peaceable neighbours, of your general protection. And
though ye might please to give us a public act of your aforesaid
resolution, yet we clearly foresee, that it would be hardly
possible to use such expressions, that our enemies, by some
wresting or other of the words, or a wrong interpretation of the
expressions contained therein, should not be able to make us
esteemed guilty of transgression, and so find matter against us.
And therefore we think it very safe, to rely on your word and
good resolution, in which it hath pleased you to declare, that
we shall enjoy liberty to live and trade in your city, provided
we pay custom and taxes, which other citizens are subject to;
and that then we shall be at liberty to meet together to worship
God in such a way as he hath convinced us we ought to do, and to
call upon him, and to exhort one another to love and good works,
and a Christian conversation. And on your behalf it will tend to
the praise of the magistrates, that ye favour us in this. And it
will also be to the promoting of God’s glory: and will oblige us
to pray for you, that the Lord God may be pleased to preserve
you, and to make you continue in such a good, wholesome, and
well-grounded resolution. We are, and rest,
Your true friends and well-wishers,
_Barent van Tongeren_,
_William Sewel_,
_Jacob Claus_,
_Stephen Crisp_,
_John Roelofs_,
_John Claus_,
_Peter Hendriksz_.’
Amsterdam, the 9/19 of the Third
month, alias March, 1686.
In answer to this, the senate sent the following resolution to the
subscribers of the aforesaid letter, being, as appears by the contents,
the decree of the senate, so as it was entered into their records, of
which the authentic copy, signed by the city’s secretary, is in my
custody.
_Lunæ 15/25 Marti, 1686._
‘Received a letter on the 12/22 instant, written at Amsterdam
the 9/19 of the same month, and signed by Barent van Tongeren,
William Sewel, Jacob Claus, Stephen Crisp, John Roelofs, John
Claus, Peter Hendriksz, in answer to our resolution of the
16/26 of February last, with thanks for the promised admission
and protection of this city, in their free trade, and the
exercise of their religion, without offending any; signifying
thereby also, that they will be content without an act under our
seal, and willing to rely on our words. This having been under
deliberation, it was thought meet, and resolved, that our word
shall effectually be kept to the rescribers, and all others of
their persuasion, and that the promised protection shall be
really performed.
_Ad mandatum senatus speciale_,
O. HILLINGS, _Sec._’
Thus it pleased the senate of Embden to give to those called Quakers,
liberty to dwell among them, with the free exercise of their religion.
Sometime after it happened, that the burgomaster Andrews, coming to the
house of Magdalena van Loar, and the preacher Alardyn, to the house of
her daughter Magdalena Haasbaant, desired both that they would cause
what the senate had resolved, to be written to England, that so it
might be known there, that if any of the Quakers’ persuasion would come
over, and settle at Embden, they should be well received there.
Hereby we see how God hath the hearts of all men in his hands, and that
he turneth them whithersoever he will: for the magistrates of Embden,
had some years before from a blind zeal, kindled by those who ought to
have stopped it, given forth very severe edicts against the Quakers,
and persecuted them fiercely; but now they allowed them an entire
liberty.
But leaving Embden, I turn again to England, where persecution by this
time also came to a stand, insomuch that the king ordered that all
such imprisoned Quakers as it was in his power to release, should be
set at liberty; for those that were in prison, for not paying tithes,
&c. were under the ecclesiastical jurisdiction, which was out of the
king’s reach. But many others who had been in custody several years,
appeared now at London in the annual meeting of their friends, to the
great joy of their brethren; and when some of these went to thank the
king for his favour, they were kindly admitted; and thereby he drew
their inclination towards him; for his endeavours were now, as he said,
to bring about a complete liberty of conscience. What his aim was, I
am not to investigate, for he never attained to it. In the meanwhile
he made persecution generally to cease, not only in England, but also
in other places of his dominions: for having heard that the Quakers in
the isle of Barbadoes, in the West Indies, were very much molested,
because for conscience-sake they could not hear arms, he ordered some
of the members of his council to write the following letter:
‘After our hearty commendations, his majesty having been pleased
to refer unto us the petition of the Quakers inhabiting in the
Barbadoes, we have thought fit hereby to pray and require you to
examine the allegations of the said petitions and papers hereunto
annexed. And in as much as his majesty, having lately extended
his favour to those people here, may be inclined to continue the
same towards them in this particular, we desire you to report
unto us what ease may be given them in reference to the militia
act, and the penalties thereby imposed, as far as it may consist
with the safety of the island, and the preserving of the militia,
according to the intention of the said act. And so we bid you
heartily farewell.
Your loving friends,
_Jefferies_,
_Craven_,
_Albemarle_,
_Middleton_.’
From the Council chamber, Whitehall,
the 23d July, 1686.
From this letter it appears plainly that the king endeavoured to
relieve the Quakers from that burden of persecution they were under.
The following letter is also a proof of it, written by the earl of
Sunderland, then, as I think, president of the privy council, to the
earl of Huntington, to stop the persecution in Leicestershire and
Nottinghamshire, where one John Smith had acted most grievously:
‘_Whitehall, Dec. 7, 1686._
‘MY LORD,
‘The king being informed that one John Smith, a common informer,
doth very vexatiously persecute the Quakers in the county of
Leicester, and in the town and county of Nottingham; and his
majesty being pleased to extend his favour to those of that
persuasion, his majesty would have your grace direct the justices
of peace to give no sort of countenance to the said John Smith,
and his prosecution, against the Quakers.
‘My lord, I am for his grace the duke of Newcastle, one of his
majesty’s most honourable privy council, &c.
Your grace’s most faithful and humble servant,
SUNDERLAND, P.’
‘To the right honourable the earl of Huntingdon, one of
his majesty’s most honourable privy council, chief
recorder of Leicester, custos, rotulorum of the county
of Leicester.’
The king being thus inclined to give liberty to prisoners, those who
were in custody for religion, neglected no opportunity to obtain it; of
which the following petition is an evidence.
‘_To chief Justice Herbert and judge Wright, assigned
to hold assizes, and jail-delivery for the western
circuit, at Wells for the county of Somerset, the
thirtieth of the month called March, 1686._
‘Several of the people called Quakers, now prisoners in
the jail at Ivelchester, in the county of Somerset,
on behalf of themselves and many others of the same
people, in humility show,
‘That since the wise Disposer of all things, hath ordered your
employment in this honourable service, to relieve the oppressed,
and deliver the captives; and since king James II. that now
is, hath committed part of his clemency to your custody, to
distribute the same according as the Lord hath inclined his
heart; and having taken particular notice of our sufferings, and
signified his will and pleasure, that we, the people commonly
called Quakers, should receive the full benefit of his general
pardon, with all possible ease; which grace and favour we with
all thankfulness, acknowledge to God as the chief author, who
hath the hearts of kings at his disposal; and to the king, as
being ready herein to mind that which the Lord inclined his
heart unto; and not without hope to find the like opportunity to
render to you our hearty thanks, for the full accomplishment of
that which our God allows, and the king so readily grants us;
and also hearing the report of your nobility and moderation, in
managing this weighty trust committed to you, we are emboldened
thus to address ourselves, though in plainness of speech, yet in
sincerity of heart, to lay before you, that we have for several
years been prisoners in the jail aforesaid, not for any plotting
against the king or government, or harm done to his subjects; our
peaceable lives have manifested our fidelity to the king, and
love to our neighbours, it being contrary to our principles to do
otherwise; but only for conscience-sake, because in obedience to
Christ Jesus we dare not swear at all, or forbear to worship God,
as he hath ordained, nor conform to those worships which we have
no faith in; which to omit the one, or practice the other, we
should therein sin, and so wound our consciences, and break our
peace with God: and what good then shall our lives do us, if we
might enjoy never so much of the world’s favour and friendship.
‘Our humble request therefore to you is, to consider and
compassionate our suffering condition, and improve
the power and authority that God and the king hath
entrusted you withal, for our relief and liberty; we
still resolving, and hoping, through God’s assistance,
for the future, to manifest our fear to God, honour
to the king, and honesty to all his subjects, by
our godly, humble, and peaceable conversation. The
particular causes of our imprisonments are herewith
attested, under our keeper’s hand. And we further pray,
that mercenary informers, and envious prosecutors
against us, only for conscience-sake, may, according
to your wisdom and prudence, be discouraged from
prosecuting such actions; by which many industrious
and conscientious families and persons are in danger
of being ruined; and we encouraged in our diligence in
our respectable callings, and may enjoy the benefit of
our industry; and so shall we be the better enabled to
perform with cheerfulness the duties we owe to God, the
king, and all men. The Lord guide you in judgment, and
more and more incline your hearts to love mercy, and
do justice, and grant you the reward thereof; which is
truly our desire and prayer.’
This petition was signed by sixteen persons, some of which had been
imprisoned fifteen, others ten, and some fewer years; and to the time
of their imprisonment was added, on what account, viz. on premunire,
excommunication, and for tithes, &c. And it had such effect, that chief
justice Herbert discharged these prisoners; but before this was done,
several of those that had been imprisoned there, died. Many also were
set at liberty by the king’s proclamation; and it was indeed an unusual
thing to enjoy such a free liberty, that the malicious persecutors were
restrained by the higher power.
George Fox was now mostly in and about London, endeavouring to bring
all things among his friends into good order; and therefore he wrote
several papers since he could not be every where in person, and
discharge himself by word of mouth. And lest carelessness should
creep in, by reason of the liberty that was now enjoyed, he wrote the
following epistle to his friends:
‘_Friends_,
‘The Lord by his eternal power hath opened the heart of the king,
to open the prison doors, by which about fifteen or sixteen
hundred are set at liberty; and hath given a check to the
informers: so that in many places our meetings are pretty quiet.
So my desires are, that both liberty and sufferings, all may be
sanctified to his people; and friends may prize the mercies of
the Lord in all things, and to him be thankful, who stilleth the
raging waves of the sea, and allayeth the storms and tempests,
and maketh a calm. And therefore it is good to trust in the Lord,
and cast your care upon him, who careth for you. For when ye were
in your jails and prisons, then the Lord did by his eternal arm
and power uphold you, and sanctified them to you, and unto some
he had made them as a sanctuary; and tried his people, as in a
furnace of affliction, both in prisons and spoiling of goods. And
in all this the Lord was with his people, and taught them to know
that the earth was the Lord’s, and the fulness thereof; and that
he is in all places; who crowneth the year with his goodness,
Psalm lxv. Therefore let all God’s people be diligent and careful
to keep the camp of God holy, pure, and clean; and to serve God,
and Christ, and one another, in the glorious peaceable gospel of
life and salvation; which glory shines over God’s camp; and his
great prophet, and bishop, and shepherd is among or in the midst
of them, exercising his heavenly offices in them: so that you
his people may rejoice in Christ Jesus, through whom you have
peace with God. For he that destroyeth the devil and his work,
and bruises the serpent’s head, is all God’s people’s heavenly
foundation and rock to build upon; which was the holy prophets’
and apostles’ rock in days past, and is now a rock of our age;
which rock and foundation of God standeth sure. And upon this the
Lord God establish all his people. Amen.
GEORGE FOX.’
London, the 25th of the Seventh
month, 1686.
In this year David Barclay died at Ury in Scotland. Before his
departure he uttered many excellent expressions indeed. I may not
omit to mention some particulars. In the latter end of September,
being past the 76th year of his age, he was taken with a fever, which
continued two weeks; and being much troubled with the gravel, his
sickness was accompanied with pain in making water. Two days before
his death, feeling his weakness, and being in an agony, he said to
his son Robert, who was with him, ‘I shall now go to the Lord, and be
gathered to many of my brethren who are gone before me.’ On the 11th
of October, very early in the morning, he growing weaker, the said
Robert Barclay signified to him, that his travail was, that He that
loved him might be near him to the end. To which he answered, ‘The Lord
is nigh;’ and said further to those about him, ‘Ye are my witnesses
in the presence of God, that the Lord is nigh.’ And a little after
he said, ‘The perfect discovery of the day-spring from on high, how
great a blessing it hath been to me and my family!’ Robert Barclay’s
wife asking if he would have something to refresh him, he said it
needed not; and laying his hand upon his breast, he said, ‘he had
that inwardly that refreshed him.’ A little while after, he was heard
several times to say, ‘The truth is over all:’ and taking his eldest
son to him, he blessed him, and said, ‘he prayed God he might never
depart from the truth.’ Then his son’s eldest daughter coming near,
he said, ‘Is this Patience?’ (for that was her name,) ‘Let patience
have its perfect work in thee.’ And after kissing the other four of
his son’s children, he laid his hands upon them, and blessed them.
His apothecary that attended him coming also near, he took him by the
hand, and said, ‘Thou wilt hear me witness, that in all this exercise I
have not been curious to tamper nor to pamper the flesh.’ To which the
apothecary said, ‘Sir, I can hear witness that you have always minded
the better and more substantial part; and I rejoice to see the blessed
end the Lord is bringing you to.’ To this the sick man replied, ‘Bear
a faithful and true witness: yet it is the life of righteousness, the
life of righteousness it is, that we bear testimony to, and not to an
empty profession.’ Then he called several times, ‘Come, Lord Jesus,
come, come!’ And said also, ‘My hope is in the Lord.’ Afterwards he
slept now and then for some hours; and seeing a carpenter coming
into the room, he said to his son, ‘See thou charge him to make no
manner of superfluity upon the coffin.’ In the afternoon several of
his friends came to see him, which he having observed, said they were
come in a seasonable time: and after some words were spoken, and that
Patrick Livingston had prayed, which ended in praises, the sick old
man held up his hands, and said, ‘Amen, amen, for ever!’ And after
those that were present stood up, he said, ‘How precious is the love of
God among his children, and their love to one another! thereby shall
all men know that ye are Christ’s disciples, if ye love one another.
How precious a thing it is to see brethren dwell together in love!
my love is with you; I leave it among you.’ Several of his friends,
pretty late at night, standing about the bed, and perceiving some of
them to weep, he said, ‘Dear friends, all mind the inward man, heed
not the outward. There is one that doth reward, the Lord of Hosts is
his name.’ Next morning, after he had heard the clock strike three, he
said, ‘Now the time comes.’ And a little after he was heard to say,
‘Praises, praises, praises to the Lord! Let now thy servant depart in
peace. Into thy hands, O Father, I commit my soul, spirit and body. Thy
will, O Lord, be done in earth as it is in heaven.’ These sentences he
spoke by little intervals, one after another; and soon after five in
the morning, the 12th of October, he slept in peace and quiet, there
being present at his end above twenty persons, who were witnesses to
what hath been here related. His corpse was attended to the grave by
numerous followers; and though he had ordered not many to be called to
his burial, yet a great number of the gentry came uninvited, from an
esteem they bore to his memory.
In this year also Anne Downer departed this life, one of the first
of those called Quakers at London: she had been married first to
Benjamin Greenwell, and was afterwards wife to George Whitehead. Being
taken ill, she removed to a place out of London, and her sickness
increasing, she perceived it was like to take her away. Her ancient
friend Mary Stout visiting her, asked her, if she knew her, she said,
‘Yes, very well, it is Mary Stout. I have my memory very well, and
my understanding is clear, though I am very weak; but I am given up
unto the will of the Lord, whether to die, or to live; for I have been
faithful to him in what I knew, both in life and death.’ Perceiving
some to be troubled concerning her, she said, ‘There is no cause for
you to be troubled or concerned; for I am well, and in peace.’ Many
Christian exhortations she gave on her dying bed, and said to some
of her friends who came to visit her, ‘What, do you come on purpose
to see me? I take it as an effect of the love of God, and I pray God
bless your children.’ To another she was heard to say, ‘If I never
see thy face more, it is well with me; God doth know my integrity,
and how I have been, and walked before him.’ The evening before she
died, she said to her husband, George Whitehead, &c. ‘The Lord is with
me, I bless his name. I am well; it may be you are afraid I shall be
taken away; and if it be, the will of the Lord be done. Do not trouble
yourselves, nor make any great ado about me; but, my dear, go to bed;
go to rest; and if I should speak no more words to thee, thou knowest
the everlasting love of God.’ She was heard also to say, that she had
done with all things in this life, and she had nothing to trouble her,
but was at true peace and easy every way. And a few hours before she
departed, she said, ‘Though I am in a dying condition, yet it is a
living death; for though weakness seizes the body, yet my understanding
is as clear as when in health.’ Thus she departed this life quietly,
about the age of sixty-three years, having been a woman well
gifted, and very serviceable to the church, not only with wholesome
exhortations, but also by her Christian care for the sick and poor, and
for widows, and orphans, who by her decease lost an eminent mother.
1687.
About this time George Fox wrote several general epistles, some of
which were pretty large, to his friends, exhorting them to shun strife,
to keep to mutual love and unity, and to mind true piety. He wrote many
other edifying papers; and since the Papists now appeared barefaced,
and performed their worship publicly, and there was much talk of their
praying to saints, and by beads; in the year 1687, he emitted the
following paper concerning prayer, not fearing to contradict openly
that which he judged to be superstition, though the king himself was of
the popish religion.
‘Christ Jesus when he taught his disciples to pray, said unto
them, “When ye do pray, say, Our Father, which art in heaven,
hallowed be thy name,” &c. Christ doth not say, that they should
pray to Mary the mother of Christ; nor doth he say, that they
should pray to angels, or to saints, that were dead. Christ did
not teach them to pray to the dead, nor for the dead. Neither did
Christ or his apostles teach the believers to pray by beads, nor
to sing by outward organs: but the apostle said, he would sing
and pray in spirit; for the spirit itself maketh intercessions;
and the Lord, that searcheth the heart, knoweth the mind of the
spirit.
‘To take counsel of the dead was forbidden by the law of God; but
they were to take counsel of the Lord: and he hath given Christ
in the new covenant, in his gospel-day, to be a counsellor and
a leader to all his believers in his light. And men are not to
run to the dead for the living: for the law and testimony of
God forbids it. Those Jews, that refused the running waters of
Shiloah, the floods and waters of the Assyrians and Babylonians
came over them, and carried them into captivity: and they that
refuse the waters of Christ, they are overflown with the flood
of the world, that lieth in wickedness. They that asked counsel
of stocks and stones, their state was in the spirit of error and
whoredom; and they were gone a whoring from God, Hos. iv. 12. And
they that joined themselves to Baal-Peor, and ate the sacrifices
of the dead, provoked the Lord’s anger, and brought the Lord’s
displeasure upon them, Psal. cvi. 28, 29. So here ye may see, the
sacrifices of the dead were forbidden. “The living know that they
shall die; but the dead know not any thing, neither have they
any more a reward, for the memory of them is forgotten,” Eccles.
ix. 5. “Wo to the rebellious children, saith the Lord, that take
counsel, but not of me; and that cover with a covering, but not
of my spirit, that they may add sin to sin.” Isa. xxx. 1.
GEORGE FOX.’
On the 20th of the month called March, being the 1st month, Robert
Widders, one of the first preachers among those called Quakers, died;
and G. Fox was now much at London; but he grew more and more weak in
body, having endured many hardships in cruel imprisonments for the
truth. Sometimes he went into the country to take the fresh air, and
at other times he was awhile at the country-house of his son-in-law,
William Mead, who married one of his wife’s daughters. In the meanwhile
he wrote much, for he was of a laborious temper, and did not omit
under all his business to visit the meetings of his friends, and to
edify them by his admonitions and exhortations. For now they were
suffered to keep their meetings unmolested, since the king in the month
called April, published his long expected declaration for liberty of
conscience to all his subjects, which contained, That henceforth the
execution of all penal laws concerning ecclesiastical matters, for
not coming to church, for not receiving the sacraments, or for any
other non-conformity with the established religion, or for performing
religious worship in any other way, should be suspended, &c.
It would indeed have been more acceptable if this liberty had been
established by the king and parliament, this being granted as yet only
by virtue of his royal prerogative: but however it was, liberty was
enjoyed. The friends therefore of the church at London, seeing how
those of other persuasions presented addresses of thanks to the king,
for his declaration for liberty of conscience, which was now published,
and whereby the Dissenters were permitted to perform their worship
freely, provided their preaching did not tend to make the minds of
people averse to the government, thought it convenient to draw up an
address also, and present it to the king; which was as followeth:
TO KING JAMES II. OVER ENGLAND, &c.
The humble and thankful address of several of the king’s
subjects, commonly called Quakers, in and about the city of
London, on behalf of themselves and those of their communion.
‘_May it please the king_,
‘Though we are not the first in this way, yet we hope we are not
the least sensible of the great favours we are come to present
the king our humble, open, and hearty thanks for; since no
people have received greater benefits, as well by opening our
prison-doors, as by his late excellent and Christian declaration
for liberty of conscience; none having more severely suffered nor
stood more generally exposed to the malice of ill men, upon the
account of religion; and though we entertain this act of mercy
with all the acknowledgments of a persecuted and grateful people;
yet we must needs say, it doth the less surprise us, since it is
what some of us have known to have been the declared principle of
the king, as well long before, as since he came to the throne of
his ancestors.
‘And as we rejoice to see the day that a king of England
should from his royal seat so universally assert this glorious
principle, that conscience ought not to be constrained, nor
people forced for matters of mere religion; (the want of
which happy conduct in government, has been the desolation of
countries, and reproach of religion,) so we do with humble and
sincere hearts, render to God first, and the king next, our
sensible acknowledgments; and because they cannot be better
expressed than in a godly, peaceable, and dutiful life, it should
be our endeavour, with God’s help, always to approve ourselves
the king’s faithful and loving subjects; and we hope that after
this gracious step the king hath made towards the union of his
people, and security of their common interest, has had a due
consideration, there will be no room left for those fears and
jealousies that might render the king’s reign uneasy, or any of
them unhappy.
‘That which remains, great prince, for us to do, is to beseech
Almighty God, by whom kings reign, and princes decree justice,
to inspire thee more and more with his excellent wisdom and
understanding, to pursue this Christian design of ease to all
religious dissenters, with the most agreeable and lasting
methods: and we pray God to bless the king, his royal family
and people, with grace and peace; and that after a long and
prosperous reign here, he may receive a better crown amongst the
blessed.
Which is the prayer of,’ &c.
This address was received favourably, and therefore those of the
yearly-meeting, which some time after was held at London, also drew up
an address and some deputies of that meeting went to Windsor, where the
court then was, and where W. Penn, one of those that had been chosen to
present the address, made the following speech to the king:
‘_May it please the King_,
‘It was the saying of our blessed Lord to the captious Jews,
in the case of tribute, “Render to Cæsar the things that
are Cæsar’s, and to God the things that are God’s.” As this
distinction ought to be observed by all men in the conduct of
their lives, so the king has given us an illustrious example in
his own person that excites us to it; for while he was a subject,
he gave Cæsar his tribute; and now he is a Cæsar, gives God his
due, viz. the sovereignty over consciences. It were a great shame
then for any Englishman that pretends to Christianity, not to
give God his due. By this grace he has relieved his distressed
subjects from their cruel sufferings, and raised to himself a new
and lasting empire, by adding their affections to their duty. And
we pray God to continue the king in this noble resolution, for
he is now upon a principle that has good nature, Christianity,
and the goodness of civil society on its side; a security to him
beyond all the little arts of government.
‘I would not that any should think, that we came hither with
design to fill the gazette with our thanks; but as our sufferings
would have moved stones to compassion, so we should be harder, if
we were not moved to gratitude.
‘Now since the king’s mercy and goodness have reached to us
throughout the kingdom of England, and principality of Wales,
our assembly from all those parts met at London about our church
affairs, has appointed us to wait upon the king with our humble
thanks, and me to deliver them: which I do by this address, with
all the affection and respect of a dutiful subject.’
After W. Penn had thus delivered himself, he presented the address to
the king, which that prince kindly receiving, gave it him again to
read; which W. Penn did, and it was as followeth:
TO KING JAMES II. OVER ENGLAND, &c.
The humble and grateful acknowledgements of his peaceable
subjects called Quakers, in this kingdom.
_From their usual yearly-meeting in London, the 19th day of the
third month, vulgarly called May, 1687._
‘We cannot but bless and praise the name of Almighty God, who
hath the hearts of princes in his hand, that he hath inclined
the king to hear the cries of his suffering subjects for
conscience-sake; and we rejoice, that instead of troubling him
with complaints of our sufferings, he hath given us so eminent
an occasion to present him with our thanks. And since it hath
pleased the king out of his great compassion, thus to commiserate
our afflicted condition, which hath so particularly appeared
by his gracious proclamation and warrants last year, whereby
above twelve hundred prisoners were released from their severe
imprisonments, and many others from spoil and ruin in their
estates and properties, and his princely speech in council, and
Christian declaration for liberty of conscience, in which he
doth not only express his aversion to all force upon conscience,
and grant all his dissenting subjects an ample liberty to
worship God, in the way they are persuaded is most agreeable
to his will; but gives them his kingly word the same shall
continue during his reign; we do, as our friends of this city
have already done, render the king our humble, Christian, and
thankful acknowledgements, not only on behalf of ourselves, but
with respect to our friends throughout England and Wales; and
pray God with all our hearts, to bless and preserve thee, O king,
and those under thee in so good a work: and we can assure thee
king it is well accepted in the counties from whence we came;
so we hope the good effects thereof, for the peace, trade, and
prosperity of the kingdom, will produce such a concurrence from
the parliament, as may secure it to our posterity in after-times;
and while we live, it shall be our endeavour, through God’s
grace, to demean ourselves as in conscience to God, and duty to
the king, we are obliged.
His peaceable, loving,
And faithful subjects.’
After William Penn had read the said address, the king spoke as
followeth.
‘_Gentlemen_,
‘I thank you heartily for your address. Some of you know, I am
sure you do, Mr. Penn, that it was always my principle that
conscience ought not to be forced; and that all men ought to have
the liberty of their consciences. And what I have promised in my
declaration, I will continue to perform as long as I live; and I
hope before I die, to settle it so, that after-ages shall have no
reason to alter it.’
Here we see what the king declared to be his intention; but perhaps
that prince did not consider, that if such a general liberty had been
procured, he should not have been able to make it continue longer than
the Popish clergy would have thought it convenient. For who is ignorant
what an unlimited power the Roman prelates have usurped, not only in
the ecclesiastical, but also in the political part? Insomuch, that
though the king’s intention might have been really sincere, yet it is
like it would have been thwarted, though he might have been willing
that it should be otherwise. That his meaning was sincere, several I
know that were not of his persuasion, have believed, and among these
there were such, who thought that liberty of conscience might have
been so established, that it should not have been in the power of the
Papists to break it. But time hath shown that king James was not to
be the instrument for settling such a liberty of conscience; and that
the repealing of the penal laws was reserved for another prince. Yet
the king was by some thought to do what he could to stop rapacious
persecutors, and to restrain their power, with respect to imposing
of oaths. It is true it was said, that the king might not do so; for
by granting this liberty to the Quakers, he opened a door for the
Romanists to bear offices, without taking the required oaths. Now that
he discharged the Quakers from these oaths, may appear by the following
order to the lord mayor of London:
‘_Whitehall, Nov. 6, 1687._
‘MY LORD,
‘The king being informed, that Edward Brooker, Henry Jefferson,
and Joseph Tomlinson, being Quakers, are by Mr. Barker, steward
of Southwark, put upon several offices, as constables and the
like, which they are willing to do; but the oaths being tendered
to them, from which they think themselves exempted by the king’s
declaration for liberty of conscience, they are threatened to be
fined and otherwise molested, for their refusal to take them; his
majesty commands me to let your lordship know, that his pleasure
is, that the said Edward Brooker, Henry Jefferson, and Joseph
Tomlinson, and all other Quakers, should now, and for the future,
either be allowed to serve the said offices, without taking any
oaths, or else that they be not fined or otherwise molested upon
that account; and his majesty would have you give order therein
accordingly.
I am, my Lord,
Your Lordship’s most humble servant,
SUNDERLAND.’
Now whereas in some places goods taken from the Quakers lay still
unsold, the king ordered those goods to be restored to them, as may
appear by the following letter, written to the mayor and aldermen of
Leeds, in Yorkshire:
‘_Whitehall, Dec. 14, 1687._
‘GENTLEMEN,
‘The King being informed, that some goods belonging to John
Wales, and other Quakers of Leeds, which were seized and taken
from them upon the account of their religious worship, do remain
unsold in the hands of John Todd, who was constable at the time
of the seizure, or in the hands of some other persons; and his
majesty’s intention being, that all his subjects shall receive
the full benefit of his declaration for liberty of conscience,
his majesty commands me to signify his pleasure to you, that you
cause the goods belonging to the said John Wales, and all other
Quakers of Leeds, which were heretofore seized upon the account
of religious worship, and are unsold, in whose hands soever
they remain, to be forthwith restored to the respective owners,
without any charge.
I am, gentlemen,
Your affectionate friend and servant,
SUNDERLAND.’
By such means some got their goods again, that had been taken from them
upon the account of religious worship; for in many places they lay long
unsold, because few would buy goods so taken. And that the king by
these his favours, drew the love and affection of many of his subjects
towards himself, none need to wonder; for whatever his religion was,
he delivered them from that grievous burden, under which they had
been oppressed so many years. To this may be added, that he used them
kindly in all respects; and would not suffer his servants to molest
any for not pulling off their hats, when they came near his royal
person. Nay, so far went his condescension, that a certain countryman
of the Quakers’ persuasion, coming to him with his hat on his head,
the king took off his own hat, and held it under his arm; which the
other seeing, said, ‘The king needs not keep off his hat for me.’ To
which that prince returned, ‘You do not know the custom here, for that
requires that but one hat must be on here.’ I have been told of more
such like occurrences, which I pass by; but it appears from thence that
the king endeavoured to have among the Quakers the repute of a mild and
courteous prince. And this year he gave also full liberty of conscience
in Scotland, and freed those that were still under sufferings, granting
them the free liberty of their religious meetings. The said liberty he
also allowed to the Presbyterians, provided they should not meet in the
fields, or in sheds, as some did.
1688.
The king having thus granted liberty of conscience to people of all
persuasions, did whatever he could to introduce popery in England; for
he permitted the Jesuits to erect a college in the Savoy at London; and
suffered the friars to go publicly in the dress of their monastical
orders. This was a very strange sight to Protestants in England, and it
caused no small fermentation in the minds of people, when the fellows
of Magdalen College at Oxford, were by the king’s order dispossessed,
to make way for Romanists. This was such a gross usurpation, that W.
Penn, who had ready access to the king, and who endeavoured to get the
penal laws and test abrogated, thinking it possible to find out a way
whereby to limit the Papists so effectually, that they should not be
able to prevail, did, for all that, not omit to blame this usurpation
at Oxford, and to tell the king that it was an act which could not in
justice be defended, since the general liberty of conscience did not
allow of depriving any of their property, who did what they ought to
do, as the fellows of the said college appeared to have done. But this
could not cool the king’s zeal for popery, for he drove on so fast,
without disguise, to that degree, that the pope’s nuncio, D’Ada, this
summer made his public entry at Windsor in very great state.
Great endeavours were now made to repeal the penal laws and tests; for
when this point was gained, then Papists might be admitted into the
government as well as others; and such a general liberty of conscience
making an alluring show, several dissenters, as Baptists and others,
served the king with their pens on this account: and W. Penn, who
always had been a defender of liberty of conscience, was also not
inactive in this affair, though with a good intent, howbeit he might
have failed in his expectation. I remember when in those days the
patrons of the church of Rome asserted liberty of conscience to be a
Christian duty, I heard somebody say, “Can the Ethiopian change his
skin, or the Leopard his spots?” The king laboured also to persuade the
prince and princess of Orange, to give their assent to the repealing of
the test and penal laws; but this could not be obtained of them. And
since the king caused the advocate James Stuart, to write concerning
this matter to the heer Fagel, counsellor and chief pensionary at the
Hague; Fagel answered this paper in a letter to the said James Stuart,
wherein he declared the judgment of the prince and princess in this
case; and signified that they were willing to assent to the repealing
of the penal laws, as far as they had any tendency to the exercise
of worship; but as for those that debarred Papists from sitting in
parliament, of which the test was not the least, they could not give
their assent to the repealing of such limitations. This letter was
generally approved by the Protestants in England, but the king for all
that went on with the introducing of popery; and about the beginning of
the year 1688, he not only put in several Romanists to be fellows of
Magdalen College at Oxford, but endeavoured also to usher those of his
persuasion into the magistracy; and the better to cloak this design, he
would have other dissenters also chosen: but they generally rejected
this offer, as did also Stephen Crisp, at Colchester, who was too
circumspect to be caught thus, and therefore he declined the offer.
The king’s declaration for liberty of conscience was, on the 27th of
the month called April, published again, to show that he was firm and
constant in his resolution, and that his intentions were not changed
since he issued it out, to excite his subjects to join in it, and to
choose such members of parliament as might do their part to finish what
he had begun. Hereto was annexed an order of the council, for reading
this declaration in all churches and chapels throughout the kingdom;
and ordering the bishops to send and distribute the declaration
throughout their several dioceses, to be read accordingly. But they
refused to do so, pretending it was not legal, (though some there were
who thought it was,) because they were against liberty of conscience.
Now the archbishop of Canterbury, and six other bishops, petitioned
the king not to insist on the distribution and reading of his
declaration; alleging that their great averseness to the distribution
and publication of it in their churches proceeded neither from any
want of duty and obedience to his majesty, nor yet from any want of
due tenderness to dissenters; but because it was founded upon such a
dispensing power, as had been often declared illegal in parliament.
This refusal the king so resented, that he sent these bishops to the
tower. Whilst they were thus confined, there was much discourse every
where about this matter; and since it was well known that some bishops
had been the promoters of the former persecutions, some it seems spoke
also in prejudice of these that were now in confinement. This being
reported to them, they said that the Quakers belied them, and divulged
that they, (the bishops,) had been the cause of the death of some. This
gave occasion to Robert Barclay to visit the bishops in the tower; and
speaking with them, he gave them undeniable proofs of some persons
who, by order of bishops, had been kept in prison till death; though
they had been told of the danger of those persons by physicians, that
were not Quakers. This was so evidently manifested by R. Barclay, that
they were not able to deny it: yet Barclay told them, that since they
themselves were now under oppression, the intention of the Quakers was
in no wise to publish such matters, lest thereby they should exasperate
the king against them. And they were careful indeed not to do any
thing that might aggravate the case of these prisoners; for it was not
time now to rub old sores, since the bishops themselves seemed to be
inclined to declare for liberty of conscience. And since this liberty
was now enjoyed all over the kingdom, those called Quakers thought
it convenient at their yearly meeting, which was held this summer at
London, again to draw up an address to the king, and to acquaint him of
one thing more, which continued to be troublesome to them. This address
they presented to him, and was as followeth:
TO KING JAMES II. OVER ENGLAND, &c.
_The humble address of the People called Quakers, from their
yearly-meeting in London, the 6th day of the month
called June, 1688._
‘We, the king’s loving and peaceable subjects, from divers parts
of his dominions, being met together in this city, after our
usual manner, to inspect the affairs of our Christian society
throughout the world, think it our duty humbly to represent to
him, the blessed effects the liberty he has graciously granted
his people to worship God according to their consciences, hath
had, both on our persons and estates: for whereas formerly we
had ever long and sorrowful lists brought to us from almost all
parts of his territories, of prisoners, and the spoils of goods
by violent and ill men, upon account of conscience; we bless
God, and thank the king, the jails are every where clear, except
in cases of tithes, and the repairs of parish churches, and
some few about oaths; and we do in all humility lay it before
the king, to consider the hardships our friends are yet under
for conscience-sake in those respects; being in the one chiefly
exposed to the present anger of the offended clergy, who have
therefore lately imprisoned some of them till death; and in the
other they are rendered very unprofitable to the public and
themselves; for both in reference to freedoms in corporations,
probates of wills and testaments, and administrations, answers
in chancery and exchequer, trials of our just titles and debts,
proceeding in our trade at the custom-house, serving the office
of constables, &c. they are disabled, and great advantages taken
against them, unless the king’s favour do interpose: and as we
humbly hope he may relieve us, so we confidently assure ourselves
he will ease us what he can.
‘Now since it has pleased thee, O king, to renew to all thy
subjects by thy last declaration, thy gracious assurances to
pursue the establishment of this Christian liberty and property
upon an unalterable foundation; and in order to it, to hold a
parliament in November next at furthest:
‘We think ourselves deeply engaged to renew our assurances of
fidelity and affection, and with God’s help intend to do our
parts for the perfecting so blessed and glorious a work; that
so it may be out of the power of any one party to hurt another
upon the account of conscience: and as we firmly believe that God
will never desert this just and righteous cause of liberty, nor
the king in maintaining of it; so we hope by God’s grace, to let
the world see we can honestly and heartily appear for liberty of
conscience; and be inviolably true to our own religion, whatever
the folly or malice of some men on that account may suggest to
the contrary.’
This address being presented to the king, was well received. Some have
been ready to think, that the latter part of this address concerned the
office of magistrates, which, not without reason, it is believed that
a Christian might serve, with no more disparagement to an inoffensive
life, than it is inconsistent for a pious father to give due correction
to his rebellious child: for though our Saviour charges not to resist
evil, but to love enemies: and that he reproving Peter, who from a
forward zeal cut off the high priest’s servant’s ear, said to him,
“Put up thy sword into the sheath:” and that also the apostle James
disapproves war and fighting, yet we find in sacred writ, that the
apostle Paul calls the magistrate, the minister of God, and a revenger
to execute wrath upon him that doth evil: and he saith in plain terms,
that he beareth not the sword in vain.
But to return to my relation, and to take up again the thread of this
history, from which I have been diverted a little by this digression; I
know there were some in those days, who thought that if people of all
persuasions in England had a share in the government, proportionable
to their number, a means might have been found out to hinder any party,
especially the Papists, from exalting themselves above the others. But
to me it seems not improbable, that if this had effect, and a higher
hand had not cut off the way thereto, it would have appeared that those
men did not reckon well. But it never came to this pass, for the king’s
power was tottering already, though he endeavoured to support it,
even with good means; for to be helpful to his subjects, who, though
free-born men, were deprived of their freedom, merely because for
conscience-sake they could not swear; and to help them to this right
to which they were entitled as well as others, could not be judged
undue means, unless under it had been hidden an intent to introduce
this liberty also in favour of the Papists, though they did not believe
swearing unlawful.
There were now at Norwich, about forty of the people called Quakers,
who having petitioned the king, that he would be pleased to cause them
to be made freemen, obtained the following order from him:
_To our trusty and well-beloved our Attorney-General._
‘JAMES R.
‘Trusty and well-beloved, we greet you well: whereas we have
received a good character of the loyalty of our well-beloved
subjects, Thomas Howard, Peter Launce, William Booly, Henry
Jackson, Edward Pears, John Jenn, Nicholas Comfit, John
Harridence, John Gurney, Samuel Wasay, Edmund Cobb, Philip Pain,
Josiah Sherringham, Anthony Alexander, Thomas Darmar, John Cadee,
John Fiddeman, William Kiddle, James Pooley, John Defrance, jun.
Daniel Sharpin, William Milchar, William Brown, John Sharpen,
jun. Samuel Kettle, Stephen Ames, Richard Rose, Benjamin Stud,
Edward Monk, John Cornish, John Hodson, James Polls, Michael
Parker, Richard Brown, Daniel Dye, jun. John Elsegood, John
Pike, and John Allen, we have thought fit hereby to require you
forthwith to make all and every the persons above-mentioned,
freemen of that our city of Norwich, with all the rights and
privileges thereunto belonging, without administering unto them
any oath, or oaths whatsoever, with which we are graciously
pleased to dispense in their behalf; and for so doing this shall
be your warrant; and so we bid you farewell. Given at our court
at Whitehall, the 13th day of July, 1688, in the fourth year of
our reign. By his majesty’s command.
SUNDERLAND.’
It was now said commonly that the king might not do thus; and those
who grudged the Quakers this liberty, did not stick to set forth this
dispensation in very ill-favoured colours; nay, they said that William
Penn advised the king to do what he could not do without breaking his
promise. Yet if the king had made no greater infringement, his reign it
may be would have lasted longer: but the dispossessing of the fellows
of Magdalen College at Oxford, the imprisonment of the bishops, and
the public admittance of jesuits and monks, caused a ferment in the
minds of people. Now the bishops were tried at the king’s bench bar,
in Westminster-Hall; but they were acquitted, and so released. The
king also had appointed some ecclesiastical commissioners; but many
looked upon this as a kind of inquisition, and it seemed not well to
agree with liberty of conscience, which if he had maintained justly,
according to the advice of the Quakers in their address, it is not
likely that he would have come to such a strait, as now he was put to.
Not long before this time, one Theophila Townsend, a woman of years,
and understanding, published a book, wherein she gave a relation of
the grievous persecution her friends in Gloucestershire had suffered,
by imprisonment and spoil of goods, and how she herself had also
undergone many sufferings, and had been imprisoned in the castle of
Gloucester more than three years. Among other cases, she relates also,
how some time before her imprisonment, it happened, that by order of
the justices, Thomas Cutler and James George, she being seized in
the street, said to the latter, that the Lord would plead her cause,
and that what measure he meted, should be measured to him again. And
it thus happened, that before she was released, the wife of the said
George, who took her from her husband, was by death taken from him.
Afterwards this George came with the bishop of Gloucester into a
meeting, where Theophila was on her knees praying; at which the bishop
asking him whether she was the woman he spoke of, and he answering,
‘Yes, my lord;’ the bishop took her by the arm with such violence, that
he had almost pulled her down backward, saying, ‘Give over, woman, and
obey the king’s officers.’ But such was her zeal, that it could not
be stopped; for the more opposition she met with, the more she felt
herself encouraged, and inspired, to praise God for his goodness: and
though the bishop stirred up the justice, yet it seemed not in his
power to break off the current of her speech; so that they let her
alone, till she having discharged herself, stood up. Then the names of
those that were met, were taken in writing: and sometime after, she,
though aged and weakly, was in winter-season led three or four miles
through the snow, and committed to jail at Gloucester, where she was
kept three years and four months, and then released by king James.
Afterward she published a book, as hath been said already, in which
she gave an account how some of her friends had been beaten, punched,
and abused, to that degree, that they died of it, as she testified to
have seen herself: ‘Yet,’ said she, ‘though many died who were stronger
than I, it hath pleased the Lord to preserve my life, that I may speak
to the praise of his name, and tell of his wonders, and put you,
persecutors, once more in mind of what belongs to your peace. Blessed
be the Lord, he is risen for Zion’s sake, which ye have ploughed long
as a field; and when their enemies have done their worst, then the
Lord shall make his Zion to be an everlasting glory, and Jerusalem the
praise of the whole earth. And as ye see now in others that persecution
is evil, so see it also in yourselves; repent in dust and ashes.
Remember who it was that said, the wise man’s eyes are in his head, but
the fool walketh in darkness. The eyes of fools look out for mistakes
in others, and they blame in others what they are guilty of themselves.
Methinks the eye-lids of the morning, that is now dawned and rising
before you, ought to bring you to a true sight of your condition
in this matter.’ Going on thus, she reproves the informers who had
enriched themselves with the spoils of their neighbours; and she also
relates how the priest of Gloucester had put his name to a petition
to the king, in which, justice George, and others, desired that the
meeting-house of the Quakers might be given to the town, to make a
work-house of for the poor. ‘But,’ said she, ‘this is like Judas, who,
when the woman came with an alabaster box of very precious spikenard,
said, ‘Why was this waste made? Why was not this ointment sold, and the
money given to the poor?’ But the scripture saith, that this he said,
not that he cared for the poor, but because he was a thief, and had the
bag. Thus the priest made it appear by what he did, that he was not a
true minister of the gospel; for he came short of the works of the law,
which saith, ‘Thou shalt not covet thy neighbour’s house, nor any thing
that is thy neighbour’s.’ And Christ commands to do unto men, what we
would have them to do to us; by which it is plain that such doings
are contrary to the law and the gospel. Those now who will have such
blind sleepy watchmen to be their teachers, let them pay them, and not
constrain others, who know them to be blind, to pay them also.’
Then speaking to those who had a hand in the spoiling of goods, and
setting forth the odiousness of that work, she saith at last, ‘I do not
write this from a spirit of revenge against any, but it is in the love
of God, to warn you, and to exhort you to repentance, that ye may find
mercy with the Lord, which is the real desire of my soul: I can truly
say, in the presence of the Lord, that I have nothing in my heart but
love and good-will to the worst of our enemies, and this in purity of
heart, and in sincerity of mind. I desire really your eternal peace,
and well-being, though ye have hardened your hearts against the Lord,
and his truth and people. Turn to the Lord, I beseech you; bow before
the Almighty, who will plead with all flesh, and shall call all to an
account, and reward every one according to what he hath done in the
body, whether it be good or bad. Consider this therefore whilst ye have
time, and mind the things that belong to your peace, before they be
hid from your eyes: for the long suffering of the Lord will come to an
end, who said, “My spirit shall not always strive with man.” Therefore
whilst the spirit of the Lord, his light, his grace, yet strives in
your hearts, to turn you off from your evil ways, be willing to embrace
it, believe in it, take counsel of it, submit to it with all your
heart, be willing to be led and guided by it, and incline your hearts
to follow it in all things, and then it will lead you to rest and peace
with the Lord for ever.’ Yet more she said; but I break off. By such
kind of emphatical speeches, sometimes persecutors have been so touched
to the heart, that they themselves became harmless Christians.
I am come now almost to a conclusion of my relation concerning
persecution; of which I could have written much more, but that I was
unwilling to extend my work beyond what I should have been well able
to complete. Yet before I altogether part with this matter, I will
mention something concerning Theophilus Green, of whom mention hath
been made before. He lived at Battersea, not far from London, and was
a man beloved of his neighbours, because of his honest conversation;
yet he was much persecuted, both for attending meetings, and for
preaching. Once it happened that some officers came to his house to see
whether there was a meeting, and they behaved themselves moderately:
for what they did seemed against their mind, it being only in obedience
to the order of justice Duke, who, on account of a former offence,
had issued out warrants to make distress. The officers not satisfied
in the case, and seeing no meeting, went their way, and returned the
warrant; and T. Green went afterwards to the said justice, and speaking
to him, said amongst the rest, ‘Consider what that mouth and tongue
of thine hath said formerly, viz. that I had been ever kind to thee;
and is this the way of requiting it? Know for certain, that that God
whom I have served, and for whose cause I now suffer, will avenge me;
for vengeance is the Lord’s, and he will repay it one way or other,
except thou speedily repentest.’ At this saying the justice began to
tremble, and crying out, said, ‘I will do you no more hurt than I will
do my own soul. Pray go to the officers and tell them, I will never
trouble them any more upon the account of you.’ Green did so; and they
were glad of it. And Duke being upon some complaint dismissed, one Sir
John Broadrick succeeded in his room; and he was so moderate, that he
prevented the informers, by keeping Theophilus and his friends out of
their meeting-house, which was for about two years and a half.
Afterwards they were suffered again to go into their meeting-house,
but then justice Forster came once, and taking their names, fined
Theophilus 10_l._ as a preacher. And afterwards he with others coming
with a constable to seize for the fine, the constable being come to the
door of the house, said, ‘Neighbour Green, where are you? We are come
to seize your goods, if you will let us in.’ But this so displeased
the justice, that going down the yard, and seeing some oars and poles,
he required the constable to take them away. To which he answered,
‘I am no porter.’ ‘Then,’ said the justice, ‘command some others to
do it.’ To which the constable returned, ‘I command you to do it.’
This so enraged the justice, that he fined him. Some time after the
said justice coming again with an high constable, and another petty
constable, seized a barge, and had it carried away, and several times
offered it to sale, but none would buy it. And after it had been
carried about from place to place for sale, at length it was found
adrift by one who knew not of its being seized; and hearing that it
was Theophilus’s barge, he brought it to him. But Theophilus went to
the constables, and told them how it came to him, and where he had
it, saying, since it was come to him again he was willing to keep it;
but if they took it away again he would not hinder them. This account
being given to the justice, he sent a warrant, and committed Theophilus
to the Marshalsea prison. After three weeks the sessions was held at
the Marshalsea; and the last day the said justice came to him in the
prison, saying, he came out of love to see him, and to advise him for
his good; which was, that he would have him pay his fine; ‘for,’ said
he, ‘I am sure the grand jury hath found the bill against you; and if
you should come off, I have such an influence with the judge, as to
cause the oath to be tendered to you; and I know you will not take it;
and then you will be run to a premunire, and are not like to come out
as long as you live.’ To which Theophilus answered, ‘Thou saidst thy
coming was in love, to advise me for my good; but by what thou hast
said, it appears the contrary; for now I perceive thou hast devised
as much mischief as thou canst against me. As to the fine, if it were
but ten pence, nay ten farthings, I would not pay it. And if the Lord
should permit thee to do as thou hast said, and so be the cause of
bringing my grey hairs the sooner to the grave, my blood will be at
justice Forster’s door, and it will cry vengeance against thee.’
The next day the two constables being called before the grand jury,
were asked what they had against Theophilus Green, that stood there
indicted; and the high constable answered, ‘As to Theophilus Green,
he is as honest a man, though a Quaker, as lives about us; and he was
lately in office for the poor, and behaved himself as well in it as any
hath done these twenty years. And touching the barge he is indicted
for, when it came to him he came to us, and told how it came, and where
he had laid it, saying, if we would take it away again he would not
hinder us. This is all we have to say.’ Some of the grand jury knowing
Theophilus very well, and the cause too, did aggravate the matter very
high against the justice: and as to the indictment they brought it in
_ignoramus_. So Theophilus was cleared by proclamation: and sir Richard
How, being one of the jury, advised him to arrest the justice, there
being two good actions, as defamation and false imprisonment. But
Theophilus said he owned their love, but would leave the thing to the
Lord, for whose cause he suffered; for vengeance was the Lord’s, and
he would repay it. And it was but some little time after that the said
justice Forster died, as was reported, in great horror and misery. The
time when this happened I do not know exactly, yet I take it to have
been some years before the time I now describe. We see by this instance
a very singular deliverance, such as did not befal every one, but which
could not but encourage Theophilus the more.
Before I conclude this year I must mention something concerning W.
Penn, who when the government of king James was sinking, not only bore
the blame of many miscarriages; but by some was styled a Papist, though
this was altogether false. But he had a great many enemies; and it was
no new thing to brand the Quakers with the odious name of jesuits:
for thirty years before this time at Bristol great endeavours were
used to persuade people they were Franciscans. William Penn patiently
bore the slander of being decried as a Papist, saying but little in
justification of himself, till at length he made a return to a letter
sent by one who seriously begged of him to give an answer to those
accusations that had been forged in prejudice of his reputation. In
this paper he ascribed his free access to the king, partly to the
relation his father, as admiral, and to the service of the said king,
and who was then duke of York, and high admiral of England; and his
special favour also in releasing him out of the tower of London in the
year 1669. To this he added, ‘My father’s humble request to him, upon
his death-bed, was, to protect me from the inconveniences and troubles
my persuasion might expose me unto; and his friendly promise to do it,
and exact performance of it, from the moment I addressed myself to
him: I say, when all this is considered, any body that hath the least
pretence to good-nature, gratitude, or generosity, must needs know how
to interpret my access to the king.--Is any thing more foolish as well
as false, than that because I am often at Whitehall, therefore I must
be author of all that is done there, that doth not please abroad. But
supposing some such things to have been done; pray tell me if I am
bound to oppose any thing I am not called to do: I never was a member
of council, cabinet, or committee, where the affairs of the kingdom are
transacted. I have had no office or trust, and consequently nothing
can be said to be done by me; nor for that reason could I lie under
any test or any obligation to discover my opinion of public acts of
state: and therefore, neither can any such acts, nor any silence about
them, in justice be made my crime. Volunteers are blanks and cyphers
in all governments. And unless calling at Whitehall once a day, upon
many occasions, or my not being turned out of nothing, (for that no
office is,) be the evidence of my compliance in disagreeable things, I
know not what else can with any truth be alleged against me. I am not
without apprehensions of the cause of this behaviour towards me; I mean
my constant zeal for an impartial liberty of conscience. But if that
be it, the cause is too good to be in pain about it. I ever understood
that to be the natural right of all men; and that he that had a
religion without it, his religion was none of his own. For what is not
the religion of man’s choice, is the religion of him that imposes it:
so that liberty of conscience is the first step to have a religion.
This is no new opinion with me, I have wrote many apologies within
the last twenty years to defend it, and that impartially. Yet I have
as constantly declared, that bounds ought to be set to this freedom,
and that morality was the best; and that as often as that was violated
under a pretence of conscience, it was fit the civil power should take
place. Nor did I ever once think of promoting any sort of liberty of
conscience for any body, which did not preserve the common protestancy
of the kingdom, and the ancient rights of the government: for to say
truth, the one cannot be maintained without the other.--And till I
saw my own friends, with the kingdom delivered from the legal bondage
which penal laws for religion had subjected them to, I could with no
satisfaction think of leaving England, though much to my prejudice
beyond sea, and at my great expense here, having in all this time
never had either office, or pension, and always refusing the rewards
or gratuities of those I have been able to oblige.’ From this little
abstract of William Penn’s Apology, it appears sufficiently what kind
of liberty he defended; and such a liberty afterwards took place in the
reign of the next king.
Of George Fox I have been long silent, and I do not meet with any
very remarkable transactions that concerned him, except that he wrote
much, both for edification of his friends, and for the instruction and
admonition of others; for he was continually occupied with the care
of the church, and that things might be kept in good order, which to
perform the better, he now staid a long while in and about London.
In this year died William Dewsbury, one of the first preachers among
those called Quakers; having been a very zealous teacher, and an
eminent instrument to the conversion of many. He was born in Yorkshire,
and in his youth was a shepherd, and afterwards put apprentice to a
clothier; but when the civil wars broke out, he became a soldier and
joined with those who said they fought for the gospel. Now though he
was religious according to his knowledge; yet growing more and more
serious, and turning his mind inwardly, he saw there were inward and
spiritual enemies to encounter with, according to the saying of the
apostle, ‘We wrestle not against flesh and blood; but against spiritual
wickedness,’ &c. And this state was inwardly manifested to him in the
words of our Saviour: ‘Put up thy sword into the sheath. If my kingdom
were of this world, then would my servants fight.’ This wrought so
powerfully upon his mind, that he could no longer meddle with martial
affairs, but left the army; and returned to his former calling,
endeavouring to improve in true godliness, in which he so advanced
gradually, that when George Fox in the year 1651, came to Balby in
Yorkshire, and preached the gospel there, he could not but consent to
the doctrine declared by him, as being the same of which he himself
was already convinced in his mind, viz. that heed ought to be given
to the inward Divine reprovings for that which is evil; which doctrine
was preached by George Fox under the denomination of the true light,
which enlighteneth every man coming into the world; and that heed must
be given thereunto, as being the grace which brings salvation, of which
the apostle speaks in his epistle to Titus, ii. 11, saying, “That it
hath appeared to all men.” W. Dewsbury having heard such a sermon as
this, agreed not only with G. Fox in this point of doctrine, but in
process of time became himself also a very zealous preacher of it, for
which he fell under great sufferings; insomuch that he was prisoner at
Warwick nineteen years for religion’s sake, besides the imprisonments
he suffered on that account in other places. But being now released,
he came in the month called May to London, and preached a sermon there
concerning regeneration, which was taken from his mouth in short
hand, and afterwards printed as underneath.[52] His intention was to
have been at the yearly meeting of his friends; but by illness he was
prevented; and therefore before he grew worse, he returned to Warwick,
where he lived. Being come thither, his disease increased, and lying
very sick in bed, and being visited by some of his friends, he said to
them in great weakness of body, as followeth:
[52] A Sermon preached by William Dewsbury, at Gracechurch
Street, the 6th of the Third month, 1688.
‘MY FRIENDS,
“_Except you be regenerated and born again, ye cannot
inherit the Kingdom of God._”
‘This is the word of the Lord God to all people this day; this
lies not in airy profession, and in vain imagination, and
whatsoever else it is that you deck yourselves withal; you must
every particular man and woman be born again, else you cannot
enter into the kingdom of heaven. This was the doctrine of Christ
in that prepared body wherein he appeared in the world, and
preached to Nicodemus, that standing doctrine to this moment of
time, and will be so while any man breathes upon the earth; there
is no other way, no other gate to enter into life, but by this
great work of regeneration. Now to enforce people to come to this
great work, and to set forward from earth to heaven, all being
driven out of Paradise by the cherubim set with a flaming sword,
there is no returning to that blessed life, but by the loss of
that life that did grieve the Spirit of God, and which did cause
man to be driven out; there is no other way of return again
but by this new birth. As you are all driven and forced out of
Paradise, and the flaming sword and the cherubims are set to keep
the way of the tree of life, so you must return into the favour
of God again, by the light of Christ; and you have line upon
line, precept upon precept, here a little, and there a little,
to direct your minds to the light of Christ Jesus. As the first
Adam was made a living soul, so the second Adam is a quickening
spirit. This know for certain, no man or woman can be quickened,
and raised up into the life of the second Adam, till the life of
the first Adam be taken away from them.
‘So now, let every one of you deal plainly with your own hearts,
how you came to be a slain people to the life of the first Adam,
in which life there was a working of the mystery of iniquity in
every part of man. One cries, ‘Lo here is Christ;’ another, ‘Lo
there is Christ;’ and every one is following his own imagination
about the letter of the Scripture; this is still but the vain
spirit of man, running and striving to recover himself; and this
is the cause there is so much profession of God, and so little of
his nature appearing among the sons and daughters of men. Now all
of you that come to be regenerated, you must come to the light of
Christ; there is no other way to it. He will search your hearts,
and try your reins, and set your sins in order before you, and
trace out the iniquities that compass you about; therefore you
must see yourselves a lost people, a sinful people, and so come
to feel the weight of your sins upon your consciences, there is
no other way to come to life; you will never complain of sin
till you are burdened with it, till you have a trumpet sounding
in your ears, to awaken you, that you may arise from the dead,
that Christ may give you light: there is no other way, dear
people, you must bring your deeds to the light of Christ, and
abide in the sentence of condemnation; if you save your lives,
you lose them; if you will lose your lives for Christ’s sake,
there is no danger of your eternal life. John the Baptist,
Christ’s forerunner, declared, “I indeed baptize you with water
unto repentance, but he that cometh after me is mightier than I,
the latchet of whose shoes I am not worthy to unloose, he shall
baptize you with the Holy Ghost, and with fire: whose fan is
in his hand, and he will thoroughly purge his floor, and will
gather his wheat into his garner, but the chaff he will burn with
unquenchable fire.” What is it the better for you to read the
Scripture, if you know not this fiery baptism, which all must
know that are regenerated; deceive not yourselves, Christ will
appear in flaming fire, and take vengeance on all them that know
not God, and that obey not the gospel of our Lord Jesus Christ.
‘I stand here as a witness of the Lord of life this day, there
is no way for people to come to salvation, but they must know
Christ revealed in all their hearts. What is he doing but
rendering vengeance upon the carnal mind, self-pleasing, and
all inordinate affections; he comes with vengeance to take away
thy life; he will baptize thee with the Holy Ghost, and with
fire. If thou knowest not this, thou art not a true Christian,
thou wilt never look death in the face with joy, nor go down to
the grave with triumph. If thou livest at home in the body, and
flyest for thy life, and wilt not be willing to lose thy life
for Christ if thou art called to it, and if thou wilt not have
Christ to wash thee, (some for shyness and some for self-love
will refuse this,) if Christ doth not wash thee, thou hast no
part in him; you must come to Christ to purify you in the fiery
furnace; the day of the Lord shall burn as an oven, (as the
prophet speaks:) this is a dreadful day, a day of vengeance,
the day of the Lord Jesus Christ, who redeemeth his people from
their sins. Sion is redeemed with judgment, and established with
righteousness. Do not make the way to heaven easier on your minds
and imaginations than indeed it is, and think it not sufficient
to live in an outward observance of the ways of God. If your own
wills be alive, and your corruptions remain unmortified, the
judgment of God will be your portion, therefore in the Lord’s
name come along with me; I am come to declare what I have heard
and seen of the Father. Come and examine thy conscience. Hast
thou brought thy deeds to the light? Then thou hast received
condemnation upon thyself, and thy haughtiness is bowed down,
and laid low, and thou seest thyself a poor miserable wretch,
before the eternal God. Whatsoever thou knowest of the mind of
God, hast thou reformed thy ways? Come along with me, and tell me
what is the ground of thy faith, and thy confidence. Is it thy
obedience and qualifications? Because thy obedience is right,
and thy qualifications right, what use dost thou make of them?
Read the book of conscience; hast thou no ground for thy faith?
Thou hast put on the reformed faith, and liveth an unreformed
life: search and try thyself, man or woman. Dost thou watch over
thyself, and keep in a sense of thy dissolution, notwithstanding
all thy qualifications and partial reformation? Dost thou strive
to enter in at the strait gate, and the narrow way? Here is the
lost sheep thou seekest, the life of thy will, the life of the
first Adam; the Justice of God will not suffer thee to make a
saviour of thy duties and qualifications; and to take God’s
jewels, and to deck thyself with them, thou canst not be saved
without the righteousness of God in Christ Jesus. What saith thy
conscience, art thou brought to this change of thy mind, and of
thy conversation? Are you all willing to part with your sins,
with your pride and haughtiness? Are you willing to part with
your vile affections? This is the work of God’s grace upon you.
Dost thou place thy confidence in thy duties and qualifications,
and takest God’s jewels and ornaments, and deckest thyself with
them? Thou tookest my jewels, saith the Lord, and didst play
the harlot; if thou return to the Lord, and Humble thyself, and
get through this difficulty, thou wilt be happy for ever. This
judgment of God, this flaming sword that turns every way, will
keep thee from returning to sin, and bring thee to Christ, and
cut thee off from all hope of salvation but by him, and make thee
to see the absolute need of a Saviour, and that thy life is hid
with Christ in God.
‘It is God’s infinite goodness to men that he will hide pride
from them, and humble them under his mighty hand. This is the
condition of poor creatures that are slain by the hands of the
Most High. How may I know when I am slain and baptized, and come
to have sincerity? They that have this baptism enter into the
heavenly life; if you love the light of Christ Jesus, it will be
thus with you; God will make short work in the earth. He will
set thy sins in order before thee, and make thee watchful unto
prayer, and lead thee to holiness of life and conversation, and
make thee abhor thyself, and despise all the pomps and pleasures
and vanities of this world. When he hath adorned thee with his
graces, then watch for the light, and in the light of Christ
thou shalt see light, and that all thou hast done, and canst do,
is but thy duty. All this thou oughtest to do; thou art God’s
creature, and all this will not justify thee in order to thy
eternal salvation, for these services thou owest unto God. If
thou diligently wait, thou shalt see more light; then the sword
that proceeds out of the mouth of Christ, who is called the Word
of God, will cut thee off from all thy hopes of salvation from
any thing thou hast done, from any of thy qualifications, from
any thing that thou canst do; so that thou wilt be a hopeless
soul, nothing in thine own sense and apprehension; the power of
the first Adam must die before him, and thou wilt cry out, ’I
am a dead, lost, and undone creature; but there is a life hid
with Christ in God for me, but I can never have it till I be
slain into the will of God, and become as a little child, and be
stripped of all my own excellency that I have attained; I must
come to a sense of my own misery, and fall down at the foot of
God; when I am become as a little child, humbled and slain as to
my own will, and confidence in my own righteousness; I will not
then question but I shall live a holy life, but I will give all
that life I had, for that life which is hid with Christ in God.‘
O! there is none come so far that ever miss of eternal life. All
shuffling people that would have salvation by Christ, and will
not let him exercise his heavenly power, his princely glorious
power to baptize them into his death, it is they that come short
of salvation; but all those that yield themselves up to Christ to
be redeemed through judgment, and are become as little children,
these are in a happy state. You know that our Lord Jesus Christ
took a little child in his arms, and said, “Whosoever becomes
not as a little child, cannot enter into the kingdom of heaven:”
you must all of you become as little children, and depend upon
the mercy and free grace of God; you must all come to a holy
resignation of your wills to God’s disposal; if you come to
Christ as little children, and depend upon him, you cannot miss
of salvation; it is entailed upon such souls as hear the voice of
Christ, they that hear the voice of the Son of God shall live.
’I stand here as a witness for the God of heaven, I never
heard the voice of Christ, (as his follower,) till I was slain
and baptized, and lay as a little child under his heavenly
chastisements; as soon as ever my soul was brought to this in my
humiliation, O then the dreadful judgment was taken away, and the
book of life was opened unto me, and the Lord spake comfortable
to me, I have loved thee with an everlasting love: and I was
made a Christian through a day of vengeance, and of burning as
an oven, and the haughtiness and pride of man in me was brought
low. Now in this conformity to Christ’s death people may die
into life, and blessed are the dead that die in the Lord, for
they rest from their labours, and their works do follow them.
