The History of the Rise, Increase, and Progress of the Christian People Called Quakers / Intermixed with Several Remarkable Occurrencs.
Date: 2018-05-30T00:00:00+00:00
Keywords: Society of Friends -- History -- Early works to 1800

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Title: The History of the Rise, Increase, and Progress of the Christian People Called Quakers

Author: William Sewel

Release date: May 31, 2018 [eBook #57241]

Language: English

Credits: Produced by Emmanuel Ackerman and the Online Distributed
Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This file was
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*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE HISTORY OF THE RISE, INCREASE, AND PROGRESS OF THE CHRISTIAN PEOPLE CALLED QUAKERS ***

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 143l. 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 5l. 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 200l. 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 40l.

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 150l. 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 20l. 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 1500l. 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 10l. 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 2,910l. 16s. 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 120l. 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 5s. 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. The cover of the e-book was produced by myself, the transcriber, and is hereby placed in the public domain.

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. The changes are also indicated in the text like this (where the original will pop-up if you hover your mouse over the indicated word).

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.

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Table of Contents

THE HISTORY OF THE RISE, INCREASE, AND PROGRESS, OF THE CHRISTIAN PEOPLE CALLED QUAKERS.

TABLE OF CONTENTS.

TO GEORGE, KING OF GREAT BRITAIN, IRELAND, &c. PRINCE ELECTOR OF BRUNSWICK, LUNENBURG, &c.

THE PREFACE.

THE FIRST BOOK. 1415-1650.

- 1415-1623.

- 1624-1641.

- 1642-1645.

- 1646.

- 1647.

- 1648.

- 1649.

- 1650.

THE SECOND BOOK. 1651-1653.

- 1651.

- 1652.

- 1653.

THE THIRD BOOK. 1654-1655.

- 1654.

- 1655.

THE FOURTH BOOK. 1656-1658.

- 1656.

- 1657.

- 1658.

THE FIFTH BOOK. 1659-1660.

- 1659.

- 1660.

THE SIXTH BOOK. 1661-1664.

- 1661.

- 1662.

- 1664.

THE SEVENTH BOOK. 1662-1663.

- 1662.

- 1663.

APPENDIX to VOL. I.

THE EIGHTH BOOK. 1664-1667.

- 1664.

- 1665.

- 1666.

- 1667.

THE NINTH BOOK. 1668-1676.

- 1668.

- 1669.

- 1670.

- 1671.

- 1672.

- 1673.

- 1674.

- 1675.

- 1676.

THE TENTH BOOK. 1677-1688.

- 1677.

- 1678.

- 1679.

- 1680.

- 1681.

- 1682.

- 1683.

- 1684.

- 1685.

- 1686.

- 1687.

- 1688.

THE ELEVENTH BOOK. 1689-1702.

- 1689.

- 1690.

- 1691.

- 1692.

- 1693.

- 1694.

- 1695.

- 1696.

- 1697.

- 1698.

- 1699.

- 1700.

- 1701.

- 1702.

THE TWELFTH BOOK. 1702-1717.

- 1702-1704.

- 1705-1707.

- 1708-1709.

- 1710-1712.

- 1713.

- 1714.

- 1715.

- 1716.

- 1717.

ADDENDA

- THE LIGHT UPON THE CANDLESTICK.

APPENDIX.

INDEX.

TRANSCRIBER’S NOTE

THE FULL PROJECT GUTENBERG LICENSE