The Third Book: 1654-1655

The Third Book: 1654-1655

1654.

Oliver Cromwell in the beginning of the year 1654, seeing himself invested with the supreme authority of the nation, required, both of the soldiers and others, the oath of fidelity. But since amongst the first, there were many, who, though convinced of the truth of the doctrine of the Quakers so called, yet had not convenient opportunity to leave the military service, it now presented itself; for when the oath was tendered them, they declared that in obedience to Christ’s command, they could not swear; whereupon they were disbanded. Among these was John Stubbs, a man skilled not only in Latin, Greek, and Hebrew, but also in the Oriental languages; he was convinced by G. Fox, when in Carlisle prison, and became afterwards a faithful minister of the gospel. But some of the soldiers, who had been convinced in their judgment, not continuing steadfast, took the required oath, but not long outlived it; for marching afterwards into Scotland, and passing by a garrison there, these, thinking they had been enemies, fired at them, whereby several were killed.

G. Fox now seeing the churches of his friends in the North settled, passed from Swarthmore, (where he was about the beginning of this year,) to Lancaster, and from thence to Synder-hill-green[6], where he had a great meeting of some thousands of people, among whom were many persons of note; and a general convincement there was, so that a great number entered into the communion of those called Quakers: with whom about this time, Ambrose Rigge was also united, who, having been inclined to godliness from a youth, hearing G. Fox preach, and being convinced of the truth of the doctrine he taught, received it, and became a professor of it, though for that reason he was cast out by his parents and relations.

[6] Possibly Sinderhill-green.--Transcriber.

We have seen the first rise of these Christians, called Quakers, in the North of England, and how they increased under the oppression of persecution, so that in most places in those parts meetings were settled: it remains to relate how they spread further.

There were now about sixty ministers of the word raised among them, and these went out in the service of the gospel, to turn people, where they could have an opportunity, from darkness to the light, and from the power of Satan to God. Of these, Francis Howgill and Edward Burrough, went to London; John Camm and John Audland, to Bristol; Richard Hubberthorn and George Whitehead, to Norwich: Thomas Holmes into Wales, and others other ways. G. Fox, well knowing this to be a weighty work, writ a large epistle to these ministers, wherein he admonished them to prudence, advising them, to know the seed of God, which bruiseth the head of the serpent; also to know the power of God, and the cross of Christ: to receive wisdom from God by the light; and not to be hasty, or to run in their own wills, but to continue in patience.

I will first mention somewhat of the occurrences at London, whither Edward Burrough and Francis Howgill, with Anthony Pearson, who had been a justice of peace, came in the forepart of the summer. Howgill and Pearson, were the first of the people called Quakers, that had a meeting in this great city, where they preached in the house of one Robert Dring, in Watling-street; and Burrough was, as I have been informed, that day in an assembly of a separate society. Yet I have been told also, that Ruth, wife of William Crouch, merchant in London, had said, that somewhat before that time, there had been in the said house meetings of some few persons, of whom she was one; and also Anne Downer, afterwards married to George Whitehead; that one Isabella Buttery, with another woman, having spread in London some books, and among these one of G. Fox’s, called, ‘The way to the Kingdom,’ had met with this small company, of which were but two or three men, one of which was Amos Stoddard, formerly a military officer, mentioned already; and that the said Isabella sometimes spoke a few words in this small meeting. But when F. Howgill and E. Burrough were come to London, things began to have another face; for they laid hold of all opportunities they could light on to preach the gospel.

At London there is a custom in summer time, when the evening approaches, and tradesmen leave off working, that many lusty fellows meet in the fields, to try their skill and strength in wrestling, where generally a multitude of people stands gazing in a round. Now it so fell out, that E. Burrough passed by the place where they were wrestling, and standing still amongst the spectators, saw how a strong and dexterous fellow had already thrown three others, and was waiting for a fourth champion, if any durst venture to enter the lists. At length, none being bold enough to try, E. Burrough stepped into the ring, (commonly made up of all sorts of people,) and having looked upon the wrestler with a serious countenance, the man was not a little surprised, instead of an airy antagonist, to meet with a grave and awful young man; and all stood as it were amazed at this sight, eagerly expecting that would be the issue of this combat. But it was quite another fight E. Burrough aimed at. For having already fought against spiritual wickedness, that had once prevailed on him, and having overcome in measure, by the grace of God, he now endeavoured also to fight against it in others, and to turn them from the evil of their ways. With this intention, he began very seriously to speak to the standers by, and that with such a heart-piercing power, that he was heard by this mixt multitude with no less attention than admiration; for this speech tended to turn them from darkness to the light, and from the power of Satan to God. To effect this he laboured with convincing words, showing how God had not left himself without a witness, but had given to man a measure of his grace, and enlightened every one with the light of Christ. Thus he preached zealously; and though many might look upon this as a novelty, yet it was of such effect, that some were convinced of the Truth; for he was a breaker of stony hearts, and therefore by a certain author, not unjustly, called a son of thunder; though he also omitted not in due season, to speak a word of consolation to those that were of a broken heart, and of a contrite spirit.

But to thunder against sin and iniquity was his peculiar talent; insomuch, that once preaching very zealously in meeting, and perceiving there were some contrite souls, that wanted spiritually-refreshing food, he was heard to intimate, that though his present speaking was not milk for babes, yet he would remember such anon, and administer to them also; but now he must thresh the whore. And indeed he was one of those valiants, whose bow never turned back, nor sword empty from the slaughter of the mighty; for the Lord blessed his powerful ministry with very glorious success: nay, he was such an excellent instrument in the hand of God, that even some mighty and eminent men were touched to the heart by the power of the word of life, which he preached. And although coals of fire, as it were, came forth of his mouth, to the consuming of briers and thorns, and he passing through unbeaten paths, trampled upon wild thistles and luxuriant tares; yet his wholesome doctrine dropped as the oil of joy upon the spirits of mourners in Sion. Hence it was that Francis Howgill not unjustly said of him when deceased, ‘Shall days, or months, or years, wear out thy name, as though thou hadst had no being? Oh nay: shall not thy noble and valiant acts, and mighty works which thou hast wrought, through the power of him that separated thee from the womb, live in generations to come? Oh yes! The children that are yet unborn shall have thee in their mouths, and thy works shall testify of thee in the generations who yet have no being.’

The said Howgill, also an eminent and eloquent man, being now at London, went to court, to utter what was in his mind to Oliver Cromwell. And after having spoke to him, he thought it convenient to express himself further in writing; as he did in the following letter:

‘Friend,

‘I was moved of the Lord to come to thee, to declare the word of the Lord, as I was moved of the Lord, and deal plainly with thee, as I was commanded, and not to petition thee for any thing; but to declare what the Lord had revealed to me, concerning thee; and when I had delivered what I was commanded, thou questionedst it, whether it was the word of the Lord or not, and soughtest by thy reason to put it off; and we have waited some days since, but cannot speak to thee, therefore I was moved to write to thee, and clear my conscience, and to leave thee. Therefore hear the word of the Lord. Thus saith the Lord, I chose thee out of all the nations, when thou wast little in thy own eyes, and threw down the mountains and the powers of the earth before thee, which had established wickedness by a law, and I cut them down, and broke the yokes and bonds of the oppressor, and made them stoop before thee, and I made them as a plain before thee, that thou passedst over them, and trode upon their necks; but thus saith the Lord, now thy heart is not upright before me, but thou takest counsel, and not of me; and thou art establishing peace, and not by me; and thou art setting up laws, and not by me; and my name is not feared, nor am I sought after; but thy own wisdom thou establishest. What, saith the Lord, have I thrown down all the oppressors, and broken their laws, and thou art now going about to establish them again, and art going to build again, that which I have destroyed? Wherefore, thus saith the Lord, Wilt thou limit me, and set bounds to me, when, and where, and how, and by whom I shall declare myself, and publish my name? Then will I break thy cord, and remove thy stake, and exalt myself in thy overthrow. Therefore this is the word of the Lord to thee, whether thou wilt hear or forbear. If thou take not away all those laws which are made concerning religion, whereby the people which are dear in mine eyes are oppressed, thou shalt not be established; but as thou hast trodden down my enemies by my power, so shalt thou be trodden down by my power, and thou shalt know that I am the Lord; for my gospel shall not be established by thy sword, nor by thy law; but by my might, and by my power, and by my Spirit. Unto thee, this is the word of the Lord, Stint not the eternal Spirit, by which I will publish my name, when and where, and how I will; for if thou dost, thou shalt be as dust before the wind; the mouth of the Lord hath spoken it, and he will perform his promise. For this is that I look for at thy hands, saith the Lord, that thou shouldst undo the heavy burdens, and let the oppressed go free. Are not many shut up in prison, and some stocked, some stoned, some shamefully entreated? And some are judged blasphemers by those who know not the Lord, and by those laws which have been made by the will of man, and stand not in the will of God; and some suffer now because they cannot hold up the types, and so deny Christ come in the flesh; and some have been shut up in prison, because they could not swear, and because they abide in the doctrine of Christ; and some, for declaring against sin openly in the markets, have suffered as evil-doers: and now, if thou let them suffer in this nature by those laws, and count it just; I will visit for those things, saith the Lord, I will break the yoke from off their necks, and I will bring deliverance another way, and thou shalt know that I am the Lord.

‘Moved of the Lord to declare and write this, by a servant of the Truth for Jesus’s sake, and a lover of thy soul, called, FRANCIS HOWGILL.’

The last of the First Month, about the ninth hour, waiting in James’s Park, at London.

How this was received, I am not acquainted; but this I have understood, that some of Cromwell’s servants, and among these one Theophilus Green, and Mary, afterwards wife of Henry Stout, were so reached by F. Howgill’s discourse, that after some time they entered into the society of the Quakers, so called.

Now in the said letter, or speech, we find notice taken of laws made concerning religion: these I do not look upon as made by the induction of Cromwell; but such as were made in former times, which he could have altered, if he would have done it: as afterwards many penal laws were abrogated, under the reign of King William and Queen Mary, as will be said in its proper place. For I do not find that in Cromwell’s time any laws were made to constrain people to frequent the worship of the public or national church. But notwithstanding, the Quakers, so called, were imprisoned for refusing to swear, or for not paying tithes to maintain the priests; and they were whipped like vagabonds, for preaching in markets, or in other public places; or they were fined for not taking off their hats before magistrates; for this was called contempt of the magistracy; and when for conscience sake they refused to pay such a fine, either the spoiling of goods, or imprisonment became their share: and thus always a cloak or cover was found to persecute them, and malice never wanted pretences to vex them. And it also often happened that E. Burrough and F. Howgill were opposed by the chiefest of several sects, whereby disputes were raised, which many times gave occasion for some of the hearers to embrace the doctrine maintained by the said Burrough and Howgill; which so enraged their enemies, that no slanders were spared, and they sometimes branded them as witches.

In the meanwhile the people called Quakers so increased in London, that they began to have settled meetings, the first of which was in Aldersgate Street, at the house of one Sarah Sawyer. The first among woman of this society that preached at London publicly, was the already mentioned Anne Downer, afterwards married to one Greenwell, and being become a widow, in process of time entered into matrimony with George Whitehead, as hath been hinted already.

The number of the said people increasing at London from time to time, several meetings were now erected there, one of which was in the house of one Bates, in Tower Street, and another at Gerard Robert’s, in Thomas Apostles; until the church became so great, that a house known by the name of the Bull and Mouth, in Martin’s le Grand, near Aldersgate, was hired for a meeting-house; and it being a building that had belonged to some great man, there was a large hall in it that would hold many people, and so was very convenient for a meeting place.

Abundance of books were now spread against the Quakers, as seducers and false prophets; and these written by the priests and teachers of several sects: for they perceiving that many of their hearers forsook them, left no stone unturned to stop it. But the event did not answer their hope, since Burrough and Howgill did not suffer those writings to go unanswered, but clearly showed the malice and absurdities of those writers.

Leaving them busy with this work, we will take a turn toward Bristol, to behold the performances of John Audland, and Thomas Airey; who came thither in the month called July in this year, and going into the meetings of the Independents and Baptists, they found opportunity to preach Truth there, and also had occasion to speak to others, so that many received their testimony.

From thence they went to Plymouth in Devonshire, and so to London, where they met with John Camm; but after some stay there, John Audland returned to Bristol with John Camm, and found there a door opened for their ministry. Among those that did receive their testimony, were Josiah Cole, George Bishop, Charles Marshal, and Barbara Blaugdone, concerning which persons more is to be said hereafter. It was not long ere F. Howgill and E. Burrough, having gathered a church at London, came also to Bristol, where persecution now began to appear with open face: for the magistrates commanded them to depart the city and the liberties thereof; to which they answered, that they came not in the will of man; and that when He who moved them to come thither, did move them also to depart, they should obey; that if they were guilty of the transgression of any law, they were not unwilling to suffer by it; that they were free-born Englishmen, being free from the transgression of any law; and that if by violence they were put out of the city, they were ready to suffer, and would not resist; and so they departed out of the presence of the rulers. But now the priests, especially one Ralph Farmer, began to incite and enrage the people, and to set the city, as it were, on fire.

Hence it was that J. Camm and J. Audland, intending to have a meeting at Brislington, about two miles from Bristol, and passing over a bridge, were assaulted by the rabble of the city, and several apprentices of Farmer’s parish, who having got notice of their coming, were gathered there, and violently abused them with beating, kicking, and a continual cry, knock them down, kill them, or hang them presently. Thus they were driven back, and forced into the city again, narrowly escaping with their lives. But the tumult did not yet cease; for some of the multitude were heard to say, that they should find more protection from the magistrates, than those strangers, viz. Camm and Audland. But the officers of the garrison, thinking it unwarrantable to permit such a tumult, since it was not without reason to be feared, that the royalists, or abettors of King Charles, might take hold of such an opportunity to raise an insurrection, caused three of the ringleaders to be seized; but this made such a stir, that the next day more than five hundred people, as it was thought, were gathered together in a seditious manner, so that their companions were set at liberty. This made the tumultuous mob more bold and saucy, the rather because they saw that the magistrates, hearing that J. Camm and J. Audland not only had kept a meeting at Brislington, but also had visited some in their houses at Bristol, had bid them to depart the town.