Away with all your own wills, and your pride, and haughtiness,
and your hypocrisy and deceit, and all dependency upon any
qualifications of your own; you must come to have your life
separated from you, else you will all perish. Those that will die
with Christ, and be willing to die for him, he is revealed as a
Saviour to them. He was before us in the days of his flesh, and
complied with his father’s will: he was nailed to the cross. The
Son of God, when he was come to the depth of his sufferings, what
was his cry, “My God, my God, why hast thou forsaken me?” This
was for thy sake, and my sake, and every man and woman’s sake
that do believe in him: he drank the cup which his Father gave
him to drink. If it was done thus to the green tree, what shall
be done unto the dry? He went before us, and when he cometh again
he will take up to himself, and take us from the filth of sin,
that we may be made new creatures.
’Now except we be born again we cannot enter into the kingdom of
God, and there is no becoming new creatures, till we be slain to
the old man. Thou must be slain to thy pride and haughtiness, and
the corruption of thine own will and all selfishness, thou must
have God to burn it up in thee: the Holy Ghost will destroy, and
burn up nothing in thee, but that which will bring an eternal
fire upon thy soul. Show me thou whom my soul loveth; where is
the path of life, the footsteps, of the flock of thy companions?
Why should I be as one that goes aside? Now every one that lives
at home in the bosom of self, take this with you, though you
profess the truth, and live in an outward conformity thereunto,
yet if you secretly indulge your corrupt wills, and live a
flesh-pleasing life, and consult with flesh and blood, and are
not rent off from your lusts, you cannot enjoy the Lord of life;
while I am at home in the body, I am absent from the Lord.
’The body of sin is a loadstone to draw you from the life of
God, and from glorying in the cross of Christ: this is flesh and
blood, and flesh and blood cannot inherit the kingdom of God.
For the Lord’s sake, for your soul’s sake, and for the sake of
your eternal happiness, put not off this work, but pursue it,
and it will be perfected. See how Christ is revealed in you by
the Holy Ghost, and with fire. God will redeem you by the spirit
of judgment and burning; it is not ranging abroad in your minds,
but you must know Christ is in you except ye be reprobates; if
he hath set your eyes and hearts upon himself, and made you to
water your couch with your tears; if he hath broken your sleep,
so as you have cried out, ‘I shall be damned, and never come to
salvation;’ (this will be your cry, it was once my cry,) O let
not your eyes slumber, nor your eye-lids take any rest, till you
be sure the Lord is your God; if you find these qualifications,
you are on your way, otherwise you will be like a deceitful bow,
and never abide in judgment; if you reject the counsel of God
against yourselves, and refuse to be crucified with Christ, and
to be baptized with his baptism, you will never have life; but by
his baptism, and through the heavenly operation of his Spirit, if
thou hast faith in Christ’s name, thou shalt be married to him
in everlasting righteousness; salvation shall be brought to us,
and eternal life be bestowed upon us; even that life which is
hid with Christ in God, he will give to every poor mournful soul
that submits to his blessed will, and believeth in the Lord Jesus
Christ: this is not a faith of our own making, nor a garment of
our own embroidery, but that which the Lord hath given to us. O
happy man or woman, that obtainest this gift of God! O, who will
not lose their lives for this everlasting life? Who will not
die for this eternal life? Now the matter lies in the death of
your own wills; when you have done the will of God, then watch
that your own wills be slain, and that your cursed self take not
the jewels of God, and his bracelets and ornaments, and bestow
them upon self, and paint and deck cursed self: and take not the
members of Christ, and make them the members of an harlot; if you
be dead to your own wills, you are risen with Christ, and shall
receive a resurrection to eternal life: crucify self, and set the
world at nought, and trample upon it, and all things of it, and
count them as dross and dung in comparison of Christ; that the
Father hath revealed to be our life, in the days of our sorrow
and mourning, in the day of our calamity, in the day when we
cried our hope is lost.
‘Thus it hath been with the holiest people on earth; it is not
by works of righteousness of thy own that thou canst be saved;
Christ comes to cut all these down, that thou mayest be ingrafted
into him, and justified by his grace. Do not make this matter of
talk, and say, I have heard this and that; but look into your
own hearts, and see what heavenly workings are there; what there
is of the power of the Lord Jesus, that hath made you to loathe
this world, and the inordinate love of the creature, that you may
enjoy all these things, as if you enjoyed them not. We cannot
when we are slain and crucified to this world, but say, my life
is in Christ, when we come to ascribe nothing to ourselves, and
all to Christ: here is a blessed harmony, broken hearts, melted
spirits, and yet joyful souls; poor creatures that were mourning
and sighing, and crying before the Lord in retired places, and
yet rejoicing in Christ Jesus, I am risen with Christ, I said,
my hope is cut off, I will lie down in thy will, O God; do what
thou wilt with me, it is in thy sovereign pleasure and free gift,
whether thou give me life or deny it to me: there must be a
resignation of ourselves to the will of God; it was so with the
Lord Jesus, and it is so with every true saint of God; you must
be humbled as little children before the judgment be taken away,
and the loving kindness of God sealed up to your souls; if you
seek this work of God, you will find it; if you seek it upon your
beds, in all your labours and concernments, in all your stations
and relations; if you press after the new birth, you must use
this world as if you used it not, and live a married life, as if
you were unmarried, for the fashion of this world passeth away.
This is not rantism.
‘But let me tell you, a new world comes by regeneration; a man is
not lifted up in his own mind, but laid low in his own eyes, he
waits for the wisdom of God to govern him, and he is as a steward
of the grace of God, to give to them that stands in need. When a
man is regenerated and born again, he is as contented with bread
and water, as with all the enjoyments of this world; what is the
matter? His own will is gone, and put down under his feet, and
whatsoever it is that gives life to all his vain desires and
affections, there is a harmony of all within, a man praising of
God, and blessing his holy name; there are no entanglements shall
draw away the heart from serving of God, and seeking his glory;
and if God shall call the husband from the wife, or the wife from
the husband, for the glory of his name, there is no whining and
complaining, and crying out, but giving them up, and a praising
and blessing God, when they are called to such an exercise; and
if they are not called to that, then they set their hearts to
glorify God in their several places and stations; then they have
a full content in a blessed resignation. Here their wills are
slain, but they praise God they have no desire, but Lord thy
will be done, always praising God, always having the fear and
the glory of God before their eyes. All the mischief is hatched
in pleasing men’s own wills: that is, the counsel of every heart
that Christ doth not govern. Will you live as the Quakers? Then
you must live contemptibly, the mistress and the maid are hail
fellows well met. No, every one must walk in humility, and live
in acquaintance with the God of heaven; she that is wrought
upon by the same spirit, must with all diligence behave herself
as becomes a servant of the Lord. Here is now a new world, and
the fashions of the old world are gone; all pride, haughtiness,
crossness, and trampling upon one another are all gone, all slain
through the operation of Christ.
‘What remains now, Christ is in me, and we are all one in
him; Christ laid down his life for thee and me; now he reigns
in me, and he hath prepared my body to die for the truth, as
his prepared body was laid down for my sin. It is a kind of
foolish profession, to make profession of Christ, and live in
covetousness, profaneness, sensuality, and the like; they that
are come to this heavenly birth, seek the things that are above,
thou canst do no other; make the tree good, and the fruit will be
good. You must be ingrafted into the vine of God’s righteousness;
O! slight not the day of your visitation. What was it to me to
read of any being born again, till I was slain, and knew the
heavenly baptism of Christ Jesus? Till I saw the flaming sword
ready to slay me in every way, in every turning. The light of
Christ convinced me of sin, and his righteousness justified me,
and those works were abominable to me, that hindered my soul’s
passage to Christ; Christ Jesus in marrying my soul to himself
seized upon me, and did work effectually in me: there is the
testimony of Christ in me, he hath sealed up my soul to the day
of my redemption. Here is a certain passage, and a certain way
which never any miss of, that lose their lives for Christ: if you
be not ready and willing to lose your lives for Christ, you shall
never come here; the gate is straight, and the way is narrow,
none come hither but those that die into an heavenly oneness with
Christ. O, friends, let us empty ourselves, that Christ may fill
us; let us be nothing in our own eyes, that we may be all in him,
and receive of his fulness.
‘Now I commend you to God’s witness, that you may remember
what hath been spoken among you; but consider, if you do not
hearken to it, it will follow you, and be a plague to you to all
eternity; if you will not yield up ourselves to Christ this day
that burns like an oven, this fire you must dwell with when out
of the body, there will be no quenching of this fire for ever;
but if you be so wise for your souls, as to resign yourselves
up to Christ, and come to him as little children, this will not
hinder your earthly concerns, though the world may account thee a
fool, yet thou hast that part of heavenly wisdom to do what thou
dost as unto God: thou carriest to thy wife, as in the sight of
God, that she may be sanctified to thee, and thou to her; and
thou carriest becomingly to thy children and servants, and thou
wilt abound in grace, and in every good work, which will be for
thine eternal welfare.
‘O, I beseech you people, for the Lord’s sake, wait for the light
of Christ to guide you; learn of him to be meek and lowly, then
happy are you; for he dwelleth with the humble, but he beholdeth
the proud afar off. This new birth, which is a true work, a
sincere and heavenly work, it will make you for ever. O make room
for Christ in your hearts, or else he is never like to dwell with
you; he loveth to dwell with the poor and humble and contrite
spirit, he abhors the proud, he will empty your souls, that he
may fill them.
‘And so I commend you to God. I have been long held in durance
under great weakness; and I was restless, till I could come up
to this great city of London, to preach the everlasting gospel
among you, and you see I am among you here; pray every one of
you turn inward; let not these words, passing through a mean
vessel, be as a bare empty discourse of truth to you, which you
only hear, and take no further care of your salvation. Take heed
of despising the light that shines in the midst of you, and be
pressing forward to the heavenly work that is laid in the power
of Christ Jesus, even through judgment into death, and then he
will give eternal life; the Lord confirm this, that it may rest
upon your hearts, that you may be dead to the things of the
world: we are not come to Mount Sinai, that genders to bondage,
but we are come to Mount Sion, the city of the living God, the
heavenly Jerusalem, and to an innumerable company of angels,
to the general assembly, and church of the first-born which
are written in heaven, and to God the judge of all, and to the
spirits of just men made perfect, and to Jesus the Mediator of
the new covenant, and to the blood of sprinkling, that speaketh
better things than that of Abel. This is the inheritance of the
redeemed of the Most High, blessed be the name of the Lord; let
us rest in hope, till he bring us to humility and lowness of
mind, that he may clothe us with heavenly glory, according to his
promise, I will beautify my house with glory, saith the Lord.
This is the portion of a poor people, that cast down themselves
before the Lord, that he may lift them up, and be all in all to
them, in whose blessed presence they shall have joy, and rivers
of pleasures at his right hand for evermore.’
‘My God hath yet put it in my heart to bear a testimony to his
name and blessed truth, and I can never forget the day of his
great power and blessed appearance, when he first sent me to
preach the everlasting gospel, and proclaim the day of the Lord
to all people. Therefore, friends, be faithful, and trust to the
Lord your God; for this I can say, I never since played the
coward, but as joyfully entered prisons as palaces, and in the
prison-house I sang praises to my God, and esteemed the bolts
and locks upon me as jewels. And, friends, this I must once
again testify to you, in the name of the Lord God, that what I
saw above thirty years ago, still rests as a testimony to leave
behind me, that a dreadful terrible day is at hand, and will
certainly come to pass; but the time when, I cannot say; but all
put on strength in the name of the Lord, and wait to feel his
eternal power, to preserve you through the tribulations of those
days that approach very near. This I have further to signify,
that my departure draws nigh. Blessed be my God, I am prepared,
and I have nothing to do but die, and put off this corruptible
and mortal tabernacle, this flesh that hath so many infirmities;
but the life that dwells in it, ascends out of the reach of
death, hell, and the grave; and immortality and eternal life is
my crown for ever. Therefore you that are left behind, fear not,
nor be discouraged, but go on in the name and power of the Lord,
and bear a faithful and living testimony for him in your day. And
the Lord will prosper his work in your hand, and cause his truth
to flourish and spread abroad. For it shall have the victory, and
no weapon formed against it shall prosper.’
Thus fervent in spirit was W. Dewsbury in his latter end, and he prayed
to God very earnestly for all his friends, especially those that were
met at the annual assembly at London. And so he very piously departed
this life at his house, in a good old age, in the month called June,
in this current year. He was indeed a man of a remarkable zeal and
perception. He spoke sometimes to young lads as to men, telling them
that the blessing of the Lord would rest upon them if they lived a
godly life: some of which being since come to man’s estate, have
experienced the truth of his saying.
Two days before the decease of William Dewsbury, Rebecca Travers
departed this life at about the age of seventy-nine years. She was a
woman exceedingly well gifted; and spoke not only sometimes in public
for edification of the church, but wrote also several books for the
advancement of piety; in one of which she signified, that though she
had been a reader of the Scriptures from a child of six years old; yet
when by the power of the eternal gospel she was turned from darkness
to light, the Scriptures then became much more plain to her, as not
wanting interpretation. She was an excellent open-hearted woman, and
took great care of the poor: she had several times been imprisoned
for religion, but persevered constantly in the faith, and so piously
entered into eternal rest.
As to state affairs, there now appeared a wonderful agitation in
England, since it was reported that the queen was big with child. And
the endeavours for introducing popery, besides the encroaching upon
some rights and privileges, caused such a stir, that William the third,
prince of Orange, and stadtholder, (or lord deputy,) of Holland, &c.
was intreated and invited by the English Protestants, to come to their
assistance. This at length he did, and came over with a fleet, and a
considerable number of forces. What was the issue of this expedition,
is very amply described by other pens, and not properly my province to
relate; wherefore I think it sufficient to my purpose to say, that the
prince after some difficulty at sea, came into England; where having
many adherents, the king, many of whose forces deserted him, resolved
to go to France, whither the queen with the young child was gone
sometime before. Accordingly he went over, where he was well received
by the French king, who provided him a court at St. Germain’s. In the
meanwhile the prince of Orange came to London, and was saluted there
by the great ones as the deliverer of England. The lord mayor of the
said city, with the aldermen and the sheriffs, having congratulated
him, the prince sent for some of the members of former parliaments to
come to him, and signified to them that he had desired them to meet to
advise him in the best manner how to pursue the ends of his declaration
in calling a free parliament, for the preservation of the Protestant
religion, the restoring of the rights and liberties of the kingdom,
and settling the same, that they might not be in danger of being again
subverted.
In answer to this, thanks were given to the prince for his care and
pains in defence of the people, their religion, and laws. And all
things took a favourable turn for him.
In Holland a good while before a paper was published in print, called,
‘A Copy of a Letter written by a Quaker at London to his Friend at
Rotterdam.’ In which forged letter were mentioned several things that
were not altogether untrue, and the prince’s going over to England,
was also in a manner predicted. Who was the author of the said letter,
I could never learn, but of this I am fully satisfied, that he was
no Quaker; for it never was their way to ridicule princes, and to
characterize them with ridiculous denominations, as in the said
letter we find mentioned, of James of Great Britain, Mary of Modena,
William of Orange, and Mary of England, his wife. This was no more the
language of Quakers, than the following expressions that are found in
this letter. ‘The Spirit hath inspired me to tell thee, I should not
be able to declare my opinion, before the Spirit shall have revealed
it to me. If the Spirit doth dictate it to thee, go and speak with
him. Dentsch hath had a revelation, and the Spirit hath assured him,’
&c. This foolish language betrays itself, and serves for a palpable
evidence, that it never proceeded from the pen of any of the people
called Quakers. But perhaps the author of that letter knew a secret of
state, whereof, (to remain unknown,) he would acquaint the world in a
ridiculous way; that under the cloak of being a Quaker, he should best
continue undiscovered, and that by this device the letter would spread
the more, as indeed it did; for it had a very quick vent.
THE ELEVENTH BOOK. 1689-1702.
1689.
I proceed now to the year 1689, in the beginning of which the peers
of the realm, &c. offered the administration of the government to the
prince of Orange, which he accepted of. Not long after he called a
convention of the commons; for a parliament it could not be named,
since in England none but a king has power to call a parliament. In the
meanwhile the prince had caused the princess his consort, to come over
from Holland, into England; and at length the convention, after many
great debates, came to this resolution, that the throne was vacant;
the consequence of which was, that the prince and princess of Orange
were declared by the names of William the third, and Mary the second,
king and queen of England, &c. and according were afterwards crowned.
A large relation thereof is to be found in several books. By the way
I will only say, that the coronation was performed by the bishop of
London, the archbishop of Canterbury having refused to act in that
solemnity; at the performance of which the king and queen were asked
by the bishop, ‘Will you solemnly promise and swear to govern the
people of this kingdom of England, and the dominions thereto belonging,
according to the statutes in parliament agreed to, and the laws and
customs of the same?’ To which the king and queen having answered, ‘I
solemnly promise so to do;’ the bishop asked, ‘Will you to your power
cause law in justice and mercy to be executed in all your judgments?’
Answer was made, ‘I will.’ The next question was, ‘Will you to the
utmost of your power maintain the law of God, the true profession of
the gospel, and the Protestant Reformed religion established by law?
And will you preserve unto the bishops and clergy of this realm, and to
the churches committed to their charge, all such rights and privileges
as by law do or shall appertain to them, or any of them?’ To which the
king and queen answered, ‘All this I promise to do.’ After this they
laying each of them their hands upon the book of the gospel, said,
‘These things which I have here before promised, I will perform and
keep. So help me God.’ Under these punctual and nice questions was more
hidden than some would think. For the king having answered so as hath
been said, could not now free any from paying tithes to the clergy,
without violation of his oath.
Not long after William and Mary were thus made king and queen of
England, they were also in Scotland declared king and queen of
Scotland. And somebody in Holland denoted the year of his being made
king in this manner: ‘VVILheLMVs tertIVs angLIæ VInDeX.’ Not long after
this a war was proclaimed against France, and the late king, James,
supported by the French king, went over to Ireland, from whence in
process of time he was driven away by king William, after the bloody
battle near the river Boyne; but that not belonging to this history, I
will not detain my reader with a relation thereof.
A king having now mounted the throne, the convention was turned into
a parliament; and then this august assembly made it their business to
restrain the forcing of conscience; and an act passed for exempting
Protestant dissenters from the penal laws, by which some dissenters,
and especially the Quakers, had suffered and been persecuted many
years. Yet care was taken to keep that law in force by which Papists
were excluded from sitting in parliament. And those penal laws,
of which mention hath been made heretofore in due place, were now
restrained, except the test act, properly required for serving in high
offices, and to keep out the Papists. The aforesaid act gave also
liberty to dissenters to keep religious meetings, provided the doors
were not locked, barred or bolted, during the time of such meeting. But
none of these dissenters were freed from paying tithes, or other church
duties, so called, to the clergy, nor from being cited before bishops’
courts. But this liberty of keeping public meetings was not allowed
to Papists; for all that would participate of the said liberty, were
required to take the oath of allegiance; yet to comply with the people
called Quakers, who for conscience-sake scrupled to take any oath, this
act enjoined that they should subscribe the following declaration:
‘I _A. B._ do sincerely promise and solemnly declare, before
God and the world, that I will be true and faithful to king
William and queen Mary; and I do solemnly profess and declare,
that I do from my heart abhor, detest and renounce, as impious
and heretical, that damnable doctrine and position, that princes
excommunicated or deprived by the pope, or any authority of
the see of Rome, may be deposed or murdered by their subjects,
or any other whatsoever. And I declare that no foreign prince,
person, prelate, state, or potentate, hath, or ought to have any
power, jurisdiction, superiority, pre-eminence, or authority,
ecclesiastical or spiritual, within this realm.’
Besides this they were obliged to subscribe also another, with respect
to their orthodoxy, and for excluding Socinianism.
‘I _A. B._ profess faith in God the Father, and in Jesus Christ
his eternal Son, the true God, and in the holy Spirit, one God,
blessed for evermore: and do acknowledge the holy Scriptures of
the Old and New Testament to be given by divine inspiration.’
And lest any Papist might make use of this declaration, there were
required sufficient Protestant witnesses that the declarer was a
Protestant dissenter. Besides no congregation or assembly for
religious worship was permitted or allowed by this act, until the place
of such meeting should be certified to the bishop of the diocese, or to
the archdeacon of the archdeaconry; or to the justices of the peace at
the general or quarter-sessions of the peace for the county, city, or
place, in which such meeting should be held, and registered in the said
bishop’s or archdeacon’s court respectively, or recorded at the said
general or quarter-sessions: for which the register or clerk should not
take greater fee or reward than sixpence.
By this we now see the religion of the Quakers acknowledged and
tolerated by an act of parliament; and themselves released from all
persecution for performance of their public worship, and their refusal
of the oath of allegiance. This was a work reserved for that great
prince king William, who being born in a country where force upon
conscience was abrogated, when a Protestant government was settled
there, now also according to his ability introduced the like Christian
liberty in England: but to release from the payment of tithes was
beyond his reach, how unreasonably soever the clergy acted in this
case; whereof about this time a notable instance was published in
print, of one John Bishop, a countryman at Wortham, from whom for
two years tithes there had been taken, horses, kine, and sheep, to
the value of about seventy-six pounds, according to the estimate of
impartial persons, though rated by himself at eighty-three pounds. And
yet the priest, Thomas Thurlow, had declared upon his oath, that he
believed that the tithes of every year’s growth of the said Bishop, did
amount one year with another, to three pounds seventeen shillings and
sixpence; but the charges were reckoned so high, and the rating of the
distrained goods was so very much beneath the real value, that the loss
thereby sustained was exceeding great.
In Barbadoes, in the West Indies, where the inhabitants were marshalled
to bear arms, the Quakers, notwithstanding what had been ordered in
their favour by king James, continued yet under hard sufferings, of
which more in the sequel. They now that were thus oppressed, sent over
a petition to the king, wherein they set forth how they were molested,
and prayed for relief; which had such effect, that the king issued
forth the following order:
‘_At the Council at Whitehall, Dec. 12, 1689._
‘Present the king’s most excellent majesty in council.
‘Upon reading a petition of the people called Quakers, inhabiting
the island of Barbadoes, setting forth, that because the said
Quakers could not bear arms, nor take an oath in any case, they
have suffered much by virtue of an act made to settle the militia
in the said island; as in the petition hereunto annexed, is more
at large expressed; his majesty in council is graciously pleased
to refer the matter of the said petition to the examination
of James Kendal, esq. his majesty’s governor of Barbadoes for
the time being, who is to give the petitioners such relief in
relation to the militia, as to him shall seem just and reasonable
to answer their particular circumstances, and to make report
thereof to his majesty.
RICHARD COLLINGE.’
1690.
This year deceased Alexander Parker, sometimes mentioned in this
history, being a man not only of a godly life and conversation, but
also of a godly mien and grave deportment. In the following year,
viz. that of 1690, Robert Barclay also departed this life, a man of
eminent gifts and great endowments, expert not only in the languages
of the learned, but also well versed in the writings of the ancient
fathers, and other ecclesiastical writers, and furnished with a great
understanding, being not only of a sound judgment, but also strong in
arguments, and cheerful in sufferings. Besides, he was of a friendly
and pleasant, yet grave conversation, and eminently fitted for
composing of differences; and he really lived up to what he professed,
being of an unblameable deportment, truly pious, and well beloved of
those he conversed with. And in this happy state it pleased God to take
him away out of this vale of tears, into a glorious immortality, in
the prime of his age, having not lived much above half the life of a
man, as it is commonly accounted, viz. in his 42d year, on the third of
October, at his house at Ury, in Scotland, where he died of a sickness,
which did not last long, yet he signified with a good understanding,
that it was well with him as to his soul.
* * * * *
This year Stephen Crisp wrote an epistle of tender love and brotherly
advice to all the churches of Christ throughout the world, in which he
exhorted them more particularly to charity; and since therein several
remarkable duties are held forth and recommended, I cannot well omit to
insert a copy of it here, which is as followeth:
‘Dearly beloved friends and brethren, gathered out of the world
by the eternal arm and power of the mighty God, to bear his holy
name in your generation; my love and life in the fellowship of
the universal spirit salutes you all, and my prayer to God is,
you may be kept steadfast and immoveable in the grace of God,
and in the communion of his holy Spirit, that ye may bring forth
fruit in abundance, according to the abundant mercy and grace
bestowed upon you, to the glory of God, and to your mutual joy,
comfort, and edification.
‘And that you may so do, let your eye be kept daily to the
Lord, and behold and take notice of the wondrous works that he
hath wrought in you, and for you, since the day ye were first
quickened by his immortal word, and stirred up to seek after
him, and to wait upon him: how good and gracious he hath been
to you, in bringing you from the barren mountains, where your
souls languished for the heavenly nourishment; where you knew
not the Lord, nor one another, but were without a comforter, or
any to sympathise with you in your mournings; Oh, how hath he
pitied your groanings, and had compassion on your sighings, and
brought you into acquaintance with those that were in the like
exercises; and then he taught you to believe on him that was able
to help you: and those that were thus taught of the Father, and
felt his drawing cords of love prevailing upon them; these came
to Christ their Saviour, and in him began to feel an unity one
with another, in the faith you had received in him; whereby you
believed he would give you of his spirit to teach and guide you
in the way of truth, righteousness, and peace; and thus was the
foundation of your holy communion laid, and a lively hope raised
in each particular soul, that he that had begun this blessed work
would carry it on; and this hope made you that were not ashamed
to make a public profession of his name before the world; but
cheerfully to take up his cross, and deny yourselves of your
former pleasures, friendships, and delights of this world: this
hope hath been your support in many sharp trials, and bitter
combats you have had with the enemy of your souls’ peace within,
and with the enemies of God’s holy way and truth without; and
in all your conflicts you have found him nigh at hand, to put
forth his power on your behalf, as you have depended upon him
for assistance; and by these experiences of his goodness, your
faith hath been strengthened; and by the same word of life that
quickened you, many more have been reached unto, so that you have
seen a daily addition of strength in the particular, and also an
addition to your number, to your great comfort and encouragement;
and many have come to wait upon the Lord among you; and
many are daily inquiring the way to Zion, with their faces
thitherward. These things are worth your remembrance and serious
considerations, that you may look upon these great mercies as
obligations upon your souls, to walk humbly before the Lord, and
to be devout and fervent in your testimony, for that God that
hath done thus great things for you.
‘And, friends, consider of the great works that this mighty arm
of the Lord hath brought to pass in the general, as well as in
the particular; how many contrivances have been framed, and laws
and decrees made to lay you waste, and to make you cease to be a
people, and how have the wicked rejoiced thereat, for a season,
crying, ‘Ah, ah! thus would we have it; they are all now given up
to banishments, to imprisonments, to spoils and ruins; now let
us see if that invisible arm they trust in can deliver them.’
Oh friends! how hath your God been your support in the midst
of all these exercises! and when he hath pleased, how he hath
quieted the sharpest storms, and turned back the greatest floods
and torrents of persecution that ever you met! and how hath he
confounded his and your enemies, and brought confusion upon
the heads of them that sought your hurt! Were not these things
wrought by the power of God? Did your number, your policy, your
interest, or any thing that might be called your own, contribute
any thing to these your great preservations and deliverances? If
not, then let God have the glory, and acknowledge, to his praise,
these have been the Lord’s doings, and are marvellous in our eyes.
‘Again, dear friends, consider how the wicked one hath wrought
in a mystery among yourselves, to scatter you, and to lay you
waste from being a people as at this day; how many several ways
hath he tried, raising up men of perverse minds, to subvert and
to turn you from the faith, and from the simplicity that is in
Christ Jesus our Lord; and to separate you from that invisible
power that hath been your strength, and to separate you one from
another, and by subtle wiles to lead you into a false liberty
above the cross of Christ; and sometimes by sowing seeds of
heresy and seditions, endeavouring to corrupt the minds of whom
they could with pernicious principles; but oh, how have their
designs been frustrated, and the authors thereof confounded and
brought to nought: and how have you been preserved as a flock
under the hand of a careful shepherd, even unto this day, which
ministers great cause of thanksgiving unto all the faithful, who
have witnessed the working of this preserving power in their own
particulars.
‘Also, my friends, it is worth your considerations, to behold
how that by this invisible power so many faithful watchmen
are raised up upon the walls of your Zion; that in most of
your meetings there be men and women, upon whom God hath laid
a concern to be taking care for the good of the whole; and to
take the oversight upon them, to see all things kept in good
and decent order, and to make due provision for the comforting
and relieving the necessities of the needy and distressed; that
nothing be lacking to make your way comfortable; and these have
not been, nor are brought under this charge by any act of yours,
but God hath raised up pastors and teachers, elders and deacons
of his own election and choice, and bowed their spirits to take
upon them the work and service to which they are appointed, for
the Lord’s sake, and for the body’s sake, which is the church;
to whom it may truly be said, as in Acts xx. 28. “Take ye
heed to the flock of God, over which the Holy Ghost hath made
you overseers,” &c. And such ought to be hearkened to in the
discharge of their trust, as those that must give an account to
him that called them, and gifted them for their several works and
services in the church.
‘And by these ways and means hath the Lord established among you
a heavenly government, and built as it were a hedge about you,
that ye may be preserved from generation to generation, a people
fitted for the glory that is, and shall daily more and more be
revealed among and upon the faithful, who delight in that power
that called them to be saints, and to bear a profession for the
holy name of God, against the many names and ways that men in
their changeable minds have set up, that the name of the Lord
alone may be exalted.
‘And, dear friends and brethren, I intreat you, that the
consideration of these great and weighty things which God hath
wrought for you, and among you, may have that deep and weighty
influence upon your souls, that ye may find yourselves engaged to
answer the love and mercy of God in your lives and conversations,
and in all you have to do in this world; that ye may show forth
the honour of God in all things, that the light which hath shined
in you, may shine forth through you unto others, who yet sit in
darkness; that all men may know by your innocent and harmless
conversations, and by your close keeping to the Lord, that ye are
a people who are assisted and helped by a supernatural power,
which governs your wills, and subjects them to his blessed
will; and that guides and orders your affections, and sets them
upon heavenly and divine objects, and that gives you power to
deny your own private interests, where they happen to stand in
competition with the interest of truth; for these, and these
only, will be found the true disciples of our Lord Jesus Christ,
who can deny themselves, take up a cross daily, and follow him in
the guidance of his regenerating power; which brings death upon
itself, and crucifies the old nature, with its affections and
lusts, and raiseth up a birth in you, that hath a holy will and
desire to serve the Lord, and do his will in the earth; and such
as these are instruments in the hand of God for him to work by,
and to do works of righteousness, of justice, of charity, and all
others the virtues belonging to a Christian life, to the honour
of God, and for the comfort and benefit of his church and people.
‘And all you, dear friends, upon whom the Lord hath laid a care
for his honour, and for the prosperity of the truth; and gathered
you into the good order of the gospel, to meet together to
manage the affairs thereof; take heed that ye have a single eye
to the Lord, to do the Lord’s business in the leadings of his
Spirit, which is but one, and brings all that are given up to
be governed by it, to be of one mind and heart, at least in the
general purpose and service of those meetings; although through
the diversity of exercises, and the several degrees of growth
among the brethren, every one may not see or understand alike
in every matter, at the first propounding of it; yet this makes
no breach of the unity, nor hinders the brotherly-kindness, but
puts you often upon an exercise and an inward travailing, to feel
the pure peaceful wisdom that is from above to open among you;
and every one’s ear is open to it, in whomsoever it speaks, and
thereby a sense of life is given to the meeting, to which all
that are of a simple and tender mind join and agree; but if any
among you should be contrary minded in the management of some
outward affair, relating to the truth, this doth not presently
break the unity that ye have in Christ; nor should weaken the
brotherly love, so long as he keeps waiting for an understanding
from God, to be gathered into the same sense with you, and walks
with you, according to the law of charity. Such a one ought to
be borne with and cherished, and the supplications of your souls
will go up to God for him, that God may reveal it to him if it be
his will; that no difference may be in understanding, so far as
is necessary for the good of the church, no more than there is in
matters of faith and obedience to God; for, my friends, it is not
of absolute necessity that every member of the church should have
the same measure of understanding in all things; for then where
were the duty of the strong bearing with the weak? Then where
were the brother of low degree? Where would be any submitting to
them that are set over others in the Lord; which all tend to the
preserving unity in the church, notwithstanding the different
measures and different growths of the members thereof; for as the
spirits of the prophets are subject to the prophets; so are the
spirits of all that are kept in a true subjection to the spirit
of life in themselves, kept in the same subjection to the sense
of life given by the same spirit in the church; and by this means
we come to know the one master, even Christ, and have no room for
other masters in the matter of our obedience to God: and while
every one keeps in this true subjection, the sweet concord is
known, and the oil is not only upon Aaron’s head, but it reach
the skirts of his garment also; and things are kept sweet and
savoury, and ye love one another from the greatest to the least
in sincerity, and, as the apostle saith, without dissimulation;
and this love excludes all whisperings of evil things; all
backbiting, tale-bearing, grudging, and murmuring; and keeps
friends’ minds clean one towards another, waiting for every
opportunity to do each other good, and to preserve each other’s
reputation; and their hearts are comforted at the sight of one
another; and in all their affairs, both relating to the church
and to the world, they will be watchful over their own spirits,
and keep in the Lord’s power, over that nature and ground in
themselves that would be apt to take an offence, or construe any
word or action to a worse sense than the simplicity thereof, or
the intention of the other concerned will allow of.
‘And whereas it may often fall out, that among a great many,
some may have a different apprehension of a matter from the rest
of their brethren, especially in outward or temporal things;
there ought to be a Christian liberty maintained for such to
express their sense with freedom of mind, or else they will go
away burdened; whereas if they speak their minds freely, and a
friendly and Christian conference be admitted thereupon, they may
be eased, and oftentimes the different apprehension of such an
one comes to be wholly removed, and his understanding opened, to
see as the rest see; for the danger in society doth not lie so
much in that, that some few may have a differing apprehension in
some things from the general sense, as it doth in this, namely,
when such that so differ, do suffer themselves to be led out of
the bond of charity, and shall labour to impose their private
sense upon the rest of their brethren, and to be offended and
angry if it be not received; this is the seed of sedition and
strife that hath grown up in too many, to their own hurt.
‘And, therefore, my dear friends, beware of it, and seek not to
drive a matter on in fierceness or in anger, nor to take offence
into your minds at any time, because what seems to be clear to
you, is not presently received; but let all things in the church
be propounded with an awful reverence for him that is the head
and life of it; who hath said, “Where two or three are met in
my name, I will be in the midst of them.” And so he is, and may
be felt by all who keep in his spirit; but he that follows his
own spirit, sees nothing as he ought to see it. Therefore let
all beware of their own spirits and natural tempers, as they are
sometimes called, but let all keep in a gracious temper; then are
ye fit for the service of the house of God, whose house ye are,
as ye keep upon the foundation that God hath laid; and he will
build you up, and teach you how to build up one another in him,
and as every member must feel life in themselves, and all from
one head; this life will not hurt itself in any, but be tender
of the life in all; for by this one life of the word ye were
begotten, and by it ye are nourished, and made to grow into your
several services in the church of God. It is no man’s learning,
nor artificial acquirements; it is no man’s riches, nor greatness
in this world; it is no man’s eloquence and natural wisdom, that
makes him fit for government in the church of Christ; unless he,
with all his endowments, be seasoned with the heavenly salt, and
his spirit subjected, and his gifts pass through the fire of
God’s altar, a sacrifice to his praise and honour; that so self
be crucified and baptized in death, and the gifts made use of
in the power of the resurrection of the life of Jesus in him;
and when this great work is wrought in a man, then all his gifts
and qualifications are sanctified, and they are made use of for
the good of the body, which is the church; and are as ornaments
and jewels, which serve for the joy and comfort of all who
are partakers of the same divine fellowship of life in Christ
Jesus our Lord; and thus come many to be fitted and furnished
to good works, which are brought forth in their due seasons,
for edification and building up the weak, and for repairing the
decayed places, and also for defence of them that are feeble,
that hurtful things may not come near them.
‘Oh friends! great is the work the Lord hath called you to, and
is fitting you for, who innocently wait upon him; and the Lord
hath opened my heart unto you, and laid it upon me to exhort
and beseech you to have a care that ye quit yourselves as ye
ought, in what God requires of you; and for the more particular
expressing what lies before me in the matter, I shall set down
a few particular observations for your benefit and advantage;
and my soul’s desire is, that my labour of love may have a good
effect in all your bosoms, that God may be honoured thereby. And,
friends, ye know the chief business, to which ye are called in
your particular men and women’s meetings, is under these two
heads, justice and charity; the first, to see that every one hath
right done him; and the other, to take care there be nothing
lacking to the comfort of the poor, that are made partakers of
the same faith with you.
‘And when ye meet about these things, keep the Lord in your
eye, and wait to feel his power to guide and direct you, to
speak and behave yourselves in the church of God, as becomes the
peaceable gospel: and beware of all brittleness of spirit, and
sharp reflections upon each other’s words; for that will kindle
up heats, and create a false fire; and when one takes liberty
of a sharp word spoken out of the true fear and tenderness, it
oftentimes becomes a temptation to another; and if he hath not
a great care, it will draw him out also, and then the first is
guilty of two evils, first, being led into a temptation, and
then secondly, he becomes a tempter to others; therefore all had
need be upon their watch, neither to tempt, nor be tempted; and
let none think it a sufficient excuse for them that they were
provoked; for we are as answerable to God for every evil word
spoken upon provocation, as without provocation; for, for that
end hath the Lord revealed his power to us, to keep and preserve
us in his fear and counsel in the time of our provocations; and
therefore if any man through want of watchfulness, should be
overtaken with heat or passion, a soft answer appeaseth wrath,
saith the wise man; and therefore such a time is fittest for a
soft answer, lest the enemy prevail on any to their hurt, and to
the grief and trouble of their brethren; for it is the proper
duty of watchmen and overseers to spare the flock; that is, let
nothing come nigh them that will hurt them, and wound and grieve
them; nay, the good apostle was so careful over the flock of
believers, that if there were any doubtful matters to be disputed
of, he would not have them that were weak in the faith at such
disputes; much less ought they that are weak, to see those that
are strong, descend from their strength, and go into the weakness
where they are not able to bear; for that is certainly the weak
that cannot bear; those that really live in the strength and
power, they can bear even burdens for them that cannot bear their
own. The apostle in the place before-mentioned, when he sent for
the elders of Ephesus to Miletus, and left a charge with them,
before he said, take heed to the flock of God, he said, “Take
ye heed to yourselves.” And indeed we are none of us like to
discharge ourselves well towards others, but by taking heed to
ourselves, to be kept in that sober innocent frame of spirit,
which the truth calls for.
‘In the next place, my dear friends, when ye are called upon in
point of justice, to give a sentence of right between friend
and friend, take heed that neither party get possession of your
spirit aforehand, by any way or means whatsoever, or obtain any
word or sentence from you in the absence of the other party,
he not being yet heard: there is nothing more comely among
men than impartial judgment; judgment is a seat where neither
interest, nor affection, nor former kindness may come; we may
make no difference of the worthiness or unworthiness of persons
in judgment, as we may in charity; but in judgment, if a good
man, being mistaken, hath a bad cause, or a bad man a good cause,
according to his cause must he have sentence. It was a good
saying, he that judgeth among men, judgeth for the Lord, and he
will repay it. Therefore let all be done as unto the Lord, and as
ye are willing to answer it in his presence; and although some
may for a time be discontent thereat, yet in time God shall clear
up your innocency as the sun at noon-day; and they that kick at
sound judgment will find but hard work of it; they do but kick
against that which will prick them; and however such through
their wilfulness, and their abounding in their own sense may hurt
themselves, yet you will be preserved, and enjoy your peace and
satisfaction in the discharge of your consciences in the sight of
God.
‘And as concerning practical charity, ye know it is supported by
liberality, and where liberality ceaseth, charity waxeth cold,
yea, so far ceaseth; where there is no contribution, there is no
distribution; where the one is sparing, the other is sparing;
and therefore let every one nourish charity in the root, that
is, keep a liberal mind: a heart that looks upon the substance
that is given him, as really bestowed upon him for the support
of charity, as for the support of his own body: and where people
are of this mind, they will have a care of keeping back any of
God’s part, for he hath in all ages, in a most singular manner,
espoused the cause of the poor, the widow, and fatherless; and
hath often signified by his prophets and ministers, a special
charge upon rich men that had this world’s goods, that they
should look to it that they were faithful stewards of what they
possessed, and that they might be found in good works, and might
not suffer their hearts so to cleave to uncertain riches, as to
neglect the service God had given them the things of this life
for: either to give them up when called for in a testimony of
his worthy name, or to communicate of them to those that were in
necessity.
‘Now as concerning the necessities of the poor, there is great
need of wisdom when ye meet together about that affair: for as
I said before, though the worthiness or unworthiness of persons
is not to be considered in judgment, yet in this it is; and you
will find some that God hath made poor, and some that have made
themselves poor, and some that others have made poor, which
must all have their several considerations; in which you ought
to labour to be unanimous, and not one to be taken up with an
affection to one person more than another; but every one to love
every one in the universal spirit, and then to deal out that love
in the outward manifestations thereof, according to the measure,
that the Lord in his wisdom working in you, shall measure forth
to them.
‘And as to those who by sickness, lameness, age, or other
impotency, are brought into poverty by the hand of Providence;
these are your peculiar care and objects pointed out to you, to
bestow your charity upon, for by them the Lord calls for it;
for as the earth is the Lord’s, and the fulness of it, he hath
by his sovereign power commanded in every dispensation, that a
part of what we enjoy from him, should be thus employed. The
Israelites were not to reap the corners of their fields, nor to
gather the gleanings of the corn nor vintage; it was for the
poor; and in the time of the gospel, they were to lay apart
on the First day of the week, a part of what God had blessed
them with, for the relief of those that were in necessity; nay,
they did not confine themselves in their charity to their own
meetings, but had an universal eye through the whole church of
Christ, and upon extraordinary occasions, sent their benevolence
to relieve the saints at Jerusalem in a time of need; and all
that keep in the guidance of the same universal Spirit, will
make it their business to be found in the same practice of
charity and good works. To do good, and communicate, forget not,
saith the apostle: so they that forget not this Christian duty
will find out the poor’s part in the corners and gleanings of
the profits of their trades and merchandisings, as well as the
old Israelite did the corners and gleanings of his field; and
in the distribution of it, will have a regard to comfort the
bowels of such, who are by the divine providence of God, put out
of a capacity of enjoying those outward comforts of health, and
strength and plenty, which others do enjoy; for while they are
partakers of the same faith, and walk in the way of righteousness
with you, submitting themselves patiently to the dispensation of
God’s providence towards them, they are of your household, and
under your care, both to visit and to relieve, as members of one
body, of which Christ Jesus is head; and he that giveth to such
poor, lendeth to the Lord, and he will repay it.
‘But there is another sort of poor, who make themselves poor
through their sloth and carelessness, and sometimes by their
wilfulness, being heady and high-minded, and taking things in
hand that are more than they can manage, and making a flourish
for a season, and then, through their own neglects, are plunged
down into great poverty. These are a sort the primitive churches
began to be troubled withal in the early days of the gospel;
for the apostle took notice of some that would not work at all,
and sharply reproved them, and said, they that would not work
should not eat; and these are commonly a sort of busy-bodies, and
meddlers with others’ matters, while they neglect their own, and
run into a worse way than the unbelievers, while they profess to
be believers, yet do not take a due care for those of their own
household.
‘The charity that is proper to such, is to give them admonition
and reproof, and to convince them of their sloth and negligence;
and if they submit to your reproof, and are willing to amend,
then care ought to be taken to help them into a way and means
to support themselves; and sometimes by a little help of this
kind, some have been reclaimed from the snares of their souls’
enemy: but if they will not receive your wholesome counsel and
admonitions, but kick against it, either in their words or
actions, friends will be clear of such in the sight of God; for
it is unreasonable to feed them that will not be ruled by you,
they break the obligation of society by their disorderly walking;
for our communion doth not stand only in frequenting meetings,
and hearing truth preached, but in answering the blessed
principle of truth, in life and conversation, and therein both
the rich and the poor have fellowship one with another.
‘There are another sort that are made poor by the oppressions and
cruelties of others. These oppressed poor cry loud in the ears
of the Almighty, and he will in his own time avenge their cause;
but in the meantime there is a tenderness to be extended to them,
not knowing how soon it may be our turn; and if there be need of
council and advice, or if any applications can be made to any
that are able to deliver them from the oppressors; in such cases
let all that are capable be ready and willing to advise, relieve,
and help the distressed; and this is an acceptable work of
charity, and a great comfort to such in their sharp afflictions,
and their souls will bless the instruments of their ease and
comfort.
‘And my dear friends, as God hath honoured you with so high and
holy a calling, to be his servants and workmen in this his great
and notable day, and to work together in his power, in setting
forth his praise and glory in the earth, and gathering together
in one the scattered seed in this and other nations; oh, let the
dignity of your calling provoke and encourage you to be diligent
attenders upon this work and service you are called to, and let
not your concerns in the world draw you from observing the times
and seasons appointed to meet together; but you that are elder,
set a good example to the younger sort, by a due observation of
the hour appointed, that they that come first one time, may not
by their long staying for others be discouraged, so as perhaps
they may be last another time; but when the time is come, leave
your business for the Lord’s work, and he will take care your
business shall not suffer, but will add a blessing upon it, which
will do more for you than the time can do that might be saved out
of his service.
‘And when you have to do with perverse, and froward, or
disorderly persons, whom ye have occasion to reprove, and to
rebuke for the truth’s sake, and you find them stout and high,
and reflecting upon you; then is a time for the Lamb’s meekness
to shine forth, and for you to feel your authority in the name
of Christ, to deal with such an one, and to wait for the pure
and peaceable wisdom from above, to bring down and confound the
earthly wisdom. And in this frame of mind you labour together
to pull the entangled sheep out of the thicket, and to restore
that which is gone astray, to the fold again, if you can; but
if you cannot, yet you save yourselves from the guilt of his
blood; and if such do perish, his blood will be on his own head:
but on the other hand, if ye suffer their perverse spirits to
enter, and their provocations to have a place in you, so as to
kindle your spirits into a heat of passion, then you get a hurt,
and are incapable to do them any good; but words will break out
that will need repentance, and the wicked will be stiffened
and strengthened thereby, and you miss the service that you
did really intend. Therefore, dearly beloved, keep upon your
watch, keep on your spiritual armour; keep your feet shod with
the preparation of the gospel of peace, and the God of peace
will be with you, and crown your endeavours with good success,
to your joy and comfort, and will bring up his power over your
adversaries and opposers more and more, to which many shall bow
and bend in your sight; and will bring shame and confusion upon
the rebellious, who harden their hearts and stiffen their necks
against the Lord, and his Christ, and kingdom; which he will
exalt in the earth, notwithstanding all that Satan, and all his
evil instruments can do to hinder the growth and progress of his
blessed truth; for of the increase of the government, and of the
peace of the kingdom of Christ, there shall be no end.
‘And now, friends, I have cleared my conscience of what lay upon
me for some time, to write by way of remembrance, and as the
exhortation of my life unto you, I remain travailing in spirit
for the welfare of Zion: and although the outward man decays,
yet in the inward man I am comforted, in beholding daily the
great things that our God hath done, and is still doing for those
that have their sole dependance upon him. So committing you to
the grace of God, for your director and preserver, in these and
all your several services unto which God hath called you, that
by the operations of his mighty power ye may be kept blameless
and unspotted of the world, to his honour and your comfort, and
to the universal comfort and edification of the church, that so
praises and thanksgivings may fill your hearts and mouths, your
families, and your meetings; for he is worthy who is our tower,
our support, the Lord of hosts, the King of saints, to whom be
glory, honour and renown, through this and all generations, for
ever and ever. Amen.
‘From your friend and brother, in the
communion and fellowship of the
gospel of peace and purity,
STEPHEN CRISP.’
London, the 15th of the 7th month,
1690.
1691.
Passing now by other matters of the year, we step to the next, being
that of 1691, about the beginning of which G. Fox departed this
life, who even in the last period thereof wrote much, and continued
laborious without fainting. The last epistle I find of his, was to his
friends and brethren in Ireland, who, because of the revolution and
troubles there, suffered much, chiefly, as I think, by the Papists; and
therefore in the said epistle he exhorted his friends to steadfastness.
This was in the month called January; and the next day, being the first
of the week, and the 11th of the said month, he went to the meeting
at Gracechurch-street, where he preached very effectually, treating
of many things with great power and clearness; and concluded with a
prayer. After which, the meeting ending, he went to Henry Gouldney’s,
in White-Hart court, near the meeting-house, where he said to some
that came with him, he thought he felt the cold strike to his heart,
as he came out of the meeting. Yet added, ‘I am glad I was here: now
I am clear; I am fully clear.’ When those friends that were with him
were withdrawn, he lay down in his clothes upon a bed, but soon rose
again; yet after a little time he lay down again, complaining still of
cold; and his strength decaying, he not long after undressed, and went
to bed, where he lay in much contentment and resignation, continuing
very sensible to the last. His distemper increasing, and perhaps
perceiving that his end was at hand, he recommended to some of his
friends that came to him after having been sent for, the spreading of
books containing the doctrine of truth. And to some others who came to
visit him in his illness, he said, ‘All is well, the seed of God reigns
over all, and over death itself. And though, continued he, I am weak in
the body, yet the power of God is over all, and the seed reigns over
all disorderly spirits.’ He used often, even in his preaching, when
he spoke of Christ, to call him the seed; wherefore those that were
with him very well knew what he meant when he spoke of the seed. Thus
he lay in a heavenly frame of mind, his spirit being wholly exercised
towards the Lord, and he grew weaker and weaker in body, until, on the
third day of the week, and of his sickness also, he piously departed
this life. About four or five hours before, being asked how he did, he
answered, ‘Do not heed, the power of the Lord is above all sickness and
death; the seed reigns, blessed be the Lord.’ And thus triumphing over
death, he departed from hence in peace, and slept sweetly on the 13th
of the month, anciently called January, for being as a door or entrance
into the new year, about ten o’clock at night, in the 67th year of his
age. His body was buried near Bunhill-fields, on the 16th of the said
month, the corpse being accompanied by great numbers of his friends,
and of other people also: for though he had had many enemies, yet he
had made himself also beloved of many.
He was tall of stature, and pretty big-bodied, yet very moderate in
meat and drink; neither did he yield much to sleep. He was a man of a
deep understanding, and of a discerning spirit: and though his words
were not always linked together by a neat grammatical connexion, and
his speech sometimes seemed abrupt, as with a kind of gap; yet he
expressed himself intelligently, and what was wanting in human wisdom,
was abundantly supplied with heavenly knowledge. He was of a quick
apprehension; and though his wit was not polished by human art, yet
he was ingenious; and in his prayers, which generally were not very
long, though powerful, appeared a decent gravity, mixed with an awful
reverence, to admiration. His qualities are at large set forth by
Thomas Ellwood, an eminent author, who having much conversed with him,
gave the following character of him. ‘He was indeed an heavenly-minded
man, zealous for the name of the Lord, and preferred the honour of God
before all things. He was valiant for the truth, bold in asserting
it, patient in suffering for it, unwearied in labouring in it, steady
in his testimony to it, immoveable as a rock. Deep he was in divine
knowledge, clear in opening heavenly mysteries, plain and powerful
in preaching, fervent in prayer. He was richly endued with heavenly
wisdom, quick in discerning, sound in judgment: able and ready in
giving, discreet in keeping counsel; a lover of righteousness; an
encourager of virtue, justice, temperance, meekness, purity, chastity,
modesty, and self-denial in all, both by word and example. Graceful he
was in countenance, manly in personage, grave in gesture, courteous in
conversation, weighty in communication, instructive in discourse; free
from affectation in speech and carriage. A severe reprover of hard and
obstinate sinners; a mild and gentle admonisher of such as were tender
and sensible of their failings. Not apt to resent personal wrongs;
easy to forgive injuries: but zealously earnest, where the honour of
God, the prosperity of truth, the peace of the church, were concerned.
Very tender, compassionate and pitiful he was to all that were under
any sort of affliction; full of brotherly love, full of fatherly care;
for indeed the care of the churches of Christ was daily upon him, the
prosperity and peace whereof he studiously sought.’ Yet more is said
of him to his praise, both by the said Thomas Ellwood and others, but
I will not detain my reader any longer therewith. His wife, about six
months before his death, came to him at London, and being glad of his
health, which then was better than some time before, she, after some
stay in the said city, returned home well satisfied, leaving him at
London, where his general service to the church seemed to be then most
requisite. After his decease an epistle was found, which was written
with his own hand, and left sealed up with this superscription, ‘Not to
be opened before the time.’ What this signified, seemed to be a riddle,
but he being now deceased, it was judged to be the time to open this
letter, which was directed to his friends, and was as followeth:
‘_For the yearly and second-day’s-meeting in London, and to
all the children of God in all places in the world.
By and from G. Fox._
‘This for all the children of God every where, that are led by
his spirit, and do walk in his light, in which they have life,
and unity, and fellowship with the Father and the Son, and one
with another.
‘Keep all your meetings in the name of the Lord Jesus, that
be gathered in his name, by his light, grace, truth, power
and spirit; by which you will feel his blessed and refreshing
presence among you, and in you, to your comfort and God’s glory.
‘And now all friends, all your meetings, both men’s and women’s,
monthly and quarterly, and yearly, &c. were set up by the power,
and spirit, and wisdom of God: and in them you do know that you
have felt both his power, and spirit, and wisdom, and blessed
refreshing spirit amongst you, and in you, to his praise and
glory, and your comfort: so that you have been a city set on a
hill, that cannot be hid.
‘And although many loose and unruly spirits have risen betimes
to oppose you and them, both in print and other ways; but you
have seen how they have come to nought; and the Lord hath blasted
them, and brought their deeds to light, and made them manifest
to be the trees without fruit, and wells without water, and
wandering stars from the firmament of God’s power, and the raging
waves of the sea, casting up their mire and dirt: and many of
them are like the dog turned to his old vomit, and the sow that
was washed, turned again to the mire. And this hath been the
condition of many, God knoweth, and his people.
‘And therefore all stand steadfast in Christ Jesus your head, in
whom you are all one, male and female, and know his government,
and of the increase of his government and peace there shall be
no end; but there will be an end of the devil’s, and of all
them that be out of Christ, and do oppose it and him, whose
judgment doth not linger, and their damnation doth not slumber:
and therefore in God’s and Christ’s light, life, spirit and
power live and walk, that is over all, (and the seed of it,) in
love and in innocency, and in simplicity; and righteousness and
holiness dwell, and in his power and Holy Ghost, in which God’s
kingdom doth stand. All children of new and heavenly Jerusalem,
that is from above, and is free, with all her holy, spiritual
children, to her keep your eyes.
‘And as for this spirit of rebellion and opposition, that hath
risen formerly and lately; it is out of the kingdom of God and
heavenly Jerusalem; and is for judgment and condemnation, with
all its books, words and works. And therefore friends are to live
and walk in the power and spirit of God, that is over it, and
in the seed, that will bruise and break it to pieces: in which
seed you have joy and peace with God, and power and authority to
judge it; and your unity is in the power and spirit of God, that
doth judge it; and all God’s witnesses in his tabernacle go out
against it, and always have and will.
‘And let no man live to self, but to the Lord, as they will die
in him; and seek the peace of the church of Christ, and the peace
of all men in him: for blessed are the peace-makers. And dwell
in the pure, peaceable, heavenly wisdom of God, that is gentle
and easy to be intreated, that is full of mercy; all striving
to be of one mind, heart, soul, and judgment in Christ, having
his mind and spirit dwelling in you, building up one another in
the love of God, which doth edify the body of Christ, his church,
who is the holy head thereof. So glory to God through Christ, in
this age, and all other ages, who is the rock and foundation, and
the Immanuel, God with us, Amen, over all, the beginning and the
ending; in him live and walk, in whom you have life eternal, in
whom you will feel me, and I you.
‘All children of new Jerusalem, that descends from above, the
holy city, which the Lord and the Lamb is the light thereof,
and is the temple: in it they are born again of the spirit: so
Jerusalem that is above is the mother of them that are born of
the spirit. And so they that come, and are come, to heavenly
Jerusalem, are them that receive Christ; and he giveth them power
to become the sons of God, and are born again of the spirit: so
Jerusalem that is above, is their mother. And such do come to
heavenly mount Sion, and the innumerable company of angels, and
to the spirits of just men made perfect; and are come to the
church of the living God, written in heaven, and have the name
of God, and the city of God written upon them: so here is a new
mother, that bringeth forth a heavenly and a spiritual generation.
‘There is no schism, nor division, nor contention, nor strife, in
heavenly Jerusalem, nor in the body of Christ, which is made up
of living stones, a spiritual house. And Christ is not divided,
for in him there is peace. Christ saith, in me you have peace.
And he is from above, and not of this world; but in the world
below, in the spirit of it, there is trouble: therefore keep in
Christ, and walk in him, Amen.
G. F.’
‘Jerusalem was the mother of all true Christians before the
apostacy; and since, the outward Christians are broken into many
sects, and they have gotten many mothers; but all they that are
come out of the apostacy by the power and spirit of Christ,
Jerusalem that is above, is their mother, and none below her; who
doth nourish all her spiritual children.
G. F.’
Read at the Yearly Meeting in London,
1691.
This year I find that William Goodridge, of Banwell, in Somersetshire,
was released from prison, where he had been confined about thirteen
years. He had been premunired for refusing to take the oath: and his
goods, whereof the moveables were rated at about two hundred and
forty-four pounds, and the real estate counted worth sixty pounds per
annum, were confiscated. Thus to suffer spoil of goods hath been the
lot of many others, and among these was Benjamin Brown, an ancient man,
of Brownish in Suffolk, who also, for not taking the oath, was stripped
of all, so that his wife and child were fain to lie on the floor
without a bed.
1692.
Now time calls me to say something of the apostacy of George Keith,
who being in Pennsylvania, made a great bustle there. He was a witty
person, and esteemed very learned; and at the university obtained the
degree of master of arts. He often also gave proofs of an high soaring
knowledge, and was very ready to show from philosophy the reasons and
causes of many things in the creation; but the doctrine of Francis
Mercurius, baron of Helmont, concerning the transmigration of souls,
became so palatable to him, that he not only in some manner approved
it, but also was believed to be concerned in the book containing two
hundred queries about that matter, a great part of which, as I have
been informed, he acknowledged to have been put in writing by himself,
though it appeared in public without the author’s name. But this notion
meeting with no acceptance among the Quakers, his love to them began to
abate; and his discontent increased, because two persons, who opposed
him, had, as he said, used some unwarrantable expressions, and were
not so sharply reproved, as he, who was of a fiery temper, desired. He
accused them that they had said, that the light within was sufficient
to salvation, without any thing else. From whence he endeavoured to
prove, that they excluded the man Jesus Christ, as not necessary to
salvation; but they denied this to be their doctrine.
He afterwards said of William Stockdell, one of those two persons at
Philadelphia in Pennsylvania, that he had charged him G. K. to have
preached two Christs, because he preached faith in Christ within, and
in Christ without us. Now though Stockdell would not allow this to be
true, and some of the hearers also denied it, though asserted by two
others of his party, yet G. Keith blew the fire of this quarrel, and so
got some adherents. He also charged the deputy-governor, Thomas Lloyd,
to have said, that faith in Christ without us, as he died for our sins,
and rose again, was not necessary to our salvation. But others said,
that the words were not so, and that the matter was not fairly stated;
since the question was not, whether faith in Christ without us, as he
died for our sins, and rose again, was not necessary to our salvation;
but whether that faith were indispensably necessary to all mankind, and
that none could be saved without it, though they had not the means,
opportunity, or capacity to know or receive it. Which being asserted,
it was thought that such a position did not only exclude from salvation
whole nations, but also infants, and deaf and dumb persons. Better had
it been that such questions never had been started, for a passionate
maintaining of a different position often breeds strife and contention.
But G. Keith, with some others, having now separated themselves from
the society, he said his dissatisfaction was only with some unsound
Quakers in America; but he was in unity with all faithful friends in
England.
And now he began to behave himself very disrespectfully, and was on
that account sharply reproved by the aforesaid Thomas Lloyd; to whom
he did not stick to speak in a reproachful way, charging him with
impudence, and saying, that he was unfit to be a governor, and that
his name should stink, &c. And because some members of the council did
not expect to be better treated by him, since he had called one of the
magistrates impudent rascal; this was much resented, and the more,
because G. Keith having drawn in a printer, published a paper, wherein
he not only scandalously slandered the diligence of the magistrates
in restraining of robbers, but also the judicial proceedings against
murderers. And seeing several Mennonites of the county of Meurs lived
also in Pennsylvania, it was not much to be wondered, that they who
count it unlawful for a Christian to bear the sword of magistracy, did
stick to him; and to get adherents seemed the main thing he aimed at;
for he himself was not trained up under such a notion, but in the
doctrine of the kirk of Scotland. The consequence of this case was,
that Keith and one Thomas Budd, who, with him, had been compiler of
the aforesaid paper, were fined for it; but yet the government was so
moderate, that the fine was never exacted: and for all that G. Keith
did not stick to make a great clamour of his sufferings; and about two
years after he came into England, to make his complaint to the church
at London.
This year in the month called August, Stephen Crisp deceased near
London. He had long been weak in body, and was much afflicted with the
stone, performing nevertheless his ministry of the gospel; and his
service was very acceptable, because he had a gift beyond many, being
not only sound in doctrine and judgment, but grave and elegant in his
utterance, and well qualified for convincing his hearers, and to touch
them to the heart; so that he generally met with a great concourse of
people. Four days before his decease, lying sick in bed, and being
under great pain, he was visited by G. Whitehead, to whom he said in
substance, ‘I see an end of mortality, and yet cannot come at it; I
desire the Lord to deliver me out of this painful body: if he will
but say the word, it is done: yet there is no cloud in my way. I have
a full assurance of my peace with God in Christ Jesus; my integrity
and uprightness of heart is known to the Lord; and I have peace and
justification in Jesus Christ, who made me so.’ The day before his
departure, G. Whitehead being come again to see him, found him in
a dying state and almost speechless; yet he was understood to say,
‘I hope, I am gathering, I hope, I hope.’ G. Whitehead near parting
from him, asked him whether he had any thing to his friends; to which
he gave this answer, ‘Remember my dear love in Jesus Christ to all
friends.’ The next day, being the 28th of the aforesaid month, he died
at Wandsworth, about five miles from London. Many of his sermons taken
in short hand from his mouth are published in print, and give proofs of
his having been indeed an able minister of the gospel.
In this year died also Catharine Evans, who, as hath been mentioned
here before, had been long imprisoned at Malta. She had suffered much
for her religion; and in the year 1657, having at Salisbury exhorted
the people to repentance, this so incensed the magistrates, that
by order of Henry Ditton, justice, and Robert Good, mayor, she was
stripped, and fastened to the whipping-post in the market, and then
whipped. Afterwards coming thither again, and speaking to the people in
the market, by way of admonition, she was sent to Bridewell, and put
into a dark nasty place. After her return from Malta, imprisonment fell
to her share several times; once at Welchpool in Montgomeryshire in the
year 1666, for refusing to swear; and several years after she was also
imprisoned at Bristol. And after many adversities and great sufferings,
having lived to a great age, she died, and so entered into everlasting
rest.
1693.
Now I return again to George Keith, who appeared in the annual assembly
at London, anno 1694, but there he showed himself so passionate and
boisterous, that no means could be found to compose the difference.
Yet he seemed to get adherents among some of the Separatists about
London: but these also soon growing weary of him, he got a place called
Turner’s-hall to preach in. Here at first he had a great concourse of
people, since novelties generally beget curiosity. But he from time
to time more and more courting those of the church of England, and
falling in with the Episcopalians, began to lose his esteem among
people of other persuasions, especially when at length he entirely
conformed to that church, which formerly in print he had zealously
attacked: but in process of time he took a gown, and was ordained to
be a preacher. After which he sometimes preached with the surplice on,
which in all probability he would have abhorred before ever he joined
with the Quakers; for he had been a member of the Presbyterian kirk of
Scotland, which always hath been a zealous opposer of the episcopal
ceremonies. And since he had contradicted that, which formerly he had
asserted and defended in good earnest; and charged the Quakers with a
belief, which they never had owned to be theirs, they found themselves
obliged publicly, to set forth their faith anew in print, which they
had often before asserted both in words and writing, thereby to
manifest that their belief was really orthodox, and agreeable with the
Holy Scriptures. This they did by the following representation, which
in the year 1693, came forth in print at London, as follows, with this
title.
_The Christian Doctrine, and Society of the People called
Quakers, cleared, &c._
‘Whereas, divers accounts have been lately published in print,
of some late division and disputes between some persons under
the name of Quakers in Pennsylvania, about several fundamental
doctrines of the Christian faith, (as is pretended by one party,)
which being particularly mentioned, and thereupon occasion very
unduly taken by our adversaries, to reproach both the Christian
ministry, and whole body of the people commonly called Quakers,
and their holy and Christian profession, both in England and
elsewhere, though no ways concerned in the said division or
matters charged, but rather grieved and troubled at it, and at
the indiscreet and reproachful management thereof in print,
to the amusing and troubling the world therewith, and giving
occasion to the loose, ignorant, and profane, to slight and
contemn the truth, and the interest of the tender religion of our
Lord Jesus Christ:
‘We are, therefore, tenderly concerned for truth’s sake, in
behalf of the said people, (as to the body of them, and for
all of them who are sincere to God, and faithful to their
Christian principle and profession,) to use our just endeavours
to remove the reproach, and all causeless jealousies concerning
us, touching those doctrines of Christianity, or any of them
pretended, or supposed, to be in question in the said division;
in relation whereunto we do in the fear of God, and in simplicity
and plainness of his truth received, solemnly and sincerely
declare what our Christian belief and profession has been, and
still is, in respect to Jesus Christ the only begotten Son of
God, his suffering, death, resurrection, glory, light, power,
great day of judgment, &c.
‘We sincerely profess faith in God by his only begotten Son Jesus
Christ, as being our light and life, our only way to the Father,
and also our only mediator and advocate with the Father.[53]
[53] 1 John ii. 2. John xvi. 6. 1 Tim. ii. 5.
‘That God created all things, he made the worlds, by his Son
Jesus Christ, he being that powerful and living Word of God by
whom all things were made;[54] and that the Father, the Word,
and Holy Spirit are one, in Divine Being inseparable; one true,
living and eternal God, blessed for ever.[55]
[54] Eph. iii. 9. John i. 1, 2, 3. Heb. i. 2.
[55] 1 John v. 7.
‘Yet that this Word, or Son of God, in the fulness of time, took
flesh, became perfect man, according to the flesh, descended and
came of the seed of Abraham and David,[56] but was miraculously
conceived by the Holy Ghost, and born of the Virgin Mary.[57] And
also further, declared powerfully to be the Son of God, according
to the spirit of sanctification, by the resurrection from the
dead.[58]
[56] Rom. i. 3, 4.
[57] Mat. i. 25.
[58] Rom. i. 3, 4.
‘That in the Word, (or Son of God,) was life, and the same life
was the light of men; and that he was that true light which
enlightens every man coming into the world;[59] and therefore
that men are to believe in the light, that they may become the
children of the light;[60] hereby we believe in Christ the Son of
God, as he is the light and life within us; and wherein we must
needs have sincere respect and honour to, and believe in, Christ,
as in his own unapproachable and incomprehensible glory and
fulness:[61] as he is the fountain of life and light, and giver
thereof unto us; Christ, as in himself, and as in us, being not
divided. And that as man, Christ died for our sins, rose again,
and was received up into glory in the heavens.[62] He having, in
his dying for all, been that one great universal offering, and
sacrifice for peace, atonement and reconciliation between God and
man;[63] and he is the propitiation not for our sins only, but
for the sins of the whole world.[64] We were reconciled by his
death, but saved by his life.
[59] John i. 4, 9.
[60] John xii. 36. Isa. ii. 5.
[61] 1 Tim. vi. 16.
[62] 1 Pet. iii. 18. 1 Tim. iii. 16. Mat. xix. 28. and xxv.
31. Luke ix. 26. and xxiv. 26.
[63] Rom. v. 10, 11. Heb. ii. 17, 18. Eph. ii. 16, 17. Col.
i. 20, 21, 22.
[64] 1 John ii. 2. 2 Cor. v. 14, 15. Heb. ii. 9.
‘That Jesus Christ, who sitteth at the right hand of the throne
of the majesty in the heavens, yet he is our king, high-priest,
and prophet,[65] in his church, a minister of the sanctuary, and
of the true tabernacle which the Lord pitched, and not man.[66]
He is intercessor and advocate with the Father in heaven, and
there appearing in the presence of God for us,[67] being touched
with the feeling of our infirmities, sufferings and sorrows.
And also by his spirit in our hearts, he maketh intercession
according to the will of God, crying, Abba, Father.[68]
[65] Zech. ix. 9. Luke xix. 38. John xii. 15. Heb. iii. 1.
Deut. xviii. 15, 18. Acts iii. 22. and vii. 37.
[66] Heb. viii. 1, 2.
[67] Heb. vii. 25. Heb. ix. 24.
[68] Rom. viii. 26, 27, 34. Gal. iv. 6.
‘For any whom God hath gifted,[69] and called sincerely to
preach faith in the same Christ, both as within and without us,
cannot be to preach two Christs, but one and the same Lord Jesus
Christ,[70] having respect to those degrees of our spiritual
knowledge of Christ Jesus in us,[71] and to his own unspeakable
fulness and glory,[72] as in himself, in his own entire being,
wherein Christ himself and the least measure of his light or
life, as in us or in mankind, are not divided nor separable,
no more than the sun is from its light. And as he ascended far
above all heavens, that he might fill all things,[73] his fulness
cannot be comprehended, or contained in any finite creature;[74]
but in some measure known and experienced in us, as we are
capable to receive the same, as of his fulness we have received
grace for grace. Christ our Mediator, received the spirit, not
by measure,[75] but in fulness; but to every one of us is given
grace, according to the measure of his gift.[76]
[69] Eph. iii. 7. 1 Pet. iv. 10.
[70] 1 Cor. viii. 6.
[71] John xv. 26. and xvi. 13, 14, 15.
[72] John i. 16.
[73] Eph. iv. 10.
[74] Col. i. 19. and ii. 9.
[75] John iii. 34.
[76] Eph. iv. 7.
‘That the gospel of the grace of God should be preached in the
name of the Father, Son, and Holy Ghost,[77] being one[78] in
power, wisdom, and goodness, and indivisible, or not to be
divided, in the great work of man’s salvation.
[77] Mat. xxviii. 19.
[78] John i. 1, 2, 3, 4.
‘We sincerely confess and believe in Jesus Christ, both as he is
true God and perfect man,[79] and that he is the author of our
living faith in the power and goodness of God, as manifested in
his Son Jesus Christ, and by his own blessed spirit, or divine
unction, revealed in us,[80] whereby we inwardly feel and taste
of his goodness,[81] life, and virtue; so as our souls live and
prosper by and in him: and the inward sense of this divine power
of Christ, and faith in the same, and this inward experience,
is absolutely necessary to make a true, sincere, and perfect
Christian, in spirit and life.
[79] John i. 1, 2. Rom ix. 5. 1 John v. 20. 1 Tim. ii. 5.
[80] 1 John ii. 20. 27.
[81] 1 Pet. ii. 3. John vi. 33. 35. 51. 57, 58.
‘That divine honour and worship is due to the Son of God;[82]
and that he is, in true faith to be prayed unto, and the name of
the Lord Jesus Christ called upon, as the primitive Christians
did,[83] because of the glorious union or oneness of the Father
and the Son;[84] and that we cannot acceptably offer up prayers
and praises to God, nor receive a gracious answer or blessing
from God, but in and through his dear Son Christ.
[82] John v. 23. Heb. i. 6.
[83] 1 Cor. i. 2. Acts vii. 59.
[84] John x. 30. 1 John v.
‘That Christ’s body that was crucified was not the godhead,
yet by the power of God was raised from the dead; and that the
same Christ that was therein crucified, ascended into heaven
and glory,[85] is not questioned by us. His flesh saw no
corruption,[86] it did not corrupt; but yet doubtless his body
was changed into a more glorious[87] and heavenly condition than
it was in when subject to divers sufferings on earth; but how and
what manner of change it met withal after it was raised from the
dead, so as to become such a glorious body, as it is declared
to be, is too wonderful for mortals to conceive, to apprehend
or pry into, and more meet for angels to see: the scripture is
silent therein, as to the manner thereof, and we are not curious
to inquire or dispute it; nor do we esteem it necessary to make
ourselves wise above[88] what is written as to the manner or
condition of Christ’s glorious body, as in heaven; no more than
to inquire how Christ appeared in divers manners or forms;[89] or
how he came in among his disciples, the doors being shut;[90] or
how he vanished out of their sight after he was risen. However,
we have cause to believe his body, as in heaven, is changed into
a most glorious condition, far transcending what it was in on
earth, otherwise how could our low body be changed, so as to be
made like unto his glorious body;[91] for when he was on earth,
and attended with sufferings, he was said to be like unto us in
all things, sins only excepted;[92] which may not be so said of
him as now in a state of glory, as he prayed for;[93] otherwise
where would be the change both in him and us?
[85] Luke xxiv. 26.
[86] Psal. xvi. 10. Acts ii. 31. and xiii. 35. 37.
[87] Phil. iii. 21.
[88] 1 Cor. iv. 6.
[89] John xx. 15.
[90] John xx. 29. Luke xxiv. 36, 37, and xxiv. 31.
[91] Phil. iii. 21.
[92] Heb. ii. 17, and iv. 15.
[93] John xxii. 5.
‘True and living faith in Christ Jesus the Son of the living
God,[94] has respect to his entire being and fulness, to him
entirely as in himself, and as all power in heaven and earth is
given unto him;[95] and also an eye and respect to the same Son
of God[96] as inwardly making himself known to the soul, in every
degree of his light, life, spirit, grace, and truth; and as he
is both the word of faith, and a quickening spirit in us;[97]
whereby he is the immediate cause, author, object, and strength
of our living faith in his name and power; and of the work of our
salvation from sin and bondage of corruption: and the Son of God
cannot be divided from the least or lowest appearance of his own
divine light, or life in us or in mankind, no more than the sun
from its own light: nor is the sufficiency of his light within by
us set up in opposition to him the man Christ, or his fulness,
considered as in himself, as without us; nor can any measure
or degree of light, received from Christ, as such, be properly
called the fulness of Christ, or Christ as in fulness, nor
exclude him, so considered, from being our complete Saviour; for
Christ himself to be our light, our life, and Saviour,[98] is so
consistent, that without this light we could not know life, nor
him to save us from sin or deliver us from darkness, condemnation
or wrath to come: and where the least degree or measure of this
light and life of Christ within is sincerely waited in, followed
and obeyed; there is a blessed increase of light and grace known
and felt; as the path of the just it shines more and more, until
the perfect day;[99] and thereby a growing in grace, and in the
knowledge of God, and of our Lord and Saviour Jesus Christ,
hath been, and is truly experienced. And this light, life, or
spirit of Christ within, (for they are one divine principle,)
is sufficient to lead unto all truth; having in it the divers
ministrations both of judgment and mercy, both of law and gospel,
even that gospel which is preached in every intelligent creature
under heaven: it does not only, as in its first ministration,
manifest sin, and reprove and condemn for sin; but also excites
and leads them that believe in it to true repentance; and
thereupon to receive that mercy, pardon, and redemption in Christ
Jesus, which he hath obtained for mankind in those gospel terms
of faith in his name, true repentance and conversion to Christ,
thereby required.
[94] John xvi. 1.
[95] Mat. xxviii. 18, and xi. 27. John xvii. 2. Heb. ii. 8.
[96] John xiv. 23, and xvii. 21, 22, 23, 24, 26.
[97] 1 Cor. xv. 45. Rom x. 7, 8.
[98] John i. 4. 9, and iii. 19, 20, and xii. 35, 36, 46, and viii. 12.
[99] Prov. iv. 18. Psal. xxxvi. 9.
‘So that the light and life of the Son of God within, truly
obeyed, and followed, as being the principle of the second or
new covenant, as Christ the light is confessed to be, even as he
is the seed or word of faith in all men, this does not leave men
or women, who believe in the light, under the first covenant,
nor as the sons of the bond-woman, as the literal Jews were,
when gone from the Spirit of God, and his Christ in them; but it
naturally leads them into the new covenant, in the new and living
way, and to the adoption of sons, to be children and sons of the
freewoman, of Jerusalem from above.
‘It is true, that we ought not to lay aside, nor any way to
undervalue, but highly to esteem, true preaching and the holy
scriptures; and the sincere belief and faith of Christ, as he
died for our sins, and rose again for our justification; together
with Christ’s inward and spiritual appearance, and work of
grace in the soul; livingly to open the mystery of his death,
and perfectly to effect our reconciliation, sanctification,
and justification; and wherever Christ qualifies and calls any
to preach and demonstrate the mystery of his coming, death,
and resurrection, &c. even among the Gentiles, Christ ought
accordingly to be both preached, believed, and received.
‘Yet supposing there have been, or are such pious and
conscientious Gentiles, in whom Christ was and is as the seed
or principle of the second or new covenant, the light, the
word of faith, as is granted; and that such live uprightly and
faithfully to that light they have, or to what is made known
of God in them, and who therefore in that state cannot perish,
but shall be saved, as is also confessed; and supposing these
have not the outward advantage of preaching, scripture, or
thence the knowledge of Christ’s outward coming, being outwardly
crucified and risen from the dead; can such, thus considered,
be justly excluded Christianity, or the covenant of grace, as
to the virtue, life, and nature thereof, or truly deemed no
Christians, or void of any Christian faith in the life and power
of the Son of God within, or be only sons of the first covenant,
and bond-woman, like the literal outside Jews; or must all be
excluded any true knowledge or faith of Christ within them,
unless they have the knowledge of Christ as without them? No
sure! for that would imply insufficiency in Christ and his light,
as within them, and to frustrate God’s good end and promise of
Christ, and his free and universal love and grace to mankind,
in sending his Son. We charitably believe the contrary, that
they must have some true faith and interest in Christ and his
mediation, because of God’s free love in Christ to all mankind,
and Christ’s dying for all men,[100] and being given for a light
of the Gentiles, and for salvation to the ends of the earth;[101]
and because of their living up sincerely and faithfully to his
light in them--their being pious, conscientious, accepted and
saved, as is granted. We cannot reasonably think a sincere,
pious, or godly man, wholly void of Christianity, of what nation
soever he be, because none can come to God or godliness but
by Christ,[102] by his light and grace in them: yet we grant
if there be such pious, sincere men or women, as have not the
scripture or knowledge of Christ, as outwardly crucified, &c.
they are not perfect Christians in all perfections, as in all
knowledge and understanding, all points of doctrine, outward
profession of Christ; so that they are better than they profess
or pretend to be; they are more Jews inward, and Christians
inward, than in outward show or profession. These are Christians
sincere and perfect in kind or nature, in life and substance,
though not in knowledge and understanding. A man or woman having
the life and fruits of true Christianity, the fruits of the
Spirit of Christ in them, that can talk little thereof, or of
creeds, points, or articles of faith, yea many that cannot read
letters, yet may be true Christians in spirit and life; and some
could die for Christ, that could not dispute for him; and even
infants that die in innocency, are not excluded the grace of God,
or salvation in and by Christ Jesus, the image and nature of the
Son of God, being in some measure in them, and they under God’s
care and special Providence. See Matt. xviii. 2. 10.
[100] 2 Cor. v. 14, 15.
[101] Isa. xlix. 6. Luke ii. 32. Acts xiii. 47.
[102] John xiv. 6.
‘And though we had the holy Scriptures of the Old and New
Testament, and a belief of Christ crucified and risen, &c. we
never truly knew the mystery thereof, until we were turned to
the light of his grace and spirit within us: we knew not what it
was to be reconciled by his death, and saved by his life; or what
it was to know the fellowship of his sufferings, the power of his
resurrection, or to be made conformable unto his death, we knew
not, until he opened our eyes, and turned our minds from darkness
unto his own divine life and light within us.
‘Notwithstanding, we do sincerely and greatly value the holy
Scriptures, preaching and teaching of faithful, divinely
inspired, gifted, and qualified persons, and ministers of Jesus
Christ, as being great outward helps, and instrumental in his
hand, and by his spirit, for conversion, where God is pleased
to afford those outward helps and means; as that we neither
do nor may oppose the sufficiency of the light or Spirit of
Christ within, to such outward helps or means, so as to reject,
disesteem, or undervalue them; for they all proceed from the same
light and spirit, and tend to turn men’s minds thereunto, and all
centre therein.
‘Nor can the holy Scriptures or true preaching without, be justly
set in opposition to the light or Spirit of God or Christ within;
for his faithful messengers are ministers thereof, being sent to
turn people to the same light and spirit in them, Acts xxvi. 18.
Rom. xiii. 2. 2 Cor. iv. 6. 1 Pet. ii. 9. 1 John ii. 8.
‘It is certain, that great is the mystery of godliness in itself,
in its own being and excellency: namely, that God should be and
was manifest in the flesh, justified in the spirit, seen of
angels, preached unto the Gentiles, believed on in the world, and
received up into glory.
‘And it is a great and precious mystery of godliness and
Christianity also, that Christ should be spiritually and
effectually in men’s hearts, to save and deliver them from sin,
Satan, and bondage of corruption, Christ being thus revealed in
true believers, and dwelling in their hearts by faith, Christ
within the hope of glory, our light and life, who of God is made
unto wisdom, righteousness, sanctification, and redemption, 1
Cor. i. 30. And therefore this mystery of godliness, but as in
its own being and glory, and also as in men, (in many hid, and in
some revealed,) hath been and must be testified, preached, and
believed; where God is pleased to give commission, and prepare
people’s hearts for the same, and not in man’s wills.
‘Concerning the resurrection of the dead, and the great day of
judgment yet to come, beyond the grave, or after death, and
Christ’s coming without us, to judge the quick and the dead, (as
divers questions are put in such terms,) what the holy Scriptures
plainly declare and testify in these matters, we have great
reason to credit, and not to question, and have been always ready
to embrace, with respect to Christ and his apostles own testimony
and prophecies.
‘1. For the doctrine of the resurrection; if in this life
only we have hope in Christ, we are of all men the most
miserable, 1 Cor. xv. 19. We sincerely believe, not only a
resurrection in Christ from the fallen sinful state here, but
a rising and ascending into glory with him hereafter; that
when he at last appears, we may appear with him in glory,
Col. iii. 4. 1 John iii. 2.
‘But that all the wicked who live in rebellion against the
light of grace, and die finally impenitent, shall come forth
to the resurrection of condemnation.
‘And that the soul or spirit of every man and woman shall be
reserved in its own distinct and proper being, (so as there
shall be as many souls in the world to come as in this,)
and every seed, yea every soul, shall have its proper body,
as God is pleased to give it, 1 Cor. xv. A natural body is
sown, a spiritual body is raised; that being first which is
natural, and afterward that which is spiritual. And though it
is said, this corruptible shall put on incorruption, and this
mortal shall put on immortality; the change shall be such as
flesh and blood cannot inherit the kingdom of God, neither
doth corruption inherit incorruption, 1 Cor. xv. We shall be
raised out of all corruption and corruptibility, out of all
mortality; and the children of God and of the resurrection,
shall be equal to the angels of God in heaven.[103]
[103] Matt. xxii. 30. Mark xii. 25. Luke xx. 36.
‘And as the celestial bodies do far excel terrestrial, so
we expect our spiritual bodies in the resurrection, shall
far excel what our bodies now are; and we hope that none can
justly blame us for thus expecting better bodies than now
they are. Howbeit, we esteem it very unnecessary to dispute
or question how the dead are raised, or with what body they
come: but rather submit that to the wisdom and pleasure of
the Almighty God.
‘2. For the doctrine of eternal judgment;
‘God hath committed all judgment unto his Son Jesus Christ;
and he is both judge of quick and dead, and of the states and
ends of all mankind, John v. 22. 27. Acts x. 42. 2 Tim. iv.
1. 1 Pet. iv. 5.
‘That there shall be hereafter a great harvest, which is the
end of the world, a great day of judgment, and the judgment
of that great day, the holy Scripture is clear, Mat. xiii.
39, 40, 41, ch. x. 15, and xi. 24. Jude 6. “When the Son of
Man cometh in his glory, and all the holy angels with him,
then shall he sit upon the throne of his glory, and before
him shall be gathered all nations, &c.” Matt. xxv. 31, 32,
to the end, compared with ch. xxii. 31. Mark viii. 38. Luke
ix. 26, and 1 Cor. xv. 52. 2 Thes. i. 7, 8, to the end, and 1
Thes. iv. 16. Rev. xx. 12, 13, 14, 15.
‘That this blessed heavenly man, this Son of Man, who hath
so deeply suffered and endured so many great indignities
and persecutions from his adversaries, both to himself and
his members and brethren, should at last, even in the last
and great day, signally and manifestly appear in glory and
triumph, attended with all his glorious heavenly host and
retinue before all nations, before all his enemies, and those
that have denied him; this will be to their great terror and
amazement, that this most glorious heavenly man, and his
brethren, that have been so much contemned and set at naught,
should be thus exalted over their enemies and persecutors,
in glory and triumph, is a righteous thing with God; and
that they that suffer with him, should appear with him in
glory and dignity when he thus appears at last. Christ was
judge of the world, and the prince thereof, when on earth,
John ix. 39. and xii. 31. He is still judge of the world,
the wickedness, and prince thereof, by his light, spirit,
and gospel in men’s hearts and consciences, John xvi. 8. 11.
Matt. xii. 20. Isa. xlii. 1. Rom. ii. 16. 1 Pet. iv. 6. And
he will be the judge and final determiner thereof in that
great day appointed; God having appointed a day wherein he
will judge the world in righteousness by that man whom he
hath ordained. Christ foretold it shall be more tolerable
for them of the land of Sodom and Gomorrah in the day of
judgment, than for that city or people that would not receive
his messengers or ministers, &c. Matt. x. 15. and see chap.
xi. 24. and Mark vi. 11. Luke x. 12. 14. It is certain that
God knows how to deliver the godly out of all their trials
and afflictions, and at last to bring them forth, and raise
them up into glory with Christ; so he knoweth also how to
reserve the unjust and finally impenitent unto the day of
judgment to be punished, 2 Pet. ii. 9. He will bring them
forth unto the day of destruction, Job xxi. 30. The Lord can
and will reserve such impenitent, presumptuous and rebellious
criminals, as bound under chains of darkness, as were the
fallen angels, unto the judgment of the great day, Jude 6.
Matt. xxv. 30. It is not for us to determine or dispute the
manner how they shall be so reserved; but leave it to God; he
knows how.’
_A Postscript relating to the doctrine of the Resurrection
and eternal Judgment._
‘At the last trump of God, and the voice of the archangel, the
dead shall be raised incorruptible, the dead in Christ shall rise
first, 1 Cor. xv. 52. 1 Thes. iv. 16. compared with Matt. xxiv.
31.
‘Many are often alarmed in conscience here by the word and voice
of God, who stop their ears and slight those warnings, but the
great and final alarm of the last trumpet, they cannot stop their
ears against, nor escape, it will unavoidably seize upon, and
further awaken them finally to judgment. They that will not be
alarmed in their consciences, unto repentance, nor out of their
sins here, must certainly be alarmed to judgment hereafter.
‘Whosoever do now wilfully shut their eyes, hate, contemn, or
shun the light of Christ, or his appearance within, shall at last
be made to see, and not be able to shun or hide themselves from
his glorious and dreadful appearance from heaven with his mighty
angels, as with lightning and flaming fire, to render vengeance
on all them that know not God, and obey not the gospel of our
Lord Jesus Christ, 1 Thes. iv. 16. Matt. xxiv. 27. Luke xvii. 24.
Dan. x. 6. Job xxxvii. 3.
‘And though many now evade and reject the inward convictions and
judgment of the light, and shut up the records or books thereof
in their own consciences, they shall be at last opened, and every
one judged of these things recorded therein, according to their
works, Rev. xx. 12, 13, 14, 15.
‘Signed in behalf of our Christian profession
and people aforesaid,
_George Whitehead_,
_Ambrose Rigge_,
_William Fallowfield_,
_James Parke_,
_Charles Marshall_,
_John Bowater_,
_John Vaughton_,
_William Bingley_.’
This paper generally gave satisfaction, and was well received also in
Holland, where having translated it into Dutch, I got it published
in print. Now since Francis Bugg, an envious apostate, charged the
Quakers with some Socinian notions; and being set on by some churchmen,
endeavoured also to render them odious with the government, the
following confession of faith, signed by one and thirty persons, of
which G. Whitehead was one, was in December presented to the parliament:
_Be it known to all, that we sincerely believe and confess,_
‘I. That Jesus of Nazareth, who was born of the Virgin Mary, is
the true Messiah, the very Christ, the Son of the living God,
to whom all the prophets gave witness: and that we do highly
value his death, sufferings, works, offices, and merits for the
redemption of mankind, together with his laws, doctrine, and
ministry.
‘II. That this very Christ of God, who is the Lamb of God that
takes away the sins of the world, was slain, was dead, and is
alive, and lives for ever in his divine, eternal glory, dominion,
and power with the Father.
‘III. That the holy Scriptures of the Old and New Testament, are
of divine authority, as being given by the inspiration of God.
‘IV. And that magistracy or civil government, is God’s ordinance,
the good ends thereof being for the punishment of evil-doers, and
praise of them that do well.’
By this and the like writings, the eyes of many that were at the helm
began to be more opened; and even among the bishops were some that
inclined to moderation; for the king endeavoured as much as he could to
promote the most moderate among the churchmen to those high dignities;
and prejudice, which had blinded many in respect to the Quakers, began
to abate more and more. But yet there was one thing that continually
caused them much hardship, viz. their refusing to swear; for by reason
of this they were not only deprived of their rights as freemen, but
also of giving evidence in courts of judicature. They did not therefore
omit from time to time, to petition the parliament, wherein they
desired to be relieved of this heavy burden, though hitherto they had
not been able to obtain this favour: wherefore on the 26th of November,
they delivered a petition to the parliament, setting forth their great
sufferings, for want of their solemn declaration being taken instead of
an oath; and that not in their own cases only, but in evidence wherein
others were concerned. This petition concluded thus:
‘We therefore earnestly and humbly request, that you will
favourably please to give leave to bring in a bill to admit, that
our solemn answer, affirmation or denial, may be accepted instead
of an oath, to relieve us in the cases aforesaid, or in such of
them as you in your wisdom shall see meet: we freely submitting,
that if any reputed a Quaker, shall falsify the truth, and be
duly convicted thereof, that every such person shall undergo
the like pains and penalties, as are provided against perjured
persons. And your petitioners shall, as in duty bound, pray, &c.
_William Mead_,
_George Whitehead_,
_William Crouch_,
_Walter Bental_,
_Thomas Hart_,
_Michael Russel_,
_William Bingley_,
_Samuel Waldenfield_,
_John Staploe_,
_William Macker_,
_Joseph Wright, junr._
_Theodore Ecclestone_.’
The petition being read in the House of Commons, they came to the
following resolution:
‘A petition of the people called Quakers was read. Resolved, that
the consideration thereof be referred to a committee; and that
they report their opinions therein to the house.’
A committee being ordered accordingly, sat thereupon, and gave their
judgment as followeth:
‘Upon the whole it is the opinion of this committee, that the
Quakers ought to be relieved according to the prayer of their
petition.’
1694.
But nothing was obtained that session; for their enemies were yet so
powerful in parliament, that they found means to retard this beneficial
work, and to stay the progress of it: for so long as the Quakers were
not relieved in the case of oaths, they, who now were not liable to
persecution on account of their public worship, might yet for all that
be otherwise molested and vexed. Wherefore on the 22d of December, in
the year 1694, a representation of their case of not swearing, being
signed in their behalf by Theodore Ecclestone, was delivered to the
members of parliament, and was as followeth:
_A brief representation of the Quakers’ case of not swearing;
and why they might have been, and yet may be relieved
therein by Parliament._
‘It is a certain truth, that among Christians, and Protestants
especially, there are divers particular things about religion,
conscientiously scrupled by some as unlawful, that others esteem
orthodox: and therefore it is not to be wondered, that the
Quakers differ from many others, though not from all, in this
case of oaths; they believing they are absolutely forbidden to
swear in any case, by that positive command of Christ, Matt. v.
12. And that this is undeniably their Christian persuasion, is
evidenced by their sufferings these many years for not swearing.
‘And therefore their case may be worth the charitable notice of
the government, by law to relieve them therein; and not, for
their religious persuasion, to continue them and their families
exposed to ruin; who among their neighbours cheerfully pay to
the support of the government; and by their trades and industry,
according to their capacities, advance the national stock.
‘It may therefore, be humbly offered, that it is not the interest
of the government to refuse them relief.
‘Their industry in trade both at sea and land, bringing profit to
the government as well as others; the station they stand in as
merchants, farmers, manufacturers, improvers of lands and stocks,
is advantageous to their neighbours as truly as others. And as
it seems not the interest of the government in general that they
should be any ways discouraged in their honest industry, so
neither is it the interest of any eminent part of the government,
that they should not be relieved, viz. the judges.
‘For the frequent suits that are brought against the Quakers,
before the chancery and exchequer judges, are no doubt very
troublesome and burdensome, by the difficulty of getting at a
just issue, for want of swearing, whereby justice is delayed, and
their causes often held very long; and no doubt when just judges
see the Quakers wronged and abused, and cannot relieve them, it
is irksome to them: so that, it is humbly conceived, it would be
a great ease to those courts, to have the Quakers relieved in
this case of oaths.
‘Neither is it without advantage to the king’s other courts, to
be able to use the evidence of one who is now a Quaker, that
perhaps was not so some years ago; when he was witness to a bill,
bond, book-debt, or deed of indenture; or when he was steward or
trustee, or servant, either to persons of quality, or to others
of trade or estate.
‘Nor may their testimony be unuseful to coroners, in cases of
unnatural deaths; nor inconvenient in cases of trespass or
felony, &c.
‘And it is further proposed, that it is not the interest of the
subjects to continue them unrelieved; for it is not the interest
of those the Quakers are indebted to; because though such may sue
and harass the Quakers in person and estate, yet they may long
want a decision of their debt or claim, as to the right of it,
for want of an answer upon oath.
‘It is not the interest of those they are concerned with in any
doubtful case, because of the difficulty to come to trial.
‘And for those that owe money to the Quakers, to be allowed to
fly into chancery for a refuge, to obstruct paying just debts,
is such an injury as it is hoped no one that is rational will
countenance, or desire should be continued upon them. And may
it not then be asserted, that it is no honest man’s true and
just interest to have the Quakers denied relief; no, not the
gown-men of Westminster-hall, whose few fees from the Quakers
as plaintiffs, might suggest, though unduly, that they have no
long-tailed debts to sue for, nor titles to recover; but if they
so suppose, it is a mistake, for it is rather their despair of
relief, and their well-known inability to pursue a cause, that is
their common determent to begin.
‘So that of all causes that crowd these courts, few are brought
by the Quakers, though they may need it as much as others, to the
great loss of the learned in the law, as well as the poor injured
Quaker.
‘And one might think it were great pity an industrious people
should be kept liable to all injurious suits, and so much barred
from suing for their rights, be their cause never so reasonable,
just, or necessary.
‘Seeing their relief is to them so needful, so harmless to all,
and so useful to the government and their neighbours; let us a
little consider the common objections; which may be summed up in
short thus:
First objection, ‘How shall we then be at a certainty?
Secondly, ‘Why should the laws be altered for them? For,
Thirdly, ‘It would be to rase old foundations:
Fourthly, ‘And let them into the government.’
‘Which it is hoped will not be difficult to answer one by one,
and that to reasonable satisfaction.
‘And to the first, viz. the doubt of certainty. It may be
rationally affirmed, that whosoever is bound to tell the truth,
especially against men’s own interest, where the temptation, if
any, mainly lies, such are either so bound by the law of God, or
the law of men, or both.
‘Now the obligations by the law of God are binding on good men,
whether they give answers on oath, or on their solemn affirmation
in the fear of God; and knaves are only bound by the penal
laws of men; which if made equally severe to those that give
fallacious answers, as well without oath as by oath, would be
equally effectual and binding, both to them that give answers
without swearing, and to them that swear.
‘The second objection, That it would be an alteration of the law.
Not of the substance of the law, but of a circumstance; and if
that hath no detriment in it, but that the alteration be really
an amendment, and a conveniency to an honest industrious people,
pray why should it not be done? What sessions of parliament is
there that passes, but some law or other is made for the ease,
security, or relief of the subject?
‘If foreigners are too hard for our sea-faring people, out goes
an act of navigation to prevent it.
‘If our poor at home want silk to work with, how soon is it
granted, notwithstanding the same act, to come over land, and not
directly in shipping, from the places of its produce, as the said
act before did enjoin; and shall the ease of trade be so soon
granted against a positive statute; and the ease of conscience be
so long denied in this, as positive a command of Christ, at least
really so believed and accepted?
‘And for the third objection, That it is to rase old foundations.
Answer, No, as it was said it is rather to mend them; a proper
work for parliaments.
‘Did not parliaments abrogate popery, with all its claim to
antiquity? Did not a parliament make the act of _Habeas Corpus_
against the claim of prerogative? And was it more reasonable to
secure the subject from perpetual imprisonment by a king without
a trial, than it is to secure one subject from imprisoning
another till death, for not giving an answer in chancery or
exchequer upon oath? Does it belong to parliaments to secure
other subjects in their estates, liberties, and properties, and
is it unparliamentary to secure the Quakers from sequestrations
against their whole estates, because they dare not comply to
a circumstance of the law, when, as they understand it, it is
against an express command of Christ? Surely no: and therefore
their relief in parliament is a fitting case to be there tenderly
taken notice of, and provided for.
‘May it not then be well worth the while for the present
parliament to relieve these distressed people, and afford their
suffering case redress: that thereby their causes may the sooner
come to an issue, whether they sue for just debts, or are sued;
whereby many unjust and vexatious suits, by injurious and
litigious persons, may be prevented; which have often tended
rather to the Quakers’ ruin and others’ damage, than recovery of
their right?
‘As to the fourth objection, That it will tend to let them into
the government. For answer thereto, bar that as hard as you
please; only do not let the supposal of that, from which so
easily and so willingly they may be excluded, be a hindrance to
that ease and benefit the government may so easily afford them.
‘But now, while you have opportunity by the station Providence
hath placed you in, pray be you of such noble, generous
spirits as to relieve them; though they differ from you in the
construction of a text they esteem plain and positive on their
side, and from which they dare not swerve; having therein the
concurrence of many ancient fathers and martyrs, and since them
the Mennists, and of the late Francis Osbourne, esq. in his
Political Reflections, 7th edition, p. 319, who treating of
judicial cases, calls not swearing, a yielding a sincere and
faithful obedience to the precept of our Saviour, “Swear not at
all:” which, says he, the corrupt glosses of expositors labour
much, though all in vain, to elude.
‘And Swinderby, in his appeal to the king, complaining of the
errors of the Papists, says thus: ‘As Christ forbids swearing,
so,’ says he, ‘the pope justifieth swearing, and compels men to
swear.’
‘Which no man can rationally say is only spoken of swearing in
communication, for his complaint is against justifying swearing,
and compelling men to swear, which cannot be pretended to mean
other than solemn swearing; for no age that we read of, did ever
authorize profane swearing, much less compel to it.
‘Since therefore not only profane swearing, but also solemn
swearing was early complained of by Protestants, let it not seem
strange to any, that the Quakers now scruple swearing, and for
ease therein have often sought relief in parliament, the proper
place.
‘Seeing then they believe they have the authority of Christ’s
command, and the apostle’s exhortation, and the martyrs’ doctrine
on their side, though divers of you are not so persuaded:
‘Yet let the world behold your justice and willingness, according
to your power, to do good to all the honest and industrious
people you both represent and govern; by enacting that their
solemn affirmation shall be accepted in lieu of an oath, and all
that falsify therein, shall be punished equally with perjured
persons.
‘It having been made appear to a committee of this parliament,
Dec. 2, 1692, that they are exposed to great hardships as
aforesaid; and not themselves only, but others also; which was
the case of a member or two of this present parliament;
‘So that upon the whole matter, the said committee were of
opinion, and did report it to the house, that the Quakers ought
to be relieved according to the prayer of their petition, then
newly presented to the house.
‘Wherefore as liberty hath been given them to declare their
allegiance to the government without swearing, for which ease
they are sincerely thankful; so be pleased to add to that
kindness, their relief in the matter of oaths, between them and
other subjects, as well as between the government and them.
Signed in behalf of the said people,
THEODORE ECCLESTONE.’
London, Dec. 22, 1694.
Though after the delivering of the said representation, the parliament
this year came not to a full resolution for their relief, yet several
members showed themselves more inclined to it, and in the next year
the matter was taken in hand again in good earnest.
Toward the conclusion of this year, Mary the 2d, queen of England,
deceased. She was a princess eminent beyond many, being well versed
in reading, and of great knowledge, of which I will mention only this
passage, viz. that the ambassador of the king her father at the Hague,
having tried by many arguments to bring her over to the papal religion,
said afterwards in the presence of some great men, that he never before
believed that a woman was to be found any where so well experienced
in the doctrine of the Christian religion; that therefore he would
not advise any to enter into discourse with her about that matter. On
the 21st of December some symptoms of the small-pox appeared on the
queen, who had been ill a day or two before; and her distemper suddenly
increased to that degree, that the physicians began to despair of her
recovery: but this was so far from frightening her, that she said, ‘God
be thanked, I am prepared.’ And this quietness of mind did not leave
her, even when she felt death approaching; for then she was heard to
say, ‘I believe now that I shall die shortly; and I thank God, that
from my youth I have learned this true doctrine, that repentance ought
not to be deferred to a dying bed.’ In such a Christian disposition she
continued to her dying hour, and so quietly gave up the ghost to her
Creator, from whom she had received it, departing at Kensington not
long after midnight, between the 26th and 27th of December, and left
the king in unspeakable sorrow, who in all the time of her sickness,
it is said, had not departed from her chamber. Many pens laboured to
celebrate her praises, and bewail her death; and perhaps no queen in
many ages hath been more beloved than she was. But I break off; others
have given an account of her excellent qualities and character to
the world, and it may be none better than Gilbert Burnet, bishop of
Salisbury, in a treatise entitled, ‘An Essay on the Memory of the late
Queen.’
Now I return again to the case and affairs of the Quakers.
1695.
And since those of Barbadoes in America were still about this time
much molested, for not bearing arms, they sent over a list in the
year 1695, of what had been taken from them under the government of
the colonels Searle and Muddiford, the president Wallum, the lords
Francis Willoughby, and William Willoughby, the knights Jonathan Atkins
and Richard Dutton, and the colonels Edwin Stede and James Kendal,
all which amounted to 1,423,164 lbs. Muscovado sugar, and 2,910_l._
16_s._ in money. To this list was joined an account of the disasters
which befel several of the persecutors in Barbadoes. In this account
I find above thirty marshals, or the deputies, named, who, though
they had enriched themselves with the spoil and havoc of the goods
of honest people, yet they all died poor, and several either by an
unnatural death, or with great pains; but I decline mentioning all the
particulars. Among these was John Thurborn, marshal to colonel Tidcomb,
who used scoffingly to call the Quakers his milch cows, saying, that
George Gray, one of these people, was one of his best cows, and gave a
brave mess of milk every exercising day. For he and other such birds of
prey took always much more than the fine amounted to: but at length he
died in poverty, being afflicted with a fistula in his fundament, that
did admit of no cure.
It was not only for not bearing arms that the Quakers suffered thus;
but frequent occasions were sought to vex them. For when they, to bring
their negroes, if possible, to some knowledge of the true God, caused
them to meet together for an hour or two once a week, to instruct
them according to their capacity, by reading to them some part of the
Holy Scriptures, and speaking something to this purpose; a law was
made, forbidding the Quakers to let their negroes come into their
meetings, though kept in their own houses, on pain of forfeiting every
such negro as was found there, or ten pounds instead thereof. And
by one Thomas Cobham, an action was brought against Ralph Fretwell,
for eighty negroes of his own at a meeting in his own family. But
though the justice, John Merrick, did what he could to countenance the
said Cobham, yet after several sessions of the court, at which the
said justice was an assistant, judgment was given in favour of the
defendant; and it was remarkable that the abovesaid Cobham, though a
lusty likely young man, became dejected, and generally slighted; and
soon after was taken with a fever and an inflammation in his neck and
throat, which so increased, that towards his latter end he cried out,
‘Fire, fire; I am all on fire;’ and to his mother he said, she needed
not provide a coffin for him; for he should be burnt up before it
was made: crying out, ‘Neither heaven nor hell, but all fire, fire;’
to which he added, ‘Now the Quakers will say it is a judgment fallen
on me.’ After this manner he miserably ended his days. And justice
Merrick’s exit was also dismal: for riding to his house, after having
drank too much, he was thrown from his horse, whereby his brain was
so hurt, that he lay some days in a violent raving condition, to the
terror of his friends, and so died. In like manner William Sharp,
a judge of the court, who had been a great opposer to the Quakers
instructing their negroes, riding from his house to Bridgetown, fell
from his horse, and was so hurt, that he was not heard to speak any
thing else afterwards, but ‘O my head;’ and three or four days after
his fall, he died.
Sir Timothy Thornhill, major-general, had often threatened to take away
the Quakers’ lives, and was such an abominable blasphemer, that I feel
myself seized with horror in reading the most detestable and direful
blasphemies which this monstrous wretch belched out: for being at a
feast, and drinking so excessively, that some of the company refused
to drink so hard, he wished, (shall I say it, or be silent,) _Seipsum
esse Deum Omnipotentem, quò posset damnare animas eorum qui cum ipso
bibere nollent_. At another time, being in company where a woman,
by way of discourse, spoke of the power and omnipotency of Almighty
God, he returned this accursed language, worse than that of the devil
himself, Matt. iv. ‘God damn ye, go to the top of yonder tree, and see
if God Almighty can save you from breaking your neck before you come to
the bottom.’ Other devilish language he spoke, I pass by with silence.
When once a person was brought before him for not appearing in arms,
and told him, he could not do so for conscience-sake, he returned, ‘God
damn your conscience; if I cannot make your conscience bow, I will make
your stubborn dog’s back bend,’ and so tied him neck and heels with
his own hands so violently that he almost deprived the man of life. He
also once, when a declaration of war was published in the island, said,
that the first time any enemy appeared, he would hang up the Quakers,
binding his words with abominable oaths, to which he was so accustomed,
that he seldom spoke without them. But now at length the time came that
he must remove from this to the other world. He had been sick, and
being pretty well recovered, he boasted among his companions of his
conquest over death, and daringly said that he had taken a new lease
of his life from God Almighty for thirty years longer. But within a
few months after, the thread of his life was cut, and his pretended
lease was taken from him by the Sovereign of the universe. Thus he
died unlamented by moderate people, and cursed by others, who lost
considerably by him, notwithstanding a great estate left him by his
father.
But more happy was his marshal, John Batt, who had taken much goods
from the Quakers; yet on his dying bed, some years before, viz. 1679,
was so sensibly touched with repentance, that he caused the following
paper to be written, and signed it.
‘Whereas, I John Batt the younger, of the island of Barbadoes,
was lately by commission from Colonel Thornhill, marshal to his
regiment of foot soldiers; and by that power did distrain upon
the estates of several of the people called Quakers, and took and
carried away many parcels of their sugar, and other goods, for
their defaults in not appearing in arms to the said regiment;
which they refused out of tenderness of conscience, to which I
had not regard; but now the Lord having laid his hand sorely on
me, by afflicting me with a hard and grievous sickness, those
things done to the aforesaid people come fresh in my mind to my
very great grief and terror; and I do declare that all the sins
that I have been guilty of besides, which are very many, do not
trouble or lie so heavy upon my conscience, as those my doings
to that people; and do believe that no man will ever be blessed
or prosper, that practises such things against that people. In
witness whereof I have hereunto set my hand, this tenth day of
May, 1679.
JOHN BATT, JUN.’
Witness _William Howard_,
_Antrobus_.
1696.
Well had others done, if they had taken example by it; but it was not
in vain that our Saviour in the parable of the rich man and Lazarus,
made Abraham say to the rich man, “If they hear not Moses and the
prophets, neither will they be persuaded though one rose from the
dead.” But other persecutors took no caution by this penitent John
Batt; for yet not long after some others in Barbadoes most furiously
showed their malice and rage against the Quakers, and among these
one Alexander Ruddock, a Scotchman, who was not only a colonel of a
regiment of foot, but also judge of a court, and one of the council.
He caused one of the society of the Quakers to be rated four hundred
pounds of sugar, for payment of the priest’s wages, who was his
son-in-law; whereas upon complaint of the said person, and upon
inquiry, it appeared that the pretended due was but ten pounds of
sugar: and it was well known that he and his friends duly paid for
maintaining the poor, and for mending highways: but all this could not
avail him; for a cow was taken from him worth ten pounds sterling. And
though some of the magistrates, seeing the unreasonableness of these
proceedings, would have had the cow returned to the right owner, yet
such was the power of the said Ruddock, that they were not able to
withstand it. And because the aforesaid man had complained of the
wrong and oppression he suffered, that so incensed Ruddock, that he
caused him to be fined five pounds sterling, for having refused to
take the oath as constable, though he was willing to have served the
office. For this fine Ruddock issued out a warrant against him, upon
which was taken from him a negro woman, that by the management of
Ruddock was valued at about two thousand three hundred pounds of sugar,
which as the price of sugar then went, might amount to eleven pounds
ten shillings: and yet the negro was sold for six and twenty pounds
sterling, and all kept for the fine of five pounds. From this same man
was taken the value of above seven thousand pounds of sugar in one
year, by the direction of Ruddock; which the sufferer laying before him
in the presence of his daughter, the priest’s wife, and telling him
he had suffered all that for complaining of the wrong he had done him
about his cow, he, as rejoicing at it, said it should be so yearly, so
long as he was magistrate. But he did not live a year after.
He was of a fierce temper, and very ready to put negroes to death for
example, saying, ‘What is it for Barbadoes to put twenty or thirty
negroes to death yearly for example sake?’ And as he vexed the Quakers
many ways, so he showed his grudge also by taking the meat they bought
and paid for; nay, so malicious he was, that meeting once a butcher
carrying meat to the house of him that bought it, he commanded him to
carry it back, saying the Quakers shall not eat fresh meat. But at
length the measure of his iniquity was full: he came from the council,
where an order was issued from the governor to break up the Quakers’
meetings, and he promised the governor diligently to obey all his
commands. But in his very way home he was taken ill, and being come to
his house, he called for some cream of tartar, which he used to take
in his broth; but by his own mistake he took arsenic instead thereof,
and so wretchedly ended his days. And how wicked soever he was, yet the
priest Kennedy, his countryman, did not stick when he was to preach his
funeral sermon, to take his text from these words of the apostle, “I
have fought a good fight, I have finished my course, I have kept the
faith: henceforth there is laid up for me a crown of righteousness.”
And in this sermon it was declared of him, that he had attained to
the prudence of a judge, the dignity of a colonel, and the honour of
a counsellor; and that he had served his king and country faithfully,
and died a saint. This last expression seemed to regard some repentance
he had showed; but whatever it was, we must commit that to God; and in
the meanwhile not rely too much on such a repentance: since Judas also
repented of his wickedness. If I did not study brevity, I could relate
more remarkable cases concerning the persecutors in Barbadoes; but I
break off.
Now I return to England, where the parliament sitting the latter end of
this year, had effectually taken in hand the making an act to ease the
people called Quakers from that heavy burden of swearing; but this work
met with great opposition: for though many good-natured members were
inclined to it in good earnest, yet their enemies were so active in
altering and clipping the bill, that it looked almost as if the whole
project would have come to nought. But the king himself forwarded the
work, and to his praise be it said, he was the principal promoter of
it: insomuch that in the beginning of the year 1696, it was enacted by
the king and parliament, that the solemn affirmation and declaration of
the people called Quakers shall be accepted instead of an oath in the
usual form, as appears by the act, which was as followeth:
_An Act that the solemn Affirmation and Declaration of the
people called Quakers, shall be accepted instead of
an Oath in the usual form._
‘Whereas divers dissenters, commonly called Quakers, refusing
to take an oath in courts of justice, and other places, are
frequently imprisoned, and their estates sequestered by process
of contempt issuing out of such courts, to the ruin of themselves
and families; for remedy thereof, be it enacted by the king’s
most excellent majesty, by and with the advice and consent of
the lords, spiritual and temporal, and commons in this present
parliament assembled, and by the authority of the same, that
from and after the fourth day of May, which shall be in the
year of our Lord one thousand six hundred and ninety-six, every
Quaker within this kingdom of England, dominion of Wales, or town
of Berwick-upon-Tweed, who shall be required upon any lawful
occasion to take an oath in any case, where by law an oath is
required, shall, instead of the usual form, be permitted to make
his or her solemn affirmation or declaration, in these words
following, viz.
‘I. ‘_A. B._ do declare in the presence of Almighty God, the
witness of the truth of what I say.’
‘II. Which said solemn affirmation or declaration, shall be
adjudged and taken, and is hereby enacted and declared to be
of the same force and effect, to all intents and purposes
in all courts of justice, and other places, where by law an
oath is required, within this kingdom of England, dominion of
Wales, or town of Berwick-upon-Tweed, as if such Quaker had
taken an oath in the usual form.
‘III. And be it further enacted by the authority aforesaid,
that if any Quaker, making such solemn affirmation or
declaration, shall be lawfully convicted, wilfully, falsely,
and corruptly, to have affirmed or declared any matter or
thing, which if the same had been in the usual form, would
have amounted to wilful and corrupt perjury, every such
Quaker so offending shall incur the same penalties and
forfeitures as by the laws and statutes of this realm are
enacted against persons convicted of wilful and corrupt
perjury.
‘IV. And whereas by reason of a pretended scruple of
conscience, Quakers do refuse to pay tithes and church rates,
be it enacted by the authority aforesaid, that where any
Quaker shall refuse to pay, or compound for his great or
small tithes, or to pay any church rates, it shall and may
be lawful, to and for the next two justices of the peace of
the same county, other than such justice of the peace as is
patron of the church or chapel, where the said tithes do or
shall arise, or any ways interested in the said tithes, upon
the complaint of any parson, vicar, farmer, or proprietor of
tithes, churchwarden or churchwardens, who ought to have,
receive, or collect the same, by warrant under their hands
and seals, to convene before them such Quaker or Quakers
neglecting or refusing to pay or compound for the same, and
to examine upon oath, which oath the said justices are hereby
empowered to administer, or in such manner as by this act
is provided, the truth and justice of the said complaint,
and to ascertain and state what is due and payable by such
Quaker or Quakers to the party or parties complaining, and
by order under their hands and seals to direct and appoint
the payment thereof, so as the sum ordered as aforesaid, do
not exceed ten pounds; and upon refusal by such Quaker or
Quakers to pay according to such order, it shall and may be
lawful to and for any one of the said justices by warrant
under his hand and seal, to levy the money thereby ordered
to be paid, by distress and sale of goods of such offender,
his executors or administrators, rendering only the overplus
to him, her, or them, necessary charges of distraining being
thereout first deducted and allowed by the said justice: and
any person finding him, her, or themselves aggrieved by any
judgment given by two such justices of the peace, shall and
may appeal to the next general quarter sessions to be held
for the county, riding, city, liberty, or town corporate:
and the justices of the peace there present, or the major
part of them, shall proceed finally to hear and determine the
matter, and to reverse the said judgment, if they shall see
cause: and if the justices then present, or the major part
of them, shall find cause to continue the judgment given by
the first two justices of the peace, they shall then decree
the same by order of sessions, and shall also proceed to give
such costs against the appellant, to be levied by distress
and sale of the goods and chattels of the said appellant as
to them shall seem just and reasonable: and no proceedings
or judgment had or to be had by virtue of this act shall be
removed or superseded by any writ of certiorari or other writ
out of his majesty’s courts at Westminster, or any other
court whatsoever, unless the title of such tithes shall be in
question.
‘V. Provided always, that in case any such appeal be made
as aforesaid, no warrant of distress shall be granted until
after such appeal be determined.
‘VI. Provided, and be it enacted, that no Quaker, or
reputed Quaker shall by virtue of this act be qualified or
permitted to give evidence in any criminal causes, or serve
on any juries, or bear any office or place of profit in the
government; any thing in this act contained to the contrary
in any wise notwithstanding.
‘VII. Provided, that this act shall continue in force for the
space of seven years, and from thence to the end of the next
session of parliament, and no longer.’
Thus the Quakers became discharged and free from that grievous burden
by which they had been oppressed so many years. This parliament made
also an act for enforcing the laws which restrain marriages without
licenses or bands; and for the better registering marriages, births,
and burials; and for keeping a distinct register of all persons born;
for which no more was to be paid than sixpence.
* * * * *
Mention hath been made already that George Keith had at London got a
place called Turner’s-hall to preach in; and as his auditory consisted
chiefly of persons envious against the Quakers, so there were among
these also many of the vulgar sort, who generally are fickle and
unsteady, and often inclined to novelties: though Keith would as yet in
some respect be looked upon as an adherent of the Quakers, he also had
published some papers, wherein he endeavoured to make it appear that
they held several heterodox sentiments.
The books which he had published concerning this matter were so fully
answered by the Quakers, that he being at a loss to make a reply to
their answers, pretended that he was not in a condition to set the
press at work, and bear the charges of the impression. But that this
was a frivolous evasion was well known. Yet he, to do something, fell
upon another project, and published an advertisement, that on the
11th of the month called June, he would defend his charge against
the Quakers, and therefore he summoned some of them to appear there
at the time, to answer for themselves. Beginning now to comply with
the Episcopalians, he had, as he said afterwards, given notice of his
intention to the lord mayor of London, who not having forbidden it, he
grew the more bold. But the Quakers did not think it meet to appear
there to enter into a dispute with him, the rather because the king
at that time was beyond sea, and many of the vulgar were idle for
want of work and trade, occasioned by the scarcity of money, which
then was very great, by reason of the recoining it, insomuch that it
could not be foreseen whether some disaffected persons might not have
got together, and caused a dangerous disturbance. And therefore, they
declined to appear there, and gave the following reasons of their
refusal, which were read in the appointed meeting, and afterwards
published in print:
‘Whereas, G. Keith hath, after his wonted irregular and unruly
manner, challenged divers of us to defend ourselves against such
charges as he has to exhibit against us at Turner’s-hall: these
are to certify all whom it may concern, that the reasons why we
decline any such meeting are as follow:
_First._ ‘Because the said G. Keith hath given us such frequent
proofs of his very passionate and abusive behaviour, at the many
more select meetings we have had with him, in all manner of
sweetness, long-suffering and patience, on our side, to satisfy
and preserve him from these extremes: that we cannot assure
ourselves now of any better entertainment, or that the meeting
can have any desirable success, for a thorough information.
_Secondly._ ‘We decline to meet, because it is not an agreed
meeting on both sides, which it ought to have been, and where
that is not, or cannot be adjusted, the press is the next fair
way and expedient, which he has begun with, and now seems to
decline; nor hath he sent us a copy of his charge or indictment
against us, which also he ought to have done.
_Thirdly._ ‘That he has two of our books which lie hard at his
door, in vindication of us and our doctrines from his exceptions,
and which he has not yet answered; so that he is not upon equal
terms with us; and therefore we think his challenge, appointment,
and summons, unfair; and that all that are not partial will be of
the same mind with us.
_Fourthly._ ‘Such public and unlimited meetings, are too often
attended, with heats, levity, and confusion, and answer not the
end desired by sober and inquiring men. Besides, that it sets
up a practice that authority may judge to be an abuse to our
liberty, and so draw that under reflection, as no friend to the
civil peace.
_Fifthly._ ‘We know not what religion or persuasion this
wavering man is of, or what church or people he adheres to, or
will receive him, with his vain speculations, that have led him
to desert us; nor who are accountable to us for him and his
irregularities and abuses; the generality of such assemblies
usually making ill auditors, worse judges, and no good security
for our satisfaction. And we must therefore take leave to say,
it seems to us an indirect way of disquieting and invading
our present liberty, that so irreligious a meeting should be
held, whose end is to abuse other men for their religion. If
this should be imitated by all the several sorts of different
persuasions in this city, what heats and confusions must
necessarily ensue.
_Sixthly, and lastly._ ‘Wherefore be it known unto all, that
for the sake of religion, the liberty granted us, and the civil
peace, we decline to meet him; and not from any apprehension we
have of his abilities, or our own consciousness of error, or
injustice to the said G. Keith; whose weak and unbridled temper
we know is such, that what learning and parts he hath, have
not been able to balance and support him on less occasions, so
that we may say they are in ill hands: and if he proceeds as he
begins, they will be employed to an ill end, which his, poor man!
cannot but be, unless he change his course; which we heartily
pray for, that a place of repentance he may find; and through
a true contrition, the remission of his great sin of envy, and
evilly intreating the Lord’s people, and way, which we profess,
and which he the said G. Keith, hath long and lately both
professed, and zealously vindicated as such.’
These reasons the Quakers, as hath been said, published in print, to
show the world, that it was not without a weighty cause, that they
did not accept G. Keith’s summons. Now though G. Whitehead, and W.
Penn, for the abovesaid reasons did not appear in Turner’s-hall, yet
some of their friends were there as spectators, to see what would be
the issue of the business. G. Keith seeing himself thus disappointed
in his intention, took upon him for all that to defend his charge
in the absence of his adversaries, which now he could do easily,
since none contradicted him; and he was applauded by the frequent
shoutings of the mob that was there in great numbers. After the reasons
of non-appearance were read, Keith signified that they were not
satisfactory, by calling them slender, weak, and frivolous. ‘What,’
said he, ‘may a malefactor make this excuse; You shall not call me
before a justice without my consent? If a man robs me, I may complain
of him as a robber, and without his consent call him to account. But
here is a strange thing: if injuring men may not be called to account
without their consent, it will trespass against the law, and intrenches
upon liberty of conscience.’ This reason he published in print, in his
narrative of that day’s work: but who would formerly ever have thought,
that such a little man as he was, would have been so big. It looked
just as if the Quakers were obliged to appear as malefactors before
the pretended judge Keith, accompanied with his assistants, the mob,
and I do not know who. And to keep to G. Keith’s comparison, though a
malefactor may not say, you shall not call me before a justice without
my consent, yet with some good reason he might say, you shall not
make yourself a justice, as Keith now did. It is probable that he was
supported by some great churchmen, otherwise such a bold action might
easily have turned to his disadvantage.
My limits do not admit of a circumstantial relation of what was
transacted at that time in Turner’s-hall; yet to show briefly how
he treated matters, I will produce one or two instances, by which
my reader may know, _ut ex ungue leonem_,[104] and so judge of the
rest. He said he would charge the Quakers with nothing but what he
would prove from their own writings, and he went on thus: ‘I offer to
prove that G. Whitehead hath denied Christ both to be God and man.’ A
strange thing indeed, since it was very well known that G. Whitehead
had published a book of above twenty sheets, under this title, ‘The
Divinity of Christ, and Unity of the Three that bear record in Heaven,
with the blessed end and effect of Christ’s appearance, coming in the
flesh, sufferings, and sacrifice for sinners, confessed and vindicated
by his followers called Quakers.’ This book G. Keith could not pretend
ignorance of, for he picked somewhat out of it in his narrative: but
to maintain his charge, he appealed to a book of G. Whitehead’s,
called, ‘The Light and Life of Christ within.’ This book G. Whitehead
had written in answer to W. Burnet, a Baptist preacher, who writing of
Christ, said, As he was God, he was Co-Creator with the Father, and so
was before Abraham, and had Glory with God before the world was, and
in this sense came down from heaven. To which G. Whitehead answered,
‘What nonsense and unscripture-like language is this, to tell of God
being Co-Creator with the Father? Or that God had glory with God? Doth
not this imply two gods, and that God had a father? Let the reader
judge.’ Certainly it appears from this plainly, that G. Whitehead did
not intend any thing else, but to censure the unscriptural expressions
of his antagonist, as Co-Creator, and implying two gods: for not only
the apostle saith, God is One, but Christ himself saith I and the
Father are One. Yet G. Keith did not stick to say, G. Whitehead denieth
the divinity of Christ, and he deceives the nation and the parliament
by telling them the Quakers own Christ to be both God and man, and
believe all that is recorded of him in the holy scripture. This he
strove to prove from a passage taken out of the aforementioned book,
which in sense agreed with the former; and speaking in another page of
the same matter, viz. The Baptists calling God the Word, Co-Creator
with the Father, G. Whitehead answers thus to it: ‘To tell of the Word
God Co-Creator with the Father, is all one as to tell of God being
Co-Creator with God, if the Father be God; and this is to make two gods
and two creators: for God Co-Creator with the Father plainly implies
two. Was this showing of others their absurd expressions, a denial that
Christ was God, as Keith would have it? Might it not be asked here,
whether the acute wit of Keith was now altogether flown away? But a
great part of his auditory consisted of an ignorant crew, and one or
other of them was continually heard to cry out, It is sufficient.
[104] As of a lion by his claw.
Now to prove that G. Whitehead had denied Christ to be man, Keith
cited from the forementioned book, called ’The Divinity of Christ,‘
&c. these words, ’If the body and soul of the Son of God were both
created, doth not this render him a fourth person?’ Here Keith stopped,
and broke off with an &c. without adding the following words; ‘For
creation was in time, which contradicts the doctrine of three distinct,
uncreated, co-eternal, co-essential persons in the Deity, seeing that
which was created was not so.’ This G. Whitehead asked and said, to
show his opponent, T. Danson, the absurdity of his assertions about
the personalities of the Deity. But Keith went on, reading from G.
Whitehead’s book thus: ‘Where doth the Scripture say that his soul was
created? For was not he the brightness of the Father’s glory, and the
express image of his divine substance? But supposing the soul of Christ
was with the body created in time,’ &c. Here Keith broke off again,
omitting the following words: ‘I ask, if from eternity he was a person
distinct from God and his holy Spirit, without either soul or body?
Where doth the Scripture speak of any person without either soul or
body? Let us have plain Scripture.’
Now though G. Whitehead had written this to show, how we often enter
into inextricable straits, when we do not keep to the words of the holy
Scripture, which no where speaks of three persons in the Deity; yet
Keith perverting the passage abusively, said to his auditory, ‘Here ye
see he will not own that Christ had a created soul.’ At this rate, and
after this manner, Keith reasoned, and treated the other passages. But
how smartly would he have carped at others, if they had cited his words
thus piecemeal.
But now he had a temporal reward in this view, and seeing for that end,
he began more and more to declare himself in favour of the episcopal
church; somebody of that persuasion, who did not further make himself
known than by these initial letters, W. C. made it his business to
show the changeableness of Keith’s opinion and sentiments, from his
own writings, which he had published in print; and thereby evidently
proved, that in every respect Keith was turned an apostate, though
he appeared much offended at the Quakers, because they had called
him so. ‘But,’ said this author, ‘if the Presbyterian principles, of
which society Keith once was a member, were better than the Quakers,
then is Mr. Keith an apostate, in revolting from, and deserting the
Presbyterians, and turning his coat Quaker-fashion. But if the Quakers
were more in the right than the Presbyterians, then _è contrá_.’
Now he appeared to fawn on the episcopal clergy, and esteemed
lawful what formerly he had zealously oppugned. For he was in hopes
that by opposing the Quakers he should be best rewarded among the
Episcopalians; and this was not altogether without reason; for it
being no more in their power now to persecute the Quakers in manner as
formerly, they made use of other means as much as possibly they could,
to render them and their doctrine odious; for which Keith seemed to
them no unfit tool; for he being both of a witty impetuous temper, was
also crafty, subtle, cunning, and violent in his expressions. And to
charge the Quakers with inorthodoxy, he himself launched out into an
heterodox sentiment. For it was believed, that for maintaining this
position, that the historical knowledge of Christ’s sufferings, death,
resurrection, &c. was absolutely necessary for salvation, he had no
other ground than the twelve pretended transmigrations or transitions
of man’s soul from one body into another; and because the ignorant
souls from hence seemed to get opportunity of being informed, before
the end of the world, concerning the death and resurrection of our
Saviour. Who would have imagined before that this same G. Keith should
have accused the Quakers of inorthodoxy in point of doctrine, which
he had often so effectually defended; and among the rest, in a book
against one Cotton Mather, wherein upon the charge of their being
guilty of many heresies and blasphemies, he said after this manner;
‘Our principles do mostly agree with the fundamental articles of
the Christian Protestant faith. According to my best knowledge of
the people called Quakers, and those owned by them as preachers and
publishers of their belief, being of an unquestionable esteem among
them, and worthy of double honour, as there are many such, I know
none of them that are guilty of such heresies and blasphemies as they
are charged with. And I think I should know, and do know those called
Quakers, having been conversant with them in public meetings as well
as in private discourses, with the most noted and esteemed among them,
for about twenty years past, and that in many places of the world, both
in Europe and America.’ Who would ever have thought then, that one who
had conversed so many years with the Quakers, preached their doctrine,
and defended it publicly both by writing and by word of mouth, should
afterwards have decried them, as deniers of the most essential points
of the Christian faith? But to what extravagancies may not temporal
gain transport a man, the case of Balaam may serve for an evidence.