Now the riotous multitude did not stick to rush violently into the houses of the Quakers, so called, at Bristol, under a pretence of preventing treasonable plottings. And when some in zeal told the priests, these were the fruits of their doctrine, they incited the people the more, and induced the magistrates to imprison some of those called Quakers. This instigated the rabble to that degree, that now they thought they had full liberty to use all kind of insolence against the said people; beating, smiting, pushing, and often treading upon them, till blood was shed: for they were become a prey to every malapert fellow, as a people that were without the protection of the law. This often caused a tumult in the town; and some said, (not without good reason,) that the apprentices durst not have left their work, had not their masters given them leave. And a certain person informed the mayor and aldermen upon his oath, that he had heard an apprentice say, that they had leave from their masters, and were encouraged; for alderman George Hellier had said, he would die rather than any of the apprentices should go to prison. Now an order of sessions came forth, that the constables do once in every fortnight, make diligent search within their several wards, for all strangers and suspicious persons; and that all people be forewarned, not to be present at any tumult, or other unlawful assembly, or gather into companies or multitudes in the streets, on pain of being punished according to law. But this order was to little purpose, for the tumultuous companies and riots continued; and once when a proclamation was read in the name of the Lord Protector, requiring every one to depart, some of the rioters were heard to say, ‘What do you tell us of a Protector? tell us of King Charles.’ In the meanwhile the Quakers, so called, were kept in prison, and it plainly appeared that the order against unlawful assemblies was levelled against their meetings: and though the magistrates pretended that they must answer for it to the Protector, if they did let the Quakers alone without disturbing their meetings, which at that time, for the most part, were silent, and nothing was spoken, but when now and then one of their ministers from abroad visited them; yet this was not at all agreeable with the Protector’s speech he made on the 12th of the month called September, to the parliament, in the painted chamber, where he spoke these words:

‘Is not liberty of conscience in religion a fundamental? so long as there is liberty for the supreme magistrate, to exercise his conscience in erecting what form of church government he is satisfied he should set up, why should he not give it to others? Liberty of conscience is a natural right, and he that would have it, ought to give it, having liberty to settle what he likes for the public. Indeed that hath been the vanity of our contests: every sect saith, Give me liberty; but give it him, and to his power he will not yield it to any body else. Where is our ingenuity? Truly that is a thing that ought to be very reciprocal. The magistrate hath his supremacy, and he may settle religion according to his conscience. And I may say to you, I can say it, all the money in the nation would not have tempted men to fight upon such an account as they have engaged, if they had not had hopes of liberty, better than they had from episcopacy, or than would have been afforded them from a Scottish Presbytery, or an English either, if it had made such steps, or been as sharp and rigid as it threatened when it was first set up. This I say is a fundamental: it ought to be so. It is for us and the generations to come.’

Cromwell spoke more in confirmation hereof; and indeed he would have been a brave man, if really he had performed what he asserted with binding arguments. But though now he seemed to disapprove the behaviour of Presbytery, (for then he was for Independency,) yet after some time he courted the Presbyterians; and these fawning upon him from the pulpit, as their preserver and the restorer of the church, he suffered the Quakers to be persecuted under his government, though he pretended not to know it, when he might easily have stopt it. But by hearkening to the flatteries of the clergy, at length he lost his credit, even with those who with him had fought for the common liberty; and thus at last befel him after his death, what he seemed to have imprecated on himself in the foregoing speech, if he departed from allowing due liberty. For he further said, that many of the people had been necessitated to go into the vast howling wilderness in New England, for the enjoyment of their liberty; and that liberty was a fundamental of the government; adding, that it had cost much blood to have it so, and even the hazarding of all. And in the conclusion he said, that he could sooner be willing to be rolled into his grave, and buried with infamy, than give his consent to the wilful throwing away of that government; so testified unto in the fundamentals of it. Now who knows not what infamy befel him afterwards, when in the reign of King Charles the Second, it is said, his corpse was digged up, and buried near the gallows, as may be further mentioned in its due place?

But I return now to Bristol, where several were kept in prison still, and no liberty granted them; nay, they were even charged with what they utterly denied themselves to be guilty of. Among these, one John Worring was accused of having called the priest, Samuel Grimes, a devil: but Worring denied this, though he did not stick to say, he could prove somewhat like it by his own words. And it being asked him how, he answered, that the priest had said at the meeting, that in all things he did, he sinned; and if in all things, then as well in his preaching, as in other things; and he that sinneth is of the devil. If you will not believe me, believe the Scriptures. It may be easily conjectured that this answer did not please the priests’ followers, and therefore Worring and some others were kept in prison: and among these also Elizabeth Marshall, who in the steeple-house, after the priest John Knowls had dismissed the people with what is called the blessing, spoke to him, and said, ‘This is the word of the Lord to thee. I warn thee to repent, and to mind the light of Christ in thy conscience.’ And when the people, by order of the magistrates then present, violently assaulted her, giving her many blows with staves and cudgels, she cried out, ‘The mighty day of the Lord is at hand, wherein he will strike terror on the wicked.’ Some time before she spoke also in the steeple-house to the priest Ralph Farmer, after he had ended his sermon and prayer, and said, ‘This is the word of the Lord to thee. Wo, wo, wo from the Lord to them who take the word of the Lord in their mouths, and the Lord never sent them.’

A good while after this, the magistrates gave out the following warrant:

‘City of Bristol.

‘To all the constables within this city, and to every one of them.

‘Forasmuch as information hath been given us, that John Camm, and John Audland, two strangers, who were commanded to depart this city, have, in contempt of authority, come into this city again, to the disturbance of the public peace: these are therefore to will and require you forthwith to apprehend them, and bring them before us to be examined, according to law. Given this 22d of January, 1654. Signed,

William Cann, Joseph Jackson, Gabriel Sherman, Richard Vickris, Dept. Mayor, Henry Gibbs, John Lock.’

Camm and Audland had departed the town before this time, having never been commanded, (as the warrant saith,) to depart the city, either by the magistrates themselves, or by any other at their command; though F. Howgill and E. Burrough had been required to do so. So this warrant proving ineffectual, the magistrates caused another to be formed in these words:

‘City of Bristol.

‘To the constables of the peace of the ward of ---- and to every of them.

‘Forasmuch as information hath been given us upon oath, that certain persons of the Franciscan order in Rome, have of late come over into England, and under the notion of Quakers, drawn together several multitudes of people in London; and whereas certain strangers, going under the names of John Camm, John Audland, George Fox, James Nayler, Francis Howgill, and Edward Burrough, and others unknown, have lately resorted to this city, and in like manner, under the notion of Quakers, drawn multitudes of people after them, and occasioned very great disturbances amongst us; and forasmuch as by the said information it appeareth to us to be very probable, and much to be suspected, that the said persons so lately come hither, are some of those that came from Rome, as aforesaid; these are therefore in the name of his highness, the lord protector, to will and require you to make diligent search through your ward for the aforesaid strangers, or any of them, and all other suspected persons, and to apprehend and bring them before us, or some of us, to be examined and dealt with according to law: hereof fail you not. Given the 25th of Jan. 1654. Signed,

John Gunning, Mayor. Gabriel Sherman, Henry Gibbs, George Hellier, Gabriel Sherman, William Cann, Joseph Jackson, John Lock, Richard Vickris.’

Hereunto these magistrates affixed their seals; and that alderman Sherman might be sure his name was down, he wrote it twice. How frivolous this pretence of persons of the Franciscan order was, even a child might perceive; for the Quakers were by this time so multiplied in the North of England, that they could no more be looked upon as an unknown people. And as for G. Fox, and James Nayler, they had not yet been at Bristol, and therefore it seemed absurd to seek for them there. But it was thought expedient to brand the Quakers with odious names, that so under the cloak thereof, they might be persecuted as disturbers of the public peace: as appeared when one Thomas Robertson, and Josiah Cole, being at Nicholas’ steeple-house, and standing both still without speaking a word, until the priest Hazzard had ended, and dismissed the people, were very rudely treated; for Thomas then lifting up his voice, was presently, even when the word was yet in his mouth, struck on the head by many, as was also his companion, though he did not attempt to speak. But Thomas, after being a little recovered of a heavy blow, began to speak again, and said to the people, ‘Tremble before the Lord, and the word of his holiness.’ But this so kindled their anger, that they were both hurried out of the steeple-house, and with great rage driven to the mayor’s, who commanded them both to Newgate prison.

Not long after one Jeremy Hignel, being in his shop attending his calling, was sent for by the mayor and aldermen, to come before them; which he presently doing, the mayor asked him whether he knew where he was; he answered he did. Then the mayor asked where; he replied, ‘In the presence of the Lord.’ ‘Are you not,’ said the mayor, ‘in the presence of the Lord’s justices?’ his answer was, ‘If you be the Lord’s justices, I am.’ Whereupon one of the aldermen said, without any more words passing at that time, ‘We see what he is; take him away to Newgate.’ For since he did not take off his hat, it was concluded he was a Quaker, and this was counted cause enough to send him to prison; and so he was immediately brought thither, where the keeper received him without a mittimus, and kept him close prisoner nineteen days, permitting none to come to him but his wife.

No better was the treatment of Daniel Wastfield, who, being sent for by the mayor, appeared before him, and alderman Vickris; then the mayor said to him, ‘Wastfield, come hither;’ and he thereupon drawing near, the mayor asked him three several times, ‘What art thou?’ Though he knew him well enough, having called him by his name as above said. Wastfield answered, ‘I am a man.’ ‘But what’s thy name?’ said the mayor. ‘My name is Daniel Wastfield,’ answered he. Then said the mayor to one of his officers, ‘Take him and carry him to Newgate;’ further adding, that he came thither to contemn justice: to which Wastfield replied, ‘No, I came hither in obedience to thy order;’ for the mayor had sent for him, as hath been said. Thus he was carried away without a mittimus, the mayor saying his word was a mittimus; and he was kept a close prisoner thirty-three days, and none suffered to come to him but his servants, notwithstanding he was a widower, and must now leave his house and trade to their management; and a child of his died in the meanwhile, and was buried, and he kept from seeing it.

The magistrates having thus begun persecution, became from time to time more vigorous in it, insomuch, that several others were imprisoned, and among these Christopher Birkhead, who, standing still in Nicholas’ steeple-house, with his hat on, and being asked by the priest, Ralph Farmer, what he stood there for; answered, ‘I stand in obedience to the righteous law of God in my conscience; I have neither offended the law of God, nor of the nation. A wonderful and horrible thing is committed in the land.’ More he would have spoken, but was stopped with beating and thrusting, and so carried to prison.

Now the magistrates were not a little incited to persecution by the said Farmer; and there being several that were very bold, they did not stick to write sharp letters to him; and his indecent carriage was also told him to his face, by word of mouth, in the steeple-house, after sermon; and those who did so, were sent to prison. At length these prisoners were brought to trial; and since it could not be proved that they had transgressed any law, some of the magistrates seemed inclined to set them at liberty, if they would have declared that they were sorry for what they had done. Among them was also one William Foord, and nothing material being found against him, but that he was one of those called Quakers, he was accused of having kept a stranger at work; which he however esteemed to be lawful, since his trade of wool-combing did not belong to the company of milliners, who complained of him. Yet he was asked whether he was sorry for what he had done; which denying, as well as those who had reproved the priests, he that was not guilty was sent to prison again, as well as those that were pretended to be so. Among these last was also Sarah Goldsmith, who, from a well meant zeal to testify against pride, having a coat of sackcloth, and her hair dishevelled, with earth or dust strewed on her head, had gone through the city without receiving any considerable harm from the people, because some looked upon her to be crack-brained. There was also one Temperance Hignel, who, having said in the steeple-house to the priest, after he had ended his sermon, ‘Wo from the Lord God to thee, Jacob Brint,’ was presently struck down, and so violently abused, that blood ran down her face, and she, being committed to prison, fell sick; and when they saw her life was in danger, she was carried out in a basket, and died three days after. The reason she gave, when in prison, why she spoke in that manner to the priest was, that he had scarce any hearers, but what were swearers, drunkards, strikers, fighters, and railers, &c. And that therefore his ministry was in vain, since he preached for gain; whereas he himself ought to have brought forth good fruits.

How long the others were kept in prison, I do not know certainly; however, it was a pretty long time; for George Bishop, and Dennis Hollister, who formerly had been a member of the parliament, and three others, put all these transactions in writing at large, and sent it to the magistrates, in hopes that thereby they might see the evil of persecution: but this proving in vain, they gave it out in print five months after, that so every one might know how the Bristollers treated their inhabitants, which was to that degree, that an author said, ‘Was such a tyrannical iniquity and cruelty ever heard of in this nation? Or would the ministers under king Charles have ventured to do so? Was not Stafford but a mean transgressor in comparison of these?’ And though archbishop Laud was beheaded, yet it could not be proved that the Episcopalians had persecuted so fiercely, as these pretended asserters of liberty of conscience had done, who, being got into possession of the power, did oppress more than those they had driven out. This made the persecuted, some of which formerly had also fought for the common liberty, the more in earnest against those that were now in authority.

But I will turn away from Bristol towards Norwich, whither Richard Hubberthorn, and George Whitehead were gone. Here it happened, that R. Hubberthorn, having spoken to a priest in a steeple-house yard, and not having taken off his hat before the magistrates, was imprisoned in the castle, where he was kept great part of the following year, and in the meanwhile, writ several epistles of exhortation to his friends; and his companion, G. Whitehead’s preaching had such an effect, that a meeting of their friends was settled in that city.

But before I go on, it will be convenient to give some account of the quality of these two persons: R. Hubberthorn was born in the North of Lancashire, and descended from very honest parents: his father was a yeoman of good reputation among men, and Richard was his only son, and from a youth inclined to piety. Being come to man’s estate, he became an officer in the parliament’s army, and from a zeal for godliness, preached sometimes to his soldiers. But entering afterwards into the society of the Quakers so called, he left his military employment, and testified publicly against it; for he was now become a soldier under another banner, viz. that of Christ Jesus, Prince of Peace; not fighting as formerly, with the outward sword, but with the sword of the Spirit, which is the word of God. In his ministry he had an excellent gift, and though not so loud in voice as some others, yet he was a man of a quick understanding, and very edifying in his preaching.

G. Whitehead, (who, whilst I write this, is yet alive,) was trained up to learning, and though but a youth, instructed others in literature, and continued in that calling sometime after he came to be convinced of that Truth which was preached by the professors of the light; and he strove to bring up children in the fear of the Lord. But before this change he was a diligent hearer of the world’s teachers, and usually frequented the steeple-house at Orton in Westmoreland: yet the singing of David’s psalms became so burdensome to him, that sometimes he could not join therewith; for he saw that David’s conditions were not generally suitable to the states of a mixed multitude; and he found himself to be short of what they sung. This consideration brought him into such a strait, that often he durst not sing those psalms the priests gave their hearers to sing, lest he should have told lies unto God. Now also he began to see that the priests’ lives and practices did not agree with their doctrine; for they themselves spoke against pride and covetousness, and yet lived in them. This likewise made him go to hear some that were separated from the national church, and got into a more specious form of godliness; but he soon saw, that, though there was a difference in the ceremonial part, and that these had a more true form of words than the priests, yet they were such as ran before they were sent by God, speaking peace to that nature in him, wherein he felt no true peace. And when he was about seventeen years of age, which was in the year 1652, he first heard the doctrine of Truth preached by those that were reproachfully called Quakers; and their testimony wrought so powerfully on his mind, that he received it, and so entered into their communion. Now he found, that to grow up in the true wisdom, and to become wise in the living knowledge of God, he must become a fool to that wisdom, wherein he had been feeding upon the tree of knowledge, having in that state no right to the tree of life: and he continuing in faithfulness, it pleased the Lord to ordain him a minister of the gospel: in which service he acquitted himself well, to the convincing of others, and the edification of the church.

But now leaving him, let us go and see what happened at Oxford in the year 1654. At the latter end of the month called June, there came two women, named Elizabeth Heavens, and Elizabeth Fletcher. These spoke in the streets to the people, and in the college they exhorted the scholars, who wickedly requiting their zeal, violently pushed Elizabeth Fletcher against a grave-stone, and then threw her into the grave; and their malice grew to that pitch, that they tied these two women together, and drove them under the pump: and after their being exceedingly wetted with pumping water upon them, they threw them into a miry ditch, through which they dragged Elizabeth Fletcher, who was a young woman, and so cruelly abused her, that she was in a painful condition till her death, which fell out not long after. Some short time after this rude encounter, she and her companion, on a First-day of the week, went into the steeple-house at Oxford, and when the priest had ended, they began to admonish the people to godliness: but two justices there present, commanded them to be taken into custody, and carried to the prison called Bocardo, where none but felons were used to be lodged. The justices desiring the magistrates to meet on this account, the mayor would not meddle with it, but said, ‘Let those who have committed them deal with them according to law, if they have transgressed any;’ adding that he had nothing to say against them; but that he would provide them with victuals, clothes, or money, if they wanted any. Yet he came into the assembly where these women were examined, and whither the vice-chancellor of the university was also required to come, who charged them, that they blasphemed the name of God, and did abuse the Spirit of God, and dishonoured the grace of Christ: and asking them whether they did read the Scriptures, they answered yea they did. Then he asked whether they were not obedient to the power of the magistrate; to which their answer was, they were obedient to the power of God, and to the power that was of God they were subject for conscience-sake. ‘Well,’ said the vice-chancellor, ‘you profane the word of God, and I fear you know not God, though you so much speak of him.’ Then the women being made to withdraw, it was concluded that there was matter enough for their commitment and punishment, and agreed that a paper should be drawn up for their being whipped out of the city. When this was done, it was presented to the mayor to set his hand to it; but he refused, and said he was not willing to do so. Then one of the justices said, that it was the privilege of the city, that if any vagrant was taken within the franchises and liberties thereof, a paper must be drawn up, that such a one, mayor, had committed such and such persons; and that then it was to be sealed with the office seal. But the mayor refused this as well as the other. Which made some say, that if he would not, it should be done by them. And then it was agreed upon, that they should be whipped soundly; which was performed the next morning, though with much unwillingness in the executioner: and the mayor had no hand in it.

But leaving these, I will turn to another, one Barbara Blaugdone, of whom mention hath already been made, that she was one of those that received the Truth, by the ministry of John Audland and John Camm. She was from her youth inclined to godliness, and her employment was to instruct children. But being entered into the society of those called Quakers, she became plain, both in speech and habit, and thereupon the children she taught, were taken from her; and, going sometimes into the steeple-houses, to bear testimony against their formalities, she was put in prison, and kept there a quarter of a year at a time. Afterwards she led a very severe life, and abstained from all flesh, wine, and beer, drinking only water for the space of a whole year. In the meanwhile she grew up and prospered in true piety. Once it happened, that coming from a meeting that was at George Bishop’s house at Bristol, a rude fellow ran a knife, or some sharp instrument, through all her clothes, into the side of her belly, which if it had gone but a little further, might have killed her. Then she went to Marlborough, where, exhorting people, in the steeple-houses and other places, to fear God, she was put into prison for the space of six weeks, and there she fasted several days and nights. When she was released, she went to Isaac Burges, the man that committed her, and discoursing with him, he was really convinced of the Truth, but could not resolve to take up the cross; yet he was afterwards very loving to her friends, and stood by them upon all occasions, never more persecuting any of them: and coming some time after to Bristol, he went to her house and confessed, that he knew her doctrine was Truth, but that he could not take up the cross to walk in that way. A while after she went into Devonshire, to Moulton, Barnstable, and Bediford, in all which places a prison was her lot. She went also to him, that after was earl of Bath, where, being acquainted, she had formerly vainly spent much time, but now she was moved to call this family to leave off their vanity. And she asked to speak with the lady; but one of the servants that knew her, bid her to go to the back door, and their lady would come forth that way, to go into the garden. Barbara being come thither, a great mastiff dog was set loose upon her; and he running fiercely, as if to devour her, turned suddenly, and went away crying and halting, whereby she clearly saw the hand of the Lord in it, to preserve her from this danger. The lady then came and stood still, hearing what Barbara spoke, and gave her thanks for her exhortation, yet did not invite her to come in, though she often had been lodged there, and had eaten and drank at her table.

Then Barbara went to Great Torrington, and, going into the steeple-house, spoke somewhat to the people by way of exhortation; but not having sufficient opportunity to clear herself, went to her lodging, and sat to writing. After noon the constables came to her, and took away what she had written, and commanded her to go along with them to their worship. To which she answered, that they would not suffer her to speak there, and that she knew no law that could compel her to go thither twice in a day; and that they all knew she was there in the morning. Being thus unwilling to go, the next day the mayor sent for her; when come, she found him moderate, and loth to send her to prison; but the priest being present, was very eager, and said she ought to be whipped for a vagabond. She then bid him prove where ever she asked any one for a bit of bread; but he said she had broken the law by speaking in their church; and he so pressed the mayor, that at length he made him write a mittimus, and send her to Exeter prison, which was twenty miles distant: there she remained for some time, until the assizes came, but was not brought forth to a trial. And after the sessions were over, she was put to lodge one night among a great company of gypsies, that were then in prison; and the next day the sheriff came with a beadle, who brought her into a room, where he whipped her till the blood ran down her back, and she never startled at a blow; but sang aloud, and was made to rejoice that she was counted worthy to suffer for the name of the Lord; which made the beadle say, ‘Do ye sing? I will make you cry by and by;’ and with that he laid on so hard, that one Ann Speed seeing this began to weep; but Barbara was strengthened by an uncommon and more than human power, so that she afterwards declared if she had been whipped to death in the state she then was, she should not have been terrified or dismayed. And the sheriff seeing that all the wrath of man could not move her, bid the fellow leave off striking; and then Ann Speed was suffered to dress her stripes. The next day she was turned out with all the gypsies, and the beadle followed her two miles out of the town; but as soon as he left her, she returned back, and went into the prison to see her friends, that were prisoners there, and having visited them, she went home to Bristol.

But by the way coming to Bediford, she was taken up, and put into the town-hall, and searched to see whether she had either knife or scissors about her. Next day she was brought before the mayor, who discoursing much with her, had a sense of what she spoke to him; and at last he set open two doors, one right against the other, and said he would give her her choice, which she would go out at; whether she would go forth to prison again, or go home. And she told him, that she would choose liberty rather than bonds. So she went homeward, and then he took his horse and followed; and overtaking her, would have had her ride behind him; but when any whom he knew met them, he would slacken his pace; and as soon as they were passed, he came up again to her; which she perceiving, refused to ride behind him; yet he rode three or four miles with her, and discoursed all the way: and when they parted, she kneeled down and prayed for him, all which time he was very serious, and afterwards grew very solid and sober. She writ once to him; but not long after, he died.

Being come home she was moved to go to Basingstoke, to endeavour to obtain liberty for two of her friends, viz. Thomas Robinson, and Ambrose Rigge, who were taken up at the first meeting that their friends had had there. But when she came thither the entrance of the prison was denied her. And she having a letter from John Camm to them, put it in at the chink of the door, and then she went to the mayor to desire their liberty; he told her, that if he saw the letter which she brought them, they should have their liberty. She then said he should see it; and so went and fetched it; which he having read, told her that she should have her brethren out; but that he could not let them out presently. Yet it was not long before her friends had their liberty.

Now leaving Barbara for some time, we return to Miles Halhead. In the First month of this present year, he was moved to go to Ireland, and declare the word of the Lord there; and speaking of this to James Lancaster, and Miles Bateman, they quickly resolved to keep him company, and so they went for Ireland; where they proclaimed the Truth in cities, towns, villages, and before magistrates, as occasion offered; and their testimony was received by many. After they had discharged themselves, they returned to England, where Miles soon found himself moved to go to Scotland. In his way thither, he met his friend James Lancaster, who was very free to go with him; and so they went into Scotland; but were not the first of those called Quakers in that country; for Christopher Fell, George Wilson, and John Grave, had been there before; so that a little church of those of their communion, was already planted in that kingdom, before Halhead went thither: and one Alexander Hamilton had, a year before ever any Quakers appeared in Scotland, erected a meeting at Drumbowy, and also at Heads, and he received their testimony when they came there, as also his wife Joan, James Gray, James Miller, and others. I find also that Scotland was early visited by Catherine Evans, and Sarah Cheevers, two eminent women, of whom something extraordinary is to be related in its due time.

But I return to J. Lancaster, and Miles Halhead, who being come to Dumfries, went on a First-day of the week into the steeple-house in that town, where seeing many people gathered together, howling and crying, and making great lamentation, as if they had been touched with a sense of their sins, Miles was silent until their worship was done; but then, being grieved with their deceit and hypocrisy, spoke as he was moved; but met with great opposition, many of the people being in such a rage, that they drove him and his companion out of the town, near to the side of a great river; and it was intended that the women of the town should stone them; but they prevented this by wading through the river.

Being thus safely passed the water, they went to Edinburgh and Leith, where they staid about ten days. During that time, Miles spoke to the people when occasion offered; as also to the garrisons, and to the captains and officers of the army, who were much affected, and confessed that the Lord had been very good unto them; for Miles’s message was, that the anger of the Lord was kindled against them, because they had not performed their promises, which they made to him in the day of their distress, when their enemies encompassed them on every side; for then the Lord delivered them, and gave them victory; but they had returned him evil for good, and committed violence against those he sent to declare his word amongst them. This being told them at large by Miles, he went to Glasgow and Stirling, where he also spoke as he was moved; and so returned to England.

But before I leave Scotland, I may say, that as the first meetings were at Drumbowy, and Heads, so it was not long ere meetings were settled also at Garshore, at Edinburgh, and also at Aberdeen. The first Scotch preachers of those called Quakers, I find to have been William Osborn, Richard Ree, and Alexander Hamilton, already mentioned. Of the said Hamilton, I may mention a singular instance: after he and his wife, with her and his sister, had separated themselves from the society of the Independents, it happened that Thomas Charters, a teacher of that sect, at Kilbride, not far from Drumbowy, seeing that he could not draw Hamilton, and those of his family back again, threatened them with excommunication, and appointed a day for it, giving notice thereof to Hamilton some days beforehand. Hamilton warned him to forbear, or else the anger of God would seize on him. But he answered, ‘It is but Alexander Hamilton that saith so.’ To which Hamilton returned in the presence of many witnesses, that it was not only he, but what he had said was of the Lord. But Charters persisting in what he intended, and walking two days before the appointed time in the steeple-house yard, where his horse was feeding, stepped to him to stroke him; but the horse growing wanton, gave Charters such a violent kick on his side, that he died about the same hour which was appointed by him for the excommunication. Whether this case happened in the year I now describe, I am not certain; but however, it was either in, or near it.

This year Miles Halhead came to Berwick in Northumberland, and went to the mayor of that town, and spoke to him in his shop thus; ‘Friend, hear what the servant of the Lord hath to say unto thee. Give over persecuting the Lord’s servants, whom he doth send in love to this town of Berwick, to show you the way that leads to life eternal. I charge thee, O man, touch not the Lord’s anointed, nor do his prophets any harm, lest thou procure the anger of the living eternal God against thee.’ This bold language so offended the mayor, that he sent Miles to prison, where he was about ten weeks, and then was brought to the sessions, where a bill drawn up against him, was read in open court: but he denied the contents thereof, yet said, ‘But what I said to the mayor of this town, I will not deny.’ And then he related the aforesaid words he spoke to the mayor. Whereupon the recorder said, ‘Sirs, as I understand by his own words, if he cannot prove the mayor of the town a persecutor, in my judgment he hath wronged him.’ To this Miles answered, ‘If the mayor of this town of Berwick, dare say in the presence of the Lord, whose presence is here, that he is no persecutor, but the persecuting nature is slain in him, I will be willing to abide the judgment of the court.’ Then the clerk of the court said, ‘Mr. Mayor, if you will say that you are no persecutor, but the persecuting nature is slain in you, he is willing to abide the judgment of the court.’ To this the mayor answered, ‘I know not what to do; I would I had never seen him; I pray you, let him go, and let us be no more troubled with him.’ Then Miles said that he would prove this mayor of Berwick the greatest persecutor in town or country. ‘I was once, [thus he went on,] committed to the prison in this town before, by some of the justices that are now in this court; but thou, O man, hast exceeded them all; thou hast committed me, and kept me in close prison, for about ten weeks, for speaking to thy own person, in thy own shop. Now I make my appeal to the recorder of this town of Berwick, as I am a free-born Englishman, whether my imprisonment be legal, according to the law of this nation, or not?’ Then the recorder of the town stood up and said, ‘It is not very legal for any minister of the law to imprison any man in his own cause.’ Then the court cried, ‘Take him away.’ The chief priest of the town then stood, and desired the court that he might ask Miles one question; to this Miles said, ‘The Lord knows thy heart, O man, and at this present has revealed thy thoughts to his servant; and therefore now I know thy heart also, thou high priest, and the question thou wouldst ask me: and if thou wilt promise me before the court, that if I tell thee the question thou wouldst ask me, thou wilt deal plainly with me, I will not only tell thee thy query, but I will answer it.’ Then the priest said he would. Then Miles proceeded: ‘Thy question is this: thou wouldst know whether I own that Christ that died at Jerusalem, or not?’ To this the priest wondering, said, ‘Truly that is the question.’ Then Miles said, ‘According to my promise, I will answer it before this court: in the presence of the Lord God of heaven, I own no other Christ than him that died at Jerusalem, and made a good confession before Pontius Pilate, to be the light and way that leads fallen man out of sin and evil, up to God eternal, blessed for evermore.’ More questions were not asked him, but the jailer was commanded to take him away. Yet within a short time, the court gave order to release him. Then going to Newcastle, he returned to his wife and children at Mount-joy, where we will leave him for some time, and in the meanwhile return again to G. Fox, whom we left at Cynder-hill-green[7], from hence he travelled up and down in Yorkshire, as far as Holderness, visiting his friends, and finding the churches in a flourishing state. To relate all his occurrences there, would be beyond my pale.