I have in all this relation of Keith’s behaviour, set down nothing
but what I believe to be really true; neither have I endeavoured to
aggravate his failures; for I never bore him ill-will, but a good
esteem when I believed him to be upright, because in that time I
perceived in him some good abilities. And I yet wish from my very
heart, that it may please God, in his unsearchable mercy, so to touch
his heart, before the door of grace be shut, that seeing the greatness
of his transgression, he may by true repentance, obtain forgiveness
from the Lord, of his evil; which I take to be worse, because by
his craftiness he endeavoured to set false colours on things that
were really good, thereby to insinuate himself into favour with the
episcopal party.[105] And since some others suborned thereto did no
omit also to render the Quakers odious, as such that held inorthodox
sentiments, these did not neglect to show in print, how they were
injured and wronged. For now the old tale, that there were Popish
emissaries among them, was revived and divulged anew. But it was no
hard matter for them to show how ill-grounded this conceit was; and
therefore they might say, ‘We are so well known to our neighbours,
that if this were true, our adversaries would be very active to find
out and discover such emissaries, since the law against them is still
in force.’ Three episcopal clergymen in Norfolk, had also drawn up a
paper to the king and parliament, to blacken the Quakers from their
own writings; but George Whitehead, William Penn, and others, were not
backward to show how their words, or the true meaning thereof, were
perverted; since at such a rate, even the salutary lessons of the holy
Scriptures might be exposed as wicked expressions.
[105] N. B. This was written some years before I heard G. Keith
was deceased.
Now the late king James intending an invasion upon England, and
great preparations being made in France in order thereto, a plot was
discovered in England against king William; this gave occasion to the
House of Commons to draw up a kind of declaration, which was called an
association, to be signed by all their members, as follows:
‘Whereas, there has been a horrible and detestable conspiracy,
formed and carried on by Papists, and other wicked and traitorous
persons for assassinating his majesty’s royal person, in order
to encourage an invasion from France, to subvert our religion,
laws, and liberties, we whose names are hereunto subscribed, do
heartily, sincerely, and solemnly promise, testify, and declare,
that his present majesty king William, is rightful and lawful
king of these realms. And we do mutually promise and engage to
stand by and assist each other, to the utmost of our power, in
the support and defence of his majesty’s most sacred person and
government, against the late king James, and all his adherents.
And in case his majesty come to any violent and untimely death,
which God forbid, we do hereby further freely and unanimously
oblige ourselves to unite, associate, and stand by each other, in
revenging the same upon his enemies and their adherents, and in
supporting and defending the succession of the crown, according
to an act made in the first year of the reign of king William and
queen Mary, entitled, ‘An Act declaring the Rights and Liberties
of the Subjects, and settling the succession of the Crown.’’
An association was also signed by the lords, and both presented to the
king, and were followed by all the corporations in England. See Life
of king William, vol. III. The dissenters also presented declarations
to the king, that had some resemblance with the other. But the Quakers
professing non-resistance, and an inoffensive behaviour, could in no
wise enter into such a league; yet to show that they were loyal and
faithful to the king, they drew up the following declaration, and
published it in print:
_The ancient testimony and principle of the people called Quakers
renewed, with respect to the king and government, and touching
the present association:_
‘We, the said people, do solemnly and sincerely declare, that it
hath been our judgment and principle from the first day we were
called to profess the light of Christ Jesus manifested in our
consciences unto this day, that the setting up, and putting down
kings, and governments, is God’s peculiar prerogative, for causes
best known to himself; and that it is not our work or business
to have any hand or contrivance therein, nor to be busy-bodies
in matters above our station; much less to plot and contrive the
ruin or overturn of any of them; but to pray for the king and for
the safety of our nation, and good of all men, that we may live a
peaceable and quiet life, in all godliness and honesty, under the
government which God is pleased to set over us.
‘And according to this our ancient and innocent principle, we
often have given forth our testimony, and now do, against all
plotting, conspiracies, and contriving insurrections against the
king or the government, and against all treacherous, barbarous,
and murderous designs whatsoever, as works of the devil and
darkness: and we sincerely bless God, and are heartily thankful
to the king and government, for the liberty and privileges we
enjoy under them by law: esteeming it our duty to be true and
faithful to them.
‘And whereas, we the said people are required to sign the said
association, we sincerely declare, that our refusing so to do,
is not out of any disaffection to the king or government, nor
in opposition to his being declared rightful and lawful king of
these realms, but purely because we cannot for conscience-sake,
fight, kill, or revenge, either for ourselves or any man else.
‘And we believe that the timely discovery and prevention of the
late barbarous design and mischievous plot against the king and
government, and the sad effects it might have had, is an eminent
mercy from Almighty God; for which we, and the whole nation, have
great cause to be humbly thankful to him, and to pray for the
continuance of his mercies to them and us.
‘From a meeting of the said people in
London, the 23d of the first month,
called March, 1695-6.’
In this year Roger Haydock died of a fever, at his house in Penketh,
in Lancashire, about the age of fifty-three years. He had been in
Holland the year before, in which time I had more than once opportunity
to speak with him privately, and thereby discovered such Christian
qualities in him, that were indeed excellent; therefore the news of his
decease did much affect me; and because of his ministry, in which he
was eminent, being more than ordinary full of matter in his preaching,
his death was much lamented among those churches in England where he
had laboured most in the gospel. His wife Eleanor, in her testimony
concerning him, said, ‘My spirit hath been, and is bowed under a deep
sense of my great loss and exercise, in the removal of my dear husband,
whom it hath pleased God in his wisdom to take away from me, who was
comfort to my life, and joy to my days in this world, being given me of
God, in great mercy and loving kindness; and so he hath been enjoyed
by me in thankfulness of heart, to the close of that time God had
appointed; and now is taken from the world, with all its troubles and
exercises, as also from all his labours and travels, which were great
amongst the churches of Christ, which with me have no small loss in
his removal. But what shall I say: wise and good is the Lord, who doth
what he will in heaven and in earth, and amongst his churches and his
chosen. He can break and bind up, wound and heal, kill and make alive
again, that the living may see his wonders, and magnify his power in
all, through all, and over all, who is God eternal, blessed for ever.
Amen.’
Then in her testimony she gives an account of his life, and how in her
young years he had been to her a faithful instructor in godliness, and
at length became her husband. After a description of his life, and his
many travels in the ministry of the gospel, to edify and build up the
churches, she saith also, that though his love to her was above all
visibles, as the best of enjoyments he had in this world, yet she was
not too dear to him to give up to serve the truth of God. ‘I was made,’
said she ‘a blessing to him, more comfortable every day than other: he
would often express it; and truly so was he to me every day, every
way, and in every respect. No tongue nor pen can relate the full of
that comfort and joy we had in God and one in another. Yet we find such
hath been the pleasure of God concerning them he hath loved, to try
them in the most near and dear enjoyments, that it might be manifest he
was loved above all; that no gifts may be preferred above the giver;
but that he may be all in all, who is, and is to come, God blessed for
ever. And truly there hath been great care and watchfulness one over
another, and over our own spirits, to see that our love, though great,
was bounded and kept within its compass, the truth being its original,
the Alpha and Omega also. Although it hath been the pleasure of God
to try me, in the removal of so great a blessing from me, sure it is,
that I may be the more inward to him, and have his love always in my
remembrance, who gives and takes away, and in all bless his name. My
soul travails that I may always follow his foot-steps of self-denial
in all things, that I may finish my course in this world to the glory
of God, as he did, and have my part in that mansion of glory with him
eternal in the heavens; though it may be my lot to stay for a time in
this world of troubles, yet I have hope in immortality and eternal
blessedness, when time in this world shall be no more.’ Thus she wrote:
but to shun prolixity, I break off. She then giving some account of
his life and ministry, mentions, that being gone from home, she was
not present at his death; but that they having taken leave of each
other before, had parted in great love, with mutual breathings to
God, for one another’s welfare; and she concludes with these words:
‘Though I saw not his going away, yet I have seen in what he went, and
that it was full of zeal and fervency in the love of God, and life of
righteousness. So in pure submission to the will of God, I conclude
this short and true relation of my worthy dear husband, whose name
and memory is blessed, and will live, and be of a sweet savour in
the hearts of the righteous through ages.’ With such a testimony it
was, that Eleanor transmitted the memorial of her beloved consort to
posterity.
1697.
Meeting in this year with no more remarkable occurrences, I pass over
to 1697, in which a treaty of peace was concluded between England,
France, and Holland, and though many thought it would be lasting, yet
among the popish clergy there were those that had another opinion of
it: of which this artificial distich, sent over by a clergyman from
Ghent in Flanders to Holland, so that it fell first into my hands, was
an evidence:
_Prospicimus modó quod durabunt Fœdera longo
Tempore, nec nobis pax citô diffugiet:_
which may be turned into English thus, ‘We foresee now that the
confederacy shall last a long time, and that peace will not quickly fly
away from us.’ But if one reads this distich, backward, it runs thus:
_Diffugiet citô pax nobis, nec tempore longo
Fœdera durabunt, quod modó prospicimus:_
and it makes out a quite contrary sense, viz. ‘Peace will soon fly from
us, and the covenant shall not last long; which we foresee already.’
This peace being concluded, the inhabitants of England vied with
one another to congratulate their king on that account, who was now
acknowledged as king of Great Britain, by the French king Lewis XIV.
And since the magistrates of cities, the heads and fellows of the
universities, and people of all societies and persuasions addressed
the king, the Quakers were not wanting in this respect, and therefore
drew up also an address, which they presented to the king, and was as
followeth:
TO KING WILLIAM III. OVER ENGLAND, &c.
_The grateful acknowledgment of the people commonly called
Quakers, humbly presented:_
‘May it please the King,
‘Seeing the most high God, who ruleth in the kingdoms of men, and
appointeth over them whomsoever he will, hath, by his overruling
power and providence, placed thee in dominion and dignity over
these realms; and by his divine favour hath signally preserved
and delivered thee from many great and eminent dangers, and
graciously turned the calamity of war into the desired mercy of
peace; we heartily wish that we and all others concerned may be
truly sensible and humbly thankful to Almighty God for the same,
that the peace may be a lasting and perpetual blessing.
‘And now, O king, the God of peace having returned thee in
safety, it is cause of joy to them that fear him, to hear
thy good and reasonable resolution effectually to discourage
profaneness and immorality, righteousness being that which
exalteth a nation: and as the king has been tenderly inclined to
give ease and liberty of conscience to his subjects of different
persuasions, (of whose favours we have largely partaken,) so we
esteem it our duty gratefully to commemorate and acknowledge the
same: earnestly beseeching Almighty God to assist the king to
prosecute all these his just and good inclinations, that his days
here may be happy and peaceable, and hereafter he may partake of
a lasting crown that will never fade away.’
London, the 7th of the 11th Month,
called January, 1697.
This address being signed, and presented to the king by George
Whitehead, Thomas Lower, Daniel Quare, John Vaughton, John Edge, and
Gilbert Latey, was favourably received and accepted by that prince;
who gave signal proofs that he bore no ill will to any for difference
of opinion in religion, if they were honest people; of which this may
serve for an evidence, that both his watchmaker, and the nurse of the
young duke of Gloucester, were of the Quakers’ persuasion.
1698.
I think it was about the beginning of the year 1698, that a bill was
brought into parliament, for restraining the licentiousness of the
press. Those called Quakers, perceiving that this might be pernicious,
drew up the following remarks, which they delivered to the members of
parliament:
_Some considerations humbly offered by the people called Quakers,
relating to the bill for restraining the licentiousness
of the press._
‘This bill is, they conceive, of the like nature with the expired
act, 13 and 14 Car. II. ch. 33, and many inconveniences did
attend the subjects by it whilst in force, by which the said
people were sufferers.
‘To prevent the printing and publishing of seditious or
treasonable books against the government, and scandalous
pamphlets tending to vice and immorality, is the wisdom of all
good governments, and must be the desire of all good men.
‘But to limit religious books to a license, where the tolerated
persuasions are many, they conceive, seems altogether unsafe to
all, but that whose opinion the licenser is of, who by this bill
hath power to allow what he shall judge sound and orthodox, or
reject what he shall construe to be either heretical, seditious,
or offensive.
‘History and experience have taught how the obscure term of
heresy hath been turned and stretched against primitive Christian
martyrs, and famous reformers: nor is it forgotten for what
reason the writ _De Hæretico Comburendo_ was abolished.
‘It is no strange thing to have learned men of the same church
interfere in their opinions concerning several texts of holy
scripture; and it is uncertain when their opinions come to the
licenser, whether the world shall have the best or no.
‘The different apprehensions men have of divers parts of
Scripture, gives birth to different persuasions, who yet all make
the Scripture the test thereof; which by the kindness of the
government being tolerated, they conceive they ought to be left
free to defend them from the misrepresentations, prejudice, or
mistake of others, without being subjected to the censure of a
licenser of a different persuasion.
‘They therefore humbly hope that nothing may be
enacted that will lessen the toleration, which
they thankfully enjoy under the favour of this,
as well as the late government.’
These considerations, with what others were offered, were of such
effect, that the bill dropped.
About this time the writings of Antonia Bourignon were not only
translated into English, but also published in print at London. This
displeased many of the clergy, and an author was employed to write
against them, but chiefly against the Quakers. He called his book,
‘The Snake in the Grass;’ but his own name he concealed; though it was
discovered afterwards that he was a suppressed parson, who had refused
the oath of allegiance to king William. This man, to render the Quakers
odious, had picked up and collected many things from their writings;
but he had so mutilated their expressions, by omitting several words
that went before, or followed, and by skipping over some in the midst
of the period, that they made out quite another sense than the authors
had given. To this he added relations of several things that happened,
as he said, among the Quakers. Whereas, some of these were fictitious,
and mere untruths; he also raked up things that never had been approved
by the Quakers, as the case of James Nayler, described here before in
its due place; notwithstanding the said James Nayler had publicly given
eminent tokens of true repentance.
Among the author’s untruths, this was one, that the Quakers in their
schools did not suffer the children to read the holy Scriptures. The
falseness of which was made to appear very evidently by a certificate
of the French usher of one of their schools at Wandsworth, near London,
who himself was no Quaker; as also by the testimonies of some of the
neighbours that were people of note; and declared that the bible
was daily read by the scholars in the said school, beginning with
Genesis, and going on to the end of the Revelations: and then from
Genesis again. The false citations of the aforesaid author, were also
clearly set forth: for if any would be so malicious, it might by his
method be insinuated from Psal. xiv. 1. and Psal. liii. 1. that in
the holy Scriptures was said, ‘There is no God;’ because these words
are indeed found there. But who would be so desperate as to draw such
a conclusion from thence, unless he were an atheist, who openly made
a mock of what is sacred. The answerers of this poisonous book, ‘The
Snake in the Grass,’ were George Whitehead and Joseph Wyeth; this being
a work which required more toil and labour than art, to review all
those manifold citations from many authors, and to show the unfairness
and disingenuity of the Snake. Now since many were very ready to take
for true the falsities in that book, and also in the pamphlets of the
apostate Francis Bugg, who was gone over to the church of England, at
the request of John Crook, who was still alive, though above eighty
years of age, a book of his was reprinted, first published in the year
1663, and so five and thirty years before, the title of which was,
‘Truth’s Principles concerning the Man Christ, his Suffering, Death,
Resurrection, Faith in his Blood, the Imputation of his Righteousness,’
&c. By this it appeared that the sentiments of the Quakers concerning
these points were not only orthodox now, but that they had been so in
those early days.
1699.
Having thus again made mention of John Crook, of whom I have spoken
several times in this history, I proceed now to mention somewhat
concerning his decease, since he departed this life in the year 1699.
He left behind in writing an exhortation or advice to his children and
grand-children, written scarce two months before his death, and of this
tenor:
‘_Dear Children_,
‘I must leave you in a wicked age, but commend you to the measure
of the grace of God in your inward parts, which you have received
by Jesus Christ; and as you love it, and mind the teachings of
it, you will find it a counsellor to instruct you in the way
everlasting, and preserve you out of the ways of the ungodly.
‘I have seen much in my days, and I always observed that the
fear of the Lord God proved the best portion: and those that
walked in it were the only happy people, both in this life, while
they continued faithful, and when they come to die, though they
meet with many hardships in their passage. By experience I can
speak it, that the ways of holiness afford more true comfort
and peace to the upright soul than the greatest pleasures this
world can afford; the former reaches the heart and soul, while
the delights of this world are but a show, and appearance only,
vanishing like a dream; and whoever believes otherwise of them,
will certainly find them to be but lying vanities; therefore
the apostle, Rom. vi. 21, might boldly put the question to the
converted Romans, viz. “What fruit had you then in those things
whereof you are now ashamed? For the end of those things is
death.”
‘Therefore, dear children, be in love with holiness; make it your
companion, and those that walk in it; you may find buddings of it
from an holy seed in your hearts; as you mind the inner man, the
light will manifest the stirrings of it after God, which I felt
from my tender years; although I understood them not so plainly
till I heard the truth declared.
‘I advise you to keep a pure conscience, both towards God and
man: for if that be defiled, hypocrisy and formality will deprive
you of all comfortable feeling of God’s presence; and then
deadness and dryness will be your miserable portion.
‘Be careful how you spend your precious time, for an account
must be given of every idle word, though but few regard it; but
foolish jesting and vain talking are said to grieve the spirit of
God; read Eph. iv. 29, 30. But improve your time in prayer and
religious exercises, &c. and be diligent in your lawful callings;
for, “The desire of the slothful man killeth him.” Prov. xxi. 25.
‘Be careful what company you frequent; for a man is commonly
known by the company he keeps, as much as by any one outward
thing: and of your behaviour in company; for I have found that a
wise and sober deportment, adds much to a man’s reputation and
credit in the world.
‘Watch to the light, and its discoveries of good and evil, that
you may not be ignorant of Satan’s devices; so the net will be
spread in vain in the sight of the bird, for watchfulness will
make you in love with a retired estate; and the more truly and
perfectly any man knows and understands himself, the better
discerning will such have of other men; as in the beginning,
when deep silence of all flesh was more in use, the spirit of
discerning was more common and quicker, than since it hath been
neglected; therefore be sure you spend some time, at convenient
seasons, in waiting upon God in silence, though it be displeasing
to flesh; for I have had more comfort and confirmation in the
truth, in my inward retiring in silence, than from all words I
have heard from others, though I have often been refreshed by
them also.
‘Love the Holy Scriptures, preferring them to all other books
whatsoever; and be careful to read them with an holy awe upon
your spirits, lest your imaginations put constructions upon them
to your hurt; but exercise faith in the promise of Christ, who
hath said, “My spirit shall take of mine, and show them unto you.”
‘Keep constantly to religious meetings amongst friends; but look
to your affections, that you respect not persons, but the power
and life of truth from whomsoever it comes; not minding the
tickling of your affections, but the demonstration of the truth
to your understandings and consciences; for that will abide, when
flashes of affections will fade and come to nothing, after the
words are ended.
‘Love one another truly, manifesting your love by good counsel,
and being helpful to each other upon all occasions; being good
examples to all you converse with, especially to your children,
and those of your own families; that pride and vanity may not
be countenanced by you, but rather reproved; remembering while
they are under your government, you must give an account of the
discharge of your duty to God towards them.
‘Lastly, Be always mindful of your latter end, and live as you
would die, not knowing how soon your days may be finished in this
world: and while you do live in it despise not the chastenings
of the Lord, whatever they be he is pleased to visit you withal.
I have been afflicted from my youth up, both inwardly and
outwardly, but the God whom I served provided for me, when all
my outward relations forsook me, none of them giving me any
portion to begin the world withal. This I speak, to let you know,
I shall leave more outwardly, even to the least of you than was
left me by all my relations, &c. I need not mention this sharp
affliction, beyond expression, in my old age, because, in some
measure, you know it; but I could not have been without it, as
the Lord hath showed me, or I have seen his wonders in the deeps;
therefore I say again, despise not afflictions, but embrace them
as messengers of peace to your souls, though displeasing to the
flesh.
‘These things I commend unto you, out of true love to your souls,
knowing how the vain mind of man little regards such advice as
this I leave behind me; but by this advice I show my true love to
you all, desiring God’s blessing upon it; to whom I commit you
all, my dear children, and end my days
Your loving father and grandfather,
JOHN CROOK.’
Hertford, the first of the First
month, 1698-99.
The sharp affliction he speaks of in this writing was more than one
distemper, for the stone, gout, and cholic, attacked him sometimes
sorely; and though this had been for a long time, yet he always behaved
himself patiently, though his pain was sometimes so violent, that he
was often heard to say, that did he not feel and witness inward power
from the Lord, he could not subsist under his great pains. That of the
stone was the greatest, which continued with him to his end; and yet he
was not heard to utter any unsavoury word, or to cry out impatiently;
but when the extremity of his fits were over, then he expressed his
inward joy and peace, and so praised the Lord. He had an excellent gift
in opening the mysteries of the holy Scriptures, so that he was like
Apollos, of whom we find upon record, that he was an eloquent man, and
mighty in the Scriptures. And by his zealous and effectual preaching,
when he was in his strength of life, many were convinced of the truth.
In his latter days he said sometimes that the furnace of affliction
was of good use to purge away the dross and earthly part in us. And
under the sorrow and grief he had concerning some of his offspring,
he would sometimes comfort himself with the words of David, “Although
my house be not so with God, yet he hath made with me an everlasting
covenant, ordered in all things, and sure.” In his old age he was
many times heard to say, ‘Many of the ancients are gone to their long
home, and we are making haste after them: they step away before me,
and I, that would go, cannot. Well, it will be my turn soon also.’ And
then he seemed to rejoice in the consideration, that the time of his
dissolution, to be freed from his sore distempers, approached apace.
Yet in the latter part of his life he often appeared so strong in the
spiritual warfare, that some judged that in some respect he might have
said with Caleb, “As yet I am as strong this day, as I was in the day
that Moses sent me; as my strength was then, even so is my strength
now, for war, both to go out, and to come in.” About three weeks before
his death, though he was weak in body, yet he said powerfully, and
after a prophetical manner, ‘Truth must prosper, truth shall prosper,
but a trying time must first come, and afterwards the glory of the
Lord shall more and more appear.’ He continued in a sedate and truly
Christian frame of mind to the last period of his life, and departed
the 26th of the month called April, in the eighty-second year of his
age, in his house at Hertford, where he had lived many years. I knew
him in England, and he hath also been in Holland, so that I do not
speak of one that was unknown to me.
1700.
George Keith, by vilifying the doctrine of the Quakers, was now so much
in favour with the episcopal clergy, that he began to serve them as
a vicar; having been ordained by the bishop of London about the year
1700. And since this seemed strange and wonderful to many, somebody,
of what persuasion I do not know, made a collection of his sentiments
concerning a national church, and its clergy, and what account he gave
of their rites and ceremonies, from books and papers he had published
many years before; to which the author gave this title, ‘Mr. George
Keith’s Account of a National Church and Clergy, humbly presented to
the bishop of London.’ To this were added some queries he once wrote
concerning what is called the sacrament of the Lord’s supper. This
account was now published in print, and presented to the bishop of
London, ending with these words of the apostle, “If I build again the
things which I destroyed, I make myself a transgressor.”
1701.
In the next year, viz. 1701, the late king James died in France. I
mentioned before how that unhappy prince, after having ascended the
throne, fell suddenly by his hasty conduct, and ardent desire to
introduce popery in England, and all his endeavours to regain his lost
kingdoms proved ineffectual. In September, being at mass, he was seized
with a qualm, and the distemper increasing, within a day or two he
vomited blood, and all remedies made use of were unprofitable. If what
was written about that time from Paris be true, he declared that he
forgave all men what they had done amiss to him: and on the 16th of the
said month he died at St. Germain’s, in France, where he kept his court.
* * * * *
King William was returned from Holland, where he had been, because of
new troubles drawing on from France. And since the succession of the
crown of England was now settled in the Protestant line, and for want
of nearer Protestant heirs, then to the house of Hanover, the king was
congratulated on that account with many addresses from his subjects:
and therefore those called Quakers thought it also their duty to
address him, against whose life a horrible plot was discovered, with a
thankful acknowledgment of his favours. This they did as followeth, it
being presented to the king in December, by George Whitehead, Wm. Mead,
and Francis Camfield.
TO KING WILLIAM III. OVER ENGLAND, &c.
_An Address from the people commonly called Quakers humbly
presented:_
‘May it please the King,
‘We, thy dutiful subjects, sincerely express our joy for thy safe
return to thy people; having great cause to love, honour, and
pray for thee, as a prince whom we believe God hath promoted and
principled for the good ends of government, under whose reign we
enjoy great mercies and favours; and particularly that of liberty
to tender consciences in religious worship, as a proper expedient
to unite thy Protestant subjects in interest and affection.
‘For which great mercy we cannot but be humbly thankful to God;
and renew our grateful acknowledgment to the king, whom God by
his almighty power hath eminently preserved, and made exemplary
in prudence, as well as goodness, to other kings and princes,
whereby thy memorial will be renowned to posterity.
‘We are also engaged to bless the Lord for that he hath
manifestly frustrated the mischievous and treacherous designs
of thine and the nation’s adversaries, both against the lawful
establishment of thy throne, and the true interest of thy
Protestant subjects.
‘And we beseech Almighty God to bless the good designs and just
undertakings of the king, and his great council, for the good of
his people, and for obtaining to Europe a firm and lasting peace;
and continue thee, O king, a blessing to these nations, establish
thy throne in mercy and truth, give to thee a long and prosperous
reign over us, and hereafter a glorious immortality, is, and
shall be the fervent prayer of us, thy true and faithful subjects.
‘Signed in behalf and by appointment
of the aforesaid people, at a
meeting in London, the 8th month,
1701.’
This address being read to the king, was favourably received, and he
thanked those that presented it. George Whitehead and the others saying
what they thought material to the case, the king returned, ‘I have
protected you, and shall protect you:’ and repairing with the address
to his closet, he read it over again, as was understood afterwards,
and spoke in its commendation. But he keeping the paper some days by
him, without giving it to be made public by the Gazetteer, some French
news-writers, at London, forged a very ridiculous address, and sent it
beyond sea; and the French Gazetteers in Holland were very ready to
divulge in their prints such fictitious stuff, though the expressions
therein were so exceeding blunt and unmannerly, that they could not be
spoken to a king, but by such who were impudent enough publicly to make
a mock of crowned heads, which the Quakers never have been guilty of.
After a few days the king gave the address to be made public; and then
every body could see how shamefully the French newsmongers had exposed
their malice.
1702.
This year being come to an end, that of 1702 followed, and also the end
of king William’s life.
The French king, upon the death of the king of Spain, had not only
placed his grandson, the duke of Anjou, on the throne of that kingdom,
but had also acknowledged the pretended prince of Wales as king of
England; by which, in a manner, he attained king William’s crown; who
thereupon took occasion to make alliances for his security, with other
princes and potentates. Of this he gave notice to the parliament that
was then sitting, who promised to assist him to the utmost of their
power, and to maintain the succession of the crown in the Protestant
line. And an abjuration was also drawn up, wherein it was declared
that the aforesaid pretended prince, who now suffered himself to be
called James the Third, king of England, &c. had no right or claim to
the crown of that kingdom, or any dominions appertaining thereto. Now
though all this was intended for maintaining and assisting the rightful
king William, yet he lived not to see the effect of it; for his time
was near expired, and his glass run, as soon appeared.
About the beginning of the month called March, he went a hunting, and
riding a horse he never rode on before, the horse fell, and the king,
at the same time, broke his collar-bone: the fracture was soon set, and
all seemed like to do well; but the king having endured many fatigues
and hardships, had been weak in body some time before; insomuch that
this sore fall seemed to occasion his sickness, which soon followed,
and put a period to his life. But before his departure, he did yet one
good work more for the Quakers; for the term of seven years, granted
for their affirmation to be accepted instead of an oath, was near
expiring; and therefore they solicited the king and parliament that
this act might be continued, and confirmed by a new one, which was
obtained; for the king always showed himself willing to favour them as
his peaceable subjects; and in parliament many eminent members were
well affected towards them. Thereupon this renewed act, containing
a prolongation of the said grant for the space of eleven years,
passed at length, after mature consideration, the king having named
commissioners, who on the third of March, gave the royal assent to it
in the house of Lords, because, by reason of his illness, he could not
appear himself on the throne. He also sent a message to the parliament,
recommending the uniting of the two kingdoms of England and Scotland,
into one, commissioners being already appointed in Scotland, to treat
with the English concerning that affair: but time showed that he was
not to bring that work to an end, since the accomplishing thereof was
reserved for his successor, though some hopes appeared of his recovery;
for he had been walking a little in his garden to take the air, and
sitting down afterwards, he caught cold, which was followed by a fever;
and his sickness so increased, that on the next first-day of the week,
being the eighth of the month called March, he died at Kensington, to
the great grief of all his faithful subjects; nay, such was the sorrow
on the death of that excellent prince, that the news of it being come
to Holland, it caused a general dejection, and drew tears from many
eyes; for perhaps no king in these late ages hath been more beloved
than he was. The day before his demise, he had by commissioners given
the royal assent to the bill of abjuration of the pretended prince of
Wales; and the following night, feeling death approaching, he sent for
the princess Anne, sister of his deceased consort, queen Mary; and
having kept her sometime with him, after tender embracing, he wished
her the last farewell. Then he sent for the archbishop of Canterbury,
and his understanding continuing good to the last, with evident tokens
of piety, and a resignation to the will of his Creator, in the morning
about eight of the clock, he gave up the ghost to him from whom he had
received it, being entered into the fifty-second year of his age, and
having reigned as king above thirteen years.
In the afternoon the princess Anne was proclaimed queen of England,
Scotland, France, and Ireland, &c. and the parliament promised to
assist her, in maintaining those alliances that were already made, or
should yet be made, with foreign powers. This the queen accepted with
much satisfaction, and confirmed the ministers and high officers in
their respective stations. She also wrote to the States-general of the
United Netherlands, that she would keep to the alliances made with the
States by the deceased king, her brother.
The body of the king, which was lean, and much emaciated, was opened
after his death, and many of the inward parts appeared sound,
especially the brain; yet in general little blood was found in the
body; but in the lungs, which adhered much to the pleura, was more
than in all other parts; his heart was firm and strong; but some
inflammations, on the left side of the lungs, was thought to have
been the immediate cause of the king’s death, for he had long been
asthmatical.
He was of a middle stature; his face lean and oblong; his eyes were
exceeding good, quick, and piercing; his hands very fine and white; he
did not talk much, but was solid in thought; of a strong memory, quick
of apprehension, of a composed mind, and not given to voluptuousness,
but grave in his deportment; he often gave evidence of a devout
attention at the hearing of the name of God; and even in the midst of
dangers, put great trust in divine Providence. Thus he was valiant
and undaunted without temerity; for where he judged his presence to
be necessary, he repaired thither without fear. He was a great lover
of hunting, that being his most pleasant diversion, which made him
the more fit to endure the fatigues of war. He was easy of access,
and gave a favourable hearing to every body, and those that spoke to
him he treated discreetly; and such was his devotion, that he often
retired privately, when some thought he was about other business. Many
had conceived hopes that this great prince, in that critical juncture,
would have lived yet somewhat longer: but his work was done; and God
hath since that time showed very eminently, that he is not limited
to any instruments; and the queen who succeeded on the throne, gave
afterwards signal proofs of it to the world. His corpse was interred
the 12th of the month called April, about midnight, in the chapel of
king Henry the VIIth, in Westminster Abbey.
It was by the favour of this king, a Hollander by birth, that the
Quakers, so called, were tolerated a free people; so that now they
saw fulfilled the truth of what some of their deceased friends had
prophetically foretold, viz. That it should not be in the power of
their enemies to root them out, but that God, in his own time, should
work their deliverance.
Thus we have now seen from what weak beginnings they had their
rise, and how they increased and became a great people against all
opposition, of which at first there seemed little probability; as in
the beginning of this history may be seen: and to look a little back,
it may appear also, by a testimony of George Fox, published after his
death, in the collection of his epistles, viz.
‘When the Lord first sent me forth in the year 1643, I was sent
as an innocent lamb, and young in years, amongst men in the
nature of wolves, dogs, bears, lions, and tigers, into the world,
which the devil had made like a wilderness, no right way then
found out of it. And I was sent to turn people from darkness to
the light, which Christ, the second Adam, did enlighten them
withal; that so they might see Christ, their way to God, with
the Spirit of God, which he doth pour upon all flesh, that with
it they might have an understanding, to know the things of God,
and to know him, and his Son Jesus Christ, which is eternal life;
and so might worship and serve the living God, their Maker and
Creator, who takes care for all, who is Lord of all; and with the
light and Spirit of God they might know the Scriptures, which
were given forth from the spirit of God in the saints, and holy
men and women of God.
‘And when many began to be turned to the light, which is the
life in Christ, and the Spirit of God, which gave them an
understanding, and had found the path of the just, the shining
light; then did the wolves, dogs, dragons, bears, lions, tigers,
wild beasts, and birds of prey, make a roaring, and a screeching
noise against the lambs, sheep, doves, and children of Christ,
and were ready to devour them and me, and to tear us to pieces.
But the Lord’s arm and power did preserve me, though many times
I was in danger of my life, and very often cast into dungeons
and prisons, and hauled before magistrates. But all things did
work together for good: and the more I was cast into outward
prisons, the more people came out of their spiritual and inward
prison through the preaching of the gospel. But the priests and
professors were in such a great rage, and made the rude and
profane people in such fury, that I could hardly walk in the
streets, or go in the highways, but they were ready ofttimes to
do me a mischief. But Christ, who hath all power in heaven and in
the earth, did so restrain and limit them with his power, that my
life was preserved; though many times I was near killed.
‘Oh, the burdens and travails that I went under! Often my life
pressed down under the spirits of professors and teachers without
life, and the profane! And besides, the troubles afterwards with
backsliders, apostates, and false brethren, which were like so
many Judas’s in betraying the truth, and God’s faithful and
chosen seed, and causing the way of truth to be evil spoken of!
but the Lord blasted, wasted, and confounded them, so that none
did stand long; for the Lord did either destroy them, or bring
them to nought, and his truth did flourish, and his people in it,
to the praise of God, who is the revenger of his chosen.
G. F.’
G. Fox then, having in England been the first of the Quakers that
preached and proclaimed Christ the light, which enlighteneth every
man coming into the world, had in a short time, as we have seen in
this history, notwithstanding all opposition, many adherents, whereby
several others also began to publish that doctrine. And many of these
first preachers were like sons of thunder; for they testifying of the
light of Christ shining in the consciences of men, proclaimed, that
the day of the Lord was dawned and should yet further break forth,
to the destroying of the former buildings of human inventions and
institutions; though not of that which had formerly been felt and
enjoyed by true experience of the operations of the Spirit of God in
people’s hearts. By their powerful way of preaching repentance, many
were awakened out of the sleep of careless security, and came to see
that their covering was too short, and that they were not covered with
the true wedding garment: and many that had been of a rude life, came
to be so touched to the heart by these zealous preachers, that crying
out what shall we do to be saved? they were brought to repentance and
conversion; and so from wild and rough, came to be sedate and sober.
And as in the beginning many of these first preachers did run on like
a mighty stream, and seemed fit to thresh and grind mountains and
stones, and to hew down tall cedars, and wash away all opposition;
so there were others also, who as sons of consolation, proclaimed
glad tidings to the hungry and thirsty souls, many of which were in
England about that time, insomuch that some said, Now the everlasting
gospel is preached again. And it was indeed remarkable, that though
these promulgators of the doctrine of the inward light shining in the
hearts of men, were mean and illiterate, yet many people of note, not
only such as were in magistracy, but also many preachers of several
persuasions, were so touched at the heart by their lively preaching,
that they not only received their doctrine, but came themselves in
process of time, to be zealous publishers thereof, and thus a great
crop was gathered; nay sometimes even men of great skill, and sharp
wit, were deeply struck by plain and homely preaching; of whom,
Isaac Pennington, mentioned more than once in this history, was a
signal instance, as may appear from a relation concerning himself,
written with his own hand, and found among his papers after his death,
wherein he speaks as followeth:
‘I have been a man of sorrow and affliction from my childhood,
feeling the want of the Lord, and mourning after him; separated
by him from the love, nature and spirit of this world, and turned
in spirit towards him, almost ever since I could remember.
‘In this sense of my low estate, I sought after the Lord, I read
Scriptures, I watched over mine own heart, I cried unto the
Lord for what I felt the want of, I blessed his name in what he
mercifully did for me, and bestowed on me, &c. Whatever I read
in the Scriptures, as the way of God to my understanding, I gave
myself to the faithful practice of; being contented to meet with
all the reproach, opposition, and several kinds of sufferings,
which it pleased the Lord to measure out to me therein; and I
cannot but say, that the Lord was good unto me, did visit me,
did teach me, and help me, did testify his acceptance of me many
times, to the refreshing and joy of my heart before him.
‘But my soul was not satisfied with what I met with, nor indeed
could be, there being further quickenings and pressings in my
spirit, after a more full, certain, and satisfactory knowledge;
even after the sense, sight and enjoyment of God, as was
testified in the Scriptures to have been felt and enjoyed in the
former times; for I saw plainly, that there was a stop of the
streams, and a great falling short of the power, life, and glory,
which they partook of. We had not so the spirit, nor were so in
the faith, nor did so walk and live in God, as they did. They
were come to Mount Sion and the heavenly Jerusalem, &c. which we
had hardly so much as the literal knowledge or apprehension what
they were. So that I saw the whole course of religion among us,
was, for the most part, but a talk, to what they felt, enjoyed,
possessed, and lived in.
‘This sense made me sick at heart indeed, and set me upon deep
crying to God, close searching the Scriptures, and waiting on
God, that I might receive the pure sense and understanding of
them, from and in the light, and by the help of his Spirit. And
what the Lord did bestow on me in that state, with thankfulness
I remember before him at this very day: for he was then my God,
and a pitier and a watcher over; though he had not pleased then
to direct me, how to stay my mind upon him and abide with him.
And then I was led, (indeed I was led, I did not run of myself,)
into a way of separation from the worship of the world, into a
gathered society; for this both the Scripture and the Spirit
of God in me gave testimony unto; and what we then met with,
and what leadings and help we then felt, there is a remembrance
and testimony in my heart to this day. But there was somewhat
wanting, and we mistook our way, for whereas we should have
pressed forward into the spirit and power, we ran too much
outward into letter and form; and though the Lord in many things
helped us, yet therein he was against us, and brought darkness,
confusion, and scattering upon us. I was sorely broken and
darkened, and in this darkened state, sometimes lay still for a
long season, secretly mourning and crying out to the Lord night
and day; sometimes I ran about, hearkening after what might
appear or break forth in others, but never met with any thing,
whereto there was the least answer in my heart, save in one
people, who had a touch of truth; but I never expressed so much
to any of them, nor indeed felt them at all able to reach my
condition.
‘At last, after all my distresses, wanderings, and sore travails,
I met with some writings of this people called Quakers, which I
cast a slight eye upon and disdained, as falling very short of
that wisdom, light, life, and power, which I had been longing for
and searching after: I had likewise, some pretty distance of time
after this, opportunity of meeting with some of them, and divers
of them were by the Lord moved, (I know it to be so since,) to
come to me: as I remember at the very first they reached to the
life of God in me; which life answered their voice, and caused a
great love in me to spring to them; but still in my reasonings
with them, and disputes alone, in my mind, concerning them, I
was very far off from owning them, as so knowing the Lord, or so
appearing in his life and power as my condition needed, and as my
soul waited for. Yea, the more I conversed with them, the more I
seemed in my understanding and reason to get over them, and to
trample them under my feet, as a poor, weak, silly, contemptible
generation; who had some smatterings of truth in them, and some
honest desires towards God, but very far off from the clear and
full understanding of his way and will. And this was the effect
almost of every discourse with them, they still reached my heart,
and I felt them in the secrets of my soul, which caused the love
in me always to continue, yea sometimes to increase towards them;
but daily my understanding got more and more over them, and
therein I daily more and more despised them.
‘After a long time I was invited to hear one of them, (as I
had been often, they in tender love pitying me, and feeling my
want of that which they possessed,) and there was an answer
in my heart, and I went in fear and trembling, with desires to
the most High, who was over all, and knew all, that I might not
receive any thing for truth, which was not of him, nor withstand
any thing which was of him, but might bow before the appearance
of the Lord my God, and none other: and indeed, when I came, I
felt the presence and power of the most High among them: and
words of truth, from the spirit of truth, reaching to my heart
and conscience, opening my state as in the presence of the Lord.
Yea, I did not only feel words and demonstrations from without,
but I felt the dead quickened, the seed raised, insomuch as my
heart, in the certainty of light and clearness of true sense,
said, ‘This is he, this is he, there is no other; this is he
whom I have waited for and sought after from my childhood, who
was always near me, and had often begotten life in my heart,
but I knew him not distinctly, nor how to receive him, or dwell
with him.’ And then in this sense in the melting and breakings
of my spirit, was I given up to the Lord, to become his, both
in waiting for the further revealings of his seed in me, and to
serve him in the life and power of his seed.
‘Now what I met with after this, in my travails, in my waitings,
in my spiritual exercises, is not to be uttered; only in general
I may say this, I met with the very strength of hell. The cruel
oppressor roared upon me, and made me feel the bitterness of
his captivity, while he had any power; yea, the Lord was far
from my help, and from the voice of my roaring. I also met with
deep subtilties and devices to entangle me in that wisdom, which
seemeth able to make wise in the things of God; but indeed is
foolishness and a snare to the soul, bringing it back into
captivity, where the enemy’s gins prevail. And what I met with
outwardly from my own dear father, from my kindred, from my
servants, from the people and powers of the world, for no other
cause but fearing my God, worshipping him as he hath required
of me, and bowing to his seed, (which is his Son,) who is to
be worshipped by men and angels for evermore, the Lord my God
knoweth, before whom my heart and way are, who preserved me in
love to them, in the midst of all I suffered from them, and doth
still so preserve me, blessed be his pure and holy name.
‘But some may desire to know what I have at last met with: I
answer, ‘I have met with the seed.’ Understand that word, and
thou wilt be satisfied, and inquire no further. I have met with
my God, I have met with my Saviour; and he hath not been present
with me without his salvation; but I have felt the healing
drop upon my soul from under his wings. I have met with the
true knowledge, the knowledge of life, the living knowledge,
the knowledge which is life; and this hath had the true virtue
in it, which my soul hath rejoiced in, in the presence of the
Lord. I have met with the seed’s father, and in the seed I have
felt him my father; there I have read his nature, his love, his
compassions, his tenderness, which have melted, overcome, and
changed my heart before him. I have met with the seed’s faith,
which hath done and doth that which the faith of man can never
do. I have met with the true birth, with the birth which is
heir of the kingdom, and inherits the kingdom. I have met with
the true spirit of prayer and supplication, wherein the Lord is
prevailed with, and which draws from him whatever the condition
needs, the soul always looking up to him in the will, and in the
time and way which is acceptable with him. What shall I say? I
have met with the true peace, the true righteousness, the true
holiness, the true rest of the soul, the everlasting habitation,
which the redeemed dwell in. And I know all these to be true,
in him that is true, and am capable of no doubt, dispute, or
reasoning in my mind about them, it abiding there, where it hath
received the full assurance and satisfaction. And also I know
very well and distinctly in spirit, where the doubts and disputes
are, and where the certainty and full assurance is, and in the
tender mercy of the Lord am preserved out of the one, and in the
other.
‘Now, the Lord knows, these things I do not utter in a boasting
way, but would rather be speaking of my nothingness, my
emptiness, my weakness, my manifold infirmities, which I feel
more than ever. The Lord hath broken the man’s part in me, and
I am a worm and no man before him: I have no strength to do any
good or service for him; nay, I cannot watch over or preserve
myself: I feel daily that I keep not alive my own soul, but am
weaker before men, yea weaker in my spirit, as in myself, than
ever I have been. But I cannot but utter to the praise of my God,
that I feel his arm stretched out for me; and my weakness, which
I feel in myself, is not my loss, but advantage, before him. And
these things I write, as having no end at all therein of my own,
but felt it this morning required of me, and so in submission
and subjection to my God, have I given up to do it, leaving the
success and service of it with him.
I. PENNINGTON.’
_Aylesbury, 15th of 3d month, 1667._
From this conclusion, we see the humility of the mind of this friend,
who, when he wrote this, was already much advanced in the way of
godliness, and had lived several years in the communion of those called
Quakers. Now, though it be the duty of every one, not to be conceited
of himself, yet certain it is, that men of refined wits, above all
others, have need to continue truly humble, and not to rely thereon,
since the trusting to acuteness of wit, hath rather drawn off many
from the way of truth, than led them to it; nay, it hath occasioned
the fall of some. But that I. Pennington endeavoured to continue in
true humility, appears plainly from the relation above. He was a man
of a very compassionate temper, and yet valiant in adversities: he
also suffered not a little on the account of his religion, but endured
many tedious and long imprisonments; which were the more hard to him,
because he being of a weakly constitution, the suffering of cold
and hardship, did him the more hurt. And yet he never fainted, but
continued steadfast to the end of his life, which was in the latter
part of the year 1679, when he departed in a pious frame of mind.
By the foregoing relation, it appears evidently that he was very
earnestly seeking after the true way to salvation, before he attained
to a perfect quietness of mind; yet in that time there wanted not such
as were helpful to him with good and wholesome advice; and among these
John Crook, whose occurrences make up no small part of this history,
was none of the least. And since there is yet extant a letter of his
to him, wherein he not only spoke very effectually to the inward state
of I. Pennington; but for his instruction and encouragement, gave also
an account of the great difficulties and temptations he himself had
met with, I cannot well omit to insert the same here; because from the
ingenuous and open-hearted letters of familiar friends to one another,
we generally may discover very plainly their inward state, and also
their outward qualities. This letter was as followeth:
‘_Dear Friend_,
‘My dear and tender love salutes thee, in that love from whence
I had my being, from whence sprang all my Father’s children, who
are born from above, heirs of an everlasting inheritance. Oh!
how sweet and pleasant are the pastures which my Father causeth
all his sheep to feed in: there is a variety of plenty in his
pastures, milk for babes, and strong meat for them of riper age,
and wine to refresh those that are ready to faint; even the wine
of the kingdom, that makes glad the heart when it is ready to
faint, by reason of the infirmities: sure I am, none can be so
weary, but he takes care of them; nor none so nigh fainting,
but he puts his arm under their heads; nor none can be so beset
with enemies on every side, but he will arise and scatter; nor
none so heavy laden and big with young, but he takes notice of
them, and gently leads them, and will not leave them behind unto
the merciless wolf; because they are his own, and his life is
the price of their redemption, and his blood of their ransom;
and if they be so young that they cannot go, he carries them in
his arms; and when they can feel nothing stirring after him,
his bowels yearn after them; so tender is this good Shepherd
after all his flock. I can tell, for I was as one that once went
astray, and wandered upon the barren mountains: and when I had
wearied myself with wandering, I went into the wilderness, and
there I was torn as with briers, and pricked as with thorns;
sometimes thinking this was the way, and sometimes concluding
that was the way, and by and by concluding all were out of the
way. And then bitter mourning came upon me, and weeping for
want of the interpreter; for when I sought to know what was the
matter, and where I was, it was too hard for me; then I thought
I would venture on some way where it was most likely to find a
lost God; and I would pray with them that prayed, and fast with
them that fasted, and mourn with them that mourned, if by any
means I might come to rest, but found it not, until I came to
see the candle lighted in my own house, and my heart swept from
those thoughts and imaginations, and willings, and runnings; and
to die unto them all, not heeding of them; but watching against
them, lest I should let my mind go a whoring after them; and here
I dwelt for a time, as in a desolate land uninhabited; where I
sat alone as a sparrow upon the house top, and was hunted up
and down like a partridge upon the mountains; and could rest
no where, but some lust or thought or other followed me at the
heels, and disquieted me night and day, until I came to know
him in whom was rest, and no occasion of stumbling, in whom the
devil hath no part; and he became unto me as a hiding-place from
the storms, and from the tempests; then came my eyes to see my
Saviour, and my sorrow to fly away, and he became made unto me
all in all, my wisdom, my righteousness, my sanctification,
in whom I was and am complete, to the praise of the riches of
his grace and goodness that endures forever. Therefore be not
discouraged, O thou tossed as with tempests, nor dismayed in
thyself, because thou seest such mighty hosts of enemies rising
up against thee, and besetting thee on every side; for none was
so beset, and tried, and tempted as the true seed was, who was
a man of sorrows, and acquainted with grief: but be thou still
in thy mind, and let the billows pass over, and wave upon wave,
and fret not thyself because of them, neither be cast down as if
it should never be otherwise with thee: sorrow comes at night,
but joy in the morning, and the days of thy mourning shall be
over, and the accuser will God cast out forever; for therefore
was I afflicted, and not comforted, and tempted and tried for
this end, that I might know how to speak a word in due season
unto those who are tempted and afflicted as I once was: as it was
said unto me in that day when sorrow lay heavy upon me. Therefore
be not disconsolated, neither give heed unto the reasonings and
disputings of thy own heart, nor the fears that rise therefrom;
but be strong in the faith, believing in the light which lets
thee see them; and his grace thou wilt know to be sufficient for
thee, and his strength to be made perfect in thy weakness; and
so wilt thou rather glory in thy infirmities, that his power may
rest upon thee, than in thy earnest desires to be rid of them;
for by these things thou wilt come to live in the life of God,
and joy in God, and glory in tribulation; when thou hast learned
in all conditions to be contented; and through trials and deep
exercises is the way to learn this lesson. These things, in
dear love to thee, I have written, being somewhat sensible of
thy condition, and the many snares thou art daily liable unto;
therefore watch, that thou fall not into temptation, and my God
and Father keep thee in the arms of eternal love, over all, unto
the end, unto his praise. Amen.
JOHN CROOK.’
This John Crook had been a man of note in the world, not only because
he had been a justice of peace, as hath been said in due place, but
also because he was a man of good intellects; and yet his zeal for
what he believed to be truth, was such, that he became willing to bear
the reproach of the world, that so he might enjoy peace with God. But
though he was a man of learning, yet most of the first preachers of
the doctrine held forth by those called Quakers, were people of small
account in the world; but yet they were so powerful in their preaching,
that many thereby were turned to true godliness.
Some have been reached by the sayings of dying penitents; for there
have been remarkable instances of young people sprung from honest
parents, who having walked in the broad way, did very earnestly bewail
their outgoings on a dying bed, and then declared, that if it pleased
God, to raise them up again, they would not, as before, be ashamed of
the despised way of the Quakers, nor fear any mockings or persecution,
but that they would serve the Lord, in uprightness, and with all their
heart. These thus repenting with tears for their transgressions,
have experienced after great agonies, that God wills not the death
of sinners, but that they should repent, and so live in everlasting
happiness.
Of several such like cases, I will only mention one, viz. that of a
young maid at London, called Susanna Whitrow, whose mother was of
the society of the Quakers, but not her father. On her dying bed she
complained exceedingly of her rebellion and vain behaviour: ‘Ah,’
said she to her mother, ‘how often hast thou said, the Lord would
plead with us: now the day is come. Pride and disobedience were my
cursed fruits, which I brought forth when I was a hearer in the public
church. How often have I adorned myself as fine in their fashion as
I could make me; yet they despised my dress, and said, ‘How like a
tawdry have you dressed yourself; you are not at all in the mode.’
Then coming home on the Sabbath-day, I went immediately up into my
chamber, and locking the door, I altered all my laces, and so went
to their worship in the afternoon, dressed in their mode, and then I
pleased them.’ At another time she said, ‘O that I might have a little
time longer to go into the country, and walk in the woods to seek the
Lord. O what matter for fine houses and silk apparel: O remember him
that sat on the ground, and wore a garment without a seam, our blessed
holy Lord, who went up to the mountains to pray, and withdrew himself
into gardens and desolate places. I have done nothing for the Lord,
but he hath done all for me: therefore I desire to live, that I might
live an holy and righteous life, that my conversation might be in
heaven, though my body be here on earth. How would I then invite and
warn others, not to spend their precious time in adorning themselves
like Jezebel, patching and painting, and curling their hair. O the
Christian life is quite another thing: we must not give ourselves the
liberty to think our own thoughts, much less to act such abominations.’
Several days she was in a strong wrestling and conflict of spirit, and
in fervent prayer to God, so that when somebody was for removing her
head a little, she refusing it, said, ‘I would not suffer a thought to
wander; if I move, I shall be drawn off my watch, and then the temper
will prevail.’ Continuing in this conflict, she conceived at length
hopes of forgiveness; and being thus strengthened by mercy, she said
to the Lord, ‘O what can my soul say of thy power: when I sought thee,
but could not find thee; I knocked hard, but none did open: for my
sins stood like mountains, that I could not come near thee: I would
fain have prayed to thee, but could not. Thus I lay several days and
nights struggling for life, but could find none: and I said, “There is
no mercy for me:” then I said, “I will never leave thee; if I perish,
I will perish here; I will never cease crying unto thee.” And then
I heard a voice say, “Jacob wrestled all night before he obtained
the blessing.” Oh then thy word, O Lord, was strong to my soul: then
my stony heart was broken to pieces, and the spirit of prayer and
supplication was poured upon me. And now I can sing as David did, of
mercy, and of judgment: “Unto thee, O Lord, will I sing, with a rent
heart, and with my mouth in the dust will I sing praises to thee, my
blessed Saviour.”’ In this frame she endeavoured to continue, and
once she prayed for her father, called Robert Whitrow, part of which
prayer was as followeth: ‘O Lord, remember not his offences, let me
bear them; let it be easy to him; make his friends to be enemies to
him, that thou mayest have mercy upon him. His temptations are great;
Lord, carry him through; O let him not perish with the world; do thou
support him over this world. Shall a little dirt of this world draw
away his mind: O Lord, let his mind be set on things above; fix his
mind upon thee.’ Thus fervently this young maid prayed for her father,
herself now having attained a full assurance of her salvation, so that
she once said to the Lord, ‘O thou beloved of my soul, what shall I say
of thee, for thou art too wonderful for me: O praises be unto thee.’
And afterward perceiving that her end was approaching, she said to her
mother, ‘I must lay down this body, the Lord will not trust me longer
in this present wicked world: happy am I: my Saviour, my soul loves
thee dearly; thy love is better than wine: my Saviour, my holy One, how
glorious art thou: I have seen thy glory; I am overcome with thy sweet
countenance; O how lovely art thou! My heart is ravished with the
sweet smiles of thy glorious countenance. O, come away, come away, why
dost thou stay? I am ready, I am ready.’ Then she lay some time very
still, and so departed this life without sigh or groan: which was about
the year 1677.
Such like dying persons have been the means sometimes to stir up
others to true godliness, whereby they came to be joined with the
people called Quakers; and though these in time came to be very
numerous, yet at first there were but few labourers in the ministry
of the word. But these recommending one another to give diligent heed
to the word of God in the heart, and to mind that as their teacher,
did often meet together and keep assemblies, sitting down with such
a deep retiredness of mind, being turned inward to God, that tears
trickled down their cheeks, to the astonishment of many that looked
upon them, some of which, only by beholding this retiredness, came
to be so effectually reached, that they also joined with them, and
frequented their meetings. In the mean while many of these became more
and more confirmed in their minds by this silent exercise, and their
understandings came to be so opened, that in process of time they
became apt and fit instruments to exhort others to godliness: and among
these several women also found it their duty to preach the gospel.
There have been many who were very averse to the Quakers, and yet came
to join with them in the faith; as among others, Christopher Bacon,
in Somersetshire, who, about the year 1656, coming into a meeting,
not with intention to be edified there, but rather to scoff, and to
fetch his wife from thence, who went thither against his mind, was
so reached by the lively exhortation he heard, that he was not only
convinced of the truth preached there, but in time became a zealous
preacher of it himself, and was valiant in sufferings. Once being
taken up at a meeting in Glastonbury, and brought before bishop Mew,
at Wells, who called him a rebel, for meeting contrary to the king’s
laws, Christopher having formerly been a soldier for the king, said
to him, ‘Dost thou call me rebel: I would have thee to know, that I
have ventured my life for the king in the field, when such as thou lay
behind hedges.’ By this he stopped the bishop’s mouth, who did not
expect such an answer, and therefore was willing to be rid of him.
The like instance of an unexpected conversion, was seen also in William
Gibson, whom I knew well, and who at the time of the civil wars, being
a soldier at Carlisle, he and three others having heard that a Quakers’
meeting was appointed in that city, they agreed to go thither and abuse
the preacher, whose name was Thomas Holmes; but Gibson hearing him
powerfully declare the truth, was so affected by his testimony, that he
stepped in near him, to defend him, if any should have offered to abuse
him: and he himself afterwards came to be a zealous preacher of that
truth he had been at unawares convinced of.
To these instances I may add that of a certain trumpeter, who coming
into a Quakers’ meeting, began in an insolent manner to sound his
trumpet, thereby to drown the voice of him that preached: but this had
a contrary effect, and stirred up the zeal of the preacher the more,
so that he went on as if none disturbed him. The trumpeter at length,
to recover his breath, was fain to cease blowing; but being still
governed by an evil spirit, after some intermission began to sound
again; but whatever he did, he was not able to divert the preacher from
his discourse, though he hindered the auditory from hearing what was
spoken. Thus he wearied himself so much that he was forced to rest
again for respiration: whereby in spite of his evil will, he came to
hear what the preacher spoke, which was so piercing, that the trumpeter
came to be deeply affected with it, and bursting into tears, confessed
his crime, and came to be a true penitent: a remarkable evidence of the
truth of that saying of the apostle, “So then, it is not of him that
willeth, nor of him that runneth, but of God that showeth mercy.”
Among these, who contrary to their intent entered into communion with
the Quakers, so called, may be reckoned also Anthony Pearson, the
justice, of whom in this history it hath been mentioned, that he was
so reached by G. Fox, at Swarthmore, that he came to be one of his
followers; which though true, yet it was before that time that he was
in some respect convinced of the doctrine maintained by the people
called Quakers: which happened to be by James Nayler, who upon an
indictment of blasphemy, appearing at the sessions at Appleby, in the
month called January, 1652, found the said justice Pearson sitting
there on the bench as one of his persecutors: who asking him several
questions received such pertinent answers from J. Nayler, that in a
great degree he was convinced of the truth held by J. Nayler and his
friends.
By what hath been related here may be seen how unexpectedly some
entered into society with the Quakers, so called; more instances of
which might be produced if needful; since I have known such, who
being naturally of a boisterous temper, yet were so struck with the
terror of the Lord, that they came to be of such a quiet spirit,
and harmless behaviour, that as formerly they could not suffer the
least provocation, so now they bore all revilings and mockings with
an even and undisturbed mind; because the fear of God had made such
deep impression upon them, that they were careful lest by an angry or
impetuous deportment they should sin against him. And thus continuing
to live in fear, and a reverential awe, they improved in true
godliness; insomuch that by their pious lives they preached as well
as others with words. After this manner the number of their society
increased; but then grievous sufferings ensued; for the priests could
not endure to see that their hearers left them; the furious mob was
spurred on, and among the magistrates there were many, who, being of a
fierce temper, used all their strength to root out the professors of
the light, (as they were called at first,) and to suppress and stifle
their doctrine; but all proved in vain, as appears abundantly from
this history; although there were hardly any prisons in England, where
some of these people were not shut up; besides the spoil of goods, and
cruel whippings that befel some of them. Yet all this they bore with a
more than ordinary courage, without making resistance, how great soever
their number was; and notwithstanding many of them had been valiant
soldiers, who often had slain their enemies in the field, without
regarding danger.
In the consideration of this undaunted steadfastness, it hath seemed
to me, that there have been some such among this people, whose talent
was valiantly to endure persecution for a good cause; and who perhaps
in ease would not have been such good Christians as they proved to be
under these sufferings; resembling the camomile in this, which the
more it is depressed or rubbed, the better it grows, and yields the
stronger scent. Being then thus oppressed, they found themselves under
a necessity of continuing vigilant and watchful; and, according to king
Solomon’s advice, to keep their hearts with all diligence. This made
them love what they judged to be truth, more than their lives, and it
caused them to be careful, lest that should come over them which the
church of Ephesus was threatened with, because she had left her first
love, viz. the removing of her candlestick out of its place. Thus their
mutual love increased, and their own lives they valued not, when the
grieving of their consciences stood in competition with it.
Having thus passed through many adversities, with an unwearied and
lasting patience, and being become a great people, known by the name of
Quakers, they were at length, by the generous clemency of king William
III. and the favour of the Parliament, declared to be a society, who
should henceforth be tolerated in the kingdom as Protestant dissenters,
with liberty to perform their religious worship in public without
disturbance.
THE TWELFTH BOOK. 1702-1717.
1702-1704.
Queen Anne having now ascended the throne, and taken in hand the
reins of government, was congratulated from all quarters; and the
people called Quakers thought themselves no less obliged than others
to condole the king’s death, and testify their affection and fidelity
to the Queen; and therefore they drew up an address; and when some of
them, of whom G. Whitehead was one, went to present it, (which was on
the 11th of the 2d month, April,) they were introduced by the then
earl, but now duke, of Marlborough, and the duke of Ormond. The address
was as followeth.
TO QUEEN ANNE, OVER ENGLAND, &C.
‘_May it please the Queen_,
‘We, thy peaceable subjects, cannot but be sorrowfully affected
with a deep sense of the loss sustained by the death of our late
king William the Third, whom God made the instrument of much good
to these nations; a prince who indeed desired to be the common
father of his people, and as such did by his great example,
as well as precept, endeavour to unite them in interest and
affection, and promoted and confirmed a legal liberty to tender
consciences, by all which his reign was adorned, to the renown of
his memory.
‘And it having pleased the all-wise God, the disposer of
kingdoms, to preserve thee to succeed to the government of these
nations; and thereby to the maintaining and consummating those
great works so happily begun; we humbly beg leave to congratulate
thy free and peaceable accession to the throne, from whence we
observe the queen’s excellent declaration, manifesting her care
for the good of all her people, and therefore doubt not but we,
her Protestant dissenting subjects, shall partake of her royal
favour and protection.
‘We sincerely declare, that with the assistance of the grace of
God, we will always, according to our Christian duty, demonstrate
our good affection, truth, and fidelity to the queen and her
government; and heartily pray that his wisdom may direct, and
his blessing be upon the queen and her great council, to the
suppressing of vice and immorality, and the promoting of piety,
peace, and charity, to the glory of God, and the benefit of these
nations.
‘May the King of kings make thy reign long and glorious, to which
temporal blessing we shall pray for thy eternal happiness.
‘Signed on behalf and by appointment of the
aforesaid people, at a meeting in London, the
10th of the second month, 1702.’
This address was very favourably received by the queen, and after it
was read to her, she answered,
‘I thank you for your address, and I assure you of my protection.’
It was scarce a month after, when war was proclaimed in England against
France, which had been proclaimed in Holland also against that crown
some days before. Not long after followed the general yearly meeting of
those called Quakers, held at London, in which it was thought fit to
thank the queen for her declaration, that she would maintain the act of
toleration in favour of the dissenters; and therefore an address was
drawn up by the said assembly, which was as followeth:
TO QUEEN ANNE, OVER ENGLAND, &C.
_The humble and thankful acknowledgment of the people commonly
called Quakers, from their yearly meeting in London, the 30th
day of the 3d month, called May, 1702._
‘May it please the Queen,
‘We, thy peaceable and dutiful subjects, met from most parts of
thy dominions at our usual yearly meeting, (for the promotion
of piety and charity,) being deeply affected with thy free and
noble resolution in thy late speech at the prorogation of the
parliament, to preserve and maintain the act of toleration for
the ease and quiet of all thy people, could not but in gratitude
esteem ourselves engaged both to thank Almighty God for that
favourable influence, and to renew and render our humble and
hearty acknowledgments to the queen for the same, assuring her,
on behalf of all our friends, of our sincere affection and
Christian obedience.
‘And we beseech God, the fountain of wisdom and goodness, so to
direct all thy counsels and undertakings, that righteousness,
which exalts a nation, and mercy and justice, that establish a
throne, may be the character of thy reign, and the blessings of
these kingdoms under it.
‘Signed by the appointment and on the
behalf of the said meeting.’