[7] Possibly Sinderhill-green.--Transcriber.

Passing then through the countries, he went to Lincolnshire, and to the meeting where he was, came the sheriff of Lincoln, who made great contention for a time; but at length the power of the Lord so reached him, that he was convinced of the Truth, as were several others also that did oppose him.

Whilst G. Fox was in this country, the church of his friends increased, and many received the doctrine preached by him, and amongst these, was one sir Richard Wrey, with his brother, and the brother’s wife, who both continued steadfast till they died; but sir Richard found this way so narrow, that he afterwards ran out; for persecution in that time fell so fast on those called Quakers, that none could abide in their society, but such as were willing to hazard all.

G. Fox now went to Derbyshire, and the abovesaid sheriff of Lincoln travelling with him, they came into Nottinghamshire, and so into the Peak country, where having a meeting at Thomas Hammersley’s, several ranters came and opposed him; and when he reproved them for swearing, they said Abraham, Jacob, and Joseph swore. But though G. Fox did not deny this, yet he said, ‘Christ, (who said before Abraham was, I am,) saith, Swear not at all. And Christ ends the prophets, as also the old priesthood, and the dispensation of Moses; and he reigns over the house of Jacob, and of Joseph, and saith, Swear not at all. And God when he bringeth in the first-begotten into the world, saith, Let all the angels of God worship him, to wit, Christ Jesus, who saith, Swear not at all. And as for the plea that men make for swearing to end their strife, Christ, who says, Swear not at all, destroys the devil and his works, who is the author of strife; for that is one of his works. And God said, This is my beloved Son in whom I am well pleased, hear ye him. So the Son is to be heard, who forbids swearing: and the apostle James, who did hear the Son of God, and followed him, and preached him, forbids also all oaths.’ Thus G. Fox prevailed, and many were convinced that day. It is remarkable that Thomas Hammersley, being summoned upon a jury, was admitted to serve without an oath; and when he being foreman brought in the verdict, the judge did declare, that he had been a judge so many years, but never heard a more upright verdict than that the Quaker had then brought in.

G. Fox travelling on, came to Swanington, in Leicestershire, where there was a general meeting, to which many of his friends came from several parts, and among these, J. Audland, and F. Howgill, from Bristol; and E. Burrough, from London. After this, G. Fox came to Twycross, and some ranters there sang and danced before him; but he reproved them so earnestly, that some of them were reached, and became modest and sober.

Then he went to Drayton, his birth-place, to visit his relations; where Nathaniel Stevens, the priest, having gotten another priest, sent for him. G. Fox, having been three years abroad, knew nothing of their design, but yet at last he went to the steeple-house yard, where the two priests had gathered abundance of people; and they would have had him gone into the steeple-house: but he asked them what he should do there; and it was answered him, Mr. Stevens could not bear the cold. At which G. Fox said, ‘He may bear it as well as I.’ At last they went into a great hall, R. Farnsworth being with him, where they entered into a dispute with the priests concerning their practice, how contrary it was to Christ and his apostles. The priests asked where tithes were forbidden, or ended; whereupon G. Fox showed them out of the epistle to the Hebrews, chap. vii. that not only tithes, but the priesthood that took tithes, was ended; and that the law was ended and disannulled, by which the priesthood was made, and tithes were commanded to be paid. Moreover, he, knowing Steven’s condition, laid open his manner of preaching, showing, that he, like the rest of the priests, did apply the promises to the first birth, which must die; whereas the promises were to the seed, not to many seeds, but to the one seed, Christ, who was one in male and female: for all were to be born again, before they could enter into the kingdom of God. Then Stevens said, that he must not judge so. But G. Fox told him, he that was spiritual judged all things. Stevens confessed, that this was a full scripture: but ‘Neighbours,’ said he, ‘this is the business; G. Fox is come to the light of the sun, and now he thinks to put out my star-light.’ To this G. Fox returned, that he would not quench the least measure of God in any, much less put out his star-light, if it were true star-light, light from the morning star: but that if he had any thing from Christ, or God, he ought to speak it freely, and not take tithes from the people for preaching; seeing Christ commanded his ministers to give freely, as they had received freely. But Stevens said, he would not yield to that.

This dispute being broke off for that time, was taken up again a week after by eight priests, in the presence of many people: and when they saw that G. Fox remained unshaken, they fawningly said, ‘What might he have been if it had not been for the Quakers!’ Afterwards the dispute was resumed in the steeple-house yard, where G. Fox showed, by abundance of Scriptures, that they who preach for wages were false prophets and hirelings; and that such who would not preach without wages or tithes, did not serve the Lord Jesus Christ, but their own bellies. This he treated on so largely, that a professor said, ‘George, what! wilt thou never have done?’ To this his answer was, that he should have done shortly. And when he broke off, one of the priests said, they would read the Scriptures he had quoted. ‘With all my heart;’ said he: then they began to read Jer. xxiii. and when they had read a verse or two, George said, ‘Take notice, people.’ But the priests cried, ‘Hold thy tongue, George.’ He then bid them read the whole chapter throughout; but they stopping, asked him a question: and he told them, that if the matter he charged them with was first granted, then he would answer their question: for his charge had been that they were false prophets, and false teachers, such as the true prophets, Christ and his apostles, cried against. ‘Nay,’ said a professor to that: but he said, ‘Yes; for you, leaving the matter, and going to another thing, seem to consent to the proof of the former charge.’ Now their question was, seeing those false prophets were adulterated, whether he did judge priest Stevens an adulterer. To this he answered, that he was adulterated from God in his practice, like those false prophets.

Then they broke up the meeting, and Stevens desired, that G. Fox, with his father and mother, might go aside with him, that he might speak to him in private. George, though his relations yielded to it, was very loth to do so; yet, that it might not be said he was disobedient to his parents, he went: but many of the people being willing to hear, drew close to them. Then Stevens said, if he was out of the way, George should pray for him; and if George was out of the way, he would pray for him: moreover, that he would give to George a form of words to pray by. To this G. Fox replied, ‘It seems thou dost not know, whether thou art in the right way or no; but I know that I am in the everlasting way, Christ Jesus, which thou art out of: and thou wouldst give me a form of words to pray by, and yet thou deniest the common prayer book to pray by, as well as I. If thou wouldst have me pray for thee by a form of words, is not this to deny the apostles’ doctrine and practice of praying by the Spirit as it gave words and utterance?’ Here, though some of the people fell a laughing, yet others, that were grave and sober, were convinced of the Truth, and the priests were greatly shaken: insomuch that George’s father, though he was a hearer and follower of the priest, was so well satisfied, that, striking his cane upon the ground, he said, ‘Truly I see, he that will but stand to the Truth, it will carry him out.’

G. Fox did not stay long at Drayton, but went to Leicester, and from thence to Whetstone, where a meeting was to be kept; but before it began, there came about seventeen troopers, of colonel Hacker’s regiment, who, taking him up, brought him to the said colonel, where there was also his major and captains. Here he entered into a long discourse with them, about the priests, and about meetings; for at this time there was a noise of a plot against Cromwell: and he spoke also much concerning the light of Christ, which enlighteneth every man that cometh into the world. The colonel hearing him speak thus, asked whether it was the light of Christ that made Judas betray his Master, and afterwards led him to hang himself? G. Fox told him, ‘No; that was the spirit of darkness which hated Christ and his light.’ Then the colonel said to George, he might go home, and keep at home, and not go abroad to meetings. But he told him, he was an innocent man, free from plots, and he denied all such works. Then the colonel’s son, Needham, said, ‘Father, this man hath reigned too long; it is time to have him cut off.’ G. Fox asked him for what? ‘What have I done, or whom have I wronged from a child; and who can accuse me of any evil?’ Then the colonel asked him, if he would go home, and stay there. To which G. Fox answered, that if he should promise him so, it would imply that he was guilty of something, to go home, and make his home a prison to himself; and if he went to meetings, they would say, he broke their order; but that he should go to meetings, as the Lord should order him; and that therefore he could not submit to their requirings: and having further added, that he and his friends were a peaceable people: the colonel said, ‘Well then, I will send you to-morrow morning by six o’clock, to my lord Protector, by captain Drury, one of his life-guard.’ The next morning, about the appointed time, he was delivered to captain Drury. Then G. Fox desired he would let him speak with the colonel, before he went; and so the captain brought him to the colonel’s bed-side, who again bade him go home and keep no more meetings. But G. Fox told him he could not submit to that; but must have his liberty to serve God, and go to meetings. ‘Then,’ said the colonel, ‘you must go before the Protector.’ Whereupon G. Fox kneeled on his bed-side, and prayed the Lord to forgive him: since, according to his judgment, he was as Pilate, though he would wash his hands; (for he was stirred up and set on by the priests,) and therefore George bade him, when the day of his misery and trial should come upon him, then to remember what he had said to him. Far was it now from Needham, who would have had G. Fox cut off, to think that one time this would befal his father, in an ignominious manner, at Tyburn. But what afterwards happened, when he was condemned as one of the judges of King Charles the First, will be related in its due place.

G. Fox then having left colonel Hacker, was carried prisoner by captain Drury to London; where the captain went to give the Protector an account of him; and coming again, he told G. Fox, the Protector did require, that he should promise, not to take up a carnal sword or weapon against him, or the government as it then was: and that he should write this in what words he saw good, and set his hand to it. G. Fox considering this, next morning writ a paper to the Protector, by the name of Oliver Cromwell, wherein he did in the presence of God declare, that he denied the wearing or drawing of a carnal sword, or any outward weapon, against him, or any man: and that he was sent of God to stand a witness against all violence, and against the works of darkness; and to turn people from darkness to the light, and to bring them from the occasion of war and fighting, to the peaceable gospel; and from being evil-doers, which the magistrates sword should be a terror to. Having writ this, he set his name to it, and gave it to captain Drury, who delivered it to Oliver Cromwell; and after some time returning to the Mermaid, near Charing-cross, where G. Fox was lodged, he carried him to Whitehall, and brought him before the Protector who was not yet dressed, it being pretty early in the morning. G. F. coming in, said, ‘Peace be in this house,’ and bid the Protector keep in the fear of God, that he might receive wisdom from him; that by it he might be ordered, and with it might order all things under his hands to God’s glory. He had also much discourse with him concerning religion, wherein Cromwell carried himself very moderately, but said that G. Fox and his friends quarrelled with the ministers, meaning his teachers. G. Fox told him, he did not quarrel with them; but they quarrelled with him and his friends. ‘But, (thus continued he,) if we own the prophets, Christ, and the apostles, we cannot uphold such teachers, prophets, and shepherds, as the prophets, Christ, and the apostles declared against; but we must declare against them by the same power and spirit.’ Moreover, he showed that the prophets, Christ, and the apostles preached freely, and declared against them that did not declare freely, but preached for filthy lucre, and divined for money, or preached for hire, being covetous and greedy, like the dumb dogs, that could never have enough: and that they that had the same spirit, which Christ, the prophets, and the apostles had, could not but declare against all such now, as they did then. He also said, that all Christendom, (so called,) had the Scriptures, but they wanted the power and spirit, which they had who gave them forth; and that was the reason they were not in fellowship with the Son, nor with the Father, nor with the Scriptures, nor one with another. Whilst he was thus speaking, Cromwell several times said, it was very good, and it was truth. G. Fox had many more words with him; but seeing people coming in, he drew a little back: and as he was turning, Cromwell catched him by the hand, and with tears in his eyes, said, ‘Come again to my house; for if thou and I were but an hour of a day together, we should be nearer one to another:’ adding, that he wished him no more ill than he did to his own soul. To this G. Fox returned, that if he did, he wronged his own soul; and bid him hearken to God’s voice, that he might stand in his counsel, and obey it; and if he did so, that would keep him from hardness of heart; but if he did not hear God’s voice, his heart would be hardened. This so reached the Protector, that he said it was true.

Then G. Fox went out; and captain Drury following, told him, that the lord Protector said he was at liberty, and might go whither he would: yet he was brought into a great hall, where the protector’s gentlemen were to dine; and he asked what they did bring him thither for? They told him it was by the Protector’s order, that he might dine with them. But George bid them tell the Protector he would not eat a bit of his bread, nor drink a sup of his drink. When Cromwell heard this, he said, ‘Now I see there is a people risen, and come up, that I cannot win either with gifts, honours, offices, or places; but all other sects and people I can.’ But it was told him again, that the Quakers had forsook their own, and were not like to look for such things from him.

It was very remarkable that captain Drury, who, while G. Fox was under his custody, would often scoff at him, because of the nickname of Quakers, which the Independents had first given to the professors of the light, afterwards came to him, and told him, that as he was lying on his bed to rest himself in the day time, a sudden trembling seized on him, that his joints knocked together, and his body shook so, that he could not rise from his bed; he was so shaken, that he had not strength enough left to rise. But he felt the power of the Lord was upon him, and he tumbled off his bed, and cried to the Lord, and said, he would never speak against the Quakers more, viz. such as trembled at the word of God.

The particular occurrences that befel G. Fox, when he was at liberty in London, I pass by. He had great meetings there, and the throngs of people were such, that he could hardly get to and from the meetings, because of the crowd. In the meanwhile the number of his friends increased exceedingly, and some belonging to Cromwell’s court were also convinced of the Truth preached by him. He wrote about that time several papers, one of which was against pride, gaudy apparel, and the world’s fashions.

I do not find that about this time there was at London any persecution from the magistrates, but in other places there was: and it was in this year that Anne the wife of John Audland, coming into a steeple-house at Banbury, said, after the priest had ended, that those that were without the doctrine of Christ, though they said the Lord liveth, yet spoke falsely, according to Jer. v. 2. For this she was imprisoned as guilty of blasphemy, and two boys swore against her, that she had said that the Lord did not live. Thus false accusations prevailed, and at this rate persecution was cloaked.

The year drew now to an end, and Cromwell concluded a peace with the United Netherlands; to get things the more clear at home, it seems he endeavoured to remove troubles abroad. And there being a rumour spread of a plot as hath been hinted already, to be the more assured of the parliament, he caused a guard to be set upon the door of the house, to keep out those members that refused to sign a paper, whereby they promised to be faithful to the lord Protector, and to make no alteration in the government, so as it was settled, on a single person, and a parliament. But several of the members would not sign this paper, saying, that it was a violation of the privileges of the parliament, and a depriving them of their liberty; and therefore they were kept out; but others who subscribed the said paper were admitted. Yet this assembly not acting to the satisfaction of Cromwell, he dissolved them after a session of five months. The young king Charles, who lived in exile, had left France, and was come to Cologne on the Rhine, where he stayed for some time.

But I return to London, where we left G. Fox. He was in that city continually at work, discharging his duty every where, both with mouth and pen, suffering no time to be lost. There being commissioners appointed for the trying of ministers, he writ a paper to them, wherein he advised them, to see whether they were not such whom the prophets, Christ, and the apostles disapproved; and who would admire men’s persons because of advantage, &c. He staid at London till the year 1655; and after having cleared himself, he went to Bedfordshire, and came to the house of John Crook, a justice of peace, where there was a great meeting, and many were convinced of the Truth he declared, of which number John Crook also was one; but for this he was soon turned out from being a justice.

Whilst G. Fox was in Bedfordshire, there was also Alexander Parker, one of the early ministers among those called Quakers. But leaving them there, I now intend to speak of William Caton, who, as it hath been said already, was one of the family of judge Fell. When he was but about fourteen years of age, his father procured leave for him to dwell in the said family; and his behaviour was so pleasing, that he was allowed the judge’s son, as a companion night and day; he ate as he did, and went with him a hunting, shooting, and fishing, partaking of the same pleasure with him in every thing, and living in ease and plenty; so that he had cause of joy, that Providence had cast his lot into such a noted family; for not only judge Fell, but also his wife Margaret, and their daughters, were well qualified. W. Caton conversing with such choice company, grew up in piety, and was very zealous in performing his private devotions, staying often in the bed-chamber, till the judge’s son, his bed-fellow, was gone down, so that he might the more freely pour out his heart before God in prayer. Having attained to the age of fifteen years, he was very diligent, when he had been at a lecture, to write down the chief heads thereof; for such of the family as could make repetitions of sermons, and paraphrase thereupon, were held in esteem. But William Caton found that what he reaped thereby, could not satisfy the hunger and thirst of his immortal soul.

After he and the judge’s son had for some time learned Latin together in the family, where there was a priest that instructed them, they were removed to a school at Hawkshead: but here he found company which he disliked more than that in the judge’s family.

It was in the year 1652, about Midsummer, that G. Fox, (as hath been said in its proper place,) first came to the house of judge Fell at Swarthmore. His non-conformity to the ordinary salutations, W. Caton not a little wondered at; but yet it did not hinder him from giving due attention to the doctrine G. Fox preached, which in substance was, to give heed to the light, which Christ Jesus had enlightened us withal, and which shining in our hearts, convinceth us of sin and evil. This so reached W. Caton, that in due time he began to be subject to this inward convincement, by which he came to be much restrained in his carriage, and could not allow himself so great liberty as he was wont to do; for though he was no ways extravagant, yet now he saw that a true Christian must be weaned from all vanity; and that the common diversions of youth displeased God. This he clearly perceived, for the witness of God had awakened and reproved him of that which was contrary to true gravity, and sobriety of mind. He had not yet left the school: but, though he was pretty much advanced in his learning, the making of Latin verses became a burden to him, because he could not give his thoughts that liberty for invention as others did; neither could he well any longer give to the master of the school the compliment of the hat, as he was used to do: this I had from his own mouth. One may easily guess that hereby he was brought into a strait; but Margaret Fell, seeing that he longed to be freed from the school, caused him to stay at home, where he was employed by her in writing, and teaching her children. And when he was about seventeen years of age, he became more and more strengthened in the spiritual warfare, and his heart was often filled with joy, because of the mercy and loving kindness of the Lord to him.

Thus advancing in godliness, he was frequently moved to go to the places of public worship, and also to markets, to warn people to repentance; but then beating and buffeting was his share, and because of his youth he was despised by many; yet he fainted not: and esteeming it his duty now to labour in the ministry of the gospel, he desired to be discharged of his service. Judge Fell was very unwilling to part with him; but Margaret his wife, though she could not well give him up before, yet believing that the Lord required his service, not only freely resigned him, but also prevailed with her husband to let him go: for he did not desire his liberty to serve other men, but to enter into the service of the Lord, and to proclaim the everlasting gospel. About the end of the year 1654, being eighteen years of age, he took his leave of that family, which was not done without mutual shedding of tears at parting.

He then went to visit his friends in Lancashire, Yorkshire, Derbyshire, and Warwickshire; from thence to Norwich, and so to Wellingborough, in Northamptonshire; where he found an opportunity to declare the Truth of God in the steeple-house. After that he travelled to Cambridge, visiting his friends there; and then returned to Norwich, where he visited his friends in prison, and had great meetings in that city. Then he went to London, where he was very kindly received by those of the household of faith; and on a First-day of the week was at two steeple-houses, at one of which he had large liberty to speak, being indeed persuasive in speech; and in the afternoon, at a meeting of dissenters from the public worship, he had liberty to publish Truth without opposition, or contradiction from any; and many were added to the faith: for at that time there were twelve ministering brethren, most of them come out of the North of England, among whom was John Stubbs, already mentioned, with whom he travelled into Kent: and coming to Dover, where they were altogether strangers, not knowing any body in the town, they took their lodging at an inn. J. Stubbs went on the first day of the week to a meeting of the Baptists, and W. Caton to the steeple-house, where he had but little liberty; but in the yard he had more opportunity to clear his conscience to the people. In the afternoon he went up to the castle, where the Independents performed their worship. Shortly after, he and J. Stubbs went into the Baptists’ meeting, unto which much people resorted, and many began to be affected with their testimony, and adhered to it. This made such a stir, that they were hauled before the magistrates, who examined them, and ordered that none should entertain them on a certain penalty; whereupon they were turned out of their lodging. But one Luke Howard, a shoemaker, who had already heard W. Caton at London, and afterwards at Dover, in the steeple-house yard, though he little regarded him at London, but said to his companion, ‘I know more than he can tell me, or more than either I or he is able to live up to;’ yet now he became so affected with W. Caton’s testimony, that he invited him and J. Stubbs to his house, where he entertained them; and not long after they had a meeting there; and he heard the testimony of his guests with no less satisfaction, than Agrippa of old, did the speech of the apostle Paul, when he said to him, ‘Almost thou persuadest me to be a Christian:’ For Luke Howard was not yet come so far that he could resolve to conform himself with the Quakers, so called: but yet, such was his love to them, that when the mayor of the town sent four constables to his house, with an order to deliver them up, that so they might be carried out of the town, he refused to do so, relying on his right as a freeman of the corporation; and the doors being shut, kept the constables out of his house, and told them from the shop window, that the mayor had no lawful authority to have these men hauled out of his house, and sent out of town, there being no hue and cry come after them. They staid yet some days in his house, and he became so strengthened by their ministry, that he joined with them in profession, and also gave up his house to be a meeting-place for their friends.

Then W. Caton and J. Stubbs departed the town, and went to Folkstone, and from thence to Hithe, in both which places they found opportunity to preach the Truth. After some stay, they went to Romney, and so to Lydd. Here it was, that Samuel Fisher, both by their ministry, and by that of Ambrose Rigge, and Thomas Robinson, (who now were also gone forth in the service of the gospel,) was convinced, and brought over to their society.

He was trained up to literature, and had studied diligently in the University; and though but young then, yet was of a pious conversation, and disliked many ceremonies and customs usual in the schools. When he had finished his course there, he was ordained a priest of the church; and a certain great man took him to be his chaplain; and afterwards he got a living at Lydd, worth about two hundred pounds a year. But after having been thus employed some time, he came to see that infant baptism was an human institution, and to preach for wages unlawful. To this may be added, that Luke Howard, some time before he knew the Quakers, so called, not being satisfied concerning the singing of David’s psalms at the public worship, so troubled his master that he had been apprentice with, that he got Samuel Fisher, as a learned minister, to come and discourse with him, and to try to convince him: and S. Fisher talking with him, L. Howard told him, that God was a Spirit, and must be worshipped in Spirit and Truth, of all those that would worship him acceptably. And also, that it was contrary to Truth, for a proud man to sing, “he was not puft in mind, he had no scornful eye, and he did not exercise himself in things that were too high;” when he lived in pride, wherein God beheld him afar off. And further, that it was very unbecoming such an one to sing, “Rivers of tears run down mine eyes, because other men keep not thy laws,” when he never knew a true sorrow and repentance for his own sins. This reason of Howard’s against the customary singing in their worship, had so much influence upon S. Fisher, that from that time he was stopped from any more giving David’s conditions to the people to sing; and becoming in time more and more uneasy to go on in acting what was burdensome to his conscience, he resolved to desist from his ministry, and so went to the bishop, and delivered up the commission that he had received from him to preach: and casting himself upon God’s providence, he took a farm, and turned grazier, by which means he maintained his wife and children much better to his content than before.

Departing thus from the Episcopalian church, he went over to the Baptists, and became a zealous teacher among them. It was about this time, that W. Caton, and J. Stubbs came to Lydd, whom S. Fisher received into his house, remembering that Scripture exhortation, “Be not forgetful to entertain strangers, for many thereby have entertained angels unawares.” W. Caton went to the meeting of the Independents, and Stubbs to that of the Baptists, where Fisher then preached; and J. Stubbs having got opportunity to speak, declared Truth so plainly, that S. Fisher being very much affected with it, began to paraphrase upon it, with excellency of speech. W. Caton and J. Stubbs departing this place, went to another town in this county, but not long after returning to Lydd, they found S. Fisher in fellowship with themselves; for it happened that this fellow-teacher, George Hammond, in his sermon so violently inveighed against those called Quakers, that S. Fisher could not be satisfied, until he stood up in the said meeting, and bore a public testimony against the revilings of Hammond: saying to him, ‘Dear brother, you are very dear and near to me, but the Truth is nearer and dearer: it is the everlasting Truth and gospel which they hold forth.’ And speaking more words to that effect, he openly defended the doctrine of the reviled Quakers. This so vexed Hammond, that falling into a greater rage, he said, ‘Our brother Fisher is also bewitched.’ But Fisher rendered not reviling for reviling, but continued with patience in the faith. This was he who afterwards writ a book, called Rusticus ad Academicos, wherein he often encountered the priests with their own weapons; for he was very dexterous at that, and so well versed in the ancient poets, that he now and then with their words, gave home blows to his adversaries, allowing himself sometimes the freedom of the prophet Elijah against the prophets of Baal. He writ also a paper in Hebrew to the Jews, in which language he was well skilled. But before I say more of him, I return to W. Caton and J. Stubbs. They went from Lydd to Ashford, Tenterden, Cranbrook, and Staplehurst, where they found an open and tender hearted people, who embraced their doctrine, and some would have given them money, nay, even have forced it upon them, yet they would not take any: but as they freely had received, so they freely gave: telling people it was not theirs, but them, which they sought. Thence they travelled to Maidstone, where J. Stubbs went to the public place of worship, and W. Caton to the meeting of the Independents. J. Stubbs was taken at the steeple-house, and W. Caton, the day following from his inn, and were both sent to the house of correction, where they were searched, and their money, inkhorns, and bibles, &c. taken from them. Afterwards they were stripped, and their necks and arms put in the stocks, and in that condition were desperately whipped. A hard encounter indeed, especially for such a young man as W. Caton was; but they were supported by an invisible hand. Afterwards means were used to compel them to work; and it was told them, he that would not work should not eat. But they were not free to consent thereto, because they esteemed this demand unjust, not being guilty of the breach of any law. Thus they were kept without victuals for some days, only a little water once a day was allowed them. In the meanwhile, the malefactors that were there, would have given them of their bread; yea, the women of the house being moved with compassion, would have given them something privately; but they were not free to accept of either. Now the report of this cruelty being spread in the town, many began to be offended at it; so that an officer was sent to make restitution of some of their things, which had been taken from them, and then they bought victuals with their own money. Not long after, they were parted, and with officers conveyed out of the town, one at the one end of it, and the other at the other.

At length W. Caton came to London, where he found his companion, J. Stubbs; but being there, it came upon them to return to the town from whence they came, which was no small trial to them; but yet they resigned, and gave up to what they believed to be the will of the Lord. Now Providence so ordered it, that none meddled with them, though they, to be more fully seen, went on a First-day of the week to the steeple-house. They went also to Canterbury, where, at the meetings of the Baptists and Independents, they had pretty good liberty to declare the Truth amongst them; and some, being convinced, received their testimony. They were likewise at Sandwich, where W. Caton had some service among the Dutch people at their steeple-house.

It was now nigh Midsummer, when he felt a motion to go over to Calais, in France. For that end he went to Dover, and so to Calais, where coming to their high place of worship, his spirit was very much grieved and burdened, with the great idolatry in vogue there; for he saw how some were worshipping before their dumb idols, and he could not well ease his spirit for want of the language. Having some time walked about in the town, he came to be known to some of the chief of the city, who desiring to speak with him, some of them came down in person to the quay, to look for him; and understanding he was aboard, he was called ashore, and conveyed to a large house, where several of the great ones were come to see and hear him: so that he had a very good opportunity to declare the Truth among them, there being a Scotch lord who interpreted for him. And after he had cleared his conscience, they suffered him to depart quietly.