Of those who presented this address, William Penn was the deliverer,
and the queen was pleased to speak to him in a very kind manner, and
not only received the said address favourably, but after it was read to
her, she made the following most gracious answer:
‘Mr. Penn, I am so well pleased that what I have said is to your
satisfaction, that you and your friends may be assured of my
protection.’[106]
[106] This, from the Record, appears to be rather the
substance than the exact words of the answer.
This year died Margaret, the widow of G. Fox, at about eighty-seven
years of age, as appears to me from an account of her son-in-law, Dr.
Thomas Lower, in which I find, that she was born at Marsh-Grange, in
the parish of Dalton, in Lancashire. Her father was John Askew, a
gentleman of an ancient family, a man of a good estate, and famous
for his piety and charity. His daughter Margaret was religious even
in her young years, and was married, before she attained the age of
eighteen, to Thomas Fell of Swarthmore; who being bred a lawyer, became
a justice of the peace, and having afterwards been a member in several
parliaments, was made a vice-chancellor of the county of Lancaster,
and in process of time a judge, being beloved because of his justice,
wisdom, moderation, and mercy.
In the year 1652, George Fox coming the first time to his house, when
he himself was from home, did by his exhortations so reach to the
family, that a priest with some gentlemen went and told judge Fell,
that a great disaster had befallen his wife and family, they being
seduced and turned Quakers. This was so odiously represented to him,
that it troubled him not a little: but being come home, and received
very kindly by his wife, according to her usual manner, he soon
perceived that it had been intended to make him believe untruths, and
possess him with prejudice. Not long after George Fox got opportunity
to speak to him, which gave him such satisfaction, that he owned that
which was spoken to be truth; and his wife ordered a dinner to be made
ready for her friend G. Fox, and those that were with him. And some
time after he told his wife, when he heard that she and her friends
were consulting where to have a meeting, that they might meet in his
hall, which they did; and though he himself did not come there, yet
when a meeting was kept, he used to sit in a chair so near to it, that
though he could not be seen of every body, yet he could hear what was
preached; which he liked so well, that it is not known that after he
had heard George Fox, he ever frequented the public church: insomuch,
that though he entered not into full society with the Quakers, yet
he favoured them, and several times stopped the malice of their
persecutors, when it was in his power so to do.
After he had been married six and twenty years to Margaret, and had
nine children by her, he deceased in the year 1658, leaving behind him
a son and seven daughters.
Margaret being thus become a widow, neglected no opportunity to serve
her friends. In the year 1660, when king Charles II. was restored,
scarce two weeks after he came in, she went to London, and spoke
several times with that prince, that he would cause the sufferings of
her friends to cease; and in order thereto she wrote, not only to him,
but also to the dukes of York and Gloucester, the queen mother, the
princess of Orange, and the queen of Bohemia. And after having been
about fifteen months at London, she at length prevailed with the king,
that her friends who were in prison, were released by proclamation.
But persecution afterwards beginning again, she went to speak with
the king and the duke of York, at Hampton Court. In the year 1664,
for refusing to swear, she was confined in Lancaster Castle, and kept
long in durance: for because of her great service in the church, she
was much envied, as well as George Fox, to whom she was married about
eleven years after the decease of her first husband judge Fell. But not
long after, she was again imprisoned, and continued a year in jail,
being most part of that time sickly; and afterwards was several times
fined for preaching. In the seventieth year of her age, she spoke
again with the king, which was the last time; but she was not received
so favourably as formerly, for he seemed to be somewhat angry; and
therefore she wrote to him, and staid at London in hopes of an answer;
but he was suddenly taken away by death. Afterwards she spoke with king
James, and wrote to him also. And at length after a laborious and godly
life, she piously departed from hence in a great age, as hath been said
already, having uttered in the time of her sickness, many excellent
sayings, by which it appeared that she was prepared for death, and
longed to be dissolved. She had been a zealous preacher, and also
written much, and among the rest a book entitled, ‘The Call of the Jews
out of Babylon,’ which she dedicated to the famous Manasseh Ben Israel,
and charged him, as he would answer it before God, to cause it to be
read among his brethren. This book being translated by William Ames
into Dutch, was also printed in that language, whilst her first husband
lived.
The same year she died, George Keith, who now preached up and down
where the bishops thought fit, went by their order to New England,
New York, Pennsylvania, &c. for it seems he imagined that in those
parts he should get many adherents among the Quakers: but he came much
short of his aim; for even in Pennsylvania, where many of the Baptists
formerly sided with him, he was by them looked upon with disdain, and
rejected for wearing a clergyman’s gown; and now appearing to be a
great apostate, there was no likelihood for him to get entrance, or
to be esteemed there. After some time being returned into England,
he got a living in the parish of Edburton, in Sussex, worth about
120_l._ a year. Now though the Episcopalians seemed to be in great
expectation that Keith should suppress the doctrine of the Quakers,
yet all his endeavours proved in vain; for whatever some may think,
it is certain, and appears from this history, that they are become a
great people after a very singular manner, and that all projects and
attempts to root them out, have been quashed, and come to nought: and
from this consideration it was, as I have reason to think, that many
of the Quakers, so called, in their preaching did sound forth these
words, being as it were extorted from Balaam: “There is no enchantment
against Jacob, nor divination against Israel;” as I myself have often
heard. And now the strength and power of their violent opposers was
broken by the favour of king William the Third, and his successor,
queen Anne, hath favourably confirmed the liberty of conscience and
worship, granted by an act of parliament to the Quakers. So that now we
may look upon them as a free people, and a society tolerated by supreme
authority; and therefore I might now finish this history, as to the
import of the title.
But before I conclude, I intend to say something concerning their
doctrine, of which mention hath been often made in this work, viz.
That their chief principle, in which they differ from the generality
of modern Christian societies, is, That every man is enlightened with
the Divine Light, according to the evangelist John, who in the first
chapter, speaking of Christ, as he was from eternity with the Father,
calls him the Word, and saith. “That the Word was God, that all things
were made by him, that in him was life, and the life was the light of
men.” And the evangelist speaking concerning John the Baptist, who was
sent from God, saith, “He was not that light, but was sent to bear
witness of that light. That was the true light, which lighteth every
man that cometh into the world.” By this it appears, that the Quakers
have not coined a new phrase, but only made use of the express words
of the holy Scripture. I am not unacquainted that, during the great
apostacy, people generally have not clearly understood this; yet it
ought not to seem strange, because the evangelist saith, “The light
shineth in darkness, and the darkness comprehended it not.” But to
elucidate this doctrine a little more, it may serve for information,
that the Quakers believe this light to be the same that the apostle
Paul calls “The grace of God that bringeth salvation, and hath appeared
to all men:” and concerning its operation, he saith, “teaching us,
that denying ungodliness, and worldly lusts, we should live soberly,
righteously, and godly in this present world.”
Thus much briefly, concerning the above-mentioned denominations of
this divine light; and to make it appear more plainly what this phrase
means, “Take heed to the Light;” thereby we understand, that each one
minding the counsel of the light in their souls, may learn to fear God,
and hate pride, arrogancy, and every evil way; which will beget in us
such a reverential awe towards God, that we dare not do any thing which
we certainly know will displease him; and this is the first step to
godliness: and therefore both David and Solomon have said, that the
fear of God is the beginning of wisdom; viz. that fear which is filial,
accompanied with circumspection and cautiousness; and as we persevere
in this fear, we are enabled to serve the Lord with holiness and
righteousness all the days of our life.
But since we can do this only by the grace of God, it is absolutely
necessary that we take heed thereto: and therefore we ought to pray
to God continually for his assistance. But here starts up something,
of which people generally have a strong notion: for all sorts of
Christians agree, that we must often pray to God, but in the manner of
it many err greatly. For some think they perform this duty of praying
to God, when in the mornings and evenings, and at other certain times
of the day they repeat or recite some forms of prayer, and do not seem
to consider, that men ought always to pray, and not to faint. And the
apostle Paul exhorts to pray without ceasing. And what this means he
himself explains in these words, “Praying always with all prayer and
supplication in the Spirit,” which plainly shows, that it consists not
in a continual repeating of prayers, but in pious and devout breathings
to God, raised in the soul by the spirit of Christ, that it may please
him to keep us continually in his fear and counsel, since we are in
want of daily support from him. And thus praying in faith, we receive
an answer to our breathings in some measure, though not always so soon
as we desire; but we must not faint; and our prayer must be from a
sincere believing and breathing of the heart; otherwise we pray amiss,
and do not receive: according to the saying of the apostle James, “Ye
ask, and receive not, because ye ask amiss.” But what devices and
wiles have not been invented by the enemy of man’s soul, to keep
him off from this continual state of prayer! although Christ very
expressly saith, “Watch and pray, that ye enter not into temptation.
And, what I say unto you, I say unto all, watch;” which, in regard
to the instruction we may reap thence, doth not imply a continual
watching without sleeping, but a vigilancy of the mind, which Solomon
recommends in these words, “Keep thy heart with all diligence.” Now
though our constitution doth not seem to admit an incessant continuance
in the deepest retiredness of mind; yet this is certain, that the more
fervently we turn our minds to God, the more we are kept from evil.
And man persevering in this godly exercise, is the less in danger of
falling into spiritual pride; since he finds that his preservation is
in true humility, and in a continual dependance upon God; for if he
once departs from thence, and thinks himself safe enough, and that now
he needs not to walk circumspectly in fear as he once did, then he is
caught already, and somewhat gone astray from his spiritual guide: to
wit, from that which showed unto him his transgressions, and troubled
him whilst he was in the evil way. And this is the manifestation of the
spirit, which the apostle saith, is given to every man to profit withal.
Now to call this principle, which reproves men for evil, and
consequently discovers it, Light, doth not carry with it any absurdity,
especially if we consider that this denomination is found in sacred
writ. Evil deeds are called by the apostle the works of darkness;
and saith he, “All things that are reproved, are made manifest by
the light: for whatsoever doth make manifest, is light.” By which it
appears plainly, that the Quakers have not coined a new phrase, but
only followed the scripture language. And that they are not the only
people that have declared of the light, might be proved from other
authors of good esteem, if necessity required.
As to oaths, they judge the taking of an oath unlawful; and why, may
abundantly be seen in this history from a multitude of instances.
The making of war they also believe to be inconsistent with pure
Christianity, and esteem that its followers, being led by its precepts,
will come to beat their swords into ploughshares, and their spears
into pruning-hooks, and not to learn war any more, according to the
prediction of the prophet, Isaiah ii. 4: and Christ, the author of our
faith, unto whom we are commanded to look, saith expressly, “My kingdom
is not of this world: if my kingdom were of this world, then would my
servants fight.” And the apostle, James iv. giveth us to understand,
that wars and fightings come of lusts. And we believe that by receiving
the spirit of Christ in our souls, and being entirely guided by it,
enmity and lusts, the root of wars and fightings, come to be destroyed,
and his love remains, by which we not only love one another sincerely,
but also can love our enemies, and pray for them; as also for those who
hate and persecute us for his name, not rendering evil for evil, but
good for evil; and this we believe to be that lamb-like spirit which
will prevail, and must overcome, and therefore they judge it not lawful
for them to make war, and for all that they think that they may very
safely be tolerated by the civil government: not only because they
are willing and ready to pay taxes to Cæsar, but also that since they
cannot fight for the government, neither can they fight against it.
Concerning the sword of magistracy, they do in no wise assert, that
it is unlawful for some Christians to be magistrates: for to say so,
what doth it imply, but the unchristianing of magistrates, whom they
truly honour; magistracy being the ordinance of God. But although they
believe this office to be consistent with Christian religion, yet they
think it more safe for themselves not to seek for it.
Tithes to the priests they do not look upon as a gospel maintenance;
since our Saviour said in express terms to his disciples, “Freely ye
have received, freely give;” yet they do not stretch this so far, as
not to suffer that any who hath imparted of his spiritual gifts to
others, might not receive temporal gifts of them, if he himself was in
want thereof, provided the maintenance of a minister of the gospel be
free, and not forced; and also that it consists not in a fixed stipend,
which leads to turn the ministry of the gospel into a provision of a
livelihood; which they look upon to be far beneath the dignity of the
ministerial office, which ought to be performed purely out of love to
God and our neighbour, and not with any regard to secular gain.
The ordinary way of showing respect or honour in common conversation is
also what they scruple; for to give the same outward sign of respect
to men, which is given to God, viz. the uncovering of the head, they
think, not without good reason, to be unfit; and so they esteem also
the giving flattering titles of honour; since Christ so sharply
reproves the greetings in the markets, and the being called of men
Rabbi, Rabbi, saying, “Be not ye called Rabbi;” which title of that
time may be equalled with the modern master or sir. Thus Christ saith
also, “How can ye believe, who receive honour of one another?” Yet they
limit this only to common conversation with one’s equals: for a servant
may call his master by that title, and subjects their magistrates by
the title of their office, and this may be spoken not contrary to
truth; whereas the other is nothing but mere flattery, invented to
gratify and cherish pride: and therefore they think it inconsistent
with the true gravity of a Christian to call one’s self a servant of
one who has not any mastership over us; and they believe we cannot be
too cautious in speaking, since our Saviour saith, “That every idle
word that men shall speak, they shall give account thereof in the
day of judgment.” The common fashion of greeting they also decline,
thinking it more safe not to imitate the ordinary custom therein.
But that it is more agreeable with Christian simplicity to greet one
another by giving their hand, or by other innocent and harmless notice
in passing by, which are signs of friendship and respect, that may be
showed, without giving to man that which appertains to God, as the
uncovering of the head is among Christians: for the uncovering of the
head is an outward sign of the worship and honour that is paid to God:
and if we give the same token also to men, it may be queried, wherein
the difference consists? If it be answered that it consisteth in the
meaning and intention, then use is made of the same argument, whereby
Papists endeavour to excuse their adoration of images and relics.
As the Quakers testify against the common vain way of salutation,
so likewise against gaming, interludes, jesting, and all sinful and
unprofitable recreations, and drinking of healths, all which they
believe to be contrary to the exhortation of the apostle, “Whether ye
eat or drink, or whatsoever ye do, do all to the glory of God.”
In their method of marriage, they also depart from the common way:
for in the Old Testament they find not that the joining of a couple
in marriage ever was the office of a priest, nor in the gospel, any
preacher among Christians appointed thereto. Therefore it is their
custom, that when any intend to enter into marriage, they first having
the consent of parents or guardians, acquaint the respective men’s and
women’s meetings of their intention, and after due inquiry, all things
appearing clear, they in a public meeting solemnly take each other in
marriage, with a promise of love and fidelity, and not to leave one
another before death separates them. Of this a certificate is drawn,
mentioning the names and distinctions of the persons thus joined, which
being first signed by themselves, those then that are present sign as
witnesses.
In the burying of their dead they mind decency, and endeavour to
avoid all pomp; and the wearing of mourning is not approved among
them; for they think that the mourning which is lawful, may be showed
sufficiently to the world by a modest and grave deportment.
As to water-baptism, and the outward supper, though they do not use
the external signs, witnessing Christ the substance to be come, yet
they are not for judging others who do use them conscientiously
and devoutly. They do not deny that water-baptism was used by some
in the primitive church; but let it be considered unto whom it was
administered, viz. to such that came over either from the Jews or
the Gentiles, to the Christian society: and baptism was as well a
judaical ceremony as circumcision: for, according to the account of
Maimonides,[107] a Gentile, who would be received into the covenant of
the Jews, must be baptized as well as circumcised, whereby he became
a proselyte. Whence it evidently appears that baptism did not come in
the place of circumcision, as it hath been often urged to persuade the
ignorant. But as a Jewess proselyte needed not to get the child she
brought forth baptized, since the Jews did not baptize their children,
but administered baptism only to such of the Gentiles that came over
to them; so we do not find the least evidence that the primitive
Christians in the time of the apostles, did baptize their issue, that
so they might claim to be members of the church; but the contrary seems
rather to appear from what the apostle saith, “The unbelieving husband
is sanctified by the wife, and the unbelieving wife is sanctified by
the husband; else were your children unclean, but now they are holy:”
which implieth no more, but that such children, whose father or mother
alone was a believer, were not excluded from, but comprehended in,
the outward membership: for this cannot have any relation to that
sanctification, whereby the mind comes to be cleansed: but in regard
of being partaker of the outward fellowship, this reached so far, that
if but one of the parents, either father or mother, was a believer,
the child thereby became entitled to the outward society: for to make
one a true and real member of the church of God, the baptism of the
spirit was required, as the main thing; which made John the baptist,
speaking of Christ, say, “He shall baptize you with the Holy Ghost.”
And the apostle Peter signifieth, that baptism, which now saves us, is
not the putting away of the filth of the flesh, but the answer of a
good conscience towards God. This was that baptism of which God by the
prophet Ezekiel said concerning Israel, “I will take you from among
the heathen, and gather you out of all countries. Then will I sprinkle
clean water upon you; and ye shall be clean from all your filthiness,”
&c.
[107] Vid. John Leusden Philog. Hebræo-mixt, Dissertat. xxi. de
Proselyt. Sect. 1. pag. mihi 144.
It is a common objection, that Christ himself was baptized with
water, and that we are required to follow his footsteps: but let it
be considered that he was circumcised also, though the one as well as
the other needed not to his melioration, but was done for our sake,
to show us by the latter, that our hearts must be circumcised, that
is, separated from all evil inclinations and lusts. And by the baptism
which he suffered to be administered to him, is signified to us that we
must be baptized by his spiritual baptism. And if it be objected, that
Christ said to Nicodemus, “Except a man be born of water and of the
spirit, he cannot enter into the kingdom of God;” it may be answered,
that if this must be understood of outward water, the consequence
will be, that water-baptism is of such an absolute necessity, that if
any be deprived of it, he is to be shut out of heaven, which, though
believed by Papists, yet I think Protestants will hardly say so;
neither was John Calvin[108] of that opinion. It is also worth taking
notice, that John the Baptist, said, “That Christ should baptize with
fire;” by which it appears, that both water and fire in this sense,
are metaphorical expressions; for they both serve for cleansing and
purifying, though in a different way. Now although some did baptize
with water, yet it ought to be considered, that if the command of
Christ to his disciples, “Go ye and teach all nations, baptizing them
in the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Ghost,”
related absolutely to water-baptism, it would indeed have been very
strange, that Paul, that eminent apostle of the Gentiles, did not think
himself commissionated for the administration of that baptism. Whereas,
if the apostles had really received a commission from the Lord to that
purpose, he by no means would have been singled out; since speaking of
himself he saith, That he supposed he was not a whit behind the very
chiefest apostles; and yet he also saith in express terms, “Christ
sent me not to baptize, but to preach the gospel. And I thank God that
I baptized none of you but Crispus and Gaius. And I baptized also the
household of Stephanus: besides, I know not whether I baptized any
other.” And yet he saith, “There is one Lord, one faith, one baptism,”
which was the baptism of the Spirit. And the same apostle saith also,
“As many as have been baptized into Christ, have put on Christ:” and
this cannot have relation to water-baptism, because many receive that,
who never put on Christ, and become conformable to his image, which
however is required of all Christians. To this may be added, that if
the command to baptize, Matt. xxviii. 19, were literally restricted to
water-baptism, then why not our Saviour’s words be as well understood
literally concerning the washing his disciples’ feet, when he said to
Peter, “If I wash thee not, thou hast no part with me;” and to his
disciples, “If I then your Lord and Master have washed your feet, ye
also ought to wash one another’s feet.” More might be said on this
subject; but since R. Barclay hath treated of this matter at large
long ago, the reader may apply to his Apology for the true Christian
divinity.
[108] Vid. Calvin, Epist. 184. and 229.
* * * * *
Concerning the outward supper, it may be truly said, that it was the
passover that was kept by Christ at the eating of the paschal lamb;
which likewise was a judaical ceremony, that Christians generally take
to be a figure or shadow. But is not the modern use of the outward
supper in remembrance of Christ’s sufferings, also a figure, viz. of
his spiritual supper with the soul; and doth it not seem absurd, that
one figure should be the antitype of the other. The passover was not a
memorial of another sign that was to follow; but it was a memorial of
the slaying of all the first-born in Egypt, and of the preservation of
Israel and their first-born. Moreover it may be said, that the paschal
lamb was eaten in their families, whereas the outward supper now is
celebrated in public places for worship. We find, that the apostles,
“Breaking bread from house to house, did eat their meat with gladness
and singleness of heart;” which implies an usual meal or eating. And
certainly they do well, who daily at meals remember Christ and his
sufferings: for the spiritual supper, which is the thing required,
ought to be partaken of by every true Christian; and this cannot be,
unless, we, being attentive, open the door of our hearts to Christ,
and let him come in. Let it also be considered, that the soul wants
daily food as well as the body; and being destitute of that, will faint
and languish, and so become unable to do good; and therefore our Lord
recommended his disciples to pray for[109] daily bread: for that this
chiefly had relation to the spiritual manna, the bread that comes down
from heaven, appears from this saying of Christ, “Labour not for the
meat which perisheth, but for that meat which endureth unto everlasting
life.” Besides, the apostle tells us, “That the kingdom of God is not
meat and drink, but righteousness, and peace, and joy in the Holy
Ghost.” And the author to the Hebrews saith, “It is a good thing that
the heart be established with grace, not with meats, which have not
profited them that have been occupied therein.”
[109] [Greek: Τον αρτον επιουσιον: Ton arton epiousion],
signifying, according to the nice explanation of Pasor, bread to
maintain or uphold the essence or substance; though others have
translated it superessential bread.
All this then being duly considered by those called Quakers, it hath
restrained them from the use of those ceremonies. For the man who
through grace is become truly spiritual, hath no need of ceremonies or
outward means to depend upon, but finds himself excited to rely on the
inward divine grace, and to depend upon God alone, walking continually
in reverential watchfulness before him, and so keeping to the immediate
teachings of Christ in his heart, he approaches with boldness to the
throne of grace, and with a full assurance of faith, becomes a partaker
of salvation.
But I leave this matter, to say something also concerning the Quakers’
way of worship. It is usual among them when they meet together in
their religious assemblies, to spend some time in a devout silence and
retiredness of mind, inwardly praying with pure breathings to God,
which they generally call, waiting upon the Lord: and if under this
spiritual exercise any one feels himself stirred up of God to speak
something by way of doctrine or exhortation, he doth so, and sometimes
more than one, but orderly, one after another. And that this was usual
in the primitive apostolical church, appears from what Paul saith, “If
any thing be revealed to another that sitteth by, let the first hold
his peace: for ye may all prophesy one by one.” And what prophesying
signifieth under the new covenant, the apostle himself explains with
these words, “He that prophesieth, edifieth the church.” Yet let
none think this liberty of speaking to be so unlimited, that every
body that can say something, may freely do so in the congregation:
for he that will speak there, must also by all means be of a good,
and honest, and holy life, and sound in doctrine; and if in process
of time he finds in himself a concern from the Lord to travel in the
ministry, and desires a certificate of his soundness in doctrine and
orderly life, he may have it from the congregation where he resides.
And certainly a preacher himself ought to have experience of the work
of sanctification, before he is qualified to instruct others in the way
thereto: for mere brain-knowledge cannot do that effectually. Sometimes
in their meetings there is a public prayer before preaching; and
preaching is generally concluded with a prayer.
Now preaching among them is not confined to the male sex as among
others: for they believe that women whom the Lord hath gifted for
gospel-ministry, may exercise their gifts among them to edification:
for who will presume to say to him, What dost thou? To him namely,
who, by his apostle, hath said, “Quench not the Spirit.” They are not
ignorant that the same apostle said to the Corinthians, “Let your
women keep silence in the churches.” Now not to insist on the word
your, which seems to carry an emphasis along with it, as being chiefly
applicable to those Corinthian women, yet by what follows it appears
plainly, that it regards ignorant women, since it is said there, “If
they will learn any thing,” that is, if they will be further instructed
concerning some points of doctrine, “Let them ask their husbands at
home.” Whereby it appears that this saying hath relation to such women,
who either from indiscretion or curiosity, or out of a desire to be
looked upon as such that know also to say something, proposed questions
to the church, and thereby caused more confusion than edification: “For
it is indeed a shame for [such] women to speak in the church;” and the
apostle’s precept is, “Let all things be done decently and in order.”
Moreover, it ought to be considered also, that these words, “Let your
women keep silence,” have a tendency also to the subjection which women
owe to their husbands, because it is said there also, that women are
commanded “To be under obedience,” This the apostle explains further in
one of his epistles to Timothy, where he saith, “Let the women learn
in silence with all subjection: but I suffer not a woman to teach nor
usurp authority over the man.” Now that the apostle doth not absolutely
forbid women speaking to edification in the church, appears from his
own words, when he saith, “Every woman that prayeth, or prophesieth,
with her head uncovered, dishonoureth her head:” for here he gives to
women a prescript how to behave themselves when they prophesy; and what
he means by prophesying, he himself declareth in the same epistle, as
hath been hinted already, where he saith, “He that prophesieth speaketh
unto men to edification, and exhortation, and comfort; and he that
prophesieth edifieth the church.” And pray what is this but that which
we now a-days call preaching? For though prophesying under the old
covenant seemeth chiefly to signify a prediction of what is to come,
yet it is credible that the ancient prophets were also preachers; and
according to the New Testament language, it is evident that prophesying
is chiefly preaching. Hence we may easily understand what kind of
virgins the four daughters of Philip were, which did prophesy, and what
kind of servant of the church Phœbe was, and Tryphena, and Tryphosa,
who laboured in the Lord, and Persis, who laboured much in the Lord,
which is considerably more than what is said of that Mary, who bestowed
much labour on the apostles. How significantly doth the apostle call
Priscilla and Aquila, his helpers in Christ Jesus. And what he means by
his helpers in that sense, we may see Philip, iv. 3. where he speaks of
women which laboured with him in the gospel. All this then being duly
considered, the Quakers, so called, think it unlawful to forbid such
women to preach whom the Lord hath gifted, and who are of a godly life
and conversation; since it appears sufficiently that in the primitive
church they were not debarred from that service. And as in those days,
so in ours, it hath evidently appeared, that some pious women have had
a very excellent gift to the edification of the church. All which tends
to the glory of God, who is no respecter of persons, and is pleased to
make use of weak instruments to show forth his praise.
As to singing the words of David, since they do not suit the state and
condition of mixed assemblies, they disuse the customary formal way of
singing in the churches, which has neither precept nor precedent in the
New Testament.
Concerning the resurrection, their belief is orthodox, and agreeable
with the testimonies of the holy Scriptures: but because they judge
it to be very improper to say that we shall rise again with the same
numerical bodies we now have, their opposers have falsely accused
them, as such who deny the resurrection; though they fully believe
this saying of the apostle, “If in this life only we have hope in
Christ, we are of all men most miserable.” And as to the qualities of
the bodies wherewith we shall arise, he saith, “It is sown a natural
body, it is raised a spiritual body:” “For,” saith the same apostle,
“our conversation is in heaven, from whence we look for the Saviour,
the Lord Jesus Christ, who shall change our vile body, that it may
be fashioned like unto his glorious body, according to the working
whereby he is able to subdue all things unto himself,” And therefore
they have counted it more safe, not to determine with what kind of
bodies we shall be raised, provided we have a firm belief that there is
to be a resurrection of the dead: for from such a determination many
difficulties may arise, which otherwise are avoided; and therefore
they have also said to their antagonists, ‘Christ’s resurrection is
indeed an argument for our resurrection; but would it be valid from
thence thus to argue: because Christ’s body, which was without sin,
and was not corrupted in the grave, was raised the same it was buried;
therefore our bodies, which admit of corruption, must also be raised
the same they are buried?’ Nay, by insisting stiffly on this point, we
fall into many difficulties: who will venture to say, that when people
die, and are buried about the age of ninety years, their bodies in the
resurrection shall be the same decrepid bodies they were when buried;
and that unborn children dying, shall be raised with such small bodies
as they had then? To shun therefore such kind of absurdities, they
think it better not to suffer human wit to expatiate too far, since the
apostle saith, “Mind not high things;” and adviseth every man, “not to
think of himself more highly than he ought to think.”
Now as to church government, both for looking to the orderly
conversation of the members, and for taking care of the poor, and of
indigent widows and orphans, and also for making inquiry into marriages
solemnized among them, they have particular meetings, either weekly,
or every two weeks, or monthly, according to the greatness of the
churches. They have also quarterly meetings in every county, where
matters are brought that cannot well be adjusted in the particular
meetings. To these meetings come not only the ministers and elders,
but also other members, that are known to be of sober conversation;
and what is agreed upon there, is entered into a book belonging to the
meeting. Besides these meetings a general annual assembly is kept at
London in the Whitsun week,[110] so called; not for any superstitious
observation the Quakers have for that more than at any other time, but
because that season of year best suits the general accommodation.
[110] It has since been fixed to be held on the second day
immediately following the third First day in the fifth month.
To this yearly meeting, which sometimes lasteth four, or five, or
more days, are admitted such as are sent from all churches of that
society in the world, to give an account of the state of the particular
churches; which from some places is done only by writing; and from
that meeting is sent a general epistle to all the churches, which
commonly is printed; and sometimes particular epistles are sent also
to the respective churches. By which it may be known every year, in
what condition the churches are: and in the said epistle generally
is recommended a godly life and conversation, and due care about the
education of children. If it happens that the poor any where are in
want, then that is supplied by others who have in store, or sometimes
by an extraordinary collection.
As to the denomination by which they are distinguished from other
religious societies, it is, as is well known, Quakers; but since that
name was given them in scorn, as hath been said in due place, they
do not assume it any further than for distinction-sake from others;
but the name whereby they call one another is that of friends. And
herein they have the example of primitive Christians, as may be seen
Acts xxvii. 3. where it is said, that Julius the centurion courteously
intreated Paul, and gave him liberty to go unto[111] the friends, (for
so the Greek hath it,) to refresh himself, and 3 Epist. John 14. we
read, ‘The friends salute thee; and greet the friends by name.’ Now
this name of Friends is so common among the Quakers in England, that
others also know them, and sometimes call them by that name.
[111] [Greek: Προς τους Φιλους: Pros tous Philous] and [Greek: ὁι
Φιλοι: hoi Philoi], which is not his friends, or our friends, as
it is rendered, but the friends.
1705-1707.
It was, as I find, in the year 1705, that Anna, the late wife of Thomas
Camm, deceased in a great age; and having already made mention of her
by the name of Anne Audland, I will say something more of her before I
describe her exit. She was daughter of Richard Newby, in the parish of
Kendal in Westmoreland, being born in the year 1627, and well educated;
and being come to maturity, she conversed much with the most religious
people of that time. About the year 1650, she was married to John
Audland, and in the beginning of 1652, they both were by the ministry
of G. Fox, convinced of that truth he preached; and in the next
year they began to preach that doctrine to others; for which in the
following year she was committed to prison in the town of Aukland in
the county of Durham, where she had opportunity to speak to the people
through the window; which she did so pathetically, that several were
affected with her testimony; and after being released, she travelled up
and down the country, and had good service; but not long after, she was
again committed to prison on an accusation of having spoken blasphemy,
for which she was tried at Banbury in Oxfordshire; the indictment
drawn up against her containing that she had said, God did not live:
whereas that which she said was, that true words might be a lie in the
mouth of some that spoke them, alleging for truth the saying of the
prophet Jeremiah v. 2. “Though they say the Lord liveth, surely they
swear falsely.” The judge before whom she appeared, behaved himself
moderately, and observing how wisely she answered to his questions with
a modest boldness, proposed the matter to the jury thus; ‘That she
acknowledged the Lord her God and Redeemer to live, and that there were
gods of the heathen that were dead gods.’ Some of the justices upon the
bench, who sought her destruction, perceiving they should not obtain
their end, for it had been divulged that she should be burnt, went off
to influence the jury, and bias them; which had this effect, that they
brought her in guilty of misdemeanor: which made one present say, it
was illegal to indict her for one fact, and to bring her in guilty of
another; since they ought to have found her either guilty or not guilty
upon the matter of fact charged in the indictment. The judge, though he
had carried himself discreetly, had a mind however somewhat to please
the justices that were her enemies; and therefore at her refusal to
give bond for her good behaviour, she was sent to prison again; though
he was heard to say, that she ought to have been discharged. And the
prison whither she was sent was a nasty place, several steps under
ground; on the side whereof was a common sewer, which sometimes stunk
very much, and frogs and toads crawled in the room. Here she was kept
about eight months, but showed herself content, being persuaded that it
was for the Lord’s sake she thus suffered.
Her husband, John Audland, died, as hath been said before, about the
beginning of the year 1664, and two years after she was married to
Thomas Camm, a minister also of the gospel. She lived very retiredly,
and spent much time in solitariness, and was almost daily exercised
in reading the holy Scriptures, and other edifying books. Her husband
suffered imprisonment three years, at Kendal, and about six years, at
Appleby; insomuch that she came to be well acquainted with adversities:
but by all these she was the more spurred on to advance in true
piety; and was a very remarkable teacher in the church, having an
extraordinary gift to declare the truth. And yet she was very modest
and humble, insomuch that how full soever she was of matter, she rarely
appeared to preach in large meetings, where she knew there were men
qualified for that service; and she was grieved when she perceived
any of her sex to be too forward on such occasions; and therefore she
advised them to be cautious, though she did not omit to encourage the
good in all, and endeavoured not to quench the Spirit in any. Thus she
continued in a virtuous life to the end of her days. At Bristol she
once fell so sick, that it was thought she was nigh death; and then she
exhorted those that stood by, to prize their time, and to prepare for
their latter end, as God said she, hath inclined me to do, so that I
enjoy unspeakable peace here, with full assurance of eternal rest and
felicity in the world to come.
But she recovered from this sickness; and when her dying hour came,
which was in her dwelling place near Kendal, she was not less prepared,
but said, ‘I bless the Lord I am prepared for my change. I am full
of assurance of eternal salvation, and a crown of glory, through my
dear Lord and Saviour Jesus Christ.’ Many other excellent sayings she
uttered during the time of her sickness; and when she drew near her
end, some of her friends asking her, whether she knew them, ‘Yes,’
said she, ‘I know you every one. I have my understanding as clear as
ever: for how should it be otherwise, since my peace is made with God
through the Lord Jesus Christ. I have no disturbance in mind, therefore
is my understanding and judgment so good and clear; but to lie under
affliction of body and mind, to feel pinching pangs of body even to
death, and to want peace with God; O that would be intolerable to
bear!‘ She advised her husband to quit himself of the cumber of the
things of this world, after her death, that he might with the more
freedom attend the ministry of the gospel, and, said she, ‘Warn all,
but especially the rich, to keep low, and not to be high-minded: for
humility and holiness is the badge of our profession.’ A little before
her departure, some fainting fits taking her, she revived again, and
said, ‘I was glad, thinking I was going to my eternal rest, without
disturbance. I have both a sight and earnest of eternal rest with God
in the world to come.’ A little after she said, ‘Methinks I grow weak
and cold. My hands and feet are grown very cold, yet my heart is very
strong. I must meet with sharper pangs than I have yet felt--This pain
is hard to flesh and blood, but must be endured a little time; ease and
eternal rest is at hand; I am glad I see death so near me.’ A little
after, seeing her friends weep, she said, ‘Be not concerned, for all
is well: I have only death to encounter, and the sting of it is wholly
taken away: the grave hath no victory, and my soul is ascending above
all sorrow and pains. So let me go freely to my heavenly mansion,
disturb me not in my passage. My friends, go to the meeting; let me not
hinder the Lord’s business, but let it be the chief, and by you all
done faithfully, that at the end ye may receive your reward; for mine
is sure. I have not been negligent, my day’s work is done.’ Feeling
afterwards her pains increasing, she prayed the Lord to help her
through the agony of death; and a little after she said, ‘O my God, O
my God, thou hast not forsaken me, blessed be thy name for ever. O my
blessed Saviour, that suffered for me and all mankind, great pains in
thy holy body upon the cross, remember me thy poor handmaid in this my
great bodily affliction. My trust is in thee, my hope is only in thee,
my dear Lord. O come, come dear Lord Jesus, come quickly, receive my
soul, to thee I yield it up, help me now in my bitter pangs.’ Then her
husband prayed to God, that he would be pleased to make her passage
easy. And she had no more such pangs, but drew her breath shorter by
degrees, and said little more, but that it was good to leave all to
the Lord. And so she slept in the Lord the 30th of November, 1705, in
the 79th year of her age. Thus Anne Camm departed this life, and her
husband said afterwards that he counted it a great blessing to have had
her to wife: for she was indeed a very excellent woman, and therefore I
have described her latter end thus circumstantially.
Having now related what hath come to my knowledge, that I thought
remarkable, and of singular moment in respect of the rise and progress
of the people called Quakers, I think what I have written may suffice,
and answer the contents of the title of this history; and therefore I
will add only a few occurrences, and then come to a conclusion.
1708-1709.
Many years ago, even in the time of King James I. endeavours were used
to unite England and Scotland into one kingdom, but all in vain: king
William III. also tried what could be done in this case, but his life
did not permit him to bring the work to perfection. Yet at length the
matter was agreed and settled about the beginning of the year 1707, in
the reign of Queen Anne, it being concluded that these two kingdoms
henceforth should be united into one, and called Great Britain. In the
forepart of the year 1708, Scotland was threatened with an invasion by
the pretended prince of Wales; but he failed in the attempt, and his
design came to nought. Now since the union of the said kingdom with
that of England was accomplished, and the succession of the crown in
the Protestant line established by law, the queen on that account was
congratulated by a multitude of addresses of her subjects; and the
Quakers, so called, judged themselves obliged also to testify their
affection to that princess, as they did by the following address:
TO ANNE, QUEEN OF GREAT BRITAIN, &C.
_The grateful and humble Address of the People commonly called
Quakers, from their Yearly Meeting in London, this 28th day of
the third month, called May, 1708._
‘We having good cause to commemorate the manifold mercies of
God vouchsafed to this united kingdom of Great Britain, believe
it our duty to make our humble acknowledgments, first to the
Divine Majesty, and next to the queen, for the liberty we enjoy
under her kind and favourable government, with hearty desires
and prayers to Almighty God, (who hath hitherto disappointed the
mischievous and wicked designs of her enemies, both foreign and
domestic,) that he will so effectually replenish the queen’s
heart, together with those of her great council, with his divine
wisdom, that righteousness, justice and moderation, which are the
ornaments of the queen’s reign, and which exalt a nation, may be
increased and promoted.
‘And we take this opportunity to give the queen the renewed
assurance of our hearty affection to the present established
government, and that we will as a people in our respective
stations, according to our peaceable principles, by the grace of
God, approve ourselves in all fidelity the queen’s faithful and
obedient subjects, and as such conclude with fervent prayers to
the Lord of Hosts, that after a prosperous, safe and long reign
in this life, thou, O queen, mayest be blessed with an eternal
crown of glory.’
This address was signed in the name of the meeting by fourteen members
thereof, who also were ordered to present it; but it being understood
that the queen seemed willing to be attended with it in private, only
seven, among whom were G. Whitehead and Thomas Lower, went in with it,
and were introduced by the principal secretary of state Boyle; and G.
Whitehead presenting it, said, ‘We heartily wish the queen health and
happiness: we are come to present an address from our yearly meeting,
which we could have desired might have been more early and seasonably
timed, but could not, because our said meeting was but the last week;
and therefore now hope the queen will favourably accept our address.’
Then G. Whitehead delivering it, the queen said, ‘Pray read it:’
whereupon he took and read it, and the queen answered,
‘I thank you very kindly for your address, and I assure you of my
protection; you may depend upon it.’
To which G. Whitehead replied, ‘We thankfully acknowledge, that
God by his power and special providence, hath preserved and
defended the queen against the evil designs of her enemies,
having made the queen an eminent instrument for the good of
this nation and realm of Great Britain, in maintaining the
toleration, the liberty we enjoy in respect to our consciences
against persecution. Which liberty being grounded upon this
reason in the late king’s reign, for the uniting the Protestant
subjects in interest and affection, the union of Great Britain
now settled tends to the strength and safety thereof; for in
union is the strength and stability of a nation, or kingdom; and
without union, no nation or people can be safe; but are weak
and unstable. The succession of the crown being settled and
established in the Protestant line, must needs be very acceptable
to all true Protestant subjects.
‘And now, O queen, that the Lord may preserve and defend thee for
the future, the remainder of thy days, and support thee under all
thy great care and concern for the safety and good of this nation
and kingdom of Great Britain, and that the Lord may bless and
preserve thee to the end, is our sincere desire.’
To this the queen returned, ‘I thank you for your speech, and for your
address; and ye may be assured I will take care to protect you.’
And G. Whitehead replied, ‘The Lord bless and prosper the queen and all
her good intentions.’ And thereupon he and his friends withdrew.
The most remarkable occurrences the Quakers in England now met with,
were that they enjoying the liberty to perform their religious worship
publicly, without disturbance, were afterward encountered by the
writings of their enemies from ignorance or envy, and represented as
maintainers of heterodox sentiments; but they not failing of answers,
the eyes of many were opened, and some came over to them. And though
sometimes those of the public church had the success to draw over one
that was born and educated among the Quakers, but inclined to more
liberty, and to be esteemed by the world, yet there have been others
of the episcopal church, who not from any earthly consideration, but
merely by a convincement of their mind, have entered into society
with the Quakers; not fearing to make public profession of their
religion, as may appear by two letters which I will insert here; the
one of Samuel Crisp, a clergyman of the episcopal church, who gave the
following account of his change to one of his near relations:
‘_My dear Friend_,
‘I received a letter from thee, the week before last, which
was sent by thy uncle Bolton: there were a great many kind
expressions in it, and in thy sister Clopton’s likewise; I
acknowledge myself much obliged to you both, and to the whole
family, for many repeated kindnesses, and if my school had not
engrossed so much of my time, I would have taken opportunity to
answer my dear friend’s letter now, and upon that account my
delay will be more excusable.
‘The news thou hast heard of my late change is really true, I
cannot conceal it, for it is what I glory in; neither was it
any prospect of temporal advantage that induced me to it, but
a sincere love to the truth, and pure regard to my own soul:
neither can I be sufficiently thankful to God, that he hath let
me live to this glorious day, and not cut me off in the midst
of my sins and provocations against him; he is long suffering
to us-ward, not willing that any should perish, but that all
should come to repentance: he hath brought me off from the forms
and shadows of religion, and let me see in a more illustrious
manner what is the life and substance of it, as he found me in
some degree faithful to that measure of light and knowledge he
had bestowed on me, whilst I was in the communion of the church
of England; therefore he was pleased of late, as I humbly waited
upon him to make known to me greater and deeper mysteries of his
kingdom; and I can truly say, that I find by daily experience,
as I keep low and retired into that pure gift which he hath
planted within me, things are every day more and more cleared
up to me, and the truth shines and prevails greatly over the
kingdom of darkness; and if I should now turn my back upon such
manifestations as these, and entangle myself again with the yoke
of bondage, surely I should grieve the Holy Spirit, so that he
might justly withdraw his kind operations, and never return more
to assist and comfort me; for God is not mocked; religion is a
very serious and weighty thing; repentance and salvation are not
to be trifled with, nor is turning to God, to be put off till our
own time, leisure or conveniency, but we must love and cherish
the least appearance of Christ, not slighting or despising
the day of small things, but embrace the first opportunity of
following Christ in any of his commands: when he speaks, there is
such force and authority in it, that we cannot stand to cavil,
dispute, or ask questions; for unless we will be so obstinate
as to shut our eyes against the sun, we must needs confess to
the truth of his doctrine, and presently strike in with it; and
therefore when for several weeks I had lived more privately and
retiredly in London, than was usual, fasting twice or thrice
in a week, or sometimes more, spending my time in reading the
Scriptures, and in prayer to God, this was a good preparation of
my mind, to receive the truth which he was then about to make
known to me. I lamented the errors of my past life, and was
desirous to attain a more excellent degree of holiness than I had
discovered in the church of England. In this religious retirement
God knew the breathings of my soul, how sincere I was, and
resigned to him when alone. I wanted him to set me free, and to
speak peace and comfort to my soul, which was grieved and wearied
with the burden of my sin: for though I had strictly conformed
myself to the orders and ceremonies of the church of England,
and had kept myself from running into any great or scandalous
enormities, the fear of the Almighty preserving me, yet still I
had not that rest and satisfaction in myself which I desired,
and greatly longed for. I found when I had examined my state and
condition to God-ward, that things were not right with me.
‘As for a sober and plausible conversation in the eye of the
world, I knew that was a very easy attainment. A good natural
temper, with the advantage of a liberal education, will quickly
furnish a man with abilities for that, so that he shall be looked
upon as a saint, and very spiritual; when perhaps in chains of
darkness, in the gall of bitterness, and in the very bond of
iniquity. If this sort of righteousness would have done, perhaps
I might make as fair pretensions that way as some others; but
alas, I quickly saw the emptiness and unsatisfactoriness of
those things: this is a covering that will not protect or hide
us from the wrath of the Almighty, when he comes to judgment. It
is not a man’s natural temper, or his education, that makes him
a good Christian; this is not the righteousness which the gospel
calls for, nor is this the truth in the inward parts which God
requires. The heart and affections must be cleansed and purified
before we can be acceptable to God; therefore it was death to me
to think of taking up my rest in a formal pretence of holiness,
wherein yet I saw to my grief, abundance of people wrapped
themselves, slept securely and quietly; dreaming of the felicity
of paradise, as if heaven were now their own, and they needed not
trouble themselves any more about religion. I could not entertain
so dangerous an opinion as this, for then I should be tempted to
take up my rest by the way, whilst I was travelling towards the
promised land. I think I made a little progress in a holy life,
and through God’s assistance I weakened some of my spiritual
enemies, whilst I lived in the communion of the national church.
I thank my God, I can truly say, whilst I used those prayers,
I did it with zeal and sincerity, in his fear and dread; but
still I ceased not my earnest supplication to him in private,
that he would show me something more excellent; that I might get
a complete victory over all my lusts and passions, and might
perfect righteousness before him; for I found a great many sins
and weaknesses daily attending me: and though I made frequent
resolutions to forsake those sins, yet still the temptation was
too strong for me; so that often I had cause to complain with
the apostle in the bitterness of my soul, “O wretched man that
I am, who shall deliver me from the body of this death?” Who
shall set me free, and give me strength to triumph over sin, the
world, and the devil: that I may in every thing please God, and
there may not be the least thought, word, or motion, gesture or
action, but what is exactly agreeable to his most holy will, as
if I saw him standing before me, and as if I were to be judged
by him for the thought of my heart next moment? O divine life!
O seraphic soul! O that I could always stand here; for here is
no reflection, no sorrow, no repentance: but at God’s right hand
there is perfect peace, and a river of unspeakable joy. O that we
might imitate the life of Jesus, and be thoroughly furnished unto
every good word and work. This was the frequent breathing of my
soul to God when I was in the country, but more especially after
I had left my new preferment of a chaplain, and took private
lodgings in London. In this retirement I hope I may say without
boasting, that I was very devout and religious, and I found great
comfort and refreshment in it from the Lord, who let me see
the beauty of holiness; and the sweetness that arises from an
humbled, mortified life, was then very pleasant to my taste, and
I rejoiced in it more than in all the delights and pleasures of
the world.
‘And now it pleased God to show me, that if I would indeed live
strictly and holily as becomes the gospel, then I must leave the
communion of the church of England; but knew not yet which way
to determine myself, nor to what body of men I should join, who
were more orthodox and more regular in their lives. As for the
Quakers, so called, I was so great a stranger to them, that I
had never read any of their books, nor do I remember that ever I
conversed with any one man of that communion in my whole life.
I think there was one in Foxly, whilst I was curate there; but I
never saw the man, though I went several times to his house on
purpose to talk with him, and to bring him off from his mad and
wild enthusiasm, as I then ignorantly thought it to be. As for
that way, I knew it was every where spoken against. He that had
a mind to appear more witty and ingenious than the rest, would
choose this for the subject of his profane jests and drollery;
with this he makes sport, and diverts the company; for a Quaker
is but another name for a fool or a mad man, and was scarce ever
mentioned but with scorn and contempt. As for drollery, I confess
I was never any great friend to it; but indeed if all was true
that was laid to the Quakers’ charge, I thought they were some of
the worst people that ever appeared in the world, and wondered
with what face they could call themselves Christians; since I
was told they denied the fundamental articles of the holy faith,
to which I ever bore the highest veneration and esteem; and
notwithstanding I had always lived at the greatest distance from
that people, and was very zealous in the worship of the church
of England, and upon all occasions would speak very honourably
of it, moreover was content to suffer some few inconveniencies
upon that account, as thou very well knowest; yet my father
still looked upon me as inclining to the Quakers; and some years
ago signified to a friend, he was afraid I would become an
enthusiast; and whilst I was at Bungan school, he sent me two
books to read that were written against the Quakers, one of which
was John Faldo’s: who had been sufficiently exposed for it by
William Penn.
‘Whilst I lived in London in that private retired manner, I was
just now speaking of walking very humbly in the sight of God,
and having opportunity to reflect upon my past life, as I had
occasion to be one day at a bookseller’s shop, I happened to cast
my eye on Barclay’s works: and having heard in the country, that
he was a man of great account amongst the Quakers, I had a mind
to see what their principles were, and what defence they could
make for themselves; for sure, thought I, these people are not so
silly and ridiculous; nor maintainers of such horrid opinions, as
the author of the Snake, and some others would make us believe.
I took Barclay home with me, and I read him through in a week’s
time, save a little treatise at the end, which I found to be
very philosophical, I omitted; but however, I soon read enough
to convince me of my own blindness and ignorance in the things
of God; there I found a light to break in upon my mind, which
did mightily refresh and comfort me, in that poor, low, and
humbled state, in which I then was; for indeed I was then, and
had been for a considerable time before, very hungry and thirsty
after righteousness, and therefore I received the truth with all
readiness of mind: it was like balm to my soul, and as showers
of rain to the thirsty earth, which is parched with heat and
drought. This author laid things down so plainly, and proved
them with such ingenuity and dexterity of learning, and opened
the Scriptures so clearly to me, that without standing to cavil,
dispute, raise argument or objection, or consulting with flesh
and blood, I presently resigned myself to God; and weeping for
joy that I had found so great a treasure, I often thanked him
with tears in my eyes for so kind a visitation of his love, that
he was graciously pleased to look toward me when my soul cried
after him; so, though before I was in great doubt and trouble of
mind, not knowing which way to determine myself, yet now the sun
breaking out so powerfully upon me, the clouds were scattered: I
was now fully satisfied in my own mind which way I ought to go,
and to what body of people I should join myself.
‘So I immediately left the communion of the church of England,
and went to Gracechurch-street meeting. After I had read
Barclay, I read some other books of that kind, among which was
an excellent piece, though in a small volume, called No Cross
No Crown. Thus I continued reading and frequenting meetings
for several weeks together, but did not let any one soul know
what I was about. The first man I conversed with was George
Whitehead, and this was several weeks after I began to read
Barclay, and frequent their meetings. By him I was introduced
into more acquaintance, and still the further I went, the more I
liked their plainness, and the decency and simplicity of their
conversation. They do not use the ceremonies and salutations
of the church of England, but shake hands freely, and converse
together as brothers and sisters, that are sprung of the same
royal seed, and made kings and priests unto God. O, the love,
the sweetness and tenderness, and affection, I have seen among
this people! “By this,” says Christ, “shall all men know that
ye are my disciples, if ye have love one to another.” “Put
on therefore,” says the apostle, “(as the elect of God, holy
and beloved,) bowels of mercy, kindness, humbleness of mind,
meekness, long-suffering.”
‘Thus, my dear friend, I have given thee an account of my
proceeding on this affair. As to my bodily state, if thou
desirest to know what it is, I may acquaint thee that I have
my health, as well as ever, and I bless God I have food and
raiment sufficient for me, so that I want no outward thing; and
I have the necessities and conveniencies of life liberally: let
us not burden ourselves with taking care for the vanities and
superfluities of it; let us possess our vessels in sanctification
and honour; and as we bring our minds into perfect subjection
to the whole will of God, so let us bring our body to the most
simple and natural way of living; being content with the fewest
things, never studying to gratify our wanton appetites, nor to
follow the customs and humours of men; but how we may so contract
our earthly cares and pleasures, that we may bring most glory to
God, most health and peace to our own souls, and do most service
to the truth; and if this be our aim, certainly a very small
portion of the things of this world will suffice us, seeing we
are Christians; we should therefore earnestly pursue those things
which bring us nearest to God, and which are most perfective of
human nature: for what is more than a competency, seems to be a
burden to a generous philosophical soul, which would breathe in a
pure vehicle, that so it may have a quick sense and relish of all
blessings, both of the superior and inferior worlds.
‘Thou knowest, my dear friend, that religion is a very serious
thing, and repentance is a great work, and one precious immortal
soul is of more worth than ten thousand perishing worlds, with
all their pomp and glory; therefore let us take courage, and
be valiant for the truth upon the earth, let us not content
ourselves with a name and profession of godliness, let us come
to the life and power of it, let us not despond of getting the
victory. We have a little strength for God: let us be faithful
to him, and he will give us more strength, so that we shall
see the enemy of our peace fall before us, and nothing shall
be impossible unto us: I say, my friend, let us be faithful to
that measure of light and knowledge which God has given us, to
be profited and edified by it in a spiritual life, and as God
sees we are diligent and faithful to work with the strength we
have, he will more and more enlighten us, so that we shall see
to the end of those forms and shadows of religion wherein we
had formerly lived; but if he sees we are about to take up our
rest in those shadows, that we grow cold and indifferent in the
pursuit of holiness, running out into notions and speculations;
and have more mind to dispute, and to make a show of learning and
subtilty, than to lead a holy and devout life, then it is just
with God to leave us in a carnal and polluted state; to continue
yet but in the outward court, where we may please ourselves with
beholding the beauty and ornaments of a worldly sanctuary, and
never witness the veil being taken away, and that we are brought
by the blood of Jesus, into the holiest of all, where alone there
is true peace with God, and rest to the weary soul. I could say
much upon this head, if time or leisure would give leave.
‘As for a particular answer to thy letter, I have not time now
to give it; and for the present let this general answer suffice:
and if thou wilt consider things in their pure abstracted nature,
and not suffer the prejudice of education to sway thee, but
in fear and humility wilt search out the truth for thyself,
thou wilt find that there needs no other answer to thy letter
than what I have already given; for by waiting upon God, and
diligently seeking him, thou wilt find an answer to it in thy own
bosom, and this will be much more full, clear, and satisfactory
than I, or any other man living can pretend to give thee, or
any other friend who hath lovingly written to me; for whom I
desire, with all the sincere-hearted in the church of England,
that they may come to witness the Almighty power of God, to save
and redeem them from every yoke; and that they may see clearly
to the end of those things which are abolished, and come to the
enjoyment of spiritual and heavenly things themselves, is the
daily prayer and deep travail of my soul, God knoweth. Till I
can be more particular, if thou please thou mayest communicate
this to them, and let them know that I am well, and thank them
for their kind letters. Let us remember to pray for one another
with all fervency, that we may stand perfect in the whole will of
God, Amen, saith my soul. I am thy most affectionate friend and
servant in Jesus,
SAMUEL CRISP.’
_The following letter, or account of one Evan Jevans, is also
remarkable._
‘Since it hath pleased the divine goodness to endue me with
reason, I heartily thank his most excellent Majesty: that it has
been the further product of his good will to give me life and
being in that part of the world, where I have had the freedom to
use it; especially in the choice of my persuasion, and way of
returning my acknowledgment to him. I wish that all, who make any
pretensions to religion, would make use of this noble faculty
with subjection to the divine will to determine their choice in
this grand affair; and not let the religion of their education
be that of their judgment. If people were thus truly wise unto
their own salvation, and did not too lazily resign themselves to
the conduct of their guides, thereby regarding more their ease
than safety, they would not only be the better able to give a
reason of the hope that is in them, but they would show more
warmth in their devotion, more charity in their religion, and
more piety in their conversation than at present they do.
‘When I was visited some time ago by the chastising hand of the
Lord, for sin and my disobedience to his holy will, I laboured
under great affliction of mind, and anguish of spirit; and though
I was constant above many in my attendance on the public prayers
of the church, strict in my observation of its ceremonies, and
exceeding frequent in the use of private devotion, yet my burden
increased, and I waxed worse.
‘In this wretched and doleful condition I was, when at a
relation’s house, who had providentially returned from
Pennsylvania to his native country, I lighted upon R. Barclay’s
Apology for the Quakers; by the reading whereof I was so well
persuaded of their principles, and by turning my mind inward
to the divine gift, (according to their doctrine,) it gave me
victory, in a great measure, over our common enemy, banished
away my disorderly imaginations, and restored me to my former
regularity; I received such satisfaction and comfort to my
distressed soul, that thereupon I left the church of England,
and joined myself in society with them; and I am the more
confirmed in my change, especially where it respects the worship
of our Creator; because it is not only the most agreeable to
the Scriptures of Truth, but heaven has given us assurance of
its approbation thereof, it having been at times, to my own
experience, most powerfully attended with the presence of the
Most High.
‘I hope none will begrudge me this mercy, because I received
it not by their ministry; if they do, I have cause to suspect
their charity is not of a Christian latitude, since our blessed
Redeemer approved not of that narrowness in his disciples in
somewhat a like case.
‘But here to obviate the objection some may make to my change,
because of the distress I lay under, and the discomposure I was
subject to at times, I would have it remarked, that I read the
said Apology beyond my expectation, with more sedateness than
usual, and a more quiet composure of mind: so that with the
influence of the Almighty, or Providence, or both, I had also
the benefit of that distinguishing faculty of man in the change
of my opinion. O that I may never forget the Lord’s mercy to
my soul, who had compassion on me when I wallowed in my blood,
and who said to the dry bones, Live. O that all such as are
visited by the chastising hand of their Maker would seriously
lay it to heart, and consider their own welfare and salvation;
I could wish with all my heart, that such who labour under this
anxiety of mind, would take encouragement to hope in the Lord’s
mercy through their blessed Redeemer, by his kindness and long
forbearance with me. I am a living monument of it now; and I hope
I shall be so, while he affords me a being here. If these lines
should come to the hands of any that are afflicted and distressed
as I was, I have an effectual remedy, through mercy, to prescribe
unto them. Turn your minds inward to the grace of God in your
own hearts, refrain from your own imaginations, be still, and
quietly resign yourselves to his holy will, so you shall find
health to your souls, refreshment to your spirits, and the sweet
consolation of the Lord in your own bosoms; you shall find your
mourning turned to gladness, and your heaviness to joy; this has
been my experience of the goodness of the Holy One of Israel, who
abhors sin and iniquity; therefore I recommend it to you, and I
think this is no mistrusting of the cause, for they are the sick
and wounded in spirit, not the whole, that need the physician.
‘As for renouncing the covenant, which I and every Christian
ought to be under, of forsaking the devil and all his works, I
am so far from entertaining one thought of neglecting that duty,
that I think myself wholly obliged to observe it: and if I should
affirm, that through the grace of God, and his assistance, (for
otherwise I am satisfied I cannot do it,) the observation of it
is possible, I can find no reason why it should be false doctrine
in a Quaker, more than in a churchman.
‘As for deserting that church and ministry which the Son of God
came down from heaven to establish, I am not conscious to myself
thereof; for I say, Christ himself, is the head of our church,
and, by his Spirit and grace, the ordainer of our ministry.
‘And as to the last query, my ingenious acquaintance is pleased
to propose, I do let him know, that my former despair and forlorn
condition has been, since my adhering to that reproached people,
changed into a sweet enjoyment of the goodness of God. I could
not conceal the Lord’s goodness, lest he should withdraw his
mercies from me.
‘I had no secular interest to corrupt me in this change. It is
apparent to many, I declined it; but as it was peace with God my
Maker, and mercy to my soul I wanted; so having found the pearl
of great price, among them, I parted with all to purchase it;
or rather, I was restored to all, I mean, the enjoyment of the
divine goodness, and of myself, by setting a due value upon it.’
From this account it appears, that the writer thereof aimed at nothing
in his change of religion, but the quietness of his mind, and the
salvation of his soul.
1710-1712.
Now I am to mention, that the queen, in the year 1710, in her speech
to the parliament, having again declared that she would maintain the
toleration and liberty of conscience, was addressed by many; wherefore
the people called Quakers esteemed it their duty to show also their
grateful acknowledgment of this favour, which they did by the following
address.
TO QUEEN ANNE, OF GREAT BRITAIN, &C.
_The humble and thankful Address of the Queen’s Protestant
subjects, the people called Quakers, in and about the city
of London, on behalf of themselves, and the rest of their
persuasion._
‘When we consider the queen’s royal regard to protect our
religious liberty, and the fresh assurance from the throne,
of her Christian resolution to maintain the indulgence by law
allowed to scrupulous consciences, and her tender care that the
same may be transmitted to posterity in the Protestant succession
in the house of Hanover, we find ourselves concerned gratefully
to acknowledge her goodness therein, and the ready concurrence of
her great council therewith: taking this occasion to assure the
queen of our duty and affection, and peaceable behaviour under
her government, as is our principle, and hath always been our
practice.
‘And we heartily desire our fellow-subjects may lay aside all
animosities, and in a spirit of love and meekness, endeavour to
outdo each other in virtue and universal charity.
‘That it may graciously please Almighty God to defend and bless
thee, O queen, and guide thee by his counsel in a long and
prosperous reign here, and afterwards receive thee to glory, is
the hearty prayer of thy faithful subjects.’
_To this address the Queen was pleased to answer_:
‘I thank you for your address, and ye may depend upon my
protection.’
The animosities mentioned in this address, did regard the division,
which having been a good while among the subjects, began to increase as
many thought by the change of the ministry. But this being out of my
province, I will not meddle with it.
In the year 1712, died Richard Cromwell, the son of Oliver the
protector, about the age of ninety years. Great changes this man had
seen, having himself been the supreme ruler of England, as hath been
mentioned in due place.
1713.
Although I do not intend to relate much more of any occurrences,
because I hasten towards a conclusion, yet I think it worth the while
to add the following case:
In the year 1713, in the spring, there was a suit at law, on the act
against Occasional Conformity. It happened that one John Penry, a
justice of peace of Allborough, in the county of Suffolk, going to
the parish church, understood by the way, that no service was to be
done there at that time; but hearing that there was a Quakers’ meeting
there, he went to it. One Wall, the bailiff of the place, being
informed thereof, imagined that the said justice might not go there,
because of the aforesaid act, and therefore thinking that something
might be gained by it, got witnesses to declare that the said justice
had been in the meeting; and said afterwards in a boasting way to him,
‘Now I have hooked you.’ To which the other replied, ‘I will stand to
it’ The bailiff then entered his suit in the name of one that lived
thereabouts by charity. When the case was pleaded at the sessions,
the judge, who was baron Salathiel Lovel, declared the meaning of the
forementioned act to be thus, viz. That it did not regard any who
accidentally went into a meeting of dissenters; but that it was against
those who conformed with the church, thereby to qualify themselves for
an office, without changing their religion. But this was quite another
case; for the priest of the parish himself gave a certificate that the
said justice was a good member of the church. From hence it appeared
that the suit was mere malice; and the informers, or witnesses, were
brought to that pinch, that they durst not expect the verdict of the
jury, for fear that they should have been condemned to pay the charges,
and therefore they let the thing fall.
Being now entered into this year, I cannot omit to say, that a peace
between England and France being concluded, and the subjects from
all parts of the nation congratulating the queen with addresses, the
Quakers did not omit also to present an address; being as follows:
TO ANNE, QUEEN OF GREAT BRITAIN, &C.
_The humble Address of her Protestant dissenting subjects, called
Quakers, met at our annual meeting in London, the 3d day of the
Fourth month, called June, 1713._
‘May it please the Queen,
‘We having been sorrowfully affected at the calamity which war
brought on Europe, cannot omit to express our satisfaction and
gladness for the queen’s great care, and Christian concern, for
establishing so long desired a peace.
‘We are also under a dutiful sense of the queen’s gracious
government and compassion manifested towards tender consciences
at home, as well as noble and Christian interposition, in favour
of persecuted Protestants abroad.
‘And further crave leave to assure the queen, that we shall,
as in duty bound, approve ourselves, in all humility and
faithfulness, the queen’s obedient subjects; and though but
a small part of those that enjoy, under thy mild government,
protection in religion and civil liberties, we cannot but
earnestly pray for, and desire the quiet and safety of our
country; which evidently appears to be the queen’s care to
establish, in having done so much for securing the protestant
interest, and maintaining perfect friendship with the house
of Hanover. That it may please Almighty God in his mercy and
goodness to assist with his wisdom the queen, in all her
councils, and give her long to enjoy the quiet fruit of lasting
peace in this life, and in that which is to come, joy and peace
everlasting, is our hearty and fervent prayer.’
This address, which chiefly contained an assurance of fidelity to the
queen, was accepted favourably.
1714.
The next year, being that of 1714, the queen was often ill, and there
was much division among the people: for a bill was brought into
parliament called, An Act to prevent the growth of Schism; and the
party that prevailed was very active to get this bill passed. And since
it tended to deprive the dissenters from keeping schools, and to allow
that liberty to none but members of the episcopal church, or at least
to nobody but who had license from them, it met with great opposition,
and many reasons against it were published; the people called Quakers
offered also to the legislature the following reasons against it:
I. The church of England hath frequently declared, by several
of her members, in a clerical, as well as civil capacity,
by those who framed and espoused one or more of the bills
against occasional conformity, that she is in principle against
persecution, and for preserving the toleration.
II. The promoters of this bill may please to remember, that the
queen hath declared from the throne, that she will maintain the
toleration inviolable.
III. The Protestant subjects of this kingdom, who are parents
of children, are supposed to have preserved to them, by the
fundamental laws of this kingdom, the natural right of the care
and direction of the education of their own children; which
natural right this bill seems calculated to take away and destroy.
IV. If the governments, which are now either heathen or
Mahometan, should take into the same policy, the society which
the queen hath incorporated for the propagation of the gospel
in foreign parts, can have very little, if any, good effect or
success.
V. May it not seem an objection and contradiction to the many
princely and Christian solicitations which the queen by ministers
hath made at foreign courts, on the behalf of Protestants,
against the violent intrusions of Papists, into their rights and
just privileges?
VI. It may be a means to oblige the carrying out of large sums of
money for foreign education.
VII. It may probably do much hurt to charitable foundations.
VIII. It seems not to be agreeable to that great law of Christ,
Mat. vii. 12, “Therefore all things whatsoever ye would that men
should do to you, do ye even so to them; for this is the law and
the prophets.”
But whatever was objected, the said bill at length passed, and was
confirmed with the royal assent, which gave occasion to the Quakers to
add in the conclusion of the printed epistle of their annual assembly
at London, the following caution and exhortation: ‘There seems at
present to hang over us a cloud, threatening a storm. Let us all watch
and pray, and retire to our munition and strong hold in our spiritual
rock and foundation which standeth sure; that our God may defend,
help, and bless us as his peculiar people, to the end of our days and
time here, and the full fruition of the heavenly kingdom and glory
hereafter.’
About Midsummer this year died Sophia, widow and electoral princess
of Brunswick Lunenburg, on whom the succession of the crown of Great
Britain was settled. Scarce two months after her demise, queen Anne
deceased, who after having languished a long time, at length was taken
away by death on the first of August, the self-same day that the act
against the growth of schism was to have taken effect.
The same day George, prince elector of Brunswick Lunenburg, was
proclaimed king of Great Britain; who some time after repairing to
England, made his entry at London on the 20th of September. Not long
after his arrival he declared in council, that he would maintain the
toleration in favour of the Protestant dissenters. Hereupon many
addresses of congratulation were presented to him, and on the third of
October the people called Quakers also offered their address, which
was delivered by George Whitehead, and about forty of his friends,
introduced by the lord Townsend, one of the principal secretaries of
state. The prince was not only present, but many of the nobles, and
others also; and G. Whitehead presenting the address to the king, said,
‘We are come in behalf of the people called Quakers, to present to king
George our address and acknowledgment: may it be favourably accepted.’
Being then presented, G. Whitehead said, ‘One of us may read it to the
king.’ Whereupon he receiving it again, delivered it to Joseph Wyeth,
who read it audibly, being as followeth:
TO GEORGE, KING OF GREAT BRITAIN, &C.
_The humble address of the people commonly called Quakers._
‘GREAT PRINCE,
‘It having pleased Almighty God to deprive these kingdoms of
our late gracious queen, we do in great humility approach thy
royal presence with hearts truly thankful to divine Providence
for thy safe arrival, with the prince thy son, and for thy happy
and uninterrupted accession to the crown of these realms; which,
to the universal joy of thy faithful subjects, hath secured to
thy people the Protestant succession, and dissipated the just
apprehensions we were under, of losing those religious and civil
liberties, which were granted us by law, in the reign of king
William III. whose memory we mention with great gratitude and
affection. We are also in duty obliged thankfully to acknowledge
thy early and gracious declaration in council, wherein thou hast,
in princely and Christian expressions, manifested thy just sense
of the state of thy people, and which we hope will make all
degrees of thy subjects easy.
‘And as it hath been our known principle to live peaceably under
government, so we hope it will always be our practice, through
God’s assistance, to approve ourselves of hearty affection, thy
faithful and dutiful subjects.
‘May the wonderful Counsellor and great Preserver of
men, guide the king by his divine wisdom; protect him
by his power; give him health and length of days here,
and eternal felicity hereafter. And so bless his royal
offspring, that they may never fail to adorn the throne
with a successor endowed with piety and virtue.’
_To this address the king was pleased to give this gracious
answer_:
‘I am well satisfied with the marks of duty you express in your
address, and you may be assured of my protection.’
The address being read, G. Whitehead spoke to this effect:
‘Thou art welcome to us, king George; we heartily wish thee
health and happiness, and thy son the prince also. King William
III. was a happy instrument in putting a stop to persecution, by
promoting toleration, which being intended for the uniting the
king’s Protestant subjects in interest and affection, it hath so
far that effect as to make them more kind to one another, even
among the differing persuasions, than they were when persecution
was on foot. We desire the king may have further knowledge of us
and our innocency; and that to live a peaceable and quiet life in
all godliness and honesty, under the king and his government, is
according to our principle and practice.’
G. Whitehead having thus spoken, his name was asked; whereupon he
answered, ‘George Whitehead.’ And having it upon his mind to see the
prince also, and intimating his desire to a lord who was gentleman to
the prince’s bed-chamber, he made way to it; and thus G. Whitehead,
with some of his friends, got access; and they were introduced by one
of the prince’s gentlemen into a chamber, where the prince met them;
and then G. Whitehead spoke to him, the substance of which was as
followeth:
‘We take it as a favour that we are thus admitted to see the
prince of Wales, and truly we are very glad to see thee; having
delivered our address to the king, thy royal father, and being
desirous to give thyself a visit in true love, we very heartily
wish health and happiness to you both; and that if it should
please God thou shouldest survive thy father, and come to the
throne, thou mayest enjoy tranquillity and peace, &c.
‘I am persuaded, that if the king thy father, and thyself, do
stand for the toleration for liberty of conscience to be kept
inviolable, God will stand by you.
‘May king Solomon’s choice of wisdom be thy choice, with holy
Job’s integrity and compassion to the oppressed; and the state of
the righteous ruler commended by king David, viz. he that ruleth
over men must be just, ruling in the fear of God; and he shall be
as the light of the morning, when the sun riseth, even a morning
without clouds, as the tender grass springing out of the earth by
clear shining after rain.’ This speech was favourably heard by
the prince.
It was not long after the king’s coming over, that Dr. Gilbert Burnet,
bishop of Salisbury, the renowned author of the History of the
Reformation in England, died. He generally had showed himself moderate,
and had written very plainly against persecution in matters of faith,
especially in his ‘Apology for the Church of England,’ first printed in
Holland in the year 1688, and afterwards also in England, wherein among
other things, he said, ‘I will not deny, but many of the dissenters
were put to great hardships in many parts of England; I cannot deny
it, and I am sure I will never justify it. And I will boldly say this,
that if the church of England, after she is got out of this storm,
will return to hearken to the peevishness of some sour men, she will
be abandoned both of God and man, and will set both heaven and earth
against her.’
1715.
The year being come to an end, I go on to that of 1715. In the month
called May, it was moved in parliament, that the term of the act for
the Quakers’ solemn affirmation was almost expired; and thereupon it
was resolved, that a bill should be brought in to prolong that said
term; and on the 7th of the said month a bill was accordingly brought
into the House of Commons, read the first time, and five days after
the second time, and committed. And whereas the former act was limited
to a term of years, this limitation was omitted now, and consequently
the act was to be perpetual. The bill thus far advanced, was at length
engrossed, and on the second of the month called June, after a third
reading, passed in the House of Commons, and sent to the Lords, from
whence it was sent back with this addition, that this favour should be
extended also to the northern part of Great Britain, known by the name
of Scotland, and to the plantations belonging to the crown of Great
Britain for five years, for so far the former act had not reached, and
to the end of next sessions of parliament.
This amendment was agreed to by the House of Commons on the 13th of
the said month, and on the last of that month was confirmed by the
royal assent. Thus the Quakers were protected anew against the heavy
shock which otherwise they might have expected on the refusal of an
oath. King George on all occasions having shown himself favourable to
them, they did not omit thankfully to acknowledge his kindness, as
appears from the general epistle of their annual assembly, where they
expressed their gratitude in these words:
‘The Lord our God, who, for the sake of his heritage, hath often
heretofore rebuked and limited the raging waves of the sea, hath,
blessed be his name, mercifully dispersed the cloud threatening
a storm, which lately seemed to hang over us; which, together
with the favour God hath given us in the eyes of the king and the
government, for the free enjoyment of our religious and civil
liberties, call for true thankfulness to him. And humbly to pray
to Almighty God for the king and those in authority, for his and
their safety and defence, is certainly our Christian duty, as
well as to walk inoffensively as a grateful people.’
Thus they signified their thankfulness for the favour they
enjoyed;[112] and as they did now enjoy liberty, and quiet, so the
other subjects were also maintained in their rights under a gentle
government, so that none had cause to fear, who behaved themselves
like peaceable subjects. And yet in many places in England were great
convulsions and tumults; and some hot-headed clergymen were not a
little instrumental therein; whereupon an open rebellion ensued, but
the rebels were defeated near Preston by the king’s forces.
[112] But seeing from the first grant of an affirmation instead
of an oath, the form then obtained was not entirely such as was
desired, and many were not easy therewith; they several times
applied to the parliament for a more easy form, which at length,
through the merciful providence of God, and the favour of king
George and the parliament, was obtained in the latter end of the
year 1721; the form now being, ‘I, A. B. do solemnly, sincerely,
and truly declare and affirm,’ &c.
Before I conclude this year, I am to say that the French king Lewis
XIV. did not live to see the end of it, but on the first of September,
N. S. after having long languished by a malignant distemper, died in
the 77th year of his age; having before appointed his brother’s son,
the duke of Orleans, regent of the kingdom of France.
1716.
This death seemed not a little to have altered the measures of the
Pretender; nevertheless in the beginning of the year 1716, he came over
from France to Scotland, in hopes to make an inroad from thence into
England, but his attempt miscarried, and his forces were discomfited by
those of the king. The common opinion was, that he chiefly relied on
assistance from France; but that was denied him by that court, though
he seemed to have reckoned upon it. He also lingered some time in Great
Britain, after his forces were defeated; but seeing no way to invade
the throne he aimed at, he returned at length to France, which kingdom
he hath been fain to depart since, to the joy of many inhabitants of
England; for it was thought that the rebels being deprived of their
chief, the disturbance would be at an end.
This rebellion being thus happily quenched, induced the inhabitants
of Great Britain to congratulate the king with addresses; and these
congratulations being become so general, the people called Quakers were
not wanting to prepare also an address, to testify their loyalty; and
to express their joy for the quelling of the rebellion; and therefore
in their yearly meeting they drew up an address, which they presented
to the king on the last day of the month called May, being introduced
by the earl of Manchester, one of the gentlemen of the king’s
bed-chamber, when G. Whitehead said in substance:
That in their annual assembly held for the religious concerns
of their society, endeavouring to promote and put in practice
the duties of religion professed by them, the sense of the great
deliverance had such a weight upon their minds, that they were
willing to express it in an address to king George, whom God
by his providence had brought hither and preserved, so that he
could well say, he was George, by the grace of God, king of Great
Britain, &c. And that as men carried that saying stamped on
the money in their pockets, so it was to be wished it might be
imprinted in the hearts of the subjects.
Hereupon the address was presented, and read to the king, being as
followeth:
TO GEORGE, KING OF GREAT BRITAIN, &C.
_The humble Address of the People called Quakers, from their
yearly meeting in London, the 26th day of the Third month,
called May, 1716._
‘May it please the King,
‘We thy faithful and peaceable subjects, being met in this our
annual assembly, do hold ourselves obliged, in point of principle
and gratitude, rather than by formal and frequent addresses,
humbly and openly to acknowledge the manifold blessings and kind
providences of God, which have attended these kingdoms ever since
thy happy accession to the throne.
‘And as our religion effectually enjoins us obedience to the
supreme authority, so it is with great satisfaction that we pay
it to a prince, whose justice, clemency, and moderation, cannot
but endear, and firmly unite the hearts and affections of all his
true Protestant subjects.
‘We are therefore sorrowfully affected with the unhappiness of
those our countrymen, who have so little gratitude or goodness,
as to be uneasy under so just and mild an administration; nor can
we reflect on the late unjust and unnatural rebellion, without
concluding the promoters thereof, and actors therein, were men
infatuated, and hurried by such an evil spirit, as would lay
waste and destroy both the civil and religious liberties of these
Protestant nations.
‘And as God, the Lord of Hosts, hath most signally appeared
to the confounding that Black Conspiracy, so we pray his
good Providence may always attend the king’s councils and
undertakings, to the establishing his throne in righteousness and
peace, and making his house a sure house.
‘Permit us therefore, great prince, to lay hold of this
opportunity to approach thy royal presence with our hearty
thanks to the king and his great council, for all the privileges
and liberties we enjoy. To behold a prince upon the throne,
solicitous for the ease and happiness of his people, beyond any
other views, so heightens our satisfaction and joy, that we want
words to express our full sense thereof. And therefore we can do
no less than assure the king, that as it is our duty to demean
ourselves towards the king’s person and government with all
faithful obedience, so we are determined by divine assistance,
devoutly and heartily to pray the God and father of all our
mercies to vouchsafe unto the king, a long, peaceable, and
prosperous reign; and that when it shall please the Almighty to
remove from us so precious a life, by taking it to himself, there
may not want a branch of the royal family endowed with wisdom and
virtue to fill the throne, till time shall be no more.’
To this address the king was pleased to give this gracious answer.
‘I thank you for the assurance of duty and affection to my person
and government, contained in this address; and you may always
depend upon my protection.’
Thus we again see a prince on the throne, who solemnly assureth the
Quakers, so called, of his protection; so that now they enjoy the due
liberty of subjects that behave themselves peaceably and dutifully
under the government set over them, in like manner as other inhabitants
of Great Britain: and therefore they have not neglected to exhort one
another to show their thankfulness to Almighty God, and to pray for
the king, as it hath been intimated already, that this was recommended
in one of the epistles of their yearly meeting. Now since mention hath
several times been made in this history of those epistles of the annual
assembly to the particular churches, I have thought fit to insert here
one of them, viz. that of the year 1717, which is as followeth:
1717.
_The Epistle from the Yearly Meeting in London, held by
adjournment, from the 10th day of the Fourth month, to the
14th of the same inclusive, 1717. To the quarterly and monthly
meetings of Friends in Great Britain, and elsewhere._
‘Our salutation, in the love of Christ Jesus our blessed Lord,
is freely extended unto you, whose tender care over, and mercy
to, this our annual assembly, we do humbly and thankfully
acknowledge, in the love, amity, tender condescension, and
peaceable procedure thereof, with respect to the divine power and
goodness of the Lord our God, and the service of his church and
people; sincerely desiring the prosperity of his whole heritage,
even in all the churches of Christ among us, in his dear love,
unity and peace, to his eternal glory, and our universal comfort
and perpetual joy in the kingdom of the dear Son of God.
‘We are truly comforted, in that we understand there is such a
general concurrence and union among Friends, with our former
earnest desires and counsel, for true and universal love, unity,
peace, and good order to be earnestly endeavoured and maintained
among us, as a peculiar people, chosen of the Lord out of the
world, to bear a faithful testimony to his holy name and truth,
in all respects; and that all that is contrary be watched against
and avoided; as strife, discord, contention, and disputes tending
to divisions, may be utterly suppressed and laid aside, as the
light and righteous judgment of truth require.
‘Oh! that all the churches and congregations of the faithful,
would be excited by the Spirit of the dear Son of God, fervently
to pray for the prosperity of his church and people throughout
the world, that Sion may more and more shine in the beauty of
holiness, to the glory and praise of the King of glory.
‘The friends and brethren, come up from the several quarterly
meetings in this nation, have given a good account to this
meeting of truth’s prosperity, and that friends are generally
in love and unity one with another; and by several epistles,
from friends of North Carolina, Jersey, Pennsylvania, Maryland,
Barbadoes, Holland, Scotland, Ireland, and Wales, which have
been read in this meeting; as also by verbal accounts given by
several friends that have lately travelled in divers parts of
America, and elsewhere, we have received comfortable accounts of
the state of truth and friends in those parts; by which we are
encouraged to hope truth prevails in many places, and a concern
grows upon friends for the prosperity thereof; and that there is
an inclination in people to hear the truth declared.
‘By the accounts brought up this year, we find that friends’
sufferings in England and Wales, amount to five thousand
two hundred and ninety pounds, and upwards, chiefly for
tithes, priests’ wages, and steeple-house rates; and that,
notwithstanding there have been four friends discharged the last
year, there yet remain twenty friends prisoners on these accounts.
‘We advise that a tender care remain upon friends in all places,
to be faithful in keeping up our Christian testimony against
tithes, as being fully persuaded, it is that whereunto God hath
called his people in this our day; we seeing by daily experience,
that such as are not faithful therein, do thereby add to the
sufferings of honest friends, and hinder their own growth and
prosperity in the most blessed truth.
‘As touching the education of Friends’ children, for which this
meeting hath often found a concern; we think it our duty to
recommend unto you, the necessity that there is of a care in
preserving of them in plainness of speech and habit, suitable to
our holy profession: and also that no opportunity be omitted,
nor any endeavour wanting, to instruct them in the principle of
truth which we profess; that thereby they, being sensible of
the operation thereof in themselves, may find, not only their
spirits softened and tendered, fit to receive the impressions
of the divine image, but may also from thence find themselves
under a necessity to appear clear in the several branches of
our Christian testimony. And as this will be most beneficial to
them, being the fruits of conviction, so it is the most effectual
way of propagating the same throughout the churches of Christ.
And there being times and seasons wherein their spirits are,
more than at others, disposed to have those things impressed
upon them; so we desire that all parents, and others concerned
in the oversight of youth, might wait in the fear of God, to
know themselves divinely qualified for that service, that in his
wisdom they may make use of every such opportunity, which the
Lord shall put into their hands. And we do hereby warn and advise
friends in all places to flee every appearance of evil, and keep
out of pride, and following the vain fashions and customs of this
world, as recommended in the Epistle, 1715.
‘And as we always found it our concern to recommend love,
concord, and unity in the churches of Christ every where,
so as a means to effect the same, we earnestly desire that
Friends, but more especially such as are concerned in meetings
of business, do labour to know their own spirits subjected
by the Spirit of Truth; that thereby being baptized into one
body, they may be truly one in the foundation of their love
and unity, and that therein they may all labour to find a
nearness to each other in spirit; this being the true way to a
thorough reconciliation, wherever there is, or may have been any
difference of apprehension: thereby Friends will be preserved in
that sweetness of spirit, that is, and will be the bond of true
peace, throughout all the churches of Christ.
‘And, dear friends, the Friends of this meeting, to whom the
inspection of the accounts was referred, made report, that having
perused the same, they found the stock to be near expended;
whereupon this meeting thinks it necessary to recommend unto you,
that a general and free contribution be made in every county,
and that what shall be thereupon collected, be sent up to the
respective correspondents.
‘Finally, dear Friends and brethren, be careful to walk
unblameable in love and peace among yourselves, and towards all
men in Christian charity, and be humbly thankful to the Lord our
most gracious God, for the favour he hath given us in the eyes
of the king and civil government, in the peaceable enjoyment of
our religious and Christian liberties under them; and the God of
peace, we trust, will be with you to the end.
‘The grace of our Lord Jesus Christ be with your spirits. Amen.
‘Signed in, and on the behalf, and by the order of this meeting,
By BENJAMIN BEALING.’
From this epistle may be judged in some degree of the others, which
are sent from the yearly meeting of the people called Quakers, to
the particular meetings of their society every where. We see by it,
that they give notice of the state of their particular churches, and
that they earnestly recommend love and unity among their brethren,
with other Christian virtues, and especially a good education of
their children, besides other matters which they judge to be meet and
necessary. With this epistle here inserted, I will finish this work, as
having performed my design and intention, viz. the giving of a plain
and circumstantial account and relation of the rise of this religious
society, which, as we have seen, sprung from mean beginnings, to a
great increase and progress, and extended itself far, notwithstanding
the violent opposition, and most grievous severity, for suppressing
and rooting them out, so often put in practice, and committed by their
enemies, but all in vain. And they now enjoy an undisturbed liberty
to perform the public exercise of their worship to God, since their
religion is permitted by law; which liberty they in no wise have
obtained by making resistance, but by a long-suffering patience, a
peaceable deportment, and a dutiful fidelity to the government set over
them: so that now they see clearly, that God doth not forsake those
that do not forsake him, according to what the prophet Azariah formerly
said to king Asa, and all Judah and Benjamin, 2 Chron. xv. 2, “The
Lord is with you, while ye be with him; and if ye seek him, he will be
found of you: but if ye forsake him, he will forsake you.” Having thus
performed what I intended with this historical relation, I concluded
it, to the praise and glory of the Most High, who hath afforded me
lifetime and ability, after a long and difficult labour, to bring this
history to a suitable end.
ADDENDA
The Author towards the conclusion of this history, having given some
account of the principles of the people called Quakers, thought fit,
in the Dutch Appendix, among other things, to add the following
treatise in Latin, concerning the Light, written about the year 1662.
And since in this English translation the subject matters contained
in the said Appendix are inserted in the body of the history, in
those places to which they properly belong, and no reference being
made to this, but as mentioned in the preface, it is thought fit to
subjoin it here, with the following words of the Author prefixed to
the same.
In the preface to this history, mention is made of a certain book,
intitled ‘The Light upon the Candlestick,’ published in the name, as
many supposed, of William Ames, yet no ways written by him, though it
contains his doctrine, but by a certain learned man, unwilling to be
known publicly, and as it seems to me, written originally in Latin;
which, though printed, being but in few hands, I have thought fit to
reprint.
And the original in Latin, soon after the first publication, being
translated into English by B. F. was printed in the year 1663, from
which translation take it as follows, viz.
THE LIGHT UPON THE CANDLESTICK.
Things are not for words, but words for things; if therefore we
understand things aright, and as they ought, by words, it must be by
such as are fit to imprint the things themselves in those to whom they
should occur, and then it were enough, (to make known our thoughts to
others as we conceive them,) only to make use of such words.
But forasmuch as we find the matter in this case far otherwise, and
that two men speaking or writing the same words, may nevertheless
have different, yea, contrary thoughts, the disability of performing
this fitly by words or discourse, is clearly inferred. Nor may we at
all wonder at it, seeing we know to what a perpetual change languages
are subject, even such, that the very words may be changed from
their pristine signification. And the imperfection is so great, that
whosoever should have invented them, such as now they are in use, we
should certainly believe that he had little or no knowledge of those
things that are thereby intended to be signified. So that if we would
better express things unto another, by words and speeches, we had need
find new words, and consequently a whole new language: but that would
be a toil and labour indeed.
In the meanwhile we see what a sea of confusion flows from hence upon
all mankind: for although there should be none, who sometimes through
ignorance, and sometimes by subtilty or wickedness, might wrest or
pervert words contrary to the mind of the speaker or writer, in such
manner as themselves, that so do, should think best for their own ends,
from whence consequently all this deceit, slandering, contention, and
the like proceeds; yet, so it is, that how uprightly or prudently
soever a man goes to work in this matter, he nevertheless finds himself
liable to mislead, or to be misled.
But although the case be thus with words and discourses at present in
use; yet for all that, they are the most ready, and so far as I know,
the fittest means to make known all our thoughts unto others by; and
for this reason therefore, though so much confusion and deceit happen
to arise from hence, that no man that hath any experience can be
ignorant thereof; yet may we not therefore be too much afraid of them
neither, as many yet do manifest themselves to be, who, because they
have some experience hereof, are apt to believe we are about to deceive
them, especially if they be forewarned thereof.
This, as in many things, so it hath chiefly taken place in that
which is commonly esteemed for religion; in which it is so with most
men, that they will scarce give audience to, much less take into
consideration, any thing held forth unto them, by any whom they judge
not to be of their own opinion; to avoid as they imagine, being thereby
deluded.
Yet if they were to act thus towards their own party, we might think it
was an act of prudence, and that they would see with their own eyes;
but no, in nowise, this is too hard a task; whatsoever cometh on that
side is received with such partiality for good and current coin, as if
there were no danger nor possibility of erring: whereas nevertheless,
it is all alike with the one as with the other opinion. It all depends
but upon a possibility of being nearest to the truth; and for the
upholding every one his own opinion, and defending it against others,
there is so much ado, so much pains taken, so much scholastic learning,
study, and disputing, that one would rather believe that there were no
true religion at all, than that this should needs be it.
Seeing then it is thus at present, can we much blame the common people,
that they despair of ever being able to solve this difficulty, and
are glad when they can but find any that are greedy of the work, upon
whom they may cast the whole burden? surely no: for he that sees but a
little clearly, sees that there is always contention behind, and no end
till a man grows weary of it: nor is the conquest his that hath truth,
but his that can best handle his tongue. A miserable thing if it were
thus to be sought and found: but it is not so with the true religion.
Go to, then, O man, whoever thou art, we will not draw thee off from
one society of men, to carry thee over to another; it is somewhat else
we invite thee to. Lend us but a little audience; surely thou knowest
thus much, that as it is an absurdity to receive all things without
distinction that present themselves to us, so it is no less so to
reject all things without judgment. We invite thee to something which
may be a means whereby to attain to thy own salvation and well-being.
Be as distrustful, or rather prudent, or foresighted as thou wilt, thou
canst not in reason refuse us thy ear in this thing. All the damage
thou canst possibly have by doing that which we exhort thee to, is
only to have taken a little pains in vain, if that which is promised
should not succeed; whereas, on the contrary, if it should succeed,
thou mayest come to the enjoyment of a matter of so great worth, that
should not be exchanged for all that is esteemed great in the earth.
Moreover it is not far to seek, but at hand; it is nigh thee, yea, and
in thyself. And there thou mayest experience the trial of that which we
declare, which is the most certain and sure that can be desired.
We direct thee then to look within thyself; that is, that thou oughtest
to turn into, to mind, and have a regard unto, that which is within
thee, viz. the light of truth, the true light, which enlighteneth every
man that cometh into the world. Here it is that thou must be, and not
without thee. Here thou shalt find a principle certain and infallible,
and whereby increasing and going on therein, thou mayest at length
arrive unto a happy condition: of this thou mayest safely adventure
the trial. But if thou darest not do so much, it is hard to help thee.
And if thou happenest to be one of those that would know all things,
before thou dost begin, yea, even those things which are experienced in
a condition to which thou art so much a stranger, that there is nothing
in thee hath so much agreement therewith, as to comprehend it according
to truth; know this, thou dost therein, just as those that would learn
to read, without knowing the letters.
To desire to know all things that we are capable of, is good and
laudable: but to go further is folly. There will be always something
else to ask, and our knowledge will ever be too short. He that will
not adventure till he be fully satisfied, will never begin, much less
finish to his own salvation.
But we judge it needful, as much as in us lies, to open unto you
that unto which we do exhort you, that people may understand what it
properly is.
We say then, that we exhort every one to turn unto the light that is in
him. We give it rather the appellation of light, than any thing else,
otherwise it is all one to us whether ye call it, Christ, the Spirit,
the Word, &c. seeing these all denote but one and the same thing: yet
the word Light being in its natural signification somewhat else than
that which we intend thereby, we shall therefore in brief endeavour
clearly to express what we intend under this denomination.
The Light, then we say, is a clear and distinct knowledge of truth in
the understanding of every man, by which he is so convinced of the
being and quality of things, that he cannot possibly doubt thereof.
From this definition which is here given of the light, it is clear,
that it must needs comprehend in it the principal effect of showing us,
and giving us the knowledge of what is truth and falsehood, what is
good and evil: which verily is a matter of so great concernment, that
without it men must needs wander up and down in continual darkness,
uncertainty of opinion, and in sin, neither knowing truth at all, nor
doing any good, but, as it were, by hap-hazard, and without certainty.
This light then, Christ the truth, &c. is that which makes manifest and
reproves sin in man, showeth him how he is strayed from God, accuseth
him of the evil which he doth, and hath committed; yea, this is it
which judgeth and condemneth him. Again,
This is the preaching to every creature under heaven, though they have
never read or heard of the scripture. This is it which leads man in
truth, into the way to God, which excuseth him in well-doing, giving
him peace in his conscience, yea, brings him to union with God, wherein
all happiness and salvation do consist.
Moreover, seeing it is properly the nature of this light infallibly
to discover sin and evil, to reprove and convince thereof; it can
never possibly consent thereunto. And although it be true indeed, that
the operations of the light are not in all men alike powerful, in
whom nevertheless it is; yea, though in some men it seems to have no
operation at all; yet this is occasioned only by those impediments that
do hinder it; for as the natural light by the interposition of other
bodies or covers, may be hindered from having its operation there,
where else it would, were those things which impede removed, the light,
(itself,) still abiding in itself unchanged; even so it is also with
this light whereof we speak. The hindrances in this are manifold. All
that we meet with in this world, seems to proclaim war in this case.
What is there that hath not a powerful operation upon one or other
of the senses of man, through which, passing over into the soul, the
memory is so filled, that nothing else can enter? The eyes and ears
stand so perpetually open to all things, that they never want an object
to bring to mind the experience of that which pleased the body so well;
and this stirs up the desire to enjoy it, yet all without satiety: the
acts are multifarious, the enjoyment can be but single and transient,
and the incitements incessant.
Now, where this operateth in us after this manner, by education and
example in manners and customs which are regulated by opinion, and not
by the true light, that men live altogether therein; is it any wonder
that here, (in these men,) there is so little, or no operation of the
light? Not at all.
We are so involved in the idea of that which is high in the world, so
overwhelmed in pleasures, that it is almost impossible for the light to
cause one desire after good to spring or bubble up.
Where then those so contrary operations to the light are, there it can
never break through.
According to the nature and kind of every thing, is the operation
thereof: where they are opposite, the one must give way unto the other,
and that which is most powerful prevails; from whence also the effects
thereof become most visible. The light, notwithstanding, abides always
the same; and therefore although man by sin, through his love and union
to corruptible things, comes to perish, be damned, and miss of his
everlasting happiness, the light nevertheless, which is in every man
that comes into the world, abides for ever unchangeable.
The light is also the first principle of religion. For, seeing there
can be no true religion without the knowledge of God, and no knowledge
of God without this light, religion must necessarily have this light
for its principle.
God being then known by this light, according to the measure of
knowledge which the finite and circumscribed creature can have of the
infinite and uncircumscriptible Creator, man hath obtained a firm
foundation, upon which he may build all firm and lasting things: a
principle whereby he may, without ever erring, guide the whole course
of his life, how he is to carry himself towards God, his neighbour, and
himself, and all things else, whereby he may happily attain unto his
soul’s salvation, which consisteth only in union with God. And thus
this light is therefore the first principle of religion.
Without this light, there is no power or ability at all in man to do
any good.
This must first raise him and quicken him out of the death of sin. It
is folly to expect any thing, where nothing is; there is no effect
without a cause; there must be something then which must cause a man to
act, if he does any thing.
And this cause must have in it whatsoever the effect produced hath in
it: as for example, if the effects of light be produced, light must do
it, and nothing else.
And therefore, is it not a silly thing, that all men would have people
to do this or that as good, and leave this or that as evil, because
they tell them so, without any more ado, or at best assigning only the
accustomary motives thereto, and think they have reason too, just as
if this were enough? Who can see such effects as are hereby required,
included in this cause? Not I, for my part.
Experience also teacheth us the same; else how could it all pass away
in a train and custom, without any fruit: these are therefore not the
right means; but such we must endeavour to furnish people with; means
from whence power may issue forth to do that which they are exhorted
to. Such is the nature of man, that he is moved to choose that which he
judgeth to be best, before the worst, and is always willing to change
for the best.
Now if it so happens, as for the most part it doth, that a man chooseth
the worst before the best, it is for want of knowledge, and contrary to
his aim, and so he erreth, not being led by the true light.
Here then it should be begun; it is easy leading a man to that which
of himself he is desirous of: if these now who make it their work to
teach others, were but led themselves by the true light, knowing better
things than those to which the multitude are linked so fast with love,
they would be able to hold them forth clearly to others: and so making
it their continual work, it were impossible their labour should be
fruitless; for people knowing better, would do better. Who remembers
not the play of our youth, how much we were in love therewith, and yet
how ridiculous is it now unto us but to think upon it? And why? Because
we now know that, which we judge better: hence, not by force, but very
easily and of itself, it comes in time to be worn out and pass away,
that there is now no desire nor motion moving thereunto. How may we
think then it would be, if the soul came but once to apprehend those
things aright which are durable and incorruptible, and which infinitely
transcend all bodily toys in worth? So far as those things then should
come to be esteemed more glorious than all bodily things, so much the
more powerful would be the annihilation of those things in which all
men, even to old age, yea, death itself, do take so much delight; and
then we might hope and expect that those things, which are, indeed,
alone worthy to be known, would gain entrance, and being brought forth
in the light, would be also owned and received by every one, according
to the measure in which they should stand in the same light.
Hence from within, the amendment and conversion is to be waited for:
from within it must begin, if with a foundation; the outward then
will follow of itself: the weakest must give way to the strongest, all
depends but upon the knowledge of something better, to make a true and
lasting change. Therefore to hold this forth to men, is the best thing
we can give them. This light is the inward ear, by which alone, and by
no other, the voice of God, viz. the truth, can be heard.
By this alone must the sense and mind of him that would signify any
thing by words, or any outwards sign, be comprehended and understood.
So that if the truth of God be presented to a man who stands not in the
light of truth, it is impossible he should understand it, although he
hears and comprehends the words after a manner, yet he is still fenced
off from the true sense and meaning thereof.
Hence therefore it is, that, among so many hearers, there are so few
that have ears to hear.
He that hears truth aright, that is, understands it well, must not
stand out of, but in the truth itself.
Therefore neither is it any wonder that all men do not understand and
conceive those things that are brought forth by the light. Those only
that stand in it are alone capable thereof.
The case being thus, we see of how great concernment it is continually
to exhort and excite men to turn unto the light that is in them, that
so they may go on to such a condition and measure therein, as to be
fit to understand aright the word: that is, the truth of God, because
out of this there can be nothing understood, and concluded from the
words and writings given forth from the light, but mere opinions, and
probably errors. This light, Christ, &c. is the truth and word of God,
as hath been already said, and every where appears by what we have
hitherto laid down: for this is a living word, and translateth man from
death to life, is powerful, and enableth a man to bear witness of it
every where.
This is also the true rule according unto which all our actions are to
be squared.
This hath the pre-eminence before any writing, scripture, doctrine,
or any thing else that we meet with from without. We are born into
the world, and brought up, as every body knows; from the very first
we hear differences, every one pretends that he knows the matter, and
hath truth: one holds forth this, another that, to us. If now the light
which is in every man that comes into the world, shall not be judge,
whither shall we go? To believe all, is impossible; to reject all, no
less: who shall be judge here? Who else can be, but the light within
us? For whatsoever comes from without, is the thing to be judged of:
who then fitter; seeing this is infallible?
Again, is not this, (the light,) that by which we must see and know
God, and so consequently that by which we must judge all things
divine? Certainly it is: then it follows also, that we can judge of no
doctrine, of no book that is divine, but by this light; and judging it
thereby to be divine, it cannot but be truly so. As for example, if
we experience that the book called the Bible, in regard of the divine
doctrine therein comprised, hath such an harmony with that in which God
is known, that he must needs have been the author of it; there cannot
rationally any more powerful demonstration be demanded.--With them that
are thus, the Scripture may become living and powerful, and not a dead
letter, as it must needs be to those men who have no feeling of this
thing. And from hence then it is apparent, seeing this light must be
preferred to all things whatsoever that we meet with from without, that
then Man must first of all be directed to this: for without it what
profit is there, I pray, to be reaped any where by any external sign
but by it? Lay the book of the Scripture freely before any man; let
him also have all the fitness the universities can give him, to look
into it in its proper language in which it may have been first written,
what will all be without the light? Nothing. The letters, the words,
are not the Scriptures, but the meaning alone is the Scripture, and
this meaning can never be truly and justly hit, but by those alone that
stand in the same light, out of which the Scriptures proceeded.
These are they then to whom the Scripture is a co-witness, and as
a seal of their being sons of God; while by experience they find
themselves, every one according to his measure, in the same condition
in which the saints formerly were, who spake and wrote all those things
comprehended in the book of the Scripture; these then have the true
understanding and meaning of the Scriptures, not those that imagine
unto themselves a meaning by opinion and guess, through a thousand
imaginations, without the least assurance of not erring; which becomes
the very ground of all jangling and contention.
In fine, this light in every man is the means to come to the knowledge
of God. And seeing all external signs must needs presuppose this
knowledge, therefore itself must need be immediate, without any
external sign: that signs must presuppose such a knowledge, is
undeniable; for these signs must either be words or effects, works or
miracles.
If words, we see at first an impossibility in the thing itself: for
words are created and finite, and God who should make known himself
by them, uncreated and infinite: and therefore here is so infinite a
difference, that there is no manner of agreement, nor any thing in
the words by which they might be capable to do it. But again, if you
fly to the meaning of the words, as being fit for such a thing, then
that which we say will more manifestly appear; as put a case, for
example-sake, that God, about to make known himself by words, should
say, ‘I am God,’ and that this should be the sign by which he would
make himself known, we see clearly, that it would be impossible for a
man at first to know God by this: for if he should comprehend any thing
out of the sense of the words, he must needs formerly have had the
signification of the word, God, and what he is to understand by it: in
like manner, if God maketh his will known to man, the knowledge of God,
which hath its original from the true light, must precede and convince
him, that that manifestation can be from none but God alone, whereupon
he is then sufficiently assured.
If by effects, or outward miraculous works, it is the same thing; for
these are no less created, no less finite: and though we might observe
something in the nature of a thing, which might be too difficult for
the power of any creature, which we know, to effect; yet this at
the utmost would be but a demonstration taken from our impotency,
and not from the nature and all the operations of it; and this kind
of demonstration could not be certain and stable, till we were able
clearly and distinctly to see that there was not a concurrency of many
causes to produce such an effect, but that it must needs have been
caused by an infinite and unlimited cause, whom we call God? But who
knoweth this? Or who can declare it?
Add to this, That the knowledge of God in all things must first be,
before the knowledge of any creature or particular thing; so that no
particular thing without this can be well known; and consequently is
altogether incapable to come to know God by, or certainly to make known
himself to man by.
Go to, then; without thyself, O man, thou hast no means to look for,
by which thou mayest know God. Thou must abide within thyself, to the
light that is in thee thou must turn thee, there thou wilt find it, and
no where else.
God is, considered in himself, nearest unto thee, and every man. He
that goeth forth of himself to any creature, thereby to know God,
departs from God, and so much the further, as he comes more to admire
the creature, and stand in contemplation thereof, to mistake himself
by it. This thou must then shun, and the contrary mind, viz. Mind the
light that is in thee, by it to work, unmoveably and faithfully to
persevere.
APPENDIX.
The following narrative we have thought proper to insert in the very
words of the sufferer, as taken from his own mouth. The candid reader
will easily excuse the simplicity of its style, and the plainness of
its expressions. It is the more like the man, and carries the greater
evidence of the honesty and integrity of the relater, viz.
‘_An account of the sufferings of Richard Seller, of Keinsey, a
fisherman, who was prest in Scarborough-Piers, in the time of
the two last engagements between the Dutch and English, in the
year 1665._
‘I was pressed in Scarborough-Piers, and refusing to go on board
the ketch, they beat me very sore on the sand, and I refusing
to go on board, they hoised me in with a tackle, on board of
the ketch that pressed for the ship called the Royal Prince,
and they bunched me with their feet, that I fell into a tub,
and was so maimed, that they were forced to swaddle me up with
clothes: from thence we sailed into Bridlington bay, where Thomas
Swales and Mary Stranger hearing of me, sent me victuals on
board of the ketch; then we sailed to the Buoy and Nore, where
they hauled me in at a gunport, on board of the ship called the
Royal Prince. The 1st day of the third month they commanded me to
go to work at the capstane; I refused, and told them, that ‘As
I was not free to do the king’s work, I would not live at his
charge for victuals;’ then the boatswain’s mate beat me sore, and
thrusting me about with the capstane till he was weary. Then the
captain sent for me upon the quarter deck, and asked me, ‘Why
I refused to fight for the king, and why I refused to eat of
his victuals?’ I told him, ‘I was afraid to offend God, for my
warfare was spiritual, therefore I durst not fight with carnal
weapons.’ Then he fell upon me and beat me with his small cane,
then called for his great cane and beat me sore, and felled me
down to the deck three or four times, and beat me as long as
his strength continued. Then came one Thomas Horner, (who was
brought up at Easington) and said, ‘I pray you, noble captain, be
merciful, for I know him to be an honest man, and a good man.’
Then said the captain ‘He is a Quaker, I will beat his brains
out;’ then falling on me again, he beat me till he was weary;
then called some to help him; ‘for,’ said he, ‘I am not able to
beat him enough to make him willing to do the king’s service.’
Then came out the commander’s jester, and told the captain, ‘He
would lay a guinea with him that he would make me work, and
haul the king’s ropes,’ and told the captain, ‘he was a fool;’
so two guineas were thrown down upon the deck: then the jester
called for two seamen, and made them make two ropes fast to the
wrists of my arms, and reeved the ropes through two blocks in the
mizen-shrouds, on the starboard side, and hoised me up aloft,
and made the ropes fast to the gunnel of the ship, and I hung
some time. Then the jester called the ship’s company to ‘behold
and bear him witness, that he made the Quaker haul the king’s
ropes;’ so veering the ropes, they lowered me half way down, then
made me fast again: ‘Now,’ said the jester, ‘Noble captain, you
and the company see that the Quaker hauleth the king’s ropes,’
and with that he commanded them to ‘let fly the ropes loose,’
where I fell upon the deck. ‘Now,’ said the jester, ‘Noble
captain, the wager is won, he hauled the ropes to the deck, and
you can haul them no farther, nor any man else.’ Then the captain
called the boatswain’s mate, and bid him take the Quakerly dog
away, and put him to the capstane, and make him work, and beat
him, and spare him not. So the boatswain’s mate had me down
to the geer-capstane, and thrust me about with the men at the
capstane, and beat me withal, when he could get time; then he
went and sat him down upon a chest-lid, and I went and sat down
upon another chest-lid beside him, then he fell on me and beat
me again, then called his boy to bring his two seizings, and he
seized my arms to the capstan’s bars, caused the men to heave the
capstane about, and in three or four times passing about, the
seizings were loosed, no man knew how, nor when, nor could they
ever be found, although they sought them with lighted candles:
then the boatswain’s mate, seeing what was done, caused all the
men to come from the capstane, and took a bible, and commanded
them all to swear, that they neither loosed me, nor knew how I
came loose, (they all being willing to swear,) he then searched
their pockets for the seizings, but could find none, so he let
them go; then he called them all again to him, and said, ‘Hear
what I shall say to you; you see this is a wonderful thing, which
is done by an invisible hand, which loosed him, for none of you
could see his hands loosed, that were so near him: I suppose
this man,’ said he, ‘is called a Quaker, and for conscience sake
refuseth to act, therefore I am afflicted, and do promise before
God and man, that I will never beat, nor cause to be beaten,
either Quaker, or any other man that doth refuse for conscience
sake to act for the king; if I do, I wish I may lose my right
hand.’
‘Then on the third-day came the admiral, sir Edward Spragg, on
board of his own ship, called the Royal Prince, and hearing
of a man that was pressed on board, that was called a Quaker;
also hearing that the boatswain’s mate had beaten me much, and
had given me over, and had denied to beat me any more, he was
therefore called to come before the admiral, to answer for
himself, why he would not beat the Quaker? He said, ‘I have beat
him very sore, and I seized his arms to the capstane’s bars,
and forced them to heave him about, and beat him, and then sat
down, and in three or four times of the capstane’s going about,
the seizings were loosed, and he came and sat down by me; then I
called the men from the capstane, and took them sworn, whether
they had loosed him or no, but they all denied that they either
loosed him, or knew by what means he was loosed, neither could
the seizings ever be found; therefore I did, and do believe that
it was an invisible power that set him at liberty, and I did
promise before God and the company, that I would never beat a
Quaker again, nor any man else for conscience-sake.’ The admiral
told him, ‘He must lose his cane:’ he willingly yielded it. And
told him, ‘He must also lose his place:’ he was willing. He also
told him, ‘He must lose his right hand:’ he held it out and
said, ‘take it from me if you please.’ So they took his cane from
him, and displaced him. So the commander gave order to the seven
yeomen, to beat me wherever they met with me, for seven days and
nights, and make me work. They being called to an account, what
they had made me do? told the commander, that ‘They were weary,
and could not make me work, so they desired to be excused.’ Then
the eighth yeoman was called, who promised ‘he would beat me, and
make me work;’ and he did beat me for a day and a night, when
he met with me, and being weary, he desired to be excused. Then
the commander sent for me upon the quarter-deck before him, and
caused my clothes to be stript off, shirt and all, from my waist
downward, then he took a view of my body to see what wounds and
bruises I had, but he could find none, no not so much as a blue
spot in my skin. Then the commander was angry with them for not
beating me enough: then captain Fowler answered him, and said,
‘I have beat him myself, as much as would have killed an ox.’
The jester said, ‘He had me hung a great while by the arms up
aloft in the shrouds.’ The men said, ‘They also had beat me very
sore, and they might as well beat the main-mast,’ Then said the
commander, ‘I will cause irons to be laid upon him, during the
king’s pleasure and mine.’ Then the boatswain was called, and
commanded to call the ship’s company together, and make ready the
irons: the commander, sir Edward Spragg, said, ‘You gentlemen
sailors and soldiers, whosoever serves here under me for the
king, on board of his majesty’s ship called the Royal Prince,
the admiral of the blue, you are to take notice, that there is a
man on board called a Quaker, he is to be laid in irons during
the king’s pleasure and mine, for refusing to fight, and eat the
king’s victuals, therefore I charge you all and every man, that
none of you give or sell him any victuals, meat, drink, or water,
for if you do, you shall have the same punishment that he hath.’
So this being called three times over, he commanded the boatswain
to take me away, and put me in irons. So I being kept in irons
six days and nights, and falling sick of a fever, I grew very
weak, insomuch that when I was set out to ease myself, (which
was but once in twenty-four hours) I could neither stand nor go:
so the officers that let me out, called some of my countrymen to
carry me into the ship’s-head to ease myself, and bring me back
again to the irons. Then the officer took pity of me, and bid me
lay down upon the bilboes that night, and he would hap me with a
coverlid, so I lay there that night, and next day till evening;
then the officer desired me to go by the way a little, seeing all
was quiet, and see if I could get a little rest: so I being lame
of a leg with the irons, was creeping over the larboard-side of
the ship, the lieutenant coming down, said, ‘Thou damned rogue,
(and many other wicked words) hast thou broken the irons?’ and
with that drew his rapier, and swore he would stab me, and so
drove me back again to the irons, and called the yeoman, and
would have known who let me out, and said he should be punished,
and I would not tell him; but the same yeoman came in the crowd,
and I put my hand out to him, and he locked it, and none knew
how: I then being the king’s prisoner, I bid them ‘begone, they
had nothing to do with me.’ So I remained in irons six days more,
and recovered very well of my weakness: then on the seventh
day at night, several, all seamen, fell to drinking of brandy,
and playing at cards, and became very loud, the boatswain’s
mate hearing of them, came down, and desired them to leave;
they being full of drink would not, so a quarrel arose, and the
boatswain’s mate cried out ‘murder,’ and immediately there came
assistance to him, but the men ran away and hid themselves, only
two were taken, and put in irons with me.
‘Now I shall speak a little of the carpenter’s mate’s kindness to
me: when I had been in irons some days, and my food being taken
from me, which was three day’s victuals, that I had left of that
which Thomas Swales and Mary Stringer sent me in Bridlington
bay, he came in the crowd, and joined himself so near me, that
he put about a pint of brandy into my pocket, and no man knew;
likewise some meat, and none knew; and told me he would supply
me daily, ‘for,’ said he, ‘I have meat of my own, which is not
at the king’s charge;’ and said farther, ‘that he had a strict
charge given him by his wife and his mother, before he came on
board, that if any Quaker came on board with him, he should be
kind to him;’ and that he had lately received a letter from them,
wherein they charged him to ‘remember his promise, and be kind
to Quakers, if any were on board.’ But there being some occasion
more than ordinary, he was taken off on board, and I had nothing
for three days and three nights; and the two men before spoken
of, that were in irons with me, while the commander was with us,
the men would lie no where but upon me, and as soon as he was
gone, they laid off me, and gave me brandy to drink, and promised
me they would not hurt me. Then the lieutenant came at the middle
of the night, and found them lying upon me, he asked ‘Why they
did lie upon me?’ they said, ‘You would have him killed, so now
we will kill him for you;’ then he came down the third time in
the morning, and found them lying upon me, for they sat one to
watch his coming, and found them lying very close upon me, so
that he could see nothing but my feet, I being so pressed and
weak, that he could scarce hear my voice.
‘Then the lieutenant went to Sir Edward’s cabin door, and
knocked; the boy answered, ‘Who was there?’ He told him, ‘It
was the lieutenant that would speak with Sir Edward, for there
had been a mutiny in the ship by some men playing at cards, and
they had beat the boatswain’s mate.’ He told him, ‘He should
have laid them in irons, and not called on him.’ He said, ‘They
are already in the bilboes.’ He also said, ‘If it please your
highness, Sir Edward, to remember that there is a poor Quaker in
yet, that was laid in two weeks since, and they will lie no where
but upon him, and they will kill him for us.’ He bid him ‘go to
the yeomen that had the keys, and take him out of the bilboes,
and put up a flag at the mizen-mast’s head, and call a council of
war;’ which was done. Then the captains of the other ships all
came on board, to answer the council of war, before eight o’clock
in the morning, (it being the first day of the week.) So I being
brought before the council of war, the commander asked me, ‘If I
would go on board of a hoy that was a tender, and had six guns?’
I refused, and desired to stay on board, and bear the punishment
that I had to abide. Then he bid the council of war go on with
their business; so they did proceed, and I being set on a bulk
head, being so lame with the irons that I could not stand, and
hearing them pass sentence of condemnation upon me. The judge
was a Papist, being governor of Dover castle, and went to sea on
pleasure. So they could not tell at present, what death to put
me to. The judge said, ‘I should be put into a barrel or cask
driven full of nails, with their points inwards, and so rolled
to death.’ But the council of war taking it into consideration,
thought it too terrible a death, and too much unchristian-like,
so they agreed to hang me. And I hearing them speak several
things against me, which I was clear of, had a desire to arise
from my knees, where I was set to answer for myself, but I had
not any power to arise or open my mouth, but was condemned
within myself, insomuch that I had not power to breath unto God.
Proffering to rise again the second time, there came a motion
within me, and bid me ‘Be still, be still, be still,’ three
times; which I obeyed, and was comforted; then I believed God
would arise: and when they had done speaking, then God did arise,
and I was filled with the power of God, and my spirit lifted up
above all earthly things, and wonderful strength was given me to
my limbs, and my heart full of the power and wisdom of God, and
with glad tidings my mouth was opened to declare to the people
the things that God had made manifest to me. With sweat running
down, and tears trickling from my eyes, I told them, ‘The hearts
of kings were in the hand of the Lord, and so are both yours
and mine, and I do not value what you can do to this body, for
I am at peace with God and all men, and you my adversaries; for
if I might have an hundred and thirty years longer, I can never
die in a better condition, for the Lord hath satisfied me, that
he hath forgiven me all things in this world, and I am glad
through his mercy, that he hath made me willing to suffer for
his name’s sake; and not only so, but I am heartily glad, and do
really rejoice, and with a seal in my heart to the same.’ Then
there came a man and laid his hand upon my shoulder, and said,
‘Where are all thy accusers?’ Then my eyes were opened, and I
looked about me, and they were all gone; and one said, ‘There
goeth thy chief friend, the judge.’ Then it arose in my heart,
that I had news for him from the power of God, and I said, ‘Man,
come back, I have news for thee better than ever thou heardst in
any coffee house, or elsewhere; and answer for what thou hast
done.’ Then came a lieutenant, and said, ‘Sir Edward, this is
an hypocrite Quaker.’ I said, ‘Commander I intreat thee to look
upon me a little.’ So I loosed my kneestrings and put down my
stockings and let him see how the blood and rotten stuff ran
down my leg round about. He said, ‘Put up thy stocking, there is
enough.’ Then presently came an ancient soldier, and loosed down
his knee-strings, and put down his stockings, and put his cap
under his knees, and begged his pardon three times. Then said
he, ‘Arise up soldier, and speak;’ and he intreated him, and
said, ‘Noble Sir Edward, you know that I have served his majesty
under you many years, both in this nation, and other nations, by
sea, and you were always a merciful man; therefore I do intreat
you in all kindness, to be merciful to this poor man, who is
condemned to die to-morrow, and only for denying your order, for
fear of offending God, and for conscience-sake; and we have but
one man on board, out of nine hundred and fifty, but one which
doth refuse for conscience-sake, and shall we take his life
away? Nay, God forbid; for he hath already declared, that if we
take his life away, there shall a judgment appear upon some on
board within eight and forty hours, and to me it hath appeared;
therefore I am forced to come upon quarter-deck before you, and
my spirit is one with his; and therefore I desire you in all
kindness, when you take his life away to give me the liberty to
go off on board, for I shall not be willing to serve his majesty
any longer on board of ship: so I do intreat you once more, to be
merciful to this poor man: so God bless you, Sir Edward, I have
no more to say to you.’
‘Then came the chief gunner, that had been a captain, and loosed
down his knee-strings, and did beg his pardon three times, being
upon his bare knees before Sir Edward. Then he said, ‘Arise up,
gunner, and speak.’ So he said, ‘If it please your worship, Sir
Edward, we know you are a merciful man, and therefore I intreat
you in all kindness, to be merciful to this poor man, in whom
there remains something more than flesh and blood, therefore I
intreat you, let us not destroy that which is alive, neither
endeavour to do it; and so God bless you, Sir Edward, I have
no more to say to you.’ Then he went away. Then the commander
desired me to go down, and take leave of my friends (this day)
that were on board; so he gave order, that any that had a mind
to give me victuals might, and that I might eat and drink with
whom I pleased, and that none should molest me that day. Then
came the lieutenant, and sat by me while they were at their
worship, and he would have given me brandy, but I refused. Then
the dinner came up to be served, and several gave me victuals
to eat, and I did eat freely, and was kindly entertained that
day; and night being come, a man kindly proffered me his hammock
to lie in that night, because I had laid long in irons, and I
accepted of his kindness, and laid me down and slept well that
night. The next morning being come, it being the second-day of
the week, on which I was to be executed, about eight of the clock
in the morning, the rope being veered upon the mizen-yard’s
arm, and the boy ready to turn me off, and boats having come on
board with captains of other ships that were of the council of
war, who came on purpose to see me executed. I was thereupon
called to come to be executed, then I coming to the execution
place, the commander asked the council, ‘How their judgment
did stand?’ So most of them did consent, and some of them were
silent. Then he desired me freely to speak my mind, if I had any
thing to say before I was executed. I told him I had little at
present to speak. So then came a man, and bid me go forward to be
executed, so I stepped upon the gunnel to go towards the rope;
the commander bid me stop there, if I had any thing to say. Then
spake the judge, and said, ‘Sir Edward is a merciful man, that
puts that heretic to no worse death than hanging.’ Sir Edward
turned him about to the judge, and said, ‘What saidst thou?’ ‘I
say,’ replied he, ‘you are a merciful man, that puts him to no
worse death than hanging,’ ‘But’ said he, ‘what is the other word
that thou saidst, that heretic:’ I say, said the commander, ‘he
is more a christian than thyself; for I do believe thou wouldst
hang me, if it were in thy power.’ Then said the commander unto
me, ‘Come down again, I will not hurt a hair of thine head, for I
cannot make one hair grow.’ Then he cried, ‘Silence all men,’ and
proclaimed it three times over, that if any man or men on board
of the ship, would come and give evidence, that I had done any
thing that I deserved death for, I should have it, provided they
were credible persons. But nobody came, neither opened a mouth
against me then. So he cried again, ‘Silence all men, and hear me
speak:’ then he proclaimed that the Quaker was as free a man as
any on board the ship was. So the men heaved up their hats, and
with a loud voice cried, ‘God bless Sir Edward, he is a merciful
man.’ The shrouds, tops, and decks being full of men, several of
their hats flew overboard, and were lost.
‘Then I had great kindness showed me by all men on board, but
the great kindness of the Lord exceeded all; for the day I was
condemned to die on, was the most joyful day that ever I had in
my life-time, and so remained exceeding joyful, until the very
time that I was proclaimed a free man. But soon after troubles
came upon me again; for I being laid upon the deck one night, as
it was my usual lodging-place, there was something appeared to
me, and struck me as it were dead; and I being in great dread and
fear, believed our ship was to engage such a day of the month,
with the wind at south-east; then appeared also a small cloud to
me, about as big as a hat. After being engaged, the same cloud
spread, and became a great one, insomuch that it darkened part
of the ship; then I stepped over on the starboard side of the
ship, into the shrouds, and looked aft, and I saw a thick water
arising in the wake of the rudder, then I feared the ship was
near ground. This appeared to me three times that night, and I
would gladly have put it from me, but I could not. Then I did
believe, and was satisfied of the truth of it, then I was at
peace and quiet in my mind, but then I was to make it known to
the pilot, and I did believe it was death by law to discourage
them; so I thought, then I should give them an occasion that
they should take away my life; but I could not rest, eat, drink,
or sleep, until I had declared it. So I breathed unto God, and
desired that he would find me a way to reveal it. So it remaining
with me two days and two nights, and being walking upon the deck,
and taking notice of the chief gunner of the ship, I was ordered
to go to him, and walk with him. Very solitary were both of us,
and he perceived I had something to say to him of some weighty
matter, so he desired me to speak my mind to him, and I told
him, I had such a weighty matter to declare, that it was death
by the law to declare it, I desired that he would stand true to
me in that respect, and he promised me fidelity in the presence
of God, before whom we were, that he would be true to me in
all respects, and if one suffered, both should suffer. Then we
espied the mate of the ship walking, he being a sober man, we
drew near to him, and he perceived we were both afflicted, and
desired to know what was the matter? So we told him, we had a
weighty matter, and if he would be as faithful to us as we were
one to another, we would declare it to him; so he promised to be
faithful to us, for he did believe it did concern him. Then we
told him the matter; and he was fully satisfied of the truth of
it. ’But,’ said he, ‘it doth belong most of all to the pilot;’ so
we must speak to him, and he being such a brickle, high-spirited
man, we scarce knew how to speak to him, but calling him to us,
and walking with him, he took notice of our heaviness, and asked
our business with him; we told him, ‘We had a matter to declare
to him of great concern, therefore we desired him to be faithful
to us, and we would declare the matter to him,’ and he promised
to be as faithful to us, as he supposed we were one to another.
So they told him the matter; then he asked, ‘Who saw it?’ I told
him, ‘I see it.’ Then he fell into a rage, and seemed to fly from
his promise, and said, ‘He would go and tell the commander.’ So
away he went, and said, ‘He would have me executed speedily.’ I
said, ‘Let him do; better I die, than the whole company perish.’
But they said, ‘If thou die, we will all die.’ Then he came to
us again near weeping, and told us, that when he came before the
commander, his mouth was stopt, that he could not speak a word
good or bad. He was very tender, and praised God that he had
such a messenger. Then he took me by the hand, and desired me
to tell him the name of the sand. I told him I did not know, I
never came there; but at that time I looked up with my eyes, and
told him whereabouts the sand laid: so he desired me to go to
the compass, and he asked me, if I knew the compass? I told him,
very well; so I showed him upon what point of the compass the
said land laid, and he took a book out of his pocket, and found
the sand, and the name of it. Some days after we were engaged
on that very point with the Hollanders, and as soon as we were
engaged, the cloud appeared to me, and came and darkened the
ship. Then I stepped into the main shrouds, and I saw the thick
water, which I showed to the pilot, and he called two of the best
men to the lead. They called, ‘Five fathom and a quarter.’ Then
the pilot cried, ‘Starboard your helm.’ On which the commander
cried ‘Larboard your helm, and bring her too.’ The pilot said,
‘He would bring the king’s ship no nearer, he would give over his
charge.’ The commander cried, ‘Bring her too.’ The pilot cried to
the lead-men, ‘Sing aloud, that Sir Edward may hear;’ (for the
outcry was very great amongst the officers and seamen, because
the ship was so near aground, and the enemies upon them) so they
cried, ‘A quarter less five.’ The commander cried, ‘We shall
have our Royal Prince on ground, take up your charge, pilot.’
Then he cried hard, ‘Starboard your helm, and see how our ship
will veer;’ so she did bear round up. The men at the lead cried,
‘Five fathom, and a better depth.’ Then the commander cried, ‘God
preserve the Royal Prince.’ Then the pilot cried, ‘Be of good
cheer, commander.’ They cried, six fathom, then nine fathom,
then fifteen fathom, then sixteen fathom. The Hollanders, then
shouted, and cried, ‘Sir Edward runs.’ Then he cried, ‘Bring her
too again;’ and the fight continued till the middle of the day
was over, and it fell calm. The ships being engaged ahead of us,
we could see nothing but fire and smoke; so out of that smoke I
espied a fire ship designed to lay us on board of the larboard
bow. Then I cried to the chief gunner to come to me quickly, and
I showed him the fire ship coming to board us on the larboard
bow. Then he fired a chace-gun with a ball in her; and as soon as
the smoke was gone from the gun, we espied the fire-ship all on
a fire, blown up, and what remained of her sallied on board of
the Cambridge, and only burned her ancient. The fight continued,
and my employ was to carry down the wounded men, and look out
for fire-ships, and the commander was mightily pleased with my
service, and said ‘It would have been a great pity that my life
should have been taken away before the engagement;’ and the chief
gunner said, ‘I was instrumental, through mercy, not only for
giving notice of the ship coming on ground upon the sand, but
also for preventing of the fire-ship that was near to board us,
who gave me the first notice, whereof I am witness.’ And the
lieutenant said to the commander, that ‘There was not a more
undaunted man on board, except his highness.’
‘Eight days after, we were engaged again with the Hollanders,
and the officers sent for me upon the quarter deck, and asked
me, What I would do that day? I told them, I was willing to do
as I had done before; they desired I would do that service, and
take that care upon me, only to look out for fire-ships coming on
board. I told them I was free to do it, likewise to carry down
the wounded men, if there was occasion; so presently we engaged,
but not one fire-ship troubled us that day, but we lost about
two hundred men. The lieutenant meeting me, he asked me, If I had
received any wounds? I told him, I had received none, but was
well. He asked me, How came I to be so bloody? Then I told him,
It was with carrying down wounded men. So he took me in his arms,
and kissed me; and that was the same lieutenant that persecuted
me so with irons at the first. Then we came to the Buoy and Nore
again, and then went up near Chatham, and the king coming on
board, the lieutenant desired me to go and walk upon the deck
with him, in sight of the king, that haply some might give him
notice of me, hoping I might be brought to a trial, and have my
liberty: but I did not understand that he had any intelligence of
me. The next day the same lieutenant came to me, and desired me
to walk along with him upon the quarter deck. I being somewhat
unwilling, told him, I did not use to go upon the quarter-deck,
unless I was called by the officers. He said, ‘My uncle hath much
business, and doth forget you; so walk along with me, I desire
you.’ And I did as he desired me, and he being with me, walked
away and left me alone. The commander being there, and several
captains with him, he came from his company to me, and laid his
hand upon my head, and said ‘Thou hast done well, and very well
too:’ so he walked by me, and I blushed. Then he asked me, Why I
blushed? I told him I desired to know wherein I had done so well.
He said, ‘By encouraging them which should have encouraged both
thee and me.’ Then said he, ‘Thou shalt have thy liberty to go on
shore.’ I asked him, If I might go on shore to recruit, or go to
my own being? He said, ‘I should choose whether I would.’ I told
him, I had rather go to my own being. He said, ‘I should do so.’