Soon after he returned for England, and found his companion, J. Stubbs, at Dover; and it being upon him to go for Holland, W. Caton was made free to accompany him. With this intent, they went together to Yarmouth, but could not find passage there for Holland, and so they passed further to the North; and coming to Swarthmore, W. Caton found his friends very glad to see him, especially Margaret Fell, who had been as a nursing mother to him. After some stay there, having been abundantly refreshed, they went to Shields, where they heard of a ship bound for Flanders; but having little inclination to go thither, came soon after to Yarmouth, where they found a ship intended for Flushing, in Zealand. With this vessel they went over, and arrived safely at the said town: and on the First-day of the week, they went to the congregation of the English and Scotch, where many wondered at them because of their non-conformity; and after they began to speak, there arose a great stir, so that they were soon hurried out. The same day they went to Midddleburg, whither being come, before the afternoon’s worship was ended, one of them began to speak after the priest had done: but he stopped him presently, thinking at first they were such as came thither begging; but perceiving the contrary, he and others were the more violent. After that, he sent for them to his house, and reasoned awhile with them; but he being of a lofty mind, they found but a slight entertainment there. After a short stay in town, they embarked themselves for Rotterdam, in Holland, where being come, when they had been some few days in the city, they got a meeting at an English merchant’s house: but he that interpreted for them, not rendering their words truly, it seemed not to satisfy the hearers. After some time they returned to Zealand, and from thence again to England, where being arrived, W. Caton journeyed to Swarthmore, and was received there with joy; and having some drawings to Scotland, he went to Bishoprick, where he found his companion J. Stubbs again, with whom he travelled towards Scotland. It was about the beginning of the month called December, when they came to Berwick upon Tweed, where W. Caton went into the great public assembly; and when the priest had done, stepped upon a seat, and beginning to speak, none seemed to make such haste to get away, as the priest: in the meanwhile W. Caton spoke with great boldness, and had pretty good liberty to declare the Truth. But when he had done, he was taken hold of, and brought before the magistrates, who ordered that he should be turned out of the town; which was done. J. Stubbs was that day in a meeting of the Baptists, and had some service there. Not long after, W. Caton, who wandering up and down, could not well get any lodging for his money, returned, and came into the town again, the guard suffering him very freely to pass.

Then they both travelled to Edinburgh, in Scotland, where they found things somewhat out of order, through the unfaithfulness of some that were convinced of the Truth; but their ministry was so effectual among them, that they were brought into better order again: and so they edified the church according to their ability, the meeting being kept at the house of William Osborn, who had been a lieutenant-colonel, and afterwards become a zealous minister among the flock there. While W. Caton was there, he went once to the chief steeple-house, where, after the priest had done, he spoke to the people; but, the multitude combining, he was not suffered to say much, but was carried out; and coming into the street, there was a guard of soldiers, who conducted him with drawn swords to the places where he desired to be. He was about that time also with general Monk, who behaved himself moderately, and heard him. J. Stubbs now returning to England, W. Caton went to Stirling, where, being carried to the governor, he was at first high, but when W. Caton, who was a man of meek behaviour, had spoke a little to him, he became cool and sedate. He then went to the English chaplain’s house, who was kind to him. From Edinburgh he went to Glasgow, where, going into the great cathedral, after the service was done, he had some liberty to speak to the multitude in the yard, the rude people being kept under by the English soldiers, who were moderate, so that he had very good service there. He also went to Douglas, where his service was no less, both in the steeple-house and elsewhere: so that having cleared himself in Scotland, he returned to England, and came again to Swarthmore, where he was received as formerly in very great love.

1655.

Leaving him there, I turn again to G. Fox, whom we left in Bedfordshire. From thence he went by London to Kent, and came to Romney, not long after W. Caton and J. Stubbs had been there. Here he had a very large meeting, whither Samuel Fisher also came, and there was a great convincement that day, so that many were turned to the light of Christ: and after the meeting S. Fisher’s wife said, ‘Now we may discern betwixt flesh and spirit, and distinguish spiritual teaching from fleshly.’

From hence G. Fox went to Dover and Canterbury, and further into Sussex, and so to Reading, where they had a great meeting, and many were convinced that day. There came also George Bishop, of Bristol, who, being a captain, then wore a sword, though in time, he entirely left it off.

G. Fox, going from hence, passed up to London, where, leaving him for some time, we will go and behold the life and occurrences of James Parnel, who was born at Retford, in Nottinghamshire, and trained up in the schools of literature. He laboured very early in the ministry of the gospel, having been convinced by G. Fox, when not quite sixteen years of age, and then embraced the Truth; though for that reason despised and rejected by his relations. He was, (though of low stature,) endued with great ability, and did not fear, wherever he came, to call people to repentance. Being imprisoned at Cambridge for his zealous testimony, and afterward turned out of town like a vagabond, he soon came back and disputed with the scholars of the university; but met with rude and bad entertainment from them. In the beginning of this year he came into Essex, being then about eighteen years of age, and preached the gospel in several parts of that county, as Felsted, Stebbing, Witham, Coggeshall, Halsted, and other places, and many received the word by his ministry. About the middle of the summer he came to Colchester, and there preached the gospel on a First day of the week in a steeple-house, after the sermon; then in a great meeting appointed on purpose; and after that disputed with the town-lecturer, and another priest, in the French school, all in one day; so that many were convinced of the Truth preached by him; and among these also Stephen Crisp, of whom more will be said hereafter. J. Parnel spent that week in the said town, preaching, exhorting, and disputing, to the convincing of many; though others were enraged, insomuch, that his godly zeal was often rewarded with blows; as once coming out of Nicholas’ steeple-house, he was struck by one with a great staff, who said, ‘There, take that for Christ’s sake.’ To which he meekly answered, ‘Friend, I do receive it for Jesus Christ’s sake.’ Many other grievous affronts he bore, without showing any heat or anger; so that he was a real pattern of patience and meekness.

Having laboured in the gospel about ten days in Colchester, he went to Coggeshall, where a fast was proclaimed, to be held upon the 12th of the month called July, to pray against the errors of the people called Quakers. J. Parnel being come thither, went into the steeple-house, where he stood still, till the priest was coming out of the pulpit. Now since this priest Sammes, who was an Independent, had cried out fiercely against the Quakers, as deceivers, J. Parnel esteemed it his duty to say something to that; and the first words he spoke were, ‘This is the order of the true church, that all may speak one by one; and if any thing be revealed to him that stands by, let the first hold his peace.’ Then he spoke on behalf of those called Quakers: but the priest, interrupting, asked what he would object against him? To which J. Parnel answered, in that he reviled the people called Quakers, and said they were built upon a sandy foundation, and so called them Shakers. ‘But,’ said he, ‘I will prove their foundation not to be sandy, and thee to be a false prophet.’ After some more words spoken by him, some accused him, that he owned no church: to which he said it was false. Then it was asked him what church he owned? And he answered, the church in God. Then priest Willis stood up, and said, he spoke nothing but nonsense. Parnel bade him name one word which he had spoken that was nonsense. At which Willis said, ‘To say the church in God.’ Then Parnel took out his bible, and read 1 Thes. i. 1. where the apostle writes to the church, which is in God the Father. The priest now was at a loss, and Parnell told him, that he blasphemed in saying the church in God was nonsense. Then priest Stellum stood up, and accused Parnel with lies and slanders, and not suffering him to clear himself from those accusations, he got up into the pulpit, and began to pray; but Parnel not taking off his hat, the magistrates called to him to put it off. To which he returned, ‘Order the priest to put off his cap;’ and further said, before he should be subject to their wills, he would rather pass out of the meeting place; and so he went out.

Not long after, justice Dionysius Wakering followed him, and struck him with his hand upon his back, saying he arrested him in the name of the lord protector. Parnel, not knowing him to be a magistrate, asked him where his writ was. Wakering said he had one; but showed none. Then Parnel was hurried into an house, and some of his friends engaged, that he should be forthcoming when their worship was done. And accordingly he appeared where four justices and six or seven priests were met together. Then justice Wakering pulled his hat off his head, and threw it away; and they questioned him concerning many things; all which he answered, with many frivolous questions asked to ensnare him. At last he was committed to the common jail at Colchester, where none of his friends were permitted to come to him. The time of the sessions at Chelmsford being come, he, with several felons and murderers was fastened to a chain, and thus led about eighteen miles through the country, remaining chained both night and day.

Being brought into the court before judge Hills, the jailer took off his hat and cast it upon the floor. Then the clerk read his indictment, and asked him if he was guilty; to which he said, that he denied all guilt; and he called for his accusers. The judge said he might see them; and that he ought to say guilty, or not guilty. On which Parnel told him, he was not guilty. Then a jury of twelve men was called, whose foreman was a drunkard; priest Willis was also called, who swore against him, and so did two justices; one of their men swearing that they would speak nothing against him but the truth. The accusations were, that in a riotous manner he did enter into the parish church at Great Coggeshall; that he there did stand up, and told the minister he blasphemed, and spoke falsely, using many other reproachful words against him: and he could not give a good account where he was last settled, or of his life and conversation, appearing to be an idle person. He was also accused with contempt of the magistracy, and of the ministry. To this he answered, that he no ways in a riotous manner entered the steeple-house, but came thither quietly, and alone: for being followed by several boys that would have come in after him, he bade them go in before, rather than to go in disorderly, whereby to occasion any disturbance. That he had said to priest Willis, he blasphemed, by saying the church in God was nonsense, he denied not; but did not own himself to be a vagabond and idle person. And he did not think it indecent to call an unjust judge, unrighteous; a persecutor, persecutor; and a deceiver, deceiver. Thus Parnel pleaded his cause. Yet the judge said to the jury, that if they did not find him guilty, the sin would lie upon their heads; thus condemning the prisoner before the jury had considered the case. Then J. Parnel began to speak, to inform them concerning his cause, but the judge would not suffer him, though one of the jury desired it. After consultation, the jury had nothing to lay to his charge, but a paper in which he had answered the mittimus, though he had already owned this paper to be his writing. But in that they were at a loss, because in the indictment he was accused of a riot: yet the judge and the clerk strove to draw some words from the foreman, which the other jurymen did not consent to, and he himself was unwilling to answer fully to their questions. Then J. Parnel was made to withdraw; and being called in again, the judge fined him to the value of about forty pounds, for contempt of the magistracy and ministry; for he said the lord protector had charged him to punish such persons as should contemn either magistracy or ministry. Thereupon J. Parnel was carried back again to the prison, being an old ruinous castle, built as it is reported, in the time of the ancient Romans: here he was to be kept until the fine should be paid: and the jailer was commanded, not to let any giddy-headed people, (by which denomination they meant his friends,) come at him.

The jailer was willing enough to comply with this order, suffering none to come to him, but such as abused him; and his wife, who was a wicked shrew, did not only set her man to beat him, but several times herself laid violent hands upon him, and swore she would have his blood: she also set other prisoners to take away the victuals brought to him by his friends; and would not let him have a trundle bed, which they would have brought him to lie on, so that he was forced to lie on the cold and damp stones. Afterwards he was put into the hole in the wall, a room much like a baker’s oven; for the walls of that building, which is indeed a direful nest, are of an excessive thickness, as I have seen myself, having been in the hole where this pious young man ended his days, as will be said by and by. Being confined in the said hole, which was, as I remember, about twelve feet high from the ground, and the ladder too short by six feet; he must climb up and down by a rope on a broken wall, which he was forced to do to fetch his victuals, or for other necessities: for though his friends would have given him a cord and a basket to draw up his victuals in, yet such was the malice of his keepers, that they would not suffer it.

Continuing in this moist hole, his limbs grew benumbed; and thus it once happened, that as he was climbing up the ladder, with his victuals in one hand, and come to the top thereof, catching at the rope with his other, he missed the same, and fell down upon the stones, whereby he was exceedingly wounded in his head, and his body so bruised, that he was taken up for dead. Then they put him into a hole underneath the other; for there were two rows of such vaulted holes in the wall. This hole was called the oven, and so little, that some baker’s ovens were bigger, though not so high. Here, (the door being shut,) was scarcely any air, there being no window or hole. And after he was a little recovered from his fall, they would not suffer him to take the air, though he was almost spent for want of breath: and though some of his friends, viz. William Talcot and Edward Grant, did offer their bond of forty pounds to the justice Henry Barrington, and another, whose name was Thomas Shortland, to lie body for body, that Parnel might but have his liberty to come to W. Talcot’s house, and return, when recovered; yet this was denied; nay so immoveable were they set against him, that when it was desired that he might only walk a little sometimes in the yard, they would not grant it by any means: and once the door of the hole being open, and he coming forth, and walking in a narrow yard between two high walls, so incensed the jailer, that he locked up the hole, and shut him out in the yard all night, being in the coldest time of the winter. This hard imprisonment did so weaken him, that after ten or eleven months he fell sick and died. At his departure there were with him Thomas Shortland, and Ann Langley: and it was one of these, that came often to him, who long after brought me into this hole where he died.

Several things which are related here, I had from the mouth of eye-witnesses, who lived in that town. When death approached, he said, ‘Here I die innocently.’ A little after he was heard to say, ‘Now I must go:’ and turning his head to Thomas, he said, ‘This death must I die; Thomas, I have seen great things: don’t hold me, but let me go.’ Then he said again, ‘Will you hold me?’ To which Ann answered, ‘No, dear heart, we will not hold thee.’ He had often said that one hour’s sleep would cure him of all: and the last words he was heard to say, were, ‘Now I go;’ and then stretched out himself, and slept about an hour, and breathed his last. Thus this valiant soldier of the Lamb conquered through sufferings: and so great was the malice and envy of his persecutors, that to cover their guilt and shame, they spread among the people, that by immoderate fasting, and afterwards with too greedy eating, he had shortened his days. But this was a wicked lie; for though it be true that he had no appetite to eat some days before he fell sick, yet when he began to eat again, he took nothing but a little milk, as was declared by credible witnesses. During his imprisonment he writ several edifying epistles to his friends.