Then I told him, there was one thing that I requested of him yet,
that he would be pleased to give me a certificate under his hand,
to certify that I was not run away. He said, ‘Thou shalt have
one to keep thee clear at home, and also in thy fishing;’ for he
knew I was a fisherman. So he called the captain, and ordered
him to write me a certificate, and bring it to him; which he did
with speed, but he did not like it, but flung it him again, and
ordered him to make me one more legible. Then he brought another,
and he signed it, and gave it me, and wished me well, and said,
‘He desired to hear from me if I got well home;’ and I told him,
I would send him a letter, and so I did. But soon after I got
into London, two press-crews came to me, and said. ‘This is Sir
Edward’s Quaker; you are welcome to shore, will you please to go
to the tavern with us?’ I told them I would not go, nor drink any
thing. Then they wished me well home.
‘Also they proffered me my pay, before I came off on board, and
said, ‘I deserved it as well as any man on board.’ But I refused,
and told them, I had of my own, that I hoped would serve me home.
And the lieutenant was troubled because I would take nothing; he
would have given me twenty shillings, but I would not take it.’
Thus ends the remarkable narrative of the sufferings of this faithful
sailor, who rather than violate his conscience by being instrumental
to destroy other men’s lives, endured with much patience many and sore
trials, persevering faithful in his testimony against war and fighting,
even to death; to which he was wholly resigned, and from which he was
preserved by a singular providence attending him, in those moments of
time which he thought would have been his last. But the virulence of
the popish judge against him as an heretic, gave the commander, Sir
Edward Spragg, who professed himself a protestant, such disgust, that
scorning to be made a tool to execute the vengeance of a papist in this
case, he delivered the innocent man from the death he was condemned
to: being thus preserved alive, he was made instrumental to the saving
of the ship, and the lives of many therein: and by the exercise of an
undaunted Christian courage and constancy, triumphed over the malice of
his adversaries, who conscious of his innocence, at length became his
friends and favourers.
* * * * *
_A narrative of the Sufferings of John Philly and William Moore,
in the Inquisition of Hungary, from the first month 1662, to
the seventh month 1663. Taken from a letter written by William
Moore to William Caton, dated Amsterdam, 11th month, 1663._
‘On the 29th of the first month, 1662, John Philly and William
Moore, being refreshed with the overflowings of the love of God
through thee, we took our leave of thee and the rest of our
dear friends in Germany; and what a cross it was to my flesh
and blood to leave thee and them, and to take such an unknown
journey, is best known to him that seeth the secrets of all
hearts, and what a capacity I was in, is pretty well known to
thyself, yet we passed according to the information thou hadst
procured for us of the way, together with what we got elsewhere,
and we prospered in our journey, and arrived the 16th of the
second month at Cutshort, by the Hottersche[113] brethren, about
a day’s journey from Presburgh in Hungaria, where we were pretty
kindly entertained by some of them, and there I dealt some books
among them, which I had carried with me, and the next day I went
alone to another family of them: and in my going thither the Lord
preserved me out of the hands of a wicked man which I met withal,
who seeing me a stranger, would, it’s like, have laid violent
hands on me, or have knocked me on the head for my money, had not
the Lord restrained him, and the brethren (so called) wondered
I was preserved, for they could not go so far as to the next
village, but were in danger. After we had some pretty good[114]
service among them, we got the names of some more of their
families, and one of them was three hundred miles farther, at a
city called Pattock, in Upper Hungaria, but some of them would
have dissuaded us from going any farther, but rather only to have
visited the families thereabouts, which I could have been free
unto, but John was pressed to go forward, and I had not freedom
to leave him, he not having their language, which I had.
[113] These Hottersche brethren were a kind of Baptists, who
lived in a community, having, like the primitive Christians,
their goods and possessions in common. They also refused to
swear or fight, and dwelt by hundreds of them together in one
family.
[114] Their service was that of preaching to those
communities, and endeavouring to promote and advance their
growth in the doctrines of christianity.
‘After that we returned to Presburgh, where the Danube divideth
itself, and it meets at Comora, where we were taken, which
happened as followeth: we finding a boat going with meal to the
garrison at New-Hausell, which lies in the way to Pattock, we
went to her, and when we came near unto the place, the boatmen
asked me, ‘Whether I had acquaintance there?’ I said, ‘No.’
‘Whether we had a pass?’ I said, ‘No.’ Then said they, ‘It is
dangerous going thither,’ because they would be suspicious of
us, and to travel farther in that land, they being tributaries
to the Turk, we should be in danger of being killed either by
the countrymen, or by some of the Turks, and at that garrison
they did use to put men to cruel deaths, which have been found,
without leave, on the tributary ground. Yet John was desirous to
be at that village which was near there, but said the boatmen,
‘He will not take counsel before ye shall remember our words, and
repent it when ye cannot help it;’ and their words had the more
impression on me, because I had seen a night or two before in my
sleep, that which afterwards came to pass at Comora, where we
arrived, and were brought to an Hungarian’s lodging, but we could
not understand one another; but the next night they sent for a
student from the college, who asked me in Latin, ‘Whence we were,
and whither we were intended?’ I told him, ‘We came from Great
Britain, and desired to be at Pattock.’ Afterwards we entered
into a discourse about religion, and when we parted, he said,
‘He wished us well, though there was a vast difference in our
judgment,’ &c.
‘The next day we endeavoured to get over the river, and made
signs to a countryman with some money, who began to make his boat
ready to help us, but an old Dutchwoman came forth, and said,
‘What do ye?’ And told me, ‘The governor would presently cause
him to be hanged, if he set us over;’ so we let it rest, and we
returned to our former lodging, and the next day I went over the
water on the south-side of the town, where I heard there were
many Dutch people and soldiers, hoping to find some countrymen
to speak with, and some books I took with me, which I would
willingly have sent to Pattock; and coming to the soldiers, asked
for countrymen, but finding none, I asked leave of the guard,
and walked out into the field, where a trooper sat sentinel,
discoursed a little with him, and passed on farther, where some
were ploughing. And as I returned back, there did meet me a
soldier of captain Fusch’s company, with two other, and having
a book in my hand, called, ‘A paper sent forth into the world,
to show the grounds and reasons why we denied the priests of
the world.’ He looked on the title, and began voluntarily to
tell me, that ‘Such a place was in Turkey, and if a man went
thither, he might have good days there,’ &c. But I said, ‘I will
go from whence I came,’ and intending to return to John on the
other side the water, the aforesaid soldier came to me again at
the water-side, and told me, ‘I must come to the captain,’ and
when I came before him he asked for the book, and looking on
it, asked, ‘If I was a Quaker?’ I said, ‘Yea.’ And he being in
a rage, said, ‘These rogues show no respect;’ and said, ‘I was
a young Hus come forth to seduce the people, and make uproars,
&c.’ And he caused the soldiers to pull off my clothes, and to
search me for letters, and took my money from me: and I spake
something to them, to give them to understand they would not be
so done by. But he said, ‘When you get clear, you shall have your
money again.’ But he did not think that should be, so he sent
me to the guard a while, and sent for me again, and searched me
more narrowly, and found the books which were inclosed between
the linings of my breeches: then I was sent to the guard again,
and the marshal was to put iron shackles with a chain upon my
foot and hand; and there was a talk as if I should be stuck upon
a wooden spit, as some had been who had but gone to the next
village without their order; but I turned my mind inward, and was
pretty well resigned up to the lord. So they having sent over to
the chief officer to inform him, there were two soldiers sent
with their burning matches to fetch me, and I little expecting
less than present death, had told some soldiers, ‘I had a
companion in the inn on the other side, and he would marvel what
was become of me if he did not hear.’ Afterwards I was carried
to the officer aforesaid, who asked me, ‘If Mary had continued
always a virgin?’ To which, when I had answered, ‘Thou rogue,’
said he, ‘if I had but power over thee, I would presently drown
thee in this water.’ Afterwards they went to our lodging, and
apprehended John also, howbeit free of that crime they imputed to
me, which was for going over, and into the garrison. I was put
in the Dutch prison, called the Stock-house, and John into the
Hungarian’s vault, which was twenty foot long, where they rack
people, and there was a private gallows, a pair of stocks, and
a filthy tub of excrements; and the aforesaid officer took our
portmantle, but afterwards it was given to the marshal, who took
what pleased him out of it, with the Bible and papers, and left
the rest to another officer, who feignedly, after our commitment,
seemed to be troubled that we had no bread, and asked me, Whether
John had no money, which I could not deny, and then he went to
the other prison, and threatened him to give it him. So John gave
him a ducat, which he got changed, and brought us the money, and
desired we would give him some of it, and he would be worth it at
our hands. John afterwards expecting they would search him for
gold, did afterward hide some, and kept some by him.
‘The day following, we were first examined by the inquisitor,
Whence we were? Whither we intended? How old we were? Who was the
author of our coming forth? What money we had taken up? And John
was searched, and the gold found which he had left by him: and
I was examined concerning the books, and told, It was a capital
crime, and would cost me my life. But I said, ‘What I had done
therein, I had done in simplicity,’ &c. And he asked, ‘Who had
spoke with us in our lodging?’ I told him, ‘A student,’ with many
more words.
‘And after the first examination, one colonel Fusch desired
to have me brought forth before him, and he asked me several
questions concerning the books; and ‘Who was the first bringer
up of this doctrine?’ I told him, ‘George Fox was one of the
first preachers of it in this generation,’ and because I owned
the books aforesaid to be wrote by the motion of the Spirit
of God, he was very bitter against me, and several cunning
questions did he ask me, as thereby to ensnare me, but it did
not avail. Something he read in one of the books concerning
their steeple-houses, as advice to people that they should go
no more to them, &c. which seemed to be very odious to him; and
he told me, that ‘He would cause all those books and writings
to be copied and sent to his prince at Mentz, and when he could
spare them the inquisitor should have them.’ Afterwards I was
taken to the deputy governor, (a cruel old fox) who asked me
several questions, and said, ‘He would send me with a message to
the devil;’ and he said, ‘I had done more than if I had killed
an hundred men;’ and because I would not take off my hat, he
judged that to be a Turkish principle, and I not being free at
that time to drink wine, he asked me, ‘Why?’ I said, ‘because
I would bring my body into subjection.’ ‘How long,’ said he,
‘will you abstain?’ I said, ‘till night at least.’ ‘That,’ said
he ‘is another Turkish point, to fast till night.’ He had also
sent for the Hungarian student, and commanded him to tell him
in Latin, all what had passed between us in our lodging, which
the inquisitor afterwards took to read when we were examined,
but he would not read it openly, lest the sitters by should have
heard and owned the truth thereof. Afterwards they brought our
attempt to go over the water, as a mighty crime against us, and
the aforesaid soldier was called to testify against me, whose
testimony being false, I withstood him, and told the inquisitor,
who did much seek occasion against me, that ‘He should beware
what he did, for if he should cause my blood to be shed under
such a pretence, it would cry to the Lord for vengeance, and
thereby he might draw the wrath of God upon him and others.’ And
I desired the other soldiers might be examined, who also had
heard what I said; which after some time was granted, and I was
put forth, and my adversary and accuser he was kept within, and
one of the other was called; and then I thought, ‘Now if the
Lord doth not assist me, they may persuade him to speak the same
thing.’ But when he came forth, he told me, ‘He did not speak as
the other, for that which the other had affirmed, was not true;’
then I thanked the Lord that this pretence failed them. But
afterwards the inquisitor told me, ‘The books were enough, though
there were nothing else;’ and asked me, ‘Whether I knew not that
the catholics had laws to burn and torment heretics, and such as
carried such books?’ I said, ‘I should not have expected such
dealing among good Christians,’ and so did not tell him. Howbeit,
I knew well, that they were cruel and bloody enough.
‘Then he opened a book of the corrupt popish laws, and read
therein, how that such persons as carry such books and papers
are to be racked, &c. And about this time was John searched yet
farther for gold, by the command of the inquisitor, and having
taken so far off as one of his shoes and stockings, he was slow
in taking off that where the gold was, and the marshal thinking
it tedious, and thinking there had been no more, bid him put
them on again. And upon a certain time he gave it me in half
a little white loaf, when we stood with the soldiers waiting
to be called. And they seeing the book called ‘The way to the
kingdom,’ that it was printed at Amsterdam, asked me, ‘What books
I brought from thence to Paltz, and how many?’ And one morning
having sent for one of the priests. He got that written book
of George Fox’s of the Apostacy of Christendom, who looking on
it, began to be hot and wrathful, saying, ‘How are we (meaning
the papists) apostatized, and how can that be proved?’ I said,
‘Friend, it becometh not a spiritual man to be so furious, but
gentle, meek, peaceable,’ &c. Then was his countenance dashed,
and he had little more to say. The inquisitor asked me farther
concerning the sacrament, &c. And I told him how Christ said,
‘The flesh profiteth little, it was the spirit that quickened,’
&c. which seemed strange to him, and he asked the priest, ‘Sir,
father, how is that?’ who bethought himself, and said, ‘He
did remember there was such a saying;’ and more words passed
between us, which would now be too long to relate. Farther, the
inquisitor asked me, ‘If I would be a catholic?’ I said, ‘If I
should be so for fear or favour of them, the Lord not requiring
it of me, I should not have peace in my conscience, and the
displeasure of the Lord would be more intolerable than theirs;
and as for compelling people, that did but make them hypocrites,
and doth not truly change the heart.’ Which the priest could not
deny but that it was true. And notwithstanding our innocence, the
governor would have us racked, which seemed to me, according to
relation, a cruel torment; and in those days I often poured forth
my supplication to the Lord with tears. And being almost every
day examined until the eighth day, they made ready benches to sit
on, lighted the candle, and put John out of his room, and sent
for me. The inquisitor sitting there with two more officers, and
the marshal and the hangman by them.
‘The inquisitor said, ‘William, that you may not think we deal
with you as tyrants, we will lay it before you, that you may tell
what you know in time, for if you be racked, you will be but a
miserable man, and must have your head cut off besides.’ But I
told him, ‘I knew no evil, nor had any such thing in my heart
against them.’ Then he read a few lines to this purpose. ‘We,
Leopoldus, &c. Emperor, &c. having understood of two impeached
persons, John Philly and William Moore, found by our frontier
garrisons, our desire is they should be racked, to know their
intent.’ And then the hangman, according to order, put on an
iron screw hard upon my thumbs, and bid me, ‘Tell out.’ Then
he slacked them and screwed them harder again; but that not
availing, he was commanded to proceed farther, and so he tied a
small cord about my wrist behind my back, and drew me up some
degrees on the ladder, and tied my hands to one of them, and
another cord about my ancles, with a battel of wood between my
feet, lifted up my body quite from the ladder, and at the first
pull my left arm gave a pretty loud crack out of joint, being
shorter tied above that wrist; then he was bid put it in joint
again. So he slacked, and they asked me, having three things
especially to ask. 1st. Why did I ask the student, if one should
come to them, and say, He intended to buy somewhat of them, if
they would then kill him? 2d. Why we had desired to be set over
the water at the town, and who was the author? 3d. Why I had
written up some of the names of the garrisons, and other places,
notwithstanding I had them in the maps?
‘And though he mentioned but three questions at the first, yet
he would have forced me to have told, whether J. Philly was an
engineer, a gunner, or a minister? Now this suspicion of his
being a minister, had an Irishman, it seems, put into their
heads, who had almost an irreconcileable hatred or malice in
him against Englishmen, as I afterward out of his mouth plainly
understood, especially against ministers, as authors of their
ruin and exile: and this man was interpreter between me and them.
But I answered, and kept to this, that he was an husbandman and a
maltman, and I knew him not till he came to Amsterdam. He asked
me, ‘If I had a mind to go to the Turks, and to be one?’ I said,
‘I had rather die than be one.’ In the mean time I was so racked,
that my chin was so close to my breast, and closed my mouth,
that I was almost choaked, and could not well speak any longer,
and I should not wish any to experience how painful it was, and
yet they would be questioning me. Then I asked them ‘Where is
now the Christian love, and do ye now as ye would be done unto?’
And I cried the louder, that the people without might hear and
bear witness what they were a doing to me, for the door was shut
and guarded, and sometimes when I was slacked, it was almost
as painful as the pulling: but something they would have out of
me, and I told them, how that they might by such means force
one (as I believed many had done) to say more than they knew,
to be out of their pain; for I had rather they had proceeded
to have beheaded me according to their threatenings, than to
have tormented me; but yet that they would not do then, for he
(the inquisitor) would have me say yea to it, which it’s likely
would have been enough to them, though they had known us to have
confessed a lie: howbeit finally I confessed, it was for love to
our religion that we were come to those places. Then they left
off, as thinking there was crime enough: yet he spake as if I
should be racked again on the third day.
‘Then they fetched John, who not seeing me, but having heard me
crying out before, he thought I had been hanged on the private
gallows, and put out of the way. But he was given up, being
confident in the Lord, who had sealed to him (he said) that he
should have his life for a prey before he came forth: so they
laid four things to him chiefly to answer, and his thumbs were
screwed, and he was drawn on the ladder twice, and he cried out,
‘Innocent.’ And they asking the interpreter, What that was? He
said, ‘they were smitten in their consciences, and they left
off:’ I judge the sooner, because if there had been any evil,
they would have got it out of me, with whom they had more delight
to meddle, because they could understand me, and I them: and
then it was afternoon, and they hungry, it’s like, for they had
begun early with me, and when all was done, and they could find
no contradiction, they invented a lie, and the marshal came unto
me, and told me, John had said, I had no money by me, but what
I had was his; and bade me tell how it was? But I knew it was
otherwise: but they sought occasion against us, that they might
yet have tormented us more, but I kept to truth, which he also
had spoken, and their expectation failed them.
‘Afterward a priest with the marshal came, and felt my ears to
see whether I had been a rogue, or some one of account, which
they would have concluded, if they had been either cut or bored.
‘When they had done all this, they told me, There would be twenty
or thirty men of note appointed out of the quarters round about,
to hold a court of justice upon us, and to determine what deaths
we should die, and to make new laws for our sake; but in the mean
time the inquisitor came, and would have me first write some of
the heads of my religion, so I did write many particulars, which
I cannot now set down word by word, at some of which he raged
very much.
‘About that time John Philly, feeling much of the wickedness of
the inquisitor and priests, and being sensible how they plotted
to take away our lives, did once cry out to the governor when
he was in his coach, and he sent to know what he would have,
which was to acquaint him with the particulars laid, before him
in his racking, and what his answers were, and how there was no
contradiction found in our answers, for he was jealous, that the
inquisitor and priests would prevent our words to the governor,
and afterwards he got pen and ink, and wrote to the governor, but
the inquisitor got it, and sought to keep it from the governor,
for it is like, he was convicted in his conscience of his dealing
so evil with us. But John perceiving he would smother it, called
to the governor again, who commanded him to give me it to
translate for him, which was done; so not long after came the
inquisitor to me, having been sick three days upon the bed, and
told me, he was sent by the governor, that we might go forth and
fill a little earth in the wheelbarrow, whereby we might earn
near two pence a day to buy us bread; ‘for,’ said he, ‘that which
remains in my hands of the money is little for my pains, and the
marshal and hangman will have some for their pains.’
‘This was about five weeks after our coming to Comora, and we
were willing to accept of the governor’s proffer, that we might
thereby have the benefit of the fresh air, and that our bonds
might be manifest to such as might somewhat take it to heart;
for there were both Lutherans and Calvinists that did partly
commiserate our conditions, but durst not venture to come and
see us in the castle, and sometimes was some small thing given
us by some, and the papists marvelled, and others were glad we
had obtained the favour as to be suffered to work; yet sometimes
the marshal would not suffer us to go out, and sometimes he kept
back of our wages, and on saints days, so called, and rainy days,
we had no wages. Howbeit the Lord provided for us, for there
were some women that remembered us on these days, and pretty
much we could have gotten, had we spoken to rich people, and
to officers, but we were not free to beg of any, whereupon the
marshal was angry. And as for that gold which John had hid in the
prison-wall, some had found it, and taken it away. And when we
had been about seven weeks asunder, John obtained that favour as
to be with me, but one night he was in danger of being murdered
by a student, who privily got to him when he was asleep, and took
him by the neck, and might have choaked him, had not the Lord
preserved him.
‘After that John wrote again to the governor, and commended
his wisdom in forbearing to proceed so severely against us as
some would have had him, but that paper the inquisitor did also
intercept, and he sent for me, and threatened that he would help
us to the gallows himself, howbeit I have spared and helped you
before, said he; and about that time I did eat but little, that
I might be the better prepared to die the sooner, if they should
have been suffered to have hung me upon an hook by the ribs, as
it was their manner with some, who lived in a most miserable pain
for three or four days.
‘After that I wrote something to the governor, but the inquisitor
did also intercept that, and I spoke with the governor’s
secretary and his chamberlain, who were two pretty discreet
young men, and one of them told me, how the inquisitor was made
to give his lord our papers which he had intercepted; and it
appeared, that he was come into disfavour with the governor, and
the chief-priest, our great adversary, was in danger of being
punished, but for what cause we did not yet certainly know;
however that evening the chain was taken off from each of us, and
but a little left upon one leg.
‘After that came down the general-president with the
deputy-chancellor and others, to view the garrison, and they came
riding by us where we were at work, and one looking out of the
coach, and seeing us not take off our hats, cried ‘These are the
Quakers;’ and the same day was a new gallows made, and we were
called in, and by the way the marshal said, ‘We were to go before
a general, and if we did not take off our hats, we should see
what would become of us, for the gallows was ready.’
‘And coming before them, there sat a priest at the table, and
said, ‘We had forfeited our lives by desiring to go over the
river,’ &c. But I told him, ‘They thirsted after blood, and the
potentates of the earth hearkened unto them.’ And as for us,
we had no man but God to plead for us; and many sophistical
arguments he produced, as thereby to ensnare me, but some of
the rest desiring to speak with me, I regarded what he said the
less, and with much boldness I spake unto them. And as for the
president, who seemed to be the wisest among them, he called John
to him, and spoke French with him, and afterwards called me, and
spake with me. The deputy-chancellor asked me, ‘Whether I would
rather turn papist, or be hanged?’ I said, ‘I did not desire to
have them put it to my choice.’ The president asked, Whether I
would not that all people were as I was? I answered, and said,
Whatsoever is good in me, I wish them like me in that. He asked,
Whether I would not they were all of my religion? I said, I
wished all might be faithful to that which they knew already to
be good. Then he caused them to bring us our hats again, which
some had thrown off, and when they had dined, they desired us to
write for certificates, and so went their way.
‘And upon a certain time colonel Fusch came riding by where we
were at work, and some Italian lords with him, who were intended
for Rome, and he proffered to send me with them if I pleased, or
if I would be a Papist, or Calvinist, (i. e. Presbyterian) he
would procure my liberty, &c. And many more temptations we had
daily, which would be too long here to relate. And often there
came officers and asked us, What saith the Spirit now? Hath the
Spirit sent you to work? And had he not done better to have
counselled you to stay at home? And doth he not yet tell you that
you must be Catholics? And when I had done speaking to them, and
they not knowing how to defend themselves, they would say, ‘Such
heretics ought to be burned;’ and more bad words to the same
purpose.
‘And when sixteen weeks were expired of our imprisonment, the
Hungarian deputy-governor, a bitter old man, came where we were
at work, and said, ‘He must send us to Cæsar;’ for John had
before in his paper appealed unto him.
‘Then we went into the garrison, until four soldiers and an
interpreter, and letters, were ready, that went along with us,
and there were iron-bolts put upon our feet, and we put into a
waggon. And the interpreter told us, how he had heard the letter
which was come concerning us, but nevertheless, he said, we
should not come into England. So that whole night we rode, and
arrived the third day at the house of one called his excellency,
lord Francis of Nadasti, &c. Judex Curiæ Hungariæ, the Emperor’s
majesty’s active privy counsellor and lord chamberlain, &c. to
whom the governor of Comora had given us over, it was supposed,
partly to make friendship with him, for they had been formerly
at variance; and when he came from his worship he caused us to
be called, and asked me, If we were Quakers? I said, ‘Yea:’ He
said, ‘Very well.’ And in the afternoon his wife looked out of a
window, and asked me several questions, and I had much freedom to
answer her, which she interpreted to some Hungarians that were
with her: and the next morning we were taken to the vice-king’s
parlour, where the lords of that kingdom and of the other
dominions were set about the table, and John was ordered to go to
one end by the secretary, who seemed to be an understanding man,
and he was partly reached by John’s answers, and he was forward
to repeat them aloud to the archbishop and the rest; and Nadasti
asked me several questions, but hastily, about our religion, of
which we gave friends an account formerly.
‘And though they had little or nothing to say against our
answers, yet they passed sentence upon us, that we should
be burned, if we would not be instructed, and embrace their
religion; for they had a law, they said, which tolerated but
three religions, viz. theirs, the Lutherans, and the Calvinists,
and whosoever brought a new religion there, was according to
their law, to be burned; and upon that we were sent away. And
John told me, The power of the Lord would divide them in their
council, as an Irish priest did afterwards tell him, who was sent
to require an account of our religion in writing, and when it
was done, the Irishman got an English copy of it, and said, ‘He
would tell them the contents of it, and help us what he could;’
but we thought it would be the best that I translated it, which
accordingly I did, and I gave it Nadasti in his hand.
‘Afterwards they sent the priest to convert us, and there he
read out of his catechism, and asked John concerning the creed,
pater-nosters, seven sacraments, mass, faith, hope, love,
patience, and more such like things, to which John answered him.
After that came down some priests, and asked us, If we were come
forth to sow our seed? O, said the Irish priest, ‘they cannot
speak Latin;’ yet he and others know that I could. And seeing
they could not prevail with us there, we were sent to another
place, five Dutch miles from [115]Wien, (the Emperor’s seat)
with two soldiers, by Nadasti’s command, and when we were come
thither, the priests gave order to put us in the hole with the
Turks, because they suspected us to be preachers, and by their
instigation, and with the consent of the court-master, (who told
me, that there should be wood and straw fetched to burn us) did
the soldiers take off our coats, and searched our pockets, and
took our books and papers, and the next day, because we would
not speak Latin, nor take off our hats to their images in their
churches (so called) they set others upon us to ensnare us in
words, and strove to do it themselves, that they might have
occasion to take away our lives, which they often threatened to
do, and when they could not prevail with all their cunning baits,
nor make us bow to their worship, they manifested their cruelty
farther, in causing iron-shackles to be put upon our hands; and
though they were so little that I was forced even to cry out, by
reason of the extremity of pain, yet with force they thrust on
the lock, and beheld it with joy.
[115] Vienna.
‘And in the hole we had scarce room to put forth our feet without
touching the Turks, whose feet were in the stocks, and hands
in irons, and necks and feet in iron-bands tied to the walls
with strong chains. Afterwards the priests being drunk at their
feasts, sent for us to examine us farther, and they said ‘They
could not believe but John was a preacher, for an husbandman
could not answer so readily.’ And one of the chief of them told
us, that they had several instruments of cruelty, which they
could also let us taste of; that they could burn men under their
arms, and put hot iron or copper-plates upon their breasts: and
he also told us, that we should be sent down into Hungaria to
be burned. I spoke to one of the priests, and desired we might
be dealt withal as men or Christians, and might have a little
straw or hay to lie upon, for we were worse used than the Turks.
‘Yea,’ said he, ‘we prefer them before you.’ And about that time
they proffered us a drink in an urging manner, which it was
supposed was made to poison us; and John refusing to take it,
one of the priests said, ‘Suspectum est nos.’ One of the priests
asked me, If I had a wife? I said, ‘I never knew woman-kind.’
He said, ‘The heretics had not that grace of chastity, neither
had I any grace from God.’ The Turks, he said, had some grace,
they were good soldiers, and somewhat else he said of them.
Another priest asked me, ‘How I had lain in the hole, and how the
iron-shackles pleased me?’ And threatened we should be put into
the miry-dungeon in the tower, and called me filthy names in the
Hungarian tongue, before the people.
‘Howbeit, blessed be the Lord, we had slept well in the shackles,
upon the besoms in a corner; yea, better than could be expected,
though at the first my wrist-band pained me much. And when the
priests and others were seeking much to discourage us, I was upon
a time setting musing upon a bench, and thinking Lord help us,
what will be the end of this, and whether they shall have power
to murder us here, where few may know of it, for in this place
are no other sects to be witnesses, as at Comora and Presburgh,
and then my mind was turned inwards, and I was as if I had slept;
and on a sudden it was as if I had seen a man all clothed in
white, sitting on a milk-white horse, riding in post-haste to
me-wards, as if he were hastening to rescue me; then I looked up
and was pretty much comforted, thinking it was from the Lord to
encourage me, lest I should be too much cast down. And the very
same day there came tidings from the earl, that he was displeased
at what they had done, as he told his barber, to whom he showed
the papers which John had writ; and the barber hearing of us,
together with his perusing the aforesaid papers, the witness of
God was reached in him, which had stirred much in him in the time
of his youth, by which he was stirred up to declare against the
darkness and deadness of the brethren’s forms aforesaid, among
whom he had been educated; neither could he be well satisfied in
himself until he came to see me, and after some discourse with
us, was yet more convinced, and he told us, how that the earl
did judge that the priests had been drunk, which was true, both
with rage and wine. Then did the streams begin to turn, and some
desired our favour, both the officer and priest began to flatter
us, with others who had been high against us; and then they had
no more power to put us into the hole to exercise their cruelty
upon us, as they had done before, which was no small cross to
their wills.
‘After that there came a spiritual lord (so called) an
Englishman, from Wien, and he asked John, If we were come to
plant our religion? saying, ‘Sects had occasioned much mischief
in England, but now they would be rooted out.’ But John said,
‘The love of God can reconcile them again.’ ‘A pox o’ God, take
that love,’ said he, with other such unsavory words, whereby
he showed himself to be carnal indeed, although he was called
spiritual. Another came to us, who was called Frater Valentine,
and speaking with us concerning the bible, he said, ‘It had
brought many thousands into hell,’ and reading a paper of
John’s, which he had writ to the earl and council, wherein John
showed, how he was an Englishman, and forasmuch as there was
no discord betwixt England and the Empire, he knew not why an
Englishman coming into any of the emperor’s dominions, to visit
a sort of people, and to spend his money, should be so used,
&c. But said the aforesaid Frater, ‘They ought to be beheaded,
for if they had done so to Luther at first, said he, there had
not been so many Lutherans or heretics at this day.’ Farther he
said, ‘We were forerunners of Antichrist;’ and this rumour went
through the kingdom and elsewhere, that Antichrist was taken,
and was at Nadasti’s court. However, soon after it was thought
we might have been set at liberty, but that the priest did so
much incense the earl against us, and we having writ according
to order for certificates, which in due time came to hand, from
friends in Holland, and they were of good service, with the
king’s proclamation for setting Friends at liberty; but the earl
was taken exceeding sick at Wien, so that the thing was not then
effected.
‘In the mean time Adam Bien, the earl’s barber, had desired,
unknown to us, that we might have the liberty to come forth, and
be in his house, the winter being cold, and we in a cold guard,
where the doors stood open all day, and much of the night; and
he proffered his own person in our stead, if we should run away.
Howbeit, we were not free to be so burdensome to him, though he
had obtained the thing, but chose rather to content ourselves
where they had appointed us, that the burden might come the
heavier upon them, that they might be the sooner weary of us; and
what storms and assaults we had from the priests and soldiers,
and others with them, and how they sought to ensnare us, would
be too long here to relate: but in the mean time we were often
refreshed through Adam’s and his wife’s love, together with a
sense of the love of God, and of friends who were afar off; and
our adversaries might have been the worse to us, but that many
of them there stood in pretty much awe of Adam, who stood in his
integrity over them, for he having such daily access to the earl,
and knowing most of them at court guilty of more or less, they
did therefore dread him the more. And sometimes we did go to his
house, and had sometimes opportunity to speak with some of the
aforementioned brethren, who were warned of that sore desolation
which is since come upon many of them. For of nine families there
is but one remaining, and the rest were burned, with the value
of many thousands in them, and above two hundred of the men were
slain and taken captive.
‘And about that time there was a gentleman (so called) appointed
for to bind and carry me away, whose waiting-man came to me, and
gave me two big glasses, as if I should have gone with him to
have fetched some wine or something else; but presently I was
sensible all was not right or well, for he had a great cudgel in
his hand, and that same morning he had given me very bad words,
and when I had followed him into the fields, there came many
sleds, (for the snow was so deep that wagons could not travel,)
and when the first came at us, the man that had given me the
bottles, caused me to lay them down, and get upon one of the
sleds, and he returned back again. The other, who had so much
threatened me formerly, came towards me, and then I was very
sensible of mischief intended by them, and then I was troubled
for John and Adam, lest they should have avenged themselves on
them, through pretending I had been run away, (for they were
become full of envy against Adam for his love to us,) so I
resolved to endeavour to get back to the town; thinking, that
if they did stop me, it might be the better manifest I was not
run away. But when I essayed so to do, that wicked man caught me
by the hair in a great fury, and shed pretty much of my blood,
and I thought he had quite struck out one of my eyes, and he
pulled me down in the snow, and did sorely abuse me, and bound
my arms with thongs, as also my feet, and bound me so in the
sled, that I hung also by the arms and feet with my face in the
hay, neither knew I to the contrary, but that they would have
murdered me in that wood which was close by; but O, thought I,
that I might but live one quarter of an hour, that peradventure
some might pass by and see me, whereby Adam and John might come
to know what was become of me; afterwards we came by a gallows,
where I thought they might have executed me, but there we passed
by, and people coming that way, they muzzled me with a cloak,
and one sat upon me till the people were passed by. Howbeit, I
hearing their feet in the snow, called to them and desired them
to acquaint the aforesaid barber that I was there; but then did
the soldier beat me sore again, the other having charged him not
to suffer me to say any thing. Then where we came at night, the
irons were put on my feet, and a long big chain, tied on high
about a beam, was put about my neck all night. Next morning we
came to a village, when I would gladly have spoken with one, but
they caused me to lie down until we were passed both village and
castle, and so we travelled towards a place in the wilderness, as
I was informed, and finally we came to a place where they were
building a new cloister; but the prior not being at home, the
other priests would not take me in without his order, so that
night I was put in chains as before, and the next morning was led
up to the castle, and was ordered to be put in a dark hole where
no light was, for he that came along with me bade them blindfold
me, and put me in a deep dungeon, and give me but little bread
and water, and that none should tell of me, and there being a
Jew, he was forbidden on pain of death to say any thing; and
I was soon after put into an hole where there was but little
light, and there I was four days and four nights in cold frosty
weather, and it was much I was not starved. But after the prior
wrote home to the monks, I was sent for; and when they used their
ceremonies, and sprinkled their infants, &c. I did not conform
to them in their kneeling and the like, at which they marvelled,
but said not much in my presence, but when I went to my lodging,
they said, I was a bad dog, and a stubborn rogue; and sometime
they sent for an armed soldier to guard me, or rather to affright
me. And when I had been there about twelve days, the prior came
home, and it seems he had some orders to rack me for writing
letters at Puttendorf: then did the prior send for me, and asked
me concerning our coming into the country, and to what end, and
concerning some points of our religion, to which I answered him
according to truth; but he said, ‘That was not enough, we must
believe that the Pope was Christ’s Vicar, and that he and they
had power to bind and loose,’ &c.
‘And when we had reasoned a while together, he said, ‘I must
have my habitation again in the castle, and that he would come
sometimes by me and bring the bible.’ And afterwards he came up
sometimes to see his corn and provision, but had little delight
to speak with me; but once he called me where he sat, and told
me, ‘The earl had desired him to inform me, that I should not
marvel that he sent me thither, for it was not for my sake alone,
but for seducing so many souls, and if it could be proved I
was come on such purpose, I should be laid on an heap of wood,
meaning, I should be burned. In the mean time I bore my testimony
against their fruits of covetousness, pride, persecution, &c.
and against their weapons, which were not like Christ’s, nor his
apostles; and with this some that stood by were affected; and
many things passed betwixt us at that time, which I shall not now
rehearse; and afterwards I was told, how he had said to some, he
had spoken to many learned men, but never did any answer him as
I did. And afterwards I had more liberty and more respect showed
me, and the report went, how that none that dealt with me could
gain at my hand.
‘And after I was so treacherously taken away, as before
mentioned, from Adam and John, the earl told Adam, I was run
away, and he might see where to find me; he said, ‘He could not
believe that,’ but afterward he got intelligence where I was,
and writ some lines by the officer of the castle, but he was
unwilling to give it me, but gave me bad language, saying, ‘He
had appointed an hangman to flea off my skin, if I did not turn
papist;’ but finally, I got a sight of it, and he told me how
closely the design of my removal was carried on, insomuch that
but three did know of it at first. He also told me, how he had
longed for an opportunity to send me bodily necessaries, which
he afterwards did, and gave orders to give me bread enough on
his account: and finally, the earl being sick, nigh unto death,
Adam obtained a promise of him to let us have our liberty. But
after that he in whose custody I was had set me free, he kept
me six weeks to help the masons, and promised to tell me a good
message when he returned, if I would be diligent. And afterward
he took me aside, and told me, ‘The Earl would have me informed,
that if I would be a catholic I should have good service and
preferment, but if not, however he could not detain me, for he
had prisoners enough besides.’ But this was concluded, if I was
found afterwards in Hungaria or Austria, I should be burned, and
my companion also.
‘And before I was brought from thence he did try me many ways,
for he would have me learn to shoot, and hath tied match about my
fingers, and hath struck me to make me hold the musket. But I was
like a fool, and they made themselves sport with me, and several
times would put pistols in my hands and bid me shoot, sometimes
in seeming earnest, and sometimes to make sport before strangers.
‘Afterwards I was examined about my religion, and they thinking
such a liver would adorn their profession, they did threaten to
have my tongue cut out if I would not be a papist; and afterwards
a priest was sent for to instruct me, and convert me, but when he
could not prevail a tub was made ready, and a rope put through
the ears of it, and I was set in it, and they said, I should be
let down into a well thirty-six fathoms deep above the water,
and I knew not but that it might have come to pass, howbeit they
drew the rope but over a beam to affright me, and I falling out
of that, they laid me cross over the saddle of an ass, and drew
me up, and turned me hard about, and then let it go with a whirl
to make my head dizzy; but I was silent, and valued it little,
whereat they marvelled, as if I had been past all feeling. And
from thence they carried me to another place, and there they
locked my neck and feet near together, and my hands spread
abroad, and locked in a thing wherein they torture the Turks to
make them confess of what ability they are, or their friends,
whereby to get great ransom, and some asked, if it was painful?
and others said, they committed more sins than they did profit
thereby.
‘And at another time I was put in a wheel which was made for the
well, and they caused the soldiers to turn it about, that I might
tumble to and again in it, which might have done me much hurt,
but that I held fast on the side of it, yet however one of my
elbows was in great danger of being sorely harmed, and afterwards
I was much threatened, as if they would have racked me again.
‘And about that time I was told by the secretary and others, that
the emperor, by reason of the hot wars that were in the country,
had given orders to set all the Christian prisoners at liberty,
so that it was thought they could not detain us much longer.
‘And about the 4th of the seventh month, 1663, I was carried into
the country with the prior and a priest from Rome, and others,
and when we came to the water which parts the two countries,
we parted; and the aforesaid Adam had ordered one of them to
give me some money to bear my charges, and he gave me but five
groshees, which is about the value of ten-pence. After that I
came to a place called Pinkfield, where several Lutheran barons,
and others, came to see me; and many things they asked me, to
which, according to freedom, I answered. And I had a desire to
have gotten to Wien, but they told me, ‘It was impossible for
me to pass, that would not take off my hat, besides there were
abundance of soldiers that way;’ and one desired me to stay by
him till I could have opportunity. Afterwards I was directed to
go through Stoyermack to Gratz, a great city, where there were
merchants from Noremberg at the fair, and one of them it was
thought, might be somewhat of my opinion, and thither I went,
but going in at the gates was called back, and was not suffered
to go in, for they were fearful of the enemy, and suspicious of
strangers.
‘The next day, when I saw I could not meet with the aforesaid
merchant, I resolved to travel on my journey, and to trust to the
Lord to take care for my sustenance, who had often done it, when
as to the outward there was little appearance of relief. And in
my journey I inquired for the privatest ways, which I found to be
most peaceable. Howbeit, when I came to the west-end of Austria
I was twice stopped, as if I might have been sent from the Turks
to spy out and burn towns, but when I produced my certificate I
was suffered to pass, but charged not to tarry at their town, and
after that I avoided coming into cities and villages as much as
I could, and so got forward, though not without difficulty. And
I have great cause to thank the Lord for his goodness, for I did
not much want food, but through mercy got either bread or fruit,
or something; for in those countries they are accustomed to give
travellers and tradesmen bread, and lodging in their barns, and
sometimes I told them how I had been robbed by soldiers and
abused, and then their hearts were moved so much the more with
pity towards me.
‘And I proceeded on my journey, and through mercy got about the
2d of the eighth month into some part of the Paltz in Germany,
and came through Heidelberg and Manheim, and upon the 7th of the
same month I arrived at Christein among friends, and being there
kindly entertained, and abundantly refreshed, I tarried there
some weeks, waiting to have heard of John or from Adam.
‘Now the last news which I had of John was by dear Adam’s
[116]letter, which I hope may be come to thy hands before this.
Several more passages might be set down, and what we suffered
together, and since we parted, but this for the present may
suffice till another opportunity. Farewell.
[116] That letter signified that John Philly was set at
liberty, and departed toward Germany on the 6th of the
seventh month, 1663.
‘Thy dear friend in the love and light of God,
‘WILLIAM MOORE.’
Amsterdam, the 11th month, 1663.
The narrative contained in the preceding letter, exhibits many
instances of that protecting Providence of God, which supports and
accompanies those who in an holy obedience to the commands of his
spirit are devoted to answer its requirings. The many dangers and
trials through which they passed, the despitefulness and tortures
with which their enemies were suffered to prove their meekness and
patience, the cruel and shameful deaths wherewith they were threatened,
give the clearest demonstrations of their steadfastness in the faith
from which they could not be moved; for they looking unto Jesus, the
author and finisher of their faith, who for the joy that was set
before him endured the cross, despising the shame, and is set down at
the right hand of the throne of God, and considering him that endured
such contradiction of sinners against himself, were not weary, nor did
faint in their minds. See Heb. xii. But in all their afflictions were
supported by the consciousness of their integrity, and the consolations
of the Spirit of God, raising their spirits above the fear of man, and
enabling them to persevere in a steady confession of their faith, and
supplying them with that wisdom which is from above, whereby they were
enabled to withstand the subtil devices and snares of those who sought
their ruin and destruction: from which they were preserved by the power
of the Lord, the only preserver of those that put their trust in him,
whom he delivereth out of the hand of the wicked, and out of the hand
of the unrighteous and cruel man. Psal. lxxi. 4.
INDEX.
A.
ABRAHAMS, (Dr. Galenus,) his comparison of Ames and Stubbs, vol. i.
p. 157.
---- disputes with G. Fox and W. Penn, vol. ii. p. 168.
Acts of Parliament against conventicles, vol. i. p. 355. vol. ii. p.
98.
---- against Quakers’ meetings, and to enforce oaths, vol. i. p. 355.
---- to suppress seditious conventicles, vol. ii. p. 98.
---- to restrain non-conformists from living in corporations, vol.
ii. p. 60.
---- allowing the affirmation of Quakers to be accepted instead of
the oath, vol. ii. p. 267, 284, 325.
Adderton, (Major-General,) a New England persecutor, vol. i. p. 304.
---- his remarkable death, vol. i. p. 371.
Address of the Quakers to king Charles II. vol. ii. p. 191.
---- to king James II. on the toleration, vol. ii. p. 212.
---- from the Yearly meeting to ditto on the toleration, vol. ii. p.
213.
---- to king William upon the peace of 1697, vol. ii. p. 277.
---- to ditto on discovery of a plot, vol. ii. p. 283.
---- to queen Anne on her succession to the throne, vol. ii. p. 297.
---- to ditto on her promise to maintain the toleration, vol. ii. p.
298.
---- to ditto, from the yearly meeting on the Union, vol. ii. p. 312.
---- to ditto on the renewal of her promise to maintain the
toleration, vol. ii. p. 320.
---- to king George, on his accession and declaration for the
toleration, vol. ii. p. 324.
---- to ditto on suppression of the rebels, vol. ii. p. 327.
Affirmation, an act obtained for its acceptance, ii. 267.
---- made perpetual, and the form more easy, ii. 325.
Aldam, Thomas, imprisoned in York Castle for preaching, &c. i. 66.
---- ditto for not paying tithes, &c. i. 141.
---- predicts the fall of O. Cromwell, i. 208.
Algiers, some Quakers’ slaves there allowed to hold meetings, i. 421.
Ames, William, convinced at Dublin by the ministry of E. Burrough and
F. Howgill, and becomes a minister, i. 128.
---- banished Amsterdam, i. 189.
---- kindly entertained by the elector Palatine, i. 225.
---- several Baptists convinced by him near Worms in Germany, i. 225.
---- imprisoned in Rotterdam, and is dismissed, i. 226.
---- ---- in London, and ditto, i. 380.
---- dies at Amsterdam, i. 408.
Amsterdam, some pretended Quakers there, i. 190.
Austin, Anne, travels with Mary Fisher, (see Mary Fisher,) i. 181.
Armorer, Wm. a justice, his cruelty to the Quakers, ii. 69.
Audland, John, convinced by G. Fox, i. 69.
---- his testimony received by many at Bristol, i. 101.
---- brief account of his life and death, ii. 12.
---- some account of his wife and others, ii. 309.
Atherton, Oliver, dies in prison for tithes, i. 432.
B.
Baily, Wm. convinced by G. Fox, i. 146.
---- his exhortation against persecution, ii. 33.
---- marries M. Fisher. Dies at sea, coming from the West Indies, ii.
136.
Baker, Daniel, account of his being at Malta, i. 348.
---- imprisoned in London, and writes his travels, i. 349.
---- is illegally and barbarously abused, i. 380.
Baptism, water, discourse concerning, i. 146.
---- the principle of Quakers respecting it, and the outward supper,
ii. 304.
Baptists, several convinced, i. 27.
---- some at Barrow in Leicestershire, silenced by G. Fox, i. 36.
Baptist, a teacher at Carlisle, convinced, i. 83.
---- another in Cumberland who gives up an impropriation of tithes,
i. 90.
Barbadoes, Quakers suffer much there by the priests, i. 373.
---- negroes prohibited by law from going to Quakers’ meetings, ii.
142.
---- Quakers petition king William for relief--his order thereupon,
ii. 234.
Barclay, his education and character, ii. 74.
---- writes to Adrian Paets concerning the immediate revelation of
the Spirit, ii. 142.
---- writes in Latin to the ambassadors at Nimeguen, ii. 155.
---- his death, ii. 235.
Barnadiston, Giles, convinced by G. Fox, becomes a minister, and a
sufferer, i. 416.
Barrow, Henry, and two more, put to death by instigation of the
clergy, i. 18.
Battledoor, a book published by G. Fox and others, i. 315.
Baily, George, dies in prison in France, i. 189.
Bennet, a Justice, said to be the first who in scorn gave Friends the
name of Quakers, i. 39.
---- strikes G. Fox as he was kneeling down to pray for him, i. 47.
Benson, a justice convinced by G. Fox, i. 79.
---- his wife imprisoned at York, i. 85.
---- refused leave to visit G. Fox in Carlisle dungeon, i. 90.
Beraudin, a martyr, spoke after his tongue was cut out, praising God,
i. 15.
Birkhead, Christopher, sent to prison, i. 106.
---- ditto at Rochelle, i. 188.
---- confined in the house of correction at Middleburgh, and
discharged, i. 189.
Bishop, George, convinced at Bristol, i. 101.
---- author of an account of the persecution in New England, i. 305.
---- his prophetic caution to the king and parliament, ii. 40.
---- same fulfilled, ii. 49.
Bishops, their zeal for ceremonies, i. 17.
---- cruel sayings of the bishop of Peterborough, ii. 111.
Blasphemers in Coventry prison, confounded by G. Fox, i. 36.
Blasphemy often charged upon the Quakers, but not proved, i. 160.
Blaugdone, Barbara, convinced by John Audland and John Camm, i. 101.
---- imprisoned at Bristol, Marlborough, Exeter, and several other
places, i. 109, 110, 111.
---- arrives in Ireland, and pays a visit to the deputy, i. 128.
---- goes to Cork, returns to Bristol, after to Ireland, imprisoned
at Dublin and Limerick, i. 129.
---- committed to Bridewell in Bristol, ii. 184.
Blome, Richard, author of the Fanatic History, which seems chiefly
designed against the Quakers, i. 175.
Boston, in New England, some Quakers arrive there, are ill-treated,
imprisoned, and sent back again, i. 181.
---- a law made to prohibit bringing Quakers there, i. 182.
---- cruelties practised there, i. 193, 194, 217.
---- the country round will not now yield wheat, though formerly
fertile, i. 373.
---- the jailer to whip the Quakers twice a week, beginning with 10
lashes, and increasing 3 every time till they would work, i. 218.
---- Quakers banished from, i. 222.
---- an address of the general court of, to king Charles II. to
justify their cruel proceedings, which is answered by E.
Burrough, i. 296.
Bourignon, Antonia, her writings, &c. ii. 278.
Bowing and scraping censured by G. Fox, i. 32.
Bowing at the name of Jesus, what it is, &c. i. 336.
Boyes, a priest, invites G. Fox to his pulpit, i. 60.
---- goes with him, i. 61.
---- refuseth tithes from some who proffered them, i. 62.
Brend, William, imprisoned and used barbarously at Boston, i. 217.
Briggs, Thomas, convinced by G. Fox, i. 79.
---- is cruelly treated at Warrington, Yarmouth, Lynn, and other
places, i. 85, 86.
---- goes to America, i. 86.
---- foretells the destruction of London, ii. 64.
---- dies, ii. 193.
Briscoe, William, a justice, is so seized and struck by the dread of
the Lord, that he recalls his warrant for imprisoning R. Widders,
i. 91.
Bristol, dismal persecution there, ii. 182.
---- meetings kept up by children, ii. 184.
---- R. Lindy, a blind man, used severely, ii. 186.
---- dreadful death of the jailer, ii. 187.
Brown, Richard, alderman of London, his character and cruelty, i. 377.
Brownists, whence their name, i. 17.
Bugg, Francis, an apostate, charges the Quakers with Socinian
notions, ii. 257.
Bull-and-Mouth meeting-house in Martin’s-le-Grand, i. 101.
Burden, Ann, a widow, cruelly treated in New England, i. 193.
Burial of the dead, practice of the Quakers respecting, ii. 304.
Burnet, Dr. remarkable sayings against persecution, &c. ii. 325.
Burrough, Edward, convinced by G. Fox, i. 70.
---- becomes an eminent minister, i. 75.
---- preaches in the fields near London, i. 98.
---- goes with F. Howgill to Ireland, and are banished thence, i. 128.
---- writes to the Protector on different subjects, i. 142, 184, 188,
208, 216.
---- writes to his wife and children, i. 210.
---- meets the funeral of O. Cromwell, &c. i. 212.
---- a remarkable prophecy of his, i. 209.
---- goes to Dunkirk, i. 232.
---- message to the rulers of England, i. 235.
---- writes an apology for Quakers, and against persecution, i. 357.
---- has the foreknowledge of his death, imprisoned in Newgate with
six or seven score more. The king sends an order for his release,
but it is stifled, i. 405.
---- his death, i. 406.
---- his eulogium, by F. Howgill, i. 406.
C.
Calvin, John, admits the indwelling of God’s spirit in man, i. 15.
Camm, John, a zealous preacher, i. 75, 101.
---- goes to Bristol, and persecuted there, i. 102.
---- short account of his life and death, ii. 11.
Caton, William, convinced by G. Fox, i. 72.
---- his early piety when in judge Fell’s family, i. 119.
---- is moved to go to warn people to repentance, i. 119.
---- at 17 years of age, travels to divers places, visiting Friends,
at London meets with J. Stubbs, i. 120.
---- confined at Maidstone and cruelly whipped, i. 122.
---- goes by himself to France, and afterwards with J. Stubbs to
Holland--Goes to Scotland, i. 123.
---- returns to England, i. 123.
---- goes again to Scotland, thence to Holland, secured at
Middleburgh, and sent to England, i. 124.
---- goes to Amsterdam, i. 157.
---- imprisoned six months in Yarmouth, i. 429.
---- his death and character, ii. 60.
Charity doth not impoverish, verified in the Quakers, i. 93.
Charles II. his declaration at Breda for liberty of conscience, i.
265.
---- this promise renewed to the Quakers, i. 281.
Cheevers, Sarah, travels with C. Evans, see C. E.
Christening of Children, no Scripture for it, ii. 78.
Christison, Wenlock, banished Boston, appears in court there, and is
sent to jail, i. 299.
---- brought again to court, i. 303.
---- receives sentence of death, his prophetical speech, is set at
liberty with 27 more of his Friends, i. 304, 305.
Church, what a church is, i. 29, 65, 67, 68, ii. 16.
Church Faith, a paper so called, answered by G. Fox, i. 213.
Church government, amongst the Quakers, account of, ii. 308.
Clarendon, Edward earl of, his saying of O. Cromwell, i. 212.
---- supposed to propose queries to the Quakers, i. 271.
Clark, Mary, cruelly whipped and imprisoned 12 weeks in New England,
for warning against persecution, i. 194.
Clayton, Richard, in Suffolk, fixes some queries to a steeple-house
door, i. 138.
---- is with two others taken up, examined and whipped, i. 138.
Christ, i. 22, 26, 27, 34, 53, 58, 65, 322, 323.
Coale, Josiah, convinced by J. Audland and J. Camm, i. 101.
---- committed to Newgate in Bristol, i. 105.
---- goes with T. Thirstone to Virginia, thence with T. Chapman to
New England, i. 298.
---- writes a warning against persecution, ii. 194.
---- his exhortation to constancy under sufferings, ii. 33.
---- his warning to the king, ii. 66.
---- answers a Popish book, ii. 72.
---- his death and character, ii. 83, 84.
Colchester, cruel and bloody persecution there, i. 415.
Coleman, Ann, with two more women, sentenced to be whipped through
eleven towns, i. 362.
---- again cruelly whipped with some others, i. 365.
Conjuror, one so reputed, baffled by G. Fox, i. 55.
Conventicle, vide Acts of parliament.
Convincement, some convinced by dying penitents, &c. ii. 292, 294.
Copeland, John, his right ear cut off at Boston, i. 221.
Corbet, counsellor, gains reputation by his defence of G. Fox’s
cause, ii. 304.
Creatures, virtues of them opened to G. Fox, i. 30.
Crisp, Stephen, convinced by J. Parnel, i. 125.
---- becomes a minister and goes to Scotland, i. 246.
---- a brief account of him, i. 430.
---- goes to York, ii. 49.
---- his epistle to Friends concerning the present and succeeding
times, ii. 69.
---- imprisoned at Ipswich, ii. 77.
---- declines being made a magistrate at Colchester, ii. 217.
---- his epistle of advice to all the churches of Christ, ii. 235.
---- some of his dying expressions, death and character, ii. 249.
Crisp, Samuel, his letter to a relation after he became a Quaker, ii.
313.
Croese, Gerard, some of his history noted, i. 25, 39, 315.
Cromwell, O. his speech for liberty of conscience, i. 103.
---- yet suffers the Quakers to be persecuted, i. 103.
---- connives still at the grievous persecution of the Quakers, i.
165.
Crook, John, a justice, convinced by G. Fox, i. 118.
---- a yearly meeting kept at his house, i. 199.
---- apprehended at a meeting in London, i. 377.
---- brought to trial, i. 386.
---- sentenced to a premunire, i. 399.
---- his advice to his children and grandchildren, ii. 279.
---- his death and character, ii. 281.
---- his letter to Isaac Pennington, ii. 291.
Cruelties exercised on the Quakers in New England, i. 193, 216, 223,
247 to 259, 362 to 372.
---- at Warborough in Oxon, ii. 111.
---- at Horslydown, ii. 112.
---- at Long Clawton, in Leicestershire, ii. 134.
---- at Norwich, ii. 138.
---- in Wales, ii. 141.
---- in Plymouth and Gloucestershire, ii. 172.
---- in Berkshire, ii. 174.
---- in Leicestershire, ii. 174.
Curtis, Anne, has access to the king, and obtains her request in
favour of G. Fox, i. 275.
D.
Deceivers, who are the greatest, i. 31.
Declarations of fidelity and Christian Faith, to be subscribed to by
Quakers, instead of oaths of allegiance, and supremacy, ii. 233.
Derby, countess of, her cruelty and death, i. 433.
Dewsbury, William, convinced, i. 58.
---- begins to preach, i. 66.
---- is beaten till almost killed, but healed by the power of the
Lord, i. 90.
---- imprisoned with others at Northampton, about half a year, i. 140.
---- examined by judge Atkins, &c. born near Hull, in Yorkshire, i.
138.
---- his letter to his oppressed Friends, ii. 187.
---- short account of his life, and convincement, ii. 224.
---- was 19 years prisoner at Warwick, besides other places, ii. 225.
---- his speech to Friends in his sickness, his death, ii. 227 to 230.
Dispute about the resurrection and Christ’s body in heaven, ii. 82.
---- between the Baptists and the Quakers, ii. 127.
---- at Aberdeen, where four young students are convinced, ii. 133.
Distress often made for two or three times the value, i. 417.
Downer, Ann, the first woman Quaker that preached publicly at London,
i. 101.
---- goes to Launceston to attend G. Fox, and two companions in jail,
i. 152.
---- is married to B. Greenwell, after to George Whitehead, her dying
words and death, ii. 210.
Drayton in Leicestershire, the birth place of George Fox, i. 19.
Dreams, some believers in, convinced, i. 24.
---- a remarkable one of C. Evans at Malta, i. 342.
Dring, Robert, first meeting in London held at his house, i. 98.
Drummer, a priest, his rash expression, i. 363.
Drury, Captain, a remarkable passage concerning him, i. 117.
Dundas, Wm. a Scotchman, convinced, ii. 56.
---- is excommunicated, ii. 57.
---- goes to France, returns to England and joins the Quakers, ii.
59, 60.
Dyer, Mary, banished New England, i. 251.
---- returning is taken up, i. 252.
---- sentenced to death, i. 252.
---- writes to the magistrates of Boston, i. 253.
---- reprieved when ready to be turned off, i. 256.
---- her character, returns to Boston, i. 258.
---- is sent for by the general court, examined again, sentenced and
executed, i. 259.
Dennis, I. jailer at Bristol, his dreadful death, ii. 186.
E.
Eccles, Solomon, for his bold and zealous actions becomes a sufferer,
ii. 89.
---- severely whipped at Cork, his sincerity, ii. 113.
Education in universities, not sufficient to made a minister of
Christ, i. 23.
Election and reprobation, i. 61.
Elizabeth’s, princess of the Palatinate, letter to Wm. Penn. ii. 161.
---- her answer to G. Fox’s letter from Amsterdam, ii. 162.
---- other of her letters to Wm. Penn, ii. 163 to 171.
Embden, Quakers persecuted there, ii. 164.
---- Wm. Penn writes to the senate, ii. 165.
---- the Quakers are invited to reside among them, ii. 202.
Endicot, John, governor of Boston, his cruelly, i. 181, 182, 297,
305, 365, 367.
---- his barbarous ingratitude, i. 367.
---- dies of a loathsome disease, i. 371.
Error, not to be conquered by the arm of flesh or carnal weapons, i.
175.
Evans, Catharine, and Sarah Cheevers, visit Scotland, i. 111.
---- travel towards Alexandria, embark for Leghorn, arrive at Malta,
and have some sense of their ensuing trouble, are some time
entertained by the English consul, i. 319, 320.
---- are put into the inquisition, i. 321.
---- the English consul grieves for being accessary to their
confinement, i. 323.
---- their great sufferings, &c. i. 324 to 327.
---- endeavours for their liberty prove vain, i. 327.
---- they are not idle in prison, i. 336.
---- instance of friendship in an Englishman towards, i. 330.
---- they continue steadfast, i. 331.
---- after four years confinement, are set at liberty at the instance
of lord d’Aubigny, and go on board an English vessel, i. 341.
---- C. Evans is committed to Bridewell, in Bristol, ii. 184.
---- her death, ii. 249.
F.
Faith, who have the true, i. 323.
---- not to be forced, ii. 17.
---- its genuine effect, ii. 78.
---- whether it comes by outward hearing, ii. 154.
---- historical, how far essential to the Christian Religion, ii. 143.
False prophets, who are such, i. 71.
Fanatic history, written chiefly against the Quakers, i. 175.
---- some citations in answer to it, i. 176.
Farmer, Ralph, a priest, stirs up persecution at Bristol, i. 102, 106.
Farnsworth, Richard, convinced by the preaching of G. Fox, i. 58.
---- becomes a minister, i. 58.
---- writes against Muggleton and Reeves, i. 430.
---- his death, ii. 74.
Fast, remarkable one of a woman in Lancashire, i. 26.
Fasts, G. Fox’s letter concerning, i. 204 to 207.
Felon, one convinced, i. 54.
Fell, Henry, taken out of a meeting and whipped, i. 279.
Fell, Margaret, and most of her family convinced by the preaching of
G. Fox, i. 72.
---- sends forth an information against H. Porter, mayor of
Lancaster, goes to London and applies to the king, i. 275, 276.
---- acquaints him with Friends’ sufferings, i. 286.
---- is premunired, ii. 52.
---- a short account of her life and death, ii. 299.
---- she wrote the Call of the Jews out of Babylon, and other pieces,
ii. 300.
Fell, Thomas, a judge in Wales, i. 73.
---- entertains G. Fox, and is convinced by him, and offers his house
for a meeting place, i. 74.
---- defeats the design of justices Sawrey and Thompson against G.
Fox, i. 77.
---- death and character, ii. 299.
Fifth monarchy-men, some are put to death, but acquit the Quakers of
having any hand in the plot, i. 275.
Fines, exorbitant extorted from the Quakers, i. 248.
Fisher, Samuel, a priest, afterwards a Baptist teacher, convinced by
J. Stubbs, i. 121.
---- the purport of his intended speech before the parliament, i. 154.
---- goes to Dunkirk with E. Burrough, i. 232.
---- goes to Rome with J. Stubbs, i. 282.
---- his death, ii. 48.
Fisher, Mary, goes to Boston with Ann Austin, barbarously used, and
after five weeks imprisonment, sent back to England, i. 181.
---- goes to Turkey, delivers a message from God to Mahomet IV. in
his camp, which he favourably received, she returns to England,
i. 282, 283.
---- is married to William Bayly, ii. 136.
Fletcher, Elizabeth, so cruelly abused at Oxford as to occasion her
death, i. 108.
Floyd, Morgan, priest of Wrexham, sends two men into the North to
inquire after the Quakers, who are both convinced, but one of
them falls off, i. 95.
Fox, G. birth, parentage, and education, and various occurrences
relating to him, i. 19 to 28.
---- powerful effects of his preaching at Nottingham, where he is
imprisoned, i. 34.
---- a distracted woman quieted and convinced, i. 35.
---- confounds blasphemers, i. 36.
---- is six months in the house of correction at Derby, i. 38.
---- writes to the priests, magistrates, &c. i. 40.
---- the keeper of the prison a bitter enemy, becomes his friend, i.
43.
---- a remarkable passage of a soldier convinced by him, i. 53.
---- is offered his liberty and a captain’s place, but refuses it,
for which he is put among felons; here he writes several letters,
and some are convinced by him, i. 53 to 58.
---- is set at liberty after a year’s confinement, i. 58.
---- goes to Yorkshire, is befriended by captain Purslow and justice
Hotham, speaks in steeple-houses, and holds meetings, where many
are convinced, i. 58, 59.
---- at Patrington being refused lodging, is forced to lie in the
fields, i. 63.
---- speaks in the meeting-house unmolested, and has a great meeting,
and many are convinced, i. 64, 65.
---- is barbarously treated at Warnsworth, Doncaster, and Tickhill,
i. 66.
---- malicious reports spread of him, i. 67.
---- has a meeting near Firbank chapel, many convinced, i. 67, 68.
---- many are convinced at Kendal and Underbarrow, i. 69.
---- preaches at Ulverstone, Aldenham, and Ramside, where priest
Lawson is convinced, i. 71, 72.
---- preaches at Lancaster, where he is stoned, i. 74, 75.
---- at Ulverstone is dragged out of town, and is barbarously used,
and suffers greatly at Cockan, i. 75.
---- is wonderfully preserved, accused of blasphemy at Lancaster
sessions, where forty priests appear against him, but is cleared,
i. 76, 77.
---- foretells the dissolution of parliament by force, which fell out
accordingly, i. 82.
---- at Carlisle, convinces the Baptist teacher, i. 83.
---- is committed to jail, among thieves and murderers, as a
blasphemer, i. 84.
---- is at length released, i. 90.
---- travels through many places in the North, i. 92.
---- disputes with several priests at Drayton, i. 114, 115.
---- is taken at Whetstone, sent prisoner to the protector at London,
with whom he has a conference, and is in a friendly manner
dismissed, i. 115 to 117.
---- writes to the protector respecting the oath of abjuration, i.
141.
---- sent to Launceston jail, i. 148.
---- his trial at the assizes, i. 149.
---- fined and recommitted, i. 149.
---- after great suffering, is released, i. 153.
---- going to London, he speaks with the protector on the road,
showing him the evil of persecution, goes with E. Pyot to
Whitehall, and talks with the protector, i. 183.
---- his success in Wales, i. 191.
---- travels in Scotland, i. 192.
---- disputes with a Jesuit, i. 199.
---- writes to the protector, dissuading him from becoming king, i.
202.
---- writes to the protector’s daughter Claypole, under trouble, i.
202.
---- speaks with the protector at Hampton Court, is invited to his
house, but sees him no more, i. 209, 210.
---- foresees the restoration, i. 215.
---- travels through divers places, labouring in the gospel, i. 264,
265.
---- exhorts king Charles II. i. 270.
---- sent to Lancaster jail, i. 274.
---- what ensued thereupon till his release by the king, i. 274 to
278.
---- taken again at London, and released, i. 285.
---- discourses with some Jesuits, i. 315, 316.
---- imprisoned at Leicester, i. 351.
---- tried and found guilty, yet released, i. 353.
---- performs many signal services, i. 411.
---- again apprehended, i. 412.
---- brought to the assizes, ii. 3.
---- proves his indictment erroneous, ii. 6.
---- again indicted and brought in guilty, ii. 7.
---- recommitted, writes to the emperor, kings of France and Spain,
and to the pope, ii. 7, 8.
---- prisoner in Lancaster castle, ii. 53.
---- removed to Scarborough castle, ii. 54.
---- released by order of king Charles II. ii. 64.
---- travels in America, ii. 114.
---- travels in England, goes to Holland, ii. 161.
---- to Hamburg and Frederickstadt, ii. 164.
---- his sickness, death, and character, ii. 245.
---- his character by T. Ellwood, ii. 245.
---- an epistle of his, left sealed up, ii. 246.
---- another, concerning his first mission, ii. 286.
Fox, George, the younger, convinced, i. 58.
---- writes an exhortation to the army, and prophetically to the long
parliament after its restoration, i. 245, 246.
---- imprisoned at Harwich, i. 267.
---- sent for by parliament, and committed to Lambeth Gatehouse, with
R. Grassingham, who after fourteen weeks are discharged, i. 268.
---- abstract of a book wrote to the king while there, and delivered
to him by R. Hubberthorn, and afterwards printed, i. 270.
---- writes to the king against popery and the abomination of the
times, i. 310.
---- his behaviour in his last sickness and at his death, i. 313.
---- foresees approaching calamities, ii. 49.
Friends, the name whereby the Quakers are called among themselves,
ii. 309.
Friars at Rome, acknowledge the truth contained in books given them
by S. Fisher, and J. Stubbs, but dare not publicly profess it, i.
282.
Furnier, Isaac, ringleader of some unruly people pretending to be
Quakers, but disowned by them, turns Papist, debauched and
dissolute, i. 157.
G.
Gardner, Hored, a woman being whipped, with a girl, kneels down and
prays for her persecutors, i. 217.
Gibbons, Sarah, and Dorothy Waugh, kept six days in the house of
correction without victuals, and whipped, i. 217.
Glin, Christopher, priest at Burford, a persecutor of the Quakers, is
struck blind in the pulpit, ii. 135.
Glyn, lord chief justice, has a long discourse with G. Fox at his
trial, i. 148.
God: some people who denied his being, refuted and convinced by G.
Fox, i. 29.
---- teaches his people by his Spirit, i. 72.
---- how good men know they are in his favour, ii. 148.
Goodyar, J. imprisoned, i. 140.
Goldsmith, Sarah, testifies against pride in a remarkable way, and is
sent to prison, i. 106.
Goodair, Thomas, and Benjamin Staples, imprisoned at Oxford,
outlawed, and stripped of all, for refusing to swear, i. 353.
Goodridge, Wm. thirteen years a prisoner, suffers severely, ii. 247.
Gospel not established by the sword, or law of man, but by the might,
power, and spirit of God, i. 100.
Government and Governors, principles of the Quakers, with relation to
them, i. 99.
Grace of God, that hath appeared to all men, able to bring them to
the favour of God, i. 31.
---- it brings salvation, and the universality of it, ii. 78.
Gracechurch-street meeting-house built, ii. 78.
Green, Thomas, faithful pastor, suffers severe distresses on his
goods, ii. 112.
Green Theophilus, servant to O. Cromwell, convinced by F. Howgill, i.
100.
---- set in the stocks and severely fined, and sent to Newgate by
justice Hawtrey, with a remarkable mittimus, ii. 112.
---- see his sufferings, ii. 221.
Greetings, G. Fox is forbid to use them, i. 32.
---- the principles of the Quakers concerning them, ii. 303.
Gwin, Paul, a Baptist, finds fault with G. Fox, who soon puts him to
silence, i. 183.
H.
Hacker, col. Francis, sends for G. Fox, from whom he has a
prophetical warning, i. 116.
---- his wife and marshal convinced by G. Fox, i. 141.
---- he is hanged and quartered for high treason, i. 283.
Hale, sir Matthew, discharges G. Fox by proclamation, ii. 127.
Halhead, Miles, a zealous preacher, i. 75.
---- he is beaten by the order of justice Preston’s wife, and two
very notable occurrences respecting her at Skipton; he is beaten
till he is nigh unto death; miraculously healed; at Doncaster
meets with like treatment; a remarkable occurrence concerning his
wife, i. 86.
---- at Stanley chapel he is thrown over a wall, and wonderfully
recovered of his bruises, i. 87.
---- goes to Newcastle, he is there imprisoned, and released again;
many by him are convinced, i. 89.
---- goes to Ireland with James Lancaster and Miles Bateman, where
they proclaim the truth, they return to England, from thence with
James Lancaster, he goes to Scotland, are in danger of being
stoned at Dumfries, visit several places in Scotland, and returns
to England, i. 111, 112.
---- is imprisoned at Berwick, where some remarkable occurrences
happen, i. 112.
---- he tells the question the priest designs to ask him, and answers
it, is released and goes home, i. 112.
---- goes to London, from thence with T. Salthouse to Exeter and
Plymouth, where he is much persecuted and imprisoned, and remains
so for many months, i. 133, 135.
---- the fate of some of his persecutors, ii. 75, 76.
---- has a long conference with general Lambert, ii. 118.
---- his letter to G. Fox, ii. 120.
Hamilton, Alexander, erects a meeting-house at Drumbowy and Heads in
Scotland, and is convinced, i. 112.
----- is one of the first Scotch preachers of that persuasion, a
remarkable passage concerning him, i. 112.
Hammersley, Thomas, foreman of a jury without an oath, his verdict
commended by the judge, i. 114.
Harris, Charles, joins with the separatists, ii. 190.
Harrison, a priest in Dublin, assents to the truth of B. Blaugdone’s
speech to the deputy, i. 130.
Harwood, John, taken at Bures in Suffolk, examined and sent to jail,
i. 138.
Hat-honour forbid to G. Fox, i. 32.
---- disused by W. Caton, being convinced, i. 119.
Haydock, John and Roger, convinced, and both become preachers, ii. 75.
---- the death of Roger, his character by his widow, ii. 275, 276.
Heavens, Elizabeth, and Elizabeth Fletcher’s cruel sufferings at
Oxford, i. 108.
Helliar, John, and sir John Knight, two violent persecutors at
Bristol, ii. 182.
Heresy, what punishment belongs to it, i. 309.
Hide, judge, an active persecutor, ii. 31.
---- dies suddenly, ii. 47.
Hide, Matthew, an eminent opposer of the Quakers for about 20 years,
dies penitent, ii. 137.
Hignel, Jeremy, taken from his shop, and sent to prison without a
mittimus, for being a Quaker, i. 105.
Hignel, Temperance, so violently abused, that she died in three days,
i. 106.
Hire, those who teach for hire, not ministers of Christ, ii. 18.
Hirelings and false prophets preach for wages, i. 115.
History, the design of this, i. 19.
---- and to stir up others to improve it for the benefit of
posterity, i. 79.
Hodshone, Robert, the cruelties practised on him by the Dutch in
America, at the instigation of the English, i. 248.
Holder, Christopher, and John Copeland, cruelly whipped and
imprisoned, &c. at Boston, i. 194.
---- they with John Rous had their right ears cut off, and were
afterwards whipped, i. 221.
Hooton, Elizabeth, one of the first convinced, i. 26.
---- preaches publicly, i. 54.
---- cruelly used in New England, i. 366.
House of Commons pass the Bill of Exclusion. Their resolution against
executing the penal laws on Protestant dissenters, ii. 180.
House of God, a building of lime and stone, absurdly so called, i. 75.
Hotham, justice, entertains G. Fox in a friendly manner, i. 59.
Howard, Luke, convinced by W. Caton, i. 120.
---- S. Fisher, a priest, in endeavouring to convince him of the
lawfulness of singing psalms, is by him convinced to the
contrary, i. 121.
Howgill, Francis, convinced by G. Fox, i. 68.
---- a short account of him: becomes a minister, and is imprisoned at
Appleby, i. 69, 70.
---- goes to London, and is one of the first who preaches there at a
Quakers’ meeting, i. 98.
---- goes to Court, and speaks to O. Cromwell, i. 99.
---- writes to him in a prophetical spirit and style, i. 99.
---- is six months in Ireland, and afterwards banished, i. 128.
---- writes a paper for encouragement in time of hot persecution, i.
384.
---- is imprisoned for not swearing, i. 432.
---- appears at the assizes at Appleby, ii. 9.
---- is recommitted, ii. 11.
---- his trial: he is outlawed and imprisoned, ii. 19.
---- dies in Appleby jail, ii. 85.
---- his advice to his daughter, ii. 86.
Hubberthorn, Richard, a zealous preacher, i. 75.
---- he with others, hauled out of a meeting, and left bound in the
fields in the winter, i. 86.
---- goes to Norwich, where he is imprisoned, and writes epistles of
exhortation to his friends, his birth, parentage, former life and
character, i. 106, 107.
---- he has a long discourse with king Charles the Second, i. 280,
281.
---- he is violently hauled from Bull-and-Mouth meeting, and sent to
Newgate, where he dies, i. 405, 406.
Huchin, John, imprisoned without cause or warrant, i. 141.
Huss, John, his martyrdom, i. 13.
Hutton, Thomas, entertains G. Fox after he had been sorely abused, i.
77.
Historical knowledge of Christ not commonly manifested to us but by
the holy Scriptures, though God can impart it otherwise, ii. 146.
I./J.
Jackus, a priest, remarkably confounded by G. Fox, i. 78.
Jailer of Derby prison enraged against G. Fox, i. 43.
---- his vision and repentance, i. 44.
---- Launceston prison, his inhuman treatment of G. Fox and two
companions, i. 153.
---- he is turned out and put into the dungeon, where he ends his
days, i. 153.
Jailer of Boston in New England, his barbarous cruelty to W. Brend,
i. 218.
---- of Lancaster Castle, his cruelty to G. Fox, soon after which he
dies, ii. 53.
---- of Ilchester, Davis and Newberry, their miserable condition, ii.
202.
---- under jailer at Carlisle, his cruelty to G. Fox, i. 84.
James the Second proclaimed king; the dissenters petition him for
liberty of worship, ii. 194.
---- by his proclamation puts a stop to persecution, ii. 200.
---- his order for ease to Quakers at Barbadoes, ii. 205.
---- publishes his declaration for liberty of conscience, ii. 213.
---- his order to the Lord Mayor to admit Quakers to offices, ii. 215.
---- suffers a Quaker to be covered in his presence, ii. 215.
Ibbitt, Thomas, denounces the judgment of fire against London two
days before it began, ii. 64.
Jefferies, lord chief justice, infamous for the many dismal
executions in the west, ii. 202.
Jesuit, one challenges the Quakers to dispute at the Earl of
Newport’s house, some of whom met him, i. 199.
Jevans, Evan, his account why he became a Quaker, ii. 318.
Imprisonments, more than 4200 Quakers in prison in England, and many
die there, i. 375.
---- account of the number of prisoners in the several counties, ii.
199.
---- king James sets all at liberty, except those for tithes, ii. 205.
Indian prince, his kindness to a persecuted Englishman, and saying
concerning the English, i. 182.
Indictment of several persons taken at a meeting in Southwark, i. 385.
---- of John Crook, with some remarks on it, i. 400.
---- G. Fox proves his erroneous, ii. 5.
Informers, their baseness and cruelty, ii. 98.
---- the sudden death of one of them, ii. 101.
---- wicked persons encouraged to become informers against
dissenters, ii. 110.
---- sudden and remarkable end of one at Norwich, ii. 174.
---- Shad burnt in the hand, ii. 192.
---- Hilton committed to Newgate, ii. 200.
Inspiration of the Spirit of God; by it we believe the words and
writings of the prophets to be divine, ii. 144.
John-ap-John, sent by a priest in Wales to inquire concerning the
Quakers; is convinced; becomes a preacher, i. 95.
---- is imprisoned, i. 191.
Jury, trial by jury refused the Quakers in New England, i. 220.
---- strange advice to a jury on the Conventicle Act, ii. 196.
---- barbarous usage of Penn and Mead, who are fined and imprisoned,
ii. 106.
K.
Keith, George, with others disputes with the Baptists in London, ii.
131.
---- disputes at Aberdeen with some of the scholars, four of whom are
convinced, ii. 133.
---- goes with W. Penn, &c. into Holland, &c. ii. 161.
---- some account of his apostacy, ii. 249.
---- returns to England, ii. 249.
---- preaches at Turner’s-hall, conforms to the church of England,
and is ordained, ii. 249.
---- charges the Quakers with heterodoxy; challenges them to meet him
at Turner’s-hall, which they decline for reasons assigned, ii.
271.
---- charges Quakers with such points as he had notably defended, ii.
272.
---- is much in favour with the clergy, ii. 282.
---- is sent to America, and returns with little success, and gets a
benefice in Sussex, ii. 300.
Kingdom of Christ is setting up by his own power, i. 187.
Kirby, colonel, his cruelty to G. Fox, ii. 7.
Knight, sir John, and J. Helliar, two violent persecutors at Bristol,
ii. 182.
L.
Labadie, John de, a noted teacher in Holland, ii. 164.
Lambert, Major General, dissuades Cromwell from assuming the crown,
for which he is made to resign his commission, i. 184.
---- is sent general by the parliament against sir George Booth, whom
he defeats, i. 235.
---- he is tried and condemned, but obtains his life, and is confined
to a small island near Plymouth, i. 355.
Lampitt, William, priest at Ulverstone, opposed by G. Fox, i. 71.
---- put to silence by G. Fox, i. 74.
---- Friends barbarously used by his hearers, i. 75.
---- he with another priest are silenced, when Miles Halhead went
into the house where Lampitt was preaching, i. 89.
---- his death, ii. 138.
Lancaster, James, his wife throws stones at G. Fox, i. 74.
---- she repents, and becomes one of his friends, i. 77.
---- he accompanies Miles Halhead into Ireland, and afterwards into
Scotland, i. 111.
Launceston, mayor of, a cruel persecutor, i. 153.
Languages and sciences not requisite to make a minister of Christ, i.
198.
Laws originally designed against Papists executed against Protestant
dissenters, i. 290.
---- an abstract of them interspersed with cases, i. 287, 288, 289.
Laws in equity should extend no further than there is power in man to
obey, ii. 52.
---- made in New England against the Quakers, i. 217, 222.
Lawson, Thomas, convinced by G. Fox, and becomes a preacher, i. 72.
Lawson, Wilfrey, high sheriff, a great enemy to G. Fox when in
Carlisle prison, i. 84.
Lawyers are without justice and equity, for want of the true
knowledge and wisdom, i. 31.
---- an expostulation with them, i. 170.
Le Clerc, John, his constancy in martyrdom, i. 14.
Leddra, William, taken up at Newberry, and sent to the house of
correction at Boston. Was kept five days without food, and had
twenty lashes with a three-corded whip, i. 217.
---- though banished on pain of death he returned to Boston, is taken
up, and chained to a log of wood day and night, i. 296.
---- is thus brought to court and examined; receives sentence of
death; writes to his friends, i. 300.
---- his execution, i. 301.
Letchford, Leonard, a cruel persecutor; his sudden death, i. 354.
Liberty of conscience, the protector’s speech for it, i. 103.
---- the pretended assertors of it persecute more fiercely than the
Episcopalians had done before, i. 107.
---- promised by king Charles the Second in his declaration, i. 266.
---- the court seems inclined to it, but prevented it, i. 284.
---- a little book concerning it presented to the king, i. 318.
---- expected from king James the Second, ii. 200.
---- but is settled by king William in his first parliament, ii. 233.
Licentiousness of the press, a bill for restraining it brought into
parliament, ii. 278.
---- considerations relating to it offered by the Quakers and given
to the members, ii. 278.
Light of Christ, vide i. 73, 133, 187.
Lilburn, John, lieutenant-colonel, reproves the protector, i. 142.
---- his character; imprisoned, tried for treason, acquitted, yet
kept prisoner during the protector’s life, and afterwards
convinced, i. 143, 144.
Lockhart, governor of Dunkirk, i. 232.
---- sends for E. Burrough and S. Fisher, and discourses with them in
a friendly manner, i. 234.
Lodowick, Charles, elector palatine, his kind entertainment of W.
Ames, and his friends, i. 225.
Loe, Thomas, a zealous minister of the gospel; his dying words; W.
Penn convinced by him, ii. 81.
London, F. Howgill and A. Pearson, the first of the Quakers who held
a meeting there, i. 98.
---- meeting-houses built and meetings settled there, i. 101.
---- Quakers are severely persecuted; about 509 of them imprisoned,
i. 374.
---- Many instances of barbarous cruelties, i. 375, 376, 382, 383.
---- pestilence increases; above 8000 people die in one week, ii. 48.
---- fire breaks out, by which above 1320 houses were burnt, ii. 64.
Love, mutual Christian love amongst friends, i. 229.
Love, John, travels to Leghorn, Venice, Rome, where for his testimony
he is put in the inquisition, and dies, i. 282.
Lower, Thomas, convinced by G. Fox in Launceston jail, i. 153.
---- imprisoned with him at Worcester, ii. 117.
---- set at liberty, pleads for G. Fox, and smartly reprimands Dr.
Crowder, ii. 122.
Lucerne, valley of, protestants there much persecuted, i. 204.
Lurting, Thomas, a fighting sailor, becomes a peaceable Christian,
meets with many troubles by being pressed into the king’s
service: is taken by an Algerine; retakes the ship without
fighting; lands the Turks on the Barbary shore; on his return,
the king being informed of the circumstance, went and discoursed
with the master and mate about it, i. 418 to 428.
Lindy, a blind man of 90, severely used at Bristol, ii. 186.
M.
Magistracy, the end and design of it, i. 212.
---- its degeneracy, i. 212.
---- the Quakers’ opinion concerning it, i. 281.
Magistrates of Boston, in New England, encouraged by the priests in
persecution, i. 219.
Magistrates, make a cruel order, which is cruelly executed, i. 219.
---- good and bad, our duty to each respectively, i. 281.
---- how far their power extendeth, i. 309.
Magna Charta, proceedings against Quakers contrary to it, i. 381.
Malta, English consul accessary to the putting two English women in
the inquisition, i. 324.
---- his death, i. 333.
---- C. Evans writes to its rulers, i. 340.
---- a dreadful tempest and earthquake, i. 341.
Mansfield-Woodhouse, people fall upon G. Fox, in the steeple-house,
and strike him down, &c. a distracted woman quieted, i. 35.
Marriage, the principle of the Quakers relating thereto, ii. 204.
Marsh, ----, esq. one of the king’s bed-chamber, a friend to G. Fox,
i. 285.
---- his extraordinary respect for him, ii. 64.
---- is made justice of peace, continues kind to G. Fox and other
friends, ii. 78, 79.
Marshal, Charles, convinced, i. 101.
---- travels through the nation in the heat of persecution, yet none
lay hands on him, neither is he fined for preaching, ii. 187.
Marshal, Henry, a persecuting priest, his presumptuous saying from
the pulpit, and sad death, ii. 72.
Marshal, priest, spreads false and slanderous reports of G. Fox, i.
66.
Marshall, Elizabeth, imprisoned at Bristol, i. 104.
Mass-houses not the houses of God, i. 75.
Meekness and patience, notable instances of them, i. 415.
Meeting, the first great one kept in Nottinghamshire; an
extraordinary one at Mansfield; of professors and others visited
in several places, i. 29, 30.
---- a general, at Swanington in Bedfordshire, and at Skipton, i.
114, 199.
Meetings settled, i. 67.
---- frequently disturbed at London and elsewhere, and persons
cruelly abused, i. 374.
---- Friends beaten and grievously wounded, some even to death, and
when kept by force out of their meeting-houses they meet in the
street, i. 376.
---- a yearly meeting at London, ii. 89.
---- some convinced in silent meetings, ii. 294.
---- meeting-house at Ratcliffe pulled down, ii. 100.
Military employment testified against, i. 107.
Miller, Philip, a volunteer in persecution, disturbing meetings
without authority, i. 377.
Ministers of Christ are made by himself, who gives them gifts, i. 199.
---- so called, in this nation a great grievance to it, ii. 182.
---- of the word, above 60 of them raised among the Quakers, go out
in the service of the gospel; the names of several of them, i. 98.
Monk, general, gives an order against soldiers disturbing Friends’
meetings, i. 365.
Motions of the body and mind distinguished, ii. 131.
Muggleton, Lodowick, and John Reeves, their monstrous blasphemies, a
book published against him by R. Farnsworth, i. 430.
---- to which he replies, i. 430.
Murder, strange account of one at Dublin, i. 130.
Musgrave, sir Philip, a persecutor of Friends, and a violent
prosecutor of F. Howgill, ii. 9.
N.
Nayler, James, convinced by G. Fox, becomes a preacher, i. 58.
---- reproved by G. F. and friends at Bristol, i. 158.
---- his birth and education, &c. i. 159.
---- the beginning of his fall, i. 160.
---- his procession into Bristol, taken up there, examined, and sent
to London to be examined by the parliament, their resolution and
sentence, i. 160, 161.
---- petitions on his behalf, i. 162.
---- public preachers prevail with the Protector not to stop his
punishment, i. 163.
---- sentence executed at London, i. 164.
---- he comes to a true repentance of his transgression, and
publishes several books and papers by way of recantation, i. 165,
166.
---- extract from the preface of his works.--See Appendix, vol. i.
---- his crime not owing to the doctrine of which he made profession,
but to his being exalted in his own opinion, i. 179.
---- his dying words, i. 181.
Newcastle, mayor of, troubled for imprisoning M. Halhead; sets him at
liberty, i. 89.
New England, persecution there, i. 181.
---- cruel laws made, i. 217.
---- Nicholas Davis banished on pain of death, i. 251.
---- their deputies come to England to defend their cruelty, but
fearing danger, retreat, i. 314.
---- impious expressions of some of the magistrates, i. 369.
---- a relation of their proceedings published, i. 371.
Nimeguen, the Congress there. The apology and a letter written in
Latin by R Barclay, delivered to each ambassador, &c. ii. 174.
Norton, John, priest at Boston in New England, encourages the
magistrates in persecution, i. 219.
---- he with other priests petition for a law to banish Quakers on
pain of death, i. 222.
---- his sudden and remarkable death, i. 372.
Norwich, R. Hubberthorn and G. Whitehead go thither, by whose
ministry a meeting is settled there, i. 98, 107.
O.
Oaths, reason why the Quakers refuse to take them, &c. and petition
parliament for an affirmation instead of an oath, vide acts of
parliament, ii. 259.
Oath of fidelity to O. Cromwell refused by his soldiers convinced of
the Quakers’ persuasion, who thereupon are disbanded, i. 97.
---- of abjuration of the pope, refused and why, i. 134.
---- of supremacy, i. 290.
Oaths, on gospel ordinance, a book written by F. Howgill against
oaths, ii. 86.
---- doctrine of the Quakers concerning oaths not absolutely
necessary to government, ii. 302.
Oaths of allegiance and supremacy tendered to Quakers, and by them
refused, the general pretence for persecuting them, i. 351, 352.
Oppressed, God hears them, and brings distress on their persecutors,
i. 283.
Orange, prince of, king William III. the glorious instrument of
establishing liberty of conscience by law, ii. 233.
---- plot against him, and associations thereupon, ii. 274.
---- testimony of the Quakers respecting these associations, ii. 274.
Osborn, Wm. one of the first Scotch preachers of the Quakers, i. 112.
---- from a lieutenant colonel becomes a zealous minister, i. 124.
Oxford, cruel and barbarous usage of Elizabeth Heavens and Elizabeth
Fletcher, so that the latter of whom died soon after, i. 108.
P.
Paets, Adrian, his argument against revelation, ii. 143.
---- answered by R. Barclay and others, ii. 144 to 160.
Page, John, mayor of Plymouth, his unjust treatment of M. Halhead,
and T. Salthouse, i. 134.
---- makes excuse for it in a letter to general Desborough, who is
little satisfied with it, i. 134.
Papists endeavour to make proselytes of Quakers, i. 315.
---- statutes made against them, executed against Quakers, ii. 19.
Parker, Alexander, an early minister, i. 118.
---- his death and character, ii. 235.
Parnel, James, a youth of sixteen visiting G. Fox in Carlisle
dungeon, is convinced, and afterwards becomes a powerful minister
of the gospel, i. 85.
---- born at Retford, and trained up in literature, i. 124.
---- imprisoned at Cambridge; disputes with the scholars, and is
rudely treated; goes to a fast at Coggeshall; reasons with and
confounds priest Willis, though but about eighteen years of age;
he is sent to Colchester prison, and from thence to Chelmsford
sessions, chained night and day with felons and murderers, i.
125, 126.
---- is indicted, fined, and sent back to Colchester castle; i. 126.
---- cruelty exercised towards him there, proves the cause of his
death, i. 127.
Pastor, independent, preaching against the Quakers, falls down as
dead, brought again to life, but never to his right senses, i.
192.
Pattison, M. imprisoned, i. 140.
Peace, the first step thereto is to stand still in the light that
discovers sin and transgressions, i. 73.
Pearson, Anthony, convinced, i. 83.
---- refuses access to G. Fox in Carlisle dungeon, i. 90.
---- one of the first Quakers that preached at London, i. 98.
---- he and T. Aldam visit most of the jails, and get copies of
Friends’ convictions to lay before O. Cromwell, i. 208.
Pembleton, Brian, a New England magistrate, persecutor and
blasphemer, i. 369.
Penn, William, his education and convincement, ii. 77.
---- publishes a book, for which he is committed to the Tower, ii. 82.
---- is tried with Wm. Mead at the Old Bailey, ii. 101.
---- goes into Holland, and travels into Germany, with R. Barclay,
ii. 161.
---- with whom he visits the princess Elizabeth, and travels further
into Germany, ii. 162.
---- writes to the princess Elizabeth, the countess of Hornes, and to
the elector Palatine, ii. 163.
---- goes to Wiewart where he speaks with Anne Maria Schurman, the
Somerdykes, and Peter Yvon the French pastor; goes to Embden,
where he speaks with the burgomaster André, ii. 164.
---- his letter to him against persecution, ii. 165.
---- revisits the princess and countess, ii. 267.
---- disputes at Amsterdam, ii. 168.
---- arrives at Harwich, thence goes to London, ii. 170.
---- writes to the princess, ii. 171.
---- Pennsylvania granted to him and his heirs by king Charles II.
ii. 181.
---- his speech to king James II. on his delivering the address from
the yearly meeting, and the king’s answer, ii. 213.
---- blames the turning out of the fellows of Magdalen College, ii.
216.
---- answers the reflection of his being a Papist, ii. 223.
---- presents an address to queen Anne, ii. 298.
Penn, admiral, sent by the Protector with a fleet to the West Indies,
i. 145.
---- his dying sentiments and advice to his son, ii. 181.
Pennington, Isaac, a prisoner, writes to the king and parliament of
the unreasonableness of persecution, ii. 50.
---- a question proposed by him to both houses of parliament, ii. 52.
---- short account of his convincement, death, and burial, ii. 175.
---- his account of himself, ii. 287 to 292.
Penry, justice, prosecuted on the act against occasional conformity,
ii. 321.
People of God, a summary account of his raising to himself a people
in this nation, of their great suffering, what he has done
for them, and will do, with an exhortation to patience and
steadfastness, i. 291 to 295.
Perfection, recommended by G. Fox, and defended against some
professors, i. 93.
Perrot, John, travels into Italy with J. Love; is imprisoned at Rome,
and released, i. 282.
---- gives way to vain imaginations, i. 316.
---- and abandons his profession, i. 317.
---- his answers to alderman Brown, i. 378.
---- said to be the author of a paper fathered by Rogers’s party on
E. Burrough, ii. 190.
Persecution at Bristol, i. 102.
---- in New England, i. 180.
---- is contrary to Christ, his apostles, and Christianity, i. 183.
---- inexcusable in the professors of religion, i. 204 to 207.
---- protector and council warned against it, i. 208.
---- in London and elsewhere, i. 214.
---- some stop put to it by change of government, i. 287.
---- is very severe throughout England, i. 374, ii. 30, 40.
---- is at a stand, which displeases some churchmen, ii. 89.
---- is renewed, ii. 93, 98.
---- rages in the country, ii. 100.
---- many instances of it, ii. 110 to 114.
---- a stop put to it, ii. 230.
Persecutors, their dismal fate, ii. 76, 135, 186.
---- excellent advice to them, ii. 221.
---- J. Batt dies penitent, ii. 265.
---- wretched end of Alexander Ruddock, ii. 266.
Petition of the Quakers to king James II. ii. 194.
---- two papers presented to him, in one of which was the number of
prisoners in every county, ii. 197 to 199.
Physicians should be in the wisdom of God, by which the creatures
were made, if they would know their virtues, i. 31.
Pistol, one held to G. Fox’s breast would not go off, and the man
went away trembling, i. 77.
Plain speech required of G. Fox, i. 32.
---- reasons for using it, i. 32, 315.
Plays, shows wakes, May-games, &c. testified against by G. Fox, i. 34.
Pope, Innocent XI. two letters to him, with queries to him by G. Fox,
ii. 175.
Pope, Blanche, confuted by G. Fox, i. 410.
Popery, the parliament advise the king to suppress the growth of it,
ii. 133.
Popish plot discovered, ii. 174.
Porter, Henry, commits G. Fox to Lancaster prison, i. 274.
Prayer, G. Fox’s paper concerning, ii. 210.
Preachers in 1652, are 25 in number, and every where meet with
opposition, i. 79.
Preaching of the Quakers, at first of what it consisted, i. 26.
Press, Quakers considerations on the bill to restrain it, ii. 278.
Preston, Thomas, his wife makes her servant beat M. Halhead for
passing by her without greeting: she sometime after dies in a
miserable condition, i. 86, 87.
---- her servant much troubled with what he had done; three years
after begs forgiveness, i. 87.
Presumption of the church of Rome, i. 315, 316.
Pretences for imprisoning Quakers groundless and frivolous, i. 135,
136, 148, and sequel.
Pride, a warning to young people against it, ii. 292, 293.
Priests endeavour to persuade people that there is no possibility of
being freed from sin in this life, i. 38.
---- how they deceived the people, i. 55.
---- when they heard of G. Fox’s coming, they would hide themselves,
i. 60.
---- they possess not what they speak of to others, i. 71.
---- have not the word of the Lord, as the prophets and apostles had,
i. 74.
---- fruits of their ministry, i. 78.
---- they stir up to persecution, i. 102, 103, 213.
---- their lives and practices disagree with their doctrine, i. 137.
---- why they are sometimes treated a little roughly, i. 137.
---- their domineering pride and covetousness, ii. 56.
Prince, Thomas, governor of Plymouth, his barbarous expression
concerning the Quakers, i. 248.
Prisoners to lie long in a jail dangerous to their morals, i. 54.
---- some very wicked ones are kind to G. Fox, and become converts,
i. 84.
Professors of the light, Quakers were formerly so called, i. 39.
Prophesy of the priests, that the Quakers would be all gone in half a
year, i. 76.
Prophetical warnings, sayings, and passages, i. 115.
---- of G. Fox to colonel Hacker, i. 116.
---- of B. Blaugdone to judge Pepes at Dublin, i. 131.
---- of a woman before the parliament, i. 207.
---- of Cromwell’s fall, by T. Aldam, i. 208.
---- by E. Burrough, i. 208, 209, 216, 231, 232, 235 to 245.
---- of G. Fox, jun. to the parliament and army, i. 262.
---- of W. Christison to captain Adderton, i. 304.
---- and to the court of Boston, i. 308.
---- of G. Fox, jun. to his friends, i. 307.
---- of C. Evans, i. 321, 329, 332.
---- of F. Howgill, i. 384.
---- of G. Bishop to the king and parliament, ii. 40.
Proselytes, Jesuits endeavour to make them from among the Quakers,
but in vain, i. 316.
Puritans, when so called, i. 17.
Pursloe, captain, rejoices for the spreading of the truth, i. 63.
Pyot, Edward, fellow traveller with G. Fox, is taken into custody at
Ives, i. 148.
---- was formerly a captain, writes to judge Glyn, i. 153.
Q.
Quakers, so called in scorn, i. 18.
---- the reasons for their plain carriage and speech, which prove the
occasion of great trouble and persecution to them, i. 32.
---- some priests convinced, i. 37.
---- first so called at Derby, the origin of the name, i. 39.
---- given by the independents, i. 118.
---- are falsely charged with denying that Christ suffered at
Jerusalem, i. 53.
---- their first meeting in Swarthmore was in judge Fell’s house, i.
74.
---- they meet with great and grievous sufferings, i. 77.
---- by patience surmount difficulties, and become numerous, i. 79.
---- they never resist their persecutors, in imitation of the
primitive Christians, i. 86.
---- by what means they became so numerous in early times, and why
they went so frequently to steeple-houses, &c. i. 91.
---- they at first lose their business, but it afterwards increases,
i. 93.
---- meetings settled in most parts of the North, above sixty
ministers are raised among them, they are imprisoned, whipped,
&c. under various pretences, are branded for witches, i. 97.
---- many books are written against them, which are confuted by E.
Burrough and F. Howgill, i. 101.
---- all manner of insolence and violence used against them at
Bristol, i. 101.
---- charged with being of the Franciscan order, but refute it, i.
105.
---- O. Cromwell’s character of them, i. 117.
---- justices and other officers displaced for owning them, i. 117.
---- offer to lie in prison for their brethren, but refused and
threatened, i. 207.
---- their tongues to be bored through with a hot iron, for returning
a third time to New England, i. 217.
---- their great sufferings, and on what account, i. 230.
---- their charity to the poor commended, i. 274.
---- their mutual Christian love, i. 228.
---- some of their principles, i. 250, 258, 300, 309.
---- why they meet together, i. 281.
---- some of them had before the lords, 700 of them set at liberty by
king Charles II. i. 284.
---- are persecuted afresh on the insurrection of the fifth
monarchy-men, i. 285.
---- are not deterred from doing their duty by any sufferings, ii.
26, 30.
---- stand firm while other dissenters give way, ii. 182.
---- suffer unmoved the spoil of goods, ii. 247.
---- their perseverance and steadfastness till they obtain liberty,
ii. 295.
---- name of Quakers not assumed but given, and how far used by them,
among themselves they are distinguished by that of Friends, ii.
309.
---- reasons against the schism bill, ii. 322.
---- Yearly meeting Epistle, ii. 328.
Queries of E. Burrough to the friars and nuns at Dunkirk, i. 232.
---- mostly political, proposed to the Quakers, by an eminent
royalist, supposed to be the earl of Clarendon, i. 271.
---- answered by E. Burrough, i. 271.
---- to the Pope and Papists, written by G. Fox, done into Latin by
W. Sewel, and sent to Rome, ii. 178 et. seq.
R.
Rigge, Ambrose, convinced by G. Fox, i. 97.
---- imprisoned at Basingstoke, i. 156.
---- travels, imprisoned at Melcomb Regis, whipped at Southampton,
afterwards imprisoned at Horsham, and premunired, i. 354.
Ranters, confuted by G. Fox; some of them convinced by him at Twy
Cross, i. 114.
Rawlinson, capt. Wm. his cruelty to M. Halhead, i. 89.
Reckless, John, sheriff at Nottingham, convinced by G. Fox, and
becomes a preacher, i. 35.
Recreations, the principle of the Quakers as to them, ii. 303.
Ree, Richard, one of the first Scotch preachers among the Quakers, i.
112.
Reformation, small at first, proceeds by degrees, began in England
under king Henry VIII. i. 14, 15.
Regeneration the work of God’s spirit, i. 139.
---- a sermon concerning it, by W. Dewsbury, ii. 225.
Religion imposed by force fills the land with hypocrites, i. 215.
Religion, Christian, depends not alone on the historical knowledge of
Christ, i. 230.
Remorse on a death-bed for cruelly smiting a Quaker, i. 85.
Resurrection, the belief of the Quakers concerning, ii. 308.
Revelation, divine, how it is known to be such, ii. 147.
---- by dreams, ii. 153.
---- in the minds of the prophets by inward inspiration, ii. 152.
---- certain without any outward miraculous demonstration, ii. 153.
Revenge, not desired but refused by the professors of the light, i.
372.
Rich, Robert, a merchant of London, writes to parliament in
vindication of James Nayler from the guilt of blasphemy, i. 161.
---- his behaviour to him at the execution of his sentence, i. 164.
---- joins John Perrot in his extravagancies, and afterwards quits
his former profession, i. 318.
Ripan, mayor of Lancaster, convinced by G. Fox’s speech at the
sessions there, i. 78.
Robertson, Thomas, and Josiah Coale, imprisoned in Bristol for
attempting to speak in a steeple-house, i. 105.
Robinson, justice, kind to G. Fox, i. 61.
---- colonel, a justice, and a cruel persecutor of the Quakers; his
dreadful exit as he went fanatic hunting, i. 411.
---- George, travels to Jerusalem, his wonderful preservation, and
safe return, i. 195.
---- Thomas refusing the oath of abjuration, is imprisoned and
cruelly used; being released goes to Portsmouth, i. 156.
---- Wm. taken up at Boston, in New England, is cruelly whipt and
banished, but not leaving the country, is again taken up and
imprisoned, i. 250.
---- brought before the court, receives sentence of death, i. 251.
---- his behaviour and execution, i. 255.
---- his and M. Stevenson’s dead bodies used inhumanly, i. 257.
Rogers and Crisp, separatists, ii. 190.
Rome, church of, not led by the good, but by the evil spirit, i. 215.
Rouse, John, his right ear cut off in the house of correction in
Boston, New England, and afterwards whipped, i. 219.
Rudyard, Thomas, a lawyer, is prosecuted for writing a book showing
the right of juries, &c. for pleading the cause of the oppressed,
ii. 109.
Rulers, an expostulation with them touching their duty, i. 169.
S.
Sacrament, that word not found in Scripture. The Quakers’ belief
concerning bread and wine, i. 280.
Sale, Richard, so violently thrust into a strait hole, called Little
Ease, in West Chester prison, that he soon after died, i. 228.
Salt, Wm. imprisoned at Ives, i. 148.
Salthouse, Thomas, travels with M. Halhead to Bristol; they are
imprisoned there, i. 131.
---- the cause of it, and are brought to trial, i. 133.
---- fined and sent to Bridewell on false or frivolous pretences, i.
134.
Salutations. See greetings, i. 32.
Sanders, Mary, convinced, servant to the protector’s wife, i. 100,
183.
Sawyer, Sarah, at her house in Aldersgate street was the first
settled meeting of the Quakers in London, i. 101.
Sawrey, John, a justice, the first persecutor in the north, his
cruelty to G. Fox, i. 76.
---- G. Fox’s prophetical letter to him, i. 80.
---- he is drowned, i. 81.
Scarth, Philip, a priest convinced by G. Fox; becomes a preacher
among the Quakers, i. 60.
Schism bill passed, ii. 322.
Schurman, Anna Maria, some account of her life, ii. 164.
Scoffer, a remarkable judgment upon one, i. 264.
---- others convinced and converted, ii. 294.
Scot, Patience, a girl of eleven years old sent to prison, i. 247.
Scotch priest, who had threatened G. Fox’s life, afterwards becomes a
Quaker, i. 60.
Scotland, visited by M. Halhead and J. Lancaster, and by C. Evans and
S. Cheevers, i. 111.
---- also by S. Crisp, i. 246.
---- meetings settled at Drombowy, Heads, Garshore, Edinburgh, and
Aberdeen, i. 112.
---- first Scotch preachers of the Quakers, i. 179.
---- Quakers persecuted there, ii. 172.
Scriptures, vide i. 31, 78, 281.
Seal, Peter, mayor of Southampton, his cruelty to A. Rigge, soon
after which he dies, i. 156.
Sedbergh, G. Fox preaches in a meeting of Separatists there, and
convinces most of them, i. 67.
Semper Idem, a popish book, so called, answered by Edw. Burrough, i.
309.
Separation of Wilkinson and Story, the rise and progress of it; it
disappears, ii. 189.
Separatists from the church of England persecuted, afterwards become
persecutors, i. 18.
Several meeting-houses erected at London, i. 101.
Sewel, Jacob Williamson, the author’s father, and Judith Zinspenning,
his mother, convinced by W. Ames, i. 190.
Shattock, William, a shoemaker in Boston in New England, hauled to
the house of correction, cruelly whipped and kept to work, i. 216.
---- Samuel, banished New England on pain of death, afterwards
carries the king’s mandamus to New England, to prevent further
persecution of the Quakers, i. 306.
Sheriff of Lincoln contending against G. Fox is convinced and travels
with him, i. 113.
Shipwrecks, G. Fox writes respecting the wickedness of making spoil
of them, i. 264.
Signs, T. Aldam, a sign to O. Cromwell, and a broken pitcher to the
parliament, i. 207.
---- R. Huntingdon to Presbyterians and Independents, i. 284.
---- an English woman to the French Protestants at Dieppe, ii. 58.
---- T. Ibbitt to London, ii. 64.
---- S. Eccles to Papists at Galloway, ii. 90.
Sin, a freedom from it, asserted by G. Fox, i. 37.
---- for which he is imprisoned six months, i. 38.
---- the guilt and power of it taken away by Christ, i. 44.
---- pleaded for by professors, i. 45.
Singing psalms scrupled by G. Whitehead, i. 107.
---- reasons against it, i. 108.
---- principle of Quakers concerning singing in churches, ii. 308.
Smith, Humphrey, and others abused and hauled to prison from a
meeting, i. 154.
Snake in the Grass, an anonymous book, written chiefly against the
Quakers, answered by G. Whitehead and J. Wyeth, ii. 279.
Soldiers, one at Nottingham, denying that Christ suffered at
Jerusalem refuted by G. Fox, i. 53.
---- a remarkable passage of some of them, i. 75.
---- one at Ulverstone cruelly beaten for taking part with G. Fox, i.
76.
Somerdykes, gentlewomen followers of Labadie visited by and discourse
with Wm. Penn, ii. 164.
Souls, some who asserted that women have none, refuted by G. Fox, i.
24.
Southwick, Laurence and Cassandra, their sufferings, i. 195.
---- two of their children ordered to be sold for their fines, i. 247.
Southwick, Josiah, his Christian magnanimity, is whipped through
three towns and turned into the wilderness, i. 362.
Southwark, meetings disturbed there, i. 385.
Spirit of God wrought gloriously in the martyrs at the reformation,
i. 15.
---- its teaching, &c. owned by them and other reformers, and by
Calvin, i. 15, 16.
---- a measure of it afforded to all men, i. 32.
---- it must be in those who understand the Scriptures, i. 78.
---- who are guided by it, i. 139.
---- how to know if we are led by it, i. 280.
---- thereby we come to believe the Scriptures come from God, ii. 144.
Staples, Benjamin, see Thomas Goodair.
Stealing goods, &c. not punished with death by the law of God, i. 418.
Steeple-houses, why public churches are so called by Quakers, i. 75.
---- they are improperly termed churches, i. 289.
---- why the Quakers do not frequent them, ii. 16.
Stephens, Nathaniel, priest of Drayton, i. 21.
---- at his instance the people stone G. Fox and his friends out of
the town, i. 37.
Stevenson, Marmaduke, imprisoned at Boston, and banished, i. 250.
---- again apprehended and imprisoned, i. 251.
---- receives sentence of death; his account of his call to Boston,
i. 252.
---- his execution, i. 255.
Stoddard, Amos, convinced by G. Fox, i. 29.
Stordy, Thomas, resigns an impropriation; his sufferings and pious
end, ii. 193.
Stranger, Hannah, writes extravagant letters to J. Nayler, i. 158.
Stubbs, John, convinced by G. Fox in Carlisle prison, and becomes a
minister, i. 97.
---- meets with W. Caton, i. 120.
---- travels with him, i. 121.
Stubbs, John, and S. Fisher, are at Rome, i. 282.
---- J. S. having been in Turkey returns to England, i. 350.
Sufferings of friends represented to the protector by G. Fox and S.
Pyot, i. 183.
---- by E. Burrough in a letter, i. 184.
---- and by him to R. Cromwell, i. 212.
---- in New England unparalleled, i. 216.
---- account of, published and offered to the parliament, i. 228.
---- a relation of them since the restoration published and presented
to the king and parliament, ii. 180.
---- in Barbadoes, ii. 263.
Sultan, Mahomet IV. favourably receives a message from Mary Fisher,
and dismisses her with respect, i. 283.
Supper, Lord’s, so called, see water-baptism.
Swearing, unlawful for Christians, i. 113, ii. 3.
---- denied by the Waldenses and primitive Christians, ii. 17.
---- arguments against it, ii. 62.
---- a representation of the Quakers’ case of not swearing given to
the members of parliament, ii. 258.
T.
Taylor, bishop, his thoughts respecting heresy, drunkards, &c. i. 318.
Teachers of the world preach for hire, i. 62.
---- described and expostulated with, i. 170.
Temples of God, not churches or steeples so called, but his people’s
hearts, i. 23, 60.
Time-servers no ministers of Christ, ii. 18.
Tithes, R. Widders and thousands more suffer much in their estates
for refusing to pay them, i. 91.
---- that they are now abolished; a dispute; about 100 suffer for not
paying them, i. 140.
---- a motion to abolish them, i. 234.
---- a law concerning them, i. 287.
---- doctrine of the Quakers concerning them, ii. 303.
Tongues and languages, the beast has power over them, i. 198.
Travelling to and fro, the practice of Christ and his apostles in
preaching the word and doing good, i. 140.
Trigg, Hannah, a maid of 15, sentenced to banishment, dies in prison,
ii. 31.
Trinity, the word not found in the Scriptures, i. 133.
Trooper, one at Derby convinced by G. Fox; speaks boldly among the
soldiers, is wonderfully preserved and lays down his arms, i. 53.
Truth of the Scriptures, how known, i. 281.
Triers of spirits, that know not of what spirit themselves are,
silenced by G. Fox, i. 54.
Trial of John Crook, i. 387.
---- of many prisoners at Worcester, i. 417.
---- of G. Fox, ii. 3.
---- of F. Howgill, ii. 9, 14.
---- of eight friends at Hertford, ii. 26.
---- of W. Penn and W. Mead, ii. 101.
Tumults at Bristol, in which the Quakers suffer greatly, i. 101.
U./V.
Vane, sir Henry, chairman of a commitee where many friends are tried,
i. 214.
---- he is tried, found guilty, and beheaded on Tower-hill, i. 355.
Vickris, Richard, imprisoned at Bristol, i. 290.
Unfaithfulness, the fruit of it, i. 370.
Upshal, Nicholas, member of the church of Boston, in New England,
gives 5_s._ a week for the liberty of taking victuals to two
Quaker women in prison, i. 182.
---- is fined, imprisoned, and banished, for speaking against
persecution; kindness of an Indian prince to him, i. 182.
Usage of such as for conscience-sake could not follow the ordinary
custom, i. 32.
W.
Wages, such as preach for, are hirelings and false prophets, i. 114.
Waldenses denied all swearing, see swearing.
Ward, captain, convinced by G. Fox, i. 67.
Warfare of a Christian spiritual, i. 224.
Wars, whence they proceed, i. 235.
Warrants, i. 104, 135, 147, 362, 367.
Wastfield, Daniel, a close prisoner 33 days, not suffered to see his
dying child, i. 106.
Waugh, D. see S. Gibbons.
Weapons, carnal, not used by Quakers, i. 224, 235, 286.
West, colonel, G. Fox’s friend, i. 78.
---- refuses to grant a warrant for apprehending him, would rather
hazard all, i. 80.
Whitehead, George, goes to Norwich, i. 107.
---- a short account of his former life, and convincement, i. 107.
---- apprehended, and examined, and imprisoned at Bures in Suffolk,
i. 138.
---- writes against persecution, ii. 25.
---- disputes with W. Burnet and J. Ives about the resurrection, and
with T. Vincent about the trinity, ii. 82.
---- with others, presents an address to king William, ii. 283.
---- another to queen Anne, ii. 297.
---- his speeches to the queen, on presenting an address, ii. 312.
---- another to king George, and his speeches to the prince, ii. 324.
---- another to ditto on suppressing the rebellion, ii. 327.
Whitrow, Susannah, a young woman, her warning to young people, ii.
292.
Widders, Robert, grievously abused at Coldbeck, dismissed by justice
Briscoe, after a warrant to carry him to jail at Carlisle, i. 90.
---- goes to several steeple-houses, is sometimes imprisoned, and
sometimes remarkably delivered, i. 91.
---- his death, ii. 211.
William III., see prince of Orange.
Wilkinson and Story, see separation.
Wilson, priest, his insolent behaviour at the execution of William
Robinson and M. Stevenson, i. 258.
---- he makes a ballad on them, i. 258.
Witt, John and Cornelius, their miserable end, ii. 117.
Wits, a caution to conceited ones, ii. 290.
Witness of God within, awakens and reproves what is contrary to
gravity and sobriety, i. 119.
Woman, one foretells the dissolution of parliament, i. 207.
---- miserable end of one who reviled W. Robinson and M. Stevenson at
their death, i. 257.
Women’s preaching, the belief and practice of the Quakers concerning
it, ii. 307.
---- monthly meetings, rise of, ii. 61.
Word, written and unwritten asserted by the Papists, i. 200.
Work of the Lord not to be opposed, i. 88.
Worship, Quakers think public worship an indispensable duty, i. 376.
---- their way of worship, ii. 329.
---- self willed, is barren and unprofitable, i. 92.
---- the end of true worship, ii. 16.
Wrath of God, how felt by profane men as fire, ii. 149.
Wright, Hannah, a girl of about fourteen years of age, travels some
hundred miles to Boston and warns the magistrates to spill no
more innocent blood, i. 370.
Y.
Young, Edward, mayor of Eversham, his cruelties towards the Quakers,
i. 154.
---- his barbarous treatment of two women for visiting the prisoners,
i. 155.
York, duke of, advises the king to severity against G. Fox the
younger, for his letter. The king’s prudent answer, i. 311.
Z.
Zinspenning, Judith, the author’s mother, comes to England, and
speaks in public by an interpreter, and writes a book of
proverbs, i. 429.
---- brief account of her life, ii. 41.
---- her death, ii. 44.
---- her epistle to the friends of truth, ii. 44.
FINIS.
TRANSCRIBER’S NOTE
Unusual, obsolete, archaic and inconsistent spellings have been left
in the book, however obvious misspellings have been fixed.
Where Greek appears in the book, I have supplied the original text,
a transliteration and if there is no translation in the text, then a
translation as well. I find this is necessary because many devices do
not render the Greek alphabet. If you have such a device, ignore the
little boxes where the Greek characters should be.
The year numbers that appear in the chapter (Book) titles and section
titles were in the page headers in the original book. I did my best to
place them appropriately in this e-book.
There is some confusion in the book about whether first month is the
month commonly called January or the month commonly called March. Hence
what any other numbered month refers to is also in question. It is not
safe to assume one or the other, unless the text makes clear the common
name of a numbered month. (That being said, in this book, first day is
the day commonly called Sunday and the day numbering follows from that.)
In the index, I. and J. are mixed as well as U. and V. because this
book is old enough that those letters had not yet been distinguished as
separate letters.
Details of changes made to the text are as follows. This list contains
the page number, the original text and context, and the change is shown
inside square brackets. Minor changes to punctuation and hyphenization
have not been recorded.
Volume 1:
001: BY WILLIAM SEWELL[SEWEL].
003: matters as I believe are not easily paralelled[paralleled].
004: this work, than to thee, O King of Great Britian[Britain], who,
006: Eccleston[Ecclestone], of London, who hath furnished me with
006: print. In the meanwhile I took acccount[account] of what seemed
011: though[thought] fit, since the said book is not easily to be got
013: worshiping[worshipping] of images, &c. nevertheless it is
014: his eyes by force, be endangered of loosing[losing] his sight,
037: the exciseman[excisemen], and warned them to take heed of
038: in the county of Nottingham; and John Fretwelll[Fretwell], late
038: mainprise[mainprize], or until they shall find sufficient
040: was not like that of a skiful[skilful] linguist. And albeit
057: him, and to help the widows and fartherless[fatherless] to their
063: wherewith they are enlightened. Going aftewards[afterwards]
064: carried before the justice. This taylor[tailor] came to ask him
071: the church. Thus much, for this time, of E. Borrough[Burrough].
072: who having some notice of G. Gox’s[Fox’s] coming, preached in
075: that[than] the conceit of those, who think that in the gospel
081: the power, your derision, your bye-word[by-word], and your talk
088: it pleased the Lord to visit her. She had a litlte[little] son
089: Windermore[Windermere] steeple-house, and it was, as it were
090: and sent for to meet at Westminister[Westminster]. Into the
090: The parliament then caused a lettter[letter] to be sent down
092: thee scandalous. How often hast thou sate[sat] evening after
096: Lambert carried the sword before him to his couch[coach], in
098: Richard Hubberthorne[Hubberthorn] and George Whitehead, to
098: that E. Borrough[Burrough] passed by the place where they were
098: the man was not a little surprized[surprised], instead
098: combat. But it was quite another fight E. Borrough[Burrough]
110: to see whether she had either knife or scissars[scissors]
112: prophets any harm, least[lest] thou procure the anger of the
118: early ministers among those called Quakers. But leav-[leaving]
(error on 118: remainder of word not on next line)
123: the congregration[congregation] of the English and Scotch, where
123: afternoon’s worship was ended, one of thom[them] began to speak
128: Now E. Borrough[Burrough] and F. Howgill were banished out of
129: that there was a women[woman] below that would speak with him;
136: JOHN PAGE, _Muyor_[_Mayor_].’
138: ‘Dost thou say I deceive the the[(x2)] people? Make it manifest
149: mind,’ Then the judge make[made] a speech, how he represented
150: bail or mainprise[mainprize] could have been taken in that case.
155: themselves. And as to Humphry[Humphrey] Smith, and those with
160: Bloome’s[Blome’s] Fanatic History, in the said Collect, at
168: so lettting[letting] go that little of the true light which I
176: personal advantages, in mantaining[maintaining] the just
188: heart; least[lest] thou having forgotten God, and his many
191: Quakers in Wales, had preached the doctine[doctrine] of the
191: things,’ said the govenor[governor]: ‘Why then,’ said G. Fox,
200: they had for setting up cloisters for nuns, abbies[abbeys] and
204: ye take into your consideration the sad[said] persecution,
211: things in patience, truly desiring your retlrning[returning] and
211: not your destruction. But if these dolefu[doleful] sufferings
214: Jesus was the author of the apostles’s[apostles’] faith, and of
216: a statute[statue] was made to his quondam friend O. Cromwell.
228: whom whom[(x2)] was Richard Sale, near West Chester, who being
236: of great strengh[strength], and his dominion is from everlasting
264: So they took took[(x2)] off G. Fox’s hat, but not finding any
265: then at Westminister[Westminster], he showed that he would not
267: grants, sales, and purchases, shall be de-determined[determined]
(error on 267: beginning of word not omitted on next line)
270: for they were tradesman[tradesmen], ploughmen, servants, and
285: him say, if they would not accept it, they might chuse[choose];
288: ‘I _A. B._ do uttterly[utterly] testify and declare in my
288: other (his) highnesses[highness’s] dominions and countries, as
299: Whilst the trial of W. Leddra was thou[thus] going on, Wenlock
303: deny my master; but if I loose[lose] my life for Christ’s sake,
315: as well as J. Stubbs and B. Furley[Furly], yet I do not think
319: conversion by the apostles. Nowithstanding[Notwithstanding] my
327: eager, that he said he would loose[lose] one of his fingers if
328: out of the room alive. To which she couargeously[courageously]
332: and forwarned[forewarned] them. To which he said, ‘However it
334: of their victuals, and given them whole botttles[bottles] of
336: liberty to chuse[choose], she would rather do so, than return
340: in your cnnsciences[consciences], which convinceth of all evil,
349: to call Maunday[Maundy] Thursday. Being now landed, he went to
349: harm. Being no[on] shore, he delivered a paper, written in the
362: Dover, in New England, Anne Coleman, Mary Tompkins[Tomkins], and
365: yet; but she told him he was in the land[hand] of the Lord, who
369: he came to keep the wolves from his sheep. Wen-[Wenlock]
(error on 369: remainder of word not on next line)
369: Pembleton was, may appear by the abomimable[abominable] answer
370: also one of the magistrates, asked Mary Thomkins[Tomkins]
376: especially at Abington[Abingdon], not far from Oxford; for this
382: Will you have any wallfleet[Wellfleet] oysters?’ And, ‘have you
388: inheritance derived to me as an Englishman, that[than] that
391: do justice, least[lest] you perish in his wrath. For sometimes
394: or else you run yourself into a premunire; be not you[your] own
400: _milite, majore civilat[civitat]._ London. Thoma Adams
401: ad faciend. ulterius. prout cur. con. Ac superiende[superinde]
401: _superadicto[supradicto] coram præfat._ Johe Frederick
401: _decimo saprad’co[suprad’co]. apud d’cam paroch. sci_ Sepulchri
401: _presen. existend. obtuler._ (_Anglice die[did] tender_)
402: _Contra debilam[debitam] quoadlibet eor. Legeanciam_, ought
408: F. Howgill lamented his endeared friend E. Borrough[Burrough].
410: to be seduced by Blanch[Blanche] Pope, a ranting woman, who had
419: than death itself; and by the subtility[subtilty] of Satan he
420: priest’s. Now, there was none abaord[aboard] that would abuse
425: to hide them in, that they[the] Spaniards coming aboard should
425: business, returned on board, not taking licence, least[lest] the
425: promise of silence, least[lest] the Spaniards should come and
427: rejected their invitation, will[well] knowing that the Scripture
432: at Kendal, in Westmorland[Westmoreland], about his business, was
433: that he had a narrow path to pass though[through]; and more than
435: it, nor mind it, least[lest] thou eatest condemnation; for that
Volume 2:
001: BY WILLIAM SEWELL[SEWEL].
008: his limbs were much benumed[benumbed]. Here we will leave him
019: oath of witness, or notorious evidience[evidence] of the fact,
021: headboroughs, or tythingmen[tithingmen] of the respective
022: headborough or tythingman[tithingman], shall neglect to execute
042: live an unblamable[unblameable] life, not only before men, but
050: is of the Lord’s begetting in this[his] own life and nature.
051: is still able able[(x2)] to preserve them. Every power hitherto
054: then eat[ate] almost nothing but bread, and of this so little,
060: of if[it] to a burgomaster of the city, I think the lord
074: falsities which that annonymous[anonymous] author had belched
087: and abide not in Christ’t[Christ’s] doctrine; believe them not,
105: occasion to villify[vilify] them with opprobrious language. And
110: Nay, sometimes thay[they] swore only by guess, that in such a
111: year about midsummer, Thomas Bud[Budd] deceased at Ivelchester
112: the others did with the but-ends[butt-ends] of their muskets, to
115: no essoine[essoign], protection, or wager of law shall lie. Can
117: her other son-in-law John Rouse, accompained[accompanied] by
119: it were[where] the English army lay, how the sea was on one hand
122: parishoners[parishioners]; so that when he comes amongst them,
144: revelation, and of the certainly[certainty] of true faith from
157: repent themselves of their past mispent[misspent] life, and
175: otherwise was the exit of Issac[Isaac] Pennington, an eminent
183: prisoners some ease or enlagement[enlargement]: but the power
184: among whom were also Barbara Blaugdon[Blaugdone], (several
193: to be disobedient to him. This Thomas Story[Stordy] released
199: granted to other disenters[dissenters]. Nevertheless the
203: to this charge[change]; for it appeared that the magistrates
203: attend their friends, when the magistracy same[came] to be
210: Greenwel[Greenwell], and was afterwards wife to George
211: the law and testimony of God forbids it. Those Jews, tha[that]
219: thay[they] could not swear; and to help them to this right to
227: eternal happiness, put not of[off] this work, but pursue it, and
235: not only of a godly life and converstion[conversation], but also
236: wrought by the power of God? Did you[your] number, your policy,
248: Francis Mercurius, baron of Helmons[Helmont], concerning the
248: two hundred queries about that matter, [a] great part of which,
257: _A Postcript[Postscript] relating to the doctrine of the_
262: are exposed to great harships[hardships] as aforesaid; and not
266: and oppression he suffered, that so insensed[incensed] Ruddock,
272: broke of[off] with an &c. without adding the following words;
277: rightousness[righteousness] being that which exalteth a nation:
280: Holy Scriptures, prefering[preferring] them to all other books
282: George Keith, by villifying[vilifying] the doctrine of the
285: He was of a middle statute[stature]; his face lean and oblong;
285: signal proofs of it to the world. His corps[corpse] was interred
286: dogs, dragons, bears, lions, tygers[tigers], wild beasts, and
300: formerly, far[for] he seemed to be somewhat angry; and therefore
301: when in the mornings and evenings, and at others[other] certain
309: [Greek: Êros[Pros] tous Philous] and [Greek: hei[hoi] Philoi],
316: would choose this for the subject of his profame[profane] jests
321: of the perish[parish] himself gave a certificate that the said
322: and Christian interposition, in favour of presecuted[persecuted]
324: ‘May the wonderful Councellor[Counsellor] and great Preserver of
325: speeech [speech] was favourably heard by the prince.
327: may alway[always] attend the king’s councils and undertakings,
332: In the meanwhile we see what a see[sea] of confusion flows from
332: ignorance, and sometimes by subtility[subtilty] or wickedness,
339: bay, where Thomas Swailes[Swales] and Mary Stranger hearing of
341: to the seven yeomen, to beat me whereever[wherever] they met
344: and he he[(x2)] would have given me brandy, but I refused. Then
344: say, said the commander, ‘he is more a christain[christian] than
347: recruit, or go to my own being? He said, ‘I should chuse[choose]
349: out into the field, where a trooper sat centinel[sentinel],
355: Emperor’s majesty’s active privy councellor[counsellor] and lord
356: yet with force they thurst[thrust] on the lock, and beheld it
365: Blaugdon[Blaugdone], Barbara, convinced by John Audland and John
367: ---- imprisoned at Ispwich[Ipswich], ii. 77.
368: Drig[Dring], Robert, first meeting in London held at his house,
370: ---- preaches at Ulverstone, Alderham[Aldenham], and Ramside,
372: the king while there, and delivered to to[(x2)] him by R.
373: Hammersly[Hammersley], Thomas, foreman of a jury without an
373: to the truth of B. Blaugdon’s[Blaugdone’s] speech to the deputy,
379: his soldiers convinced of the Quaers’[Quakers’] persuasion, who
382: ---- their domineering pride and coveteousness[covetousness],
386: woman to the French Potestants[Protestants] at Dieppe, ii. 58.
386: Snake in the Grass, an annonymous[anonymous] book, written
387: Swearing, unlawful for Christians, i. 113, ii. 1[3].
389: Woman, one foretels[foretells] the dissolution of parliament, i.
*** End of this LibraryBlog Digital Book "The History of the Rise, Increase, and Progress of the Christian People Called Quakers Intermixed with Several Remarkable Occurrencs." ***
Copyright 2023 LibraryBlog. All rights reserved.