By continuing this relation without breaking off, I am advanced somewhat as to time; but going back a little, let us see the transactions of Edward Burrough and Francis Howgill. It was in the year 1655, that they went together to Ireland, where they came in the summer, and staid more than six months, having spent at Dublin about three months, without being disturbed, though they omitted no opportunity to declare the doctrine of Truth. Henry Cromwell, son of the protector, was at that time lord deputy of Ireland; and it was in his name that they were carried from Cork, (whither they were gone,) to Dublin; for since several received their testimony, and adhered to the doctrine they preached, it was resolved upon, not to let them stay any longer in Ireland. Here it was, as I have been told, that William Ames, by their ministry, was brought over into the society of the Quakers, so called. He was a Baptist teacher, and also a military officer, who being of a strict life himself, kept his soldiers under a severe discipline. I remember how he used to tell us, when any soldier under his colours had been guilty of any immorality on a First-day of the week, he presently had him bound neck and heels. But being now entered into the society of the despised Quakers, and in process of time becoming a minister among them, it was not long before he was cast into prison; of whom more may be said hereafter.

Now E. Burrough and F. Howgill were banished out of Ireland; but on the same day that they were sent away, Barbara Blaugdone arrived there. She went from England in a vessel bound for Cork, but by foul weather carried to Dublin. When the tempest was high, the seamen said, that she being a Quaker was the cause of it, and they conspired to cast her overboard. Aware of this plot, she told the master what his men designed to do, and said that if he did suffer this, her blood would be required at his hands. So he charged them not to meddle with her. The storm continuing, and it being on a First-day of the week, she went upon the deck, feeling herself moved to speak to the seamen by way of exhortation, and to pray for them; for their priest, afraid like the rest, could not say any thing among them. Having spoke what was upon her, she concluded with a prayer; and all the ship’s crew were very quiet and sedate, saying, that they were more beholden to her than to their priest, because she prayed for them; and he, for fear, could not open his mouth to speak. At length they arrived safe at Dublin, without damage, which indeed was strange, and made the master say, that he was never in such a storm without receiving any loss.

Barbara going ashore, went to the house of the deputy; but the people told her, there was for her no speaking with him; for she might know that he had banished two of her friends out of the nation the day before. Then she met with the secretary, and desired him to help her to speak with the deputy. He answered that he did not think he could; then she told him that if he would be so civil, as to go up and tell the deputy that there was a woman below that would speak with him; if he refused, she was answered. So the secretary went up; and there came a man to fetch her into the withdrawing-room; and after she had been there awhile, a person came out of the deputy’s chamber, and all that accompanied him stood bare-headed; for they knew she never saw the deputy, but she had a sense it was a priest, who showed himself covered to deceive her: and the room being almost full of people, they asked her why she did not do her message to their lord. To which she answered, ‘When I see your lord, then I shall do my message to him.’ A little after the deputy came forth, and sat down on a couch: she then stood up, and speaking to him what was upon her mind, bade him beware that he was not found fighting against God, in opposing the Truth, and persecuting the innocent; but like wise Gamaliel, to let them alone; for if it was of God, it would stand; but if of man, it would fall. Further, that the enmity did not lie so much in himself, but he was stirred up to it by evil magistrates, and bad priests; and that God’s people were as dear to him now, as ever; and they that touched them, touched the apple of his eye. In the meanwhile, in his name, and by his power, there was much hurt done to the people of God, all over the nation, and it would at last lie heavy upon him. Moreover, that the teachers of the people did cause them to err, and that he knew the priests’ condition. She touching upon that, the deputy said to the priest that stood by, ‘There’s for you, Mr. Harrison:’ and she spoke with such power, that it made the deputy much concerned: and when she had done, he asked the priest what he had to say to that which she spoke. And he said, it was all very true, and very good, and he had nothing to say against it, if she did speak as she meant. Then she told the priest, that the Spirit of God was true, and did speak as it meant, and meant as it spoke; but that men of corrupt minds did pervert the Scriptures, by putting their own imaginations and conceivings upon it, and so did deceive the people: but the holy men of God wrote, and gave forth the Scriptures as they were inspired of the Holy Ghost; and that they were of no private interpretation; and could not be understood but by the same spirit that gave them forth.

After having thus spoken, she went away, and returned to her lodging, which was at one captain Rich’s house, who coming home, said, that the deputy was so sad and melancholy, after she had been with him, that he could not go to bowls, or to any other pastime.

Barbara having now performed her service at Dublin, went to Cork, where she had some relations and acquaintance; but great were her sufferings thereabout; for she was imprisoned almost wherever she came, being moved to follow those of her acquaintance, into several steeple-houses: yet wherever her mouth was opened, there was some that received her testimony. Once she was made to speak in a market-place, where a butcher swore he would cleave her head; and having lifted up his cleaver to do it, there came a woman behind him, and catching his arms, stopt him, till the soldiers came and rescued Barbara. Many of her acquaintance, with whom she formerly had been very conversant, were now afraid of her; for sometimes she spoke so awfully to them in their houses, that it made them tremble; and some said she was a witch; and, running away, their servants turned her out of doors. After having been there some time, she returned home to Bristol; but it was not very long ere she was moved to go to Ireland again; and being come near Dungarvan, the ship foundered near the shore: the master and the passengers got into the boat, save one man and a woman, who were cast away; and Barbara who was still in the cabin, was almost stifled by waves that beat in upon her; yet at length she got upon the deck. The master in the meanwhile being come ashore, called to her, that if she would leap down, he and another would venture to come into the water to save her. Accordingly they came up to their necks, and she leaping down, they caught her; but being entangled in the ropes in leaping down, she was drawn from them again: but presently a wave came rolling and beat the ship outward, which was their preservation; for if it had beaten inward, it might have killed them all three; she was thus caught again, and drawn to shore. Then she went to Dublin, where coming into the court of justice, she spoke to the judges, and exhorted them to righteousness. But this was taken so ill, that she was put into prison, where she lay upon straw on the ground, and when it rained, the wet and filth of the house of office ran in under her. Being arraigned at the bar, she was required to plead guilty or not guilty. She answered that there was no guilt upon any one’s conscience for what was done in obedience to the Lord God. But she not answering in that form of words they bid her, was sent back to prison again, where she suffered much. In the meanwhile, there happened a singular instance, which I cannot pass by with silence.

At that time there was in prison an inn-keeper, with his family, being accused of a murder: now the brother of him that was either murdered, or lost, could not enjoy some land, except he could prove that his brother was dead; and in order thereto, he brought a fellow into the prison, who said, he would prove that the man was killed at such an inn, and buried under a wall: and he accused the inn-keeper and his wife, their man and maid, and a smith, to be guilty of this murder; they being already in prison. Barbara having heard of this, found means to go to this desperate fellow: and asked him how he could conceal this murder so long, when he was, according to law, as guilty of it as any of them, if what he said were true. At this question he trembled so exceedingly, that his knees struck one against another; and he confessed that he never before saw the people with his eyes, nor ever was at the place in his life, nor knew anything of it, but only he was drawn in by the man that was to have the land, and was persuaded to witness the fact. Other prisoners heard this confession also, and Barbara sent to the deputy, desiring him to send down his priest, that he might hear the said confession. The priest came, and the fellow confessed the same to him as he had done to Barbara; and he once also confessed the same before the judge. But afterwards he eat his words; for the man that had induced him, came every day, and made him drink plentifully, and also caused the jailer to lock up Barbara, that she might not come to him. Then she wrote to the inn-keeper, and his wife, and man, and judge Pepes, and told him the day of his death did draw nigh, wherein he must give an account of his actions; and that therefore he ought to take heed, that he did not condemn innocent people, having but one witness, in whose mouth so many lies were found, the others all saying they were innocent. For all that, the judge went on, and condemned all the accused, and the accuser also, as conscious to the crime. Hereupon a priest came to speak with the maid that was condemned, and was in the same prison with Barbara, but she would not see him, saying, ‘Nay, he can do me no good; I have done with man for ever: but God, thou knowest that I am innocent of what they lay to my charge.’ But, however, they were all hanged, and the witness first, probably for fear he should have made another confession after he had seen the others hanged.

Now some friends of Barbara, viz. Sir William King, colonel Fare, and the lady Brown, hearing she was in prison, came to see her, and afterwards went to the aforementioned judge, to get her released: but when they came to him, he told them, that he was afraid of his life. At which they laughed, and said, they had known her from a child, and there was no harm in her at all. And being all very earnest to get her liberty, they at last obtained it. Then she went to the steeple-house where this judge was, and cleared herself of him. He being come home, went to bed, and died that night. The noise of which sudden death being spread, it made people say, that Barbara had been a true prophetess unto him.

She now went to Limerick, where she was put into prison, but after a while being released, she took shipping for England again; and at sea was robbed of all that she had, by a privateer, who, coming on board, took the master away, until he should pay them a sum of money, for the ship and goods; but she came safe to England. She travelled at her own charge, paying for what she had.

But leaving her, I will return to Miles Halhead, who, as he was following the plough, in the beginning of this year, felt a motion to go to London. Taking York and Hull in his way, and passing thence through Lincolnshire and Leicestershire, he came to the city of London, from whence, after some stay, he went to Bristol with Thomas Salthouse, and so to Exeter and Plymouth, where he suffered much persecution, and was imprisoned. He writ about that time a letter to his wife, which I think worth the while to insert here, and was as followeth.

‘Anne Halhead,

‘My dear heart, my dear love in the bowels of love, in the Lord Jesus Christ, salutes thee and my children. My soul, my soul is poured forth in love to thee daily, and the breathings, of my soul to my Father is for thee, that thou mayest be kept in the fear of the Lord, and in his counsel daily, that so thou mayest come to rest and peace, that is laid up for all that fear him, and walk in obedience to the light that Jesus Christ hath enlightened them withal. So my dear heart, I declare to thee, in the presence of the living God, who is Lord of heaven and earth, and before men and angels, there is no other way that leads to peace, and eternal rest, but walking in obedience to the light that comes from Jesus Christ, and of this light thou hast received a measure. Therefore my dear heart, be faithful to the Lord in what is made known unto thee, that thou mayest come to witness true peace and rest, that eye hath not seen, nor ear heard, neither hath it entered into the heart of man, what is laid up for all them that fear him. So, my dear heart, as I have found peace and eternal rest to my soul from the Lord, so I am moved of the Lord in love to thy soul, to show thee the way that leads to peace and eternal rest; which way is Christ, who is the light, and the way that leads to the Father, from whence all light comes; and of this light which comes from Christ, I bear record thou hast received a measure. Therefore, in dear love, I exhort thee to walk in obedience to thy measure, which thou hast received from the Lord. So, in the presence of the Lord God do I declare, that walking in obedience to this light that comes from Christ, is the way that leads to eternal rest and peace. Therefore, as thou tenderest the eternal good of thy soul, be faithful to the light that comes from Christ, which light beareth witness against lying, and swearing, and vain talking, and all manner of evil. So, my dear wife, in bowels of dear love to thy soul, which is more precious than all the world, have I showed thee the way; if thou wilt walk in it, it will lead thee into the eternal covenant of life and peace. So, my dear wife, in love, in love I have cleared my conscience to thee, in the presence of the living God, as a true and faithful husband to thee, desiring thy eternal good and welfare as my own, the Lord God is my witness. Dear wife, remember my dear love to all my friends and countrymen, according to the flesh; for I desire the eternal good and welfare of you all, and that you all may come to believe in the light in your own consciences, which Jesus Christ hath enlightened you with; which light bears witness against lying, and swearing, and all manner of evil. This is the light of Christ, and walking in obedience to this light is the way that leads out of sin and evil, up to God eternal, blessed for evermore: and he that acts contrary to this light in his own conscience, it is his condemnation. Now, dear friends, while you have time prize it.

Thy husband, and a lover of thy soul, MILES HALHEAD.’

Wiltshire, the 7th of the Third month, 1655.

This year also he writ the following epistle to his fellow-believers.

‘Dearly beloved friends and brethren,

‘In the North of England, even to the South, the land of our nativity, whom the Lord God of heaven and earth hath called and chosen in this the day of his eternal everlasting love, to serve him in truth and in righteousness, who hath received the Lord’s Truth in the love of it, not only to believe in his name, but to suffer bonds and imprisonments, and hard sentences for the testimony of Jesus, and the word of God. Dear friends, and beloved brethren, my prayers to the Lord God of heaven and earth, and my soul’s desire is for you all, that you may all dwell together as children of one father, in the eternal bond of love, and oneness of the spirit; that you may all grow in the eternal living Truth of God, to be established upon the rock and sure foundation, that the gates of hell and death cannot prevail against you; that under the shadow of the wings of the Almighty, you may all be kept and preserved in peace and rest, now in the day of trial, and hour of darkness, when hell hath opened her mouth, and the raging sea cast out her proud waves, even like to overflow the banks. Glory, glory, and eternal living praises be given to the Lord God, and to the Lamb forevermore, of all the children of the light, who hath found a resting-place for all his dear ones, lambs, and babes, and children of light to flee into, in the needful time of trouble, where none can make them afraid, nor take away their peace, as they abide faithful to him, who is our way, our light, our life, our strength, and eternal portion for ever. My dear friends and brethren, I beseech you in the bowels of dear and tender love, that you walk as dear children, faithful to him who hath called you with an honourable calling, and loved you from the beginning with an everlasting love, that all your friends and neighbours, and men of this world, that see your life coupled with fear, may be made to confess and acknowledge, to the honour and glory of the living Lord, that the God whom we serve and fear, is the only true God of Israel: and herein you become a precious savour unto the living eternal God, and a sweet smelling savour unto all the children of light, and no good thing will the Lord God withhold from you; the mouth of the Lord God of Hosts hath spoken it, whose promises are yea and amen to his own seed forevermore.

MILES HALHEAD.’

Given forth the 14th of the Sixth Month, 1655, when I was a prisoner at the prison-house, in the city of Exeter, in Devonshire, for the testimony of Jesus, and the word of God.

A chief cause why he was imprisoned there, was, that Thomas Salthouse, with whom he travelled, (having heard that one George Brooks, a priest belonging to the Nightingale frigate, said, after the declarations of M. Halhead, and T. Salthouse, at Plymouth, that it was the eternal truth which they had spoken, with many other words in vindication of what they said,) told Brooks, that he had spoken many good words, and fair speeches; but asked him, whether he lived the life of what he spoke? Further, ‘He that entereth not by the door, but climbeth up some other way, is, as Christ said, a thief and a robber.’ For T. Salthouse thought, and that not without reason, as will be shown by and by, that he did not want the praises of this priest, that were not better than those of the damsel possessed with a spirit of divination, which she spoke concerning Paul and Silas, viz. ‘These men are the servants of the most high God, which show unto us the way of salvation.’ Now what T. Salthouse had spoken to the priest, was called provoking language; the rather, because when the priest was speaking of the trinity, T. Salthouse had asked him, where that word was to be found in the Scriptures: saying further, ‘I know no such Scripture that speaks of the three persons in the trinity; but the three that the Scripture speaks of, are the Father, the Son, and the Holy Ghost, and these three are one.’ From hence T. Salthouse, and M. Halhead, were accused as such as denied the Holy Three that are One. But because about this accusation, they were at a loss in the court, something else was thought of to ensnare them, viz. they were required to take the oath of abjuration of the Pope. This oath the mayor of Plymouth had already tendered them, when they were first apprehended; and they refusing to swear, were sent to Exeter prison: and now being brought to trial, and the said oath required of them, they answered thus:

‘In the presence of the Eternal God, and before all this people, we do deny, with as much detestation as any of you do, the Pope and his supremacy, and the purgatory, and all that is in the form of the oath mentioned, we declare freely against: and we do not deny to swear because of any guilt that is upon us, but in obedience to the command of Christ, who saith, “Swear not at all:” and we will not come under the condemnation of an oath, for the liberty of the outward man.’

Thus refusing to swear, merely that they might not offend against the command of our Saviour, they were sent back to prison again, as such that clandestinely adhered to the Pope: and use hath been made of this snare during the space of many years, to vex the Quakers, so called. The next day the prisoners were brought again before the bench, and were asked:

‘Will ye confess, that you wronged G. Brooks, in calling him thief, and be sorry for it, and make him satisfaction?’

To this M. Halhead answered:

‘One of us did not speak one word to him, and therefore I deny to make him satisfaction, or to be sorry for it; and what was spoken was no such thing; therefore we will not lie for our liberty, nor confess that we are sorry for that which we never spoke.’

Then the court fined them five pounds a piece; and they were to go to the house of correction till payment, and to find sureties for their good behaviour: and for refusing to take the oath, the court threatened to send into the North to seize on their estates. So they were returned to prison; and what follows, was entered as the record of their proceedings.

‘July 10, 1655. Thomas Salthouse, and Miles Halhead, for provoking words against G. Brooks, clerk, who refused to be tried by the country, fined 5_l._ a piece, committed to Bridewell till payment, and finding sureties for their good behaviour.’

What is said here of refusing to be tried by the country, was a notorious untruth: and as to finding sureties, that seemed of little moment; for though the giving of security had been offered before, when they were taken prisoners, yet that was not accepted of; and the mayor, John Page, had the boldness to assert, that they refused to give security, as will appear by the warrant by which he sent them to the common jail in Exeter, whereof the following is a true copy.

‘Devon,

‘John Page, merchant, mayor of the borough of Plymouth, in the county aforesaid, and one of his highness’s justices of the peace within the said borough, to the keeper of his highness’s jail at Exon[8] castle, or to his lawful deputy in that behalf, greeting. I send you herewithal by the bearer hereof, the bodies of Thomas Salthouse, late of Dragglibeck, in the county of Lancaster, husbandman; and Miles Halhead, late of Kendal, in the county of Westmoreland, lately apprehended here, as disturbers of the public peace, and for divers other high misdemeanors against a late proclamation, prohibiting the disturbing of ministers and other Christians in their assemblies and meetings, and against an ordinance of his said highness the lord protector, and his council, lately made against duels, challenges, and all provocations thereto, who have refused to give sufficient security for their personal appearance at the next general sessions of the peace, to be held for the county of Devon; and in the mean time to be of good behaviour towards his highness the lord protector, and all his liege people. These are therefore in his said highness’s name, to will and command you, that when the bodies of the said Thomas Salthouse and Miles Halhead, shall be unto you brought, you them safely detain, and keep them, until by due course of law they shall be thence delivered: hereof fail not at your peril. Given under my hand, and seal of Plymouth aforesaid, the 28th day of May, in the year of our Lord God, 1655.

JOHN PAGE, Mayor.’

[8] Exon is an abbreviation for Exeter.--Transcriber.

By this may be seen under what frivolous pretences those called Quakers were imprisoned, viz. because of an ordinance made against duels, &c. and as for their having refused to give security, how untrue this was, as well as other accusations, may appear from the following certificate.

‘We whose names are hereunto subscribed, do testify, that the several particulars in an answer made by our friends, are true, to wit. That they did not at all disturb the public peace, nor were they at any other meeting, (but that which was appointed by us,) to disturb any ministers, or other Christians in their assemblies and meetings; nor were they guilty of any challenges, duels, and provocations thereunto, in the least measure, whilst they were amongst us. And as for their refusal to give security, two of us, whose names are Robert Cary, and Arthur Cotton, had given security to the mayor, by entering into recognizance for their appearance at the next sessions, the day before their sending to prison, but that the town-clerk made it void the next day, pretending it could not be according to law.

Ralph Fogg, Arthur Cotton, Robert Cary, Richard Smith, Anthony Todde, John Harris, jun. Thomas Faulkener, Nicholas Cole, John Martindale, Richard Lepincote, John Harris, sen.’

Now to what a height of confidence the aforesaid mayor, Page, was come, in saying, that Thomas Salthouse and Miles Halhead had refused to give bail, nay, that this was the cause of their confinement, may also appear from the following letter he writ to general Desborough, to excuse his proceedings against him.

‘Plymouth, June 1, 1655.

‘Right Honourable,

‘Captain Hatsell hath communicated to me what you wrote him in reference to those two men, Thomas Salthouse and Miles Halhead, of whom, and of their imprisonment, your honour had heard something from some persons of this place, and received a copy of a letter which they sent me. By the enclosed copies of their examinations, your honour will see some part of the cause of their confinement, which was on their refusal to give bail for their appearance the next general sessions, to be held for the county of Devon; they being, as I conceive, offenders within the late ordinance of his highness the lord protector and council, made against duels, challenges, and all provocations thereunto, and also his highness’s late proclamation against Quakers; and they still refusing to give bail for their appearance as aforesaid, went from hence to the jail at Exon on Tuesday last. Indeed, sir, their carriage here was not becoming men, much less Christians; and besides their contempt of authority, all the while they were in prison, they never sought God by prayer at any time, nor desired a blessing on any creature they received, or gave thanks for them. And these very men were about two months past taken up by colonel Cupplestone, high sheriff of our county, and after fourteen days restraint, were sent away by him for Taunton, from tithing to tithing, as by their own examination; and they show no occasion they have to come to these parts. They are by profession Quakers, but husbandmen by their calling: one of them is a Lancashire man, the other of Westmoreland; and they left their families, relations, and callings, about three months since, as they say, and do not work, nor employ themselves in their calling, to procure themselves a livelihood, but wander up and down in all parts, to vent their wicked opinions, and discover their irregular practices in the breach of peace, and disturbance of good people. Indeed, sir, they hold many sad opinions, destructive to the true religion, and the power of godliness. I have hereby according to my duty, given your honour an account of what passed here in reference to these men. I could say much more in reference to their examination and discourse with them; but I fear I have already trespassed upon your honour’s patience in the perusal of these lines, and humbly desiring your excuse for giving you this trouble, do most thankfully acknowledge your honour’s continued favours to this place, for which we stand very much obliged, desiring your honour still to retain such an opinion of us, as those that desire to do nothing unbecoming Christians, and persons that desire the welfare and peace of this commonwealth and government, and shall ever labour to appear

Your honour’s very humble servant, (For myself and my brethren,) JOHN PAGE, Mayor.’

That General Desborough was but little satisfied with this letter, seems not improbable, because, inquiring into the matter, he let others have a copy of it, so that Thomas and Miles wrote an answer to it; and it was also, some time after, given out in public print at London, by Giles Calvert, with other writings relating thereunto. Now as to what is said in this letter of his highness’s proclamation against Quakers, it was a gross untruth; for in the proclamation the Quakers were not named; but it was against the disturbing of Christians in their assemblies; and besides, the Quakers, so called, judged that their public worship was permitted them by the 37th article of the instrument of government, which said, ‘That all that profess faith in God by Jesus Christ, shall not be restrained from, but be protected in, the profession of the faith and exercise of their religion,’ &c. As concerning their contempt of authority the mayor charged them with, it was nothing else, but that for conscience sake they could not take off their hats to the magistrates; neither did they give that honour to any other but God alone. And as to what was said, that all the while they were in prison, they never sought God by prayer, &c. this was no other matter, than that they did not follow the formal way of prayers; for they were indeed religious men, who often prayed to God, and gave him thanks; though they were represented in the letter as very wicked men, and vagabonds that had left their calling, and wandered up and down the country; although it was well known that they were honest men, and travelled on horseback, lying at the best inns on the road, and paying for what they received there. And, therefore, after they had got a copy of the said letter, they writ a large letter to the mayor, Page, and showed him his abominable untruths, and told him, that they had been moved several times in prison, as well as out of prison, to go to prayers, and to give thanks for the blessings of God which they received. And in the conclusion of their letter, they signified, that they would not render railing for railing; but, (said they,) in the spirit of love and meekness we exhort you all to repent, and fear to offend the Lord, &c.

Now as concerning the provoking words against George Brooks, for which they had been fined, it hath been said already what they were; but this Brooks was of a dissolute life, and a debauched fellow, having for his drunkenness not only been turned out of the frigates in which he had served, but also once in the ship Nightingale, ignominiously exposed with a quarter can about his neck, as appears by the following testimonies.

‘I having been formerly desired to relate upon what account it was that Mr. George Brooks, chaplain of the frigate under my command, was put on shore. First, because he was a busy body, and disturbed the whole ship’s company. Secondly, being on shore, it was his common practice to abuse the creature in such sort, that he was drunken, void of good reason, that he would abuse any one that came in his company, by ill language, besides the abuse of himself and the good creature, daily complaints coming unto me both aboard and on shore. Therefore, knowing him to be a deboist fellow, and not fit for that employment, I put him on shore, and I dare own it, whoever shall call me to question. Witness my hand,

ROBERT VESSAY.’

‘Mr. Brooks being formerly with me in the Nightingale, I found him to be very idle, and continually drunk, which once made me to put a quarter can about his neck; whereunto I subscribe,

JOHN JEFFERY, Captain of the Nantwich.’

‘The person above-mentioned I have seen drunk on shore, in testimony whereof I have set my hand,

RICHARD POTTER, Captain of the Constant Warwick frigate.’

From such evidences as these it appears, that it was not without reason that he and the like priests sometimes were treated a little roughly. But to return to M. Halhead; he continued prisoner many months before he was released.

In the meanwhile it happened that George Whitehead, Richard Clayton, and John Harwood, coming on the 30th of the month called July, to Bures, in Suffolk, were imprisoned on this occasion. R. Clayton had set up a paper on the steeple-house door, containing these queries.

‘Whether setting up such ministers as seek for their gain from their quarters, such as the prophet disapproves; Isaiah, lvi. 11. such as the prophet Jeremiah disapproves; Jer. v. and of whom mention is made also, Ezek. xxxiv. and Mic. iii. such as are called of men, masters, loving the chief places in the assemblies; such as Christ disapproved; Matt. xxiii. such as the apostle Peter disapproves, 2 Pet. ii. and which the apostle Paul disapproved also; Phil. iii. or when such were set up that would not suffer another to speak that stands by, when any thing is revealed, but send him to prison; whether this was not the setting up a persecuting spirit, limiting the Spirit of God, and despising prophecies, not daring to try all things? Whether it was expedient to give to scoffers, scorners, drunkards, swearers, and persecutors, David’s conditions to sing? And if such were set up that took tithes, though the apostle said that the priesthood was changed, and the law also, Heb. vii. Whether by the setting up of such, they did not set up such as did not labour in the Lord’s vineyard.’

This paper being set up, people came to read it. G. Whitehead being there, and laying hold of this opportunity, spoke a few words to the people, and exhorted them to turn to the Lord from the vanities and wickedness they lived in. And when G. Whitehead and his fellow-travellers were passing away, there came a constable who staid them, and carried them before Herbert Pelham, justice of peace. He asking several vain questions, and behaving himself rudely, G. Whitehead began to speak to him concerning his rage: but Pelham said he did not send for him to preach. And not being able to lay the transgression of any law to their charge, he sent them by the constable, to Thomas Walgrave, justice of peace at Smalbridge, in Suffolk. Being come into his house, Richard Clayton was first examined, of his name and country, and where he had been. The same and some other frivolous questions were asked of G. Whitehead. Then Walgrave asked John Harwood, if he would answer him all the questions he would demand of him; but J. Harwood refused to be limited thus to his will. Justice Pelham now being come thither also, J. Harwood told justice Walgrave, that Pelham, who had before examined him, had his examination in writing. Then the two justices consulted together what to do in the case; and not long after Thomas Walgrave asked G. Whitehead, if he would work at hay? But he denied to be bound to such task-masters, as being in that calling whereunto God had called him, and wherein he was chargeable to no man. The conclusion of their consultation was, that they caused R. Clayton to be whipped, under pretence of having fastened a seditious paper to the steeple-house; and the other two were imprisoned.

It was about this time that William Dewsbury, and several other of his friends were put into prison at Northampton. It happened that he being at Wellingborough, and going along the streets, the priest, Thomas Andrews, called to him in these words, ‘Give over deceiving the people, lest the plagues of God fall on thee.’ To this Dewsbury returned, ‘Dost thou say I deceive the people? Make it manifest wherein I deceive them.’ Then Andrews said, ‘Thou sayest there is not any original sin;’ to this Dewsbury replied, ‘Didst thou hear me say so?’ But the priest, unwilling to answer that question, went away. Afterwards Dewsbury went into the steeple-house in the said town, and after the sermon was done, he demanded of the priest that he would prove there before the people, what he had openly accused him of, viz. that he had said there was no original sin. Yet the priest would not answer, but went away. There was also information given, that Dewsbury had said, ‘The priests preach for hire, and the people love to have it so: but what will ye do in the end thereof?’ But that this was really so, I do not find.

Dewsbury then being committed to prison, and kept there above half a year, was at last brought to his trial at Northampton, with other prisoners, his friends; and being set to the bar, the judge, Atkins, said to the jailer, ‘Do you use to bring prisoners before the court in this manner? You deserve to be fined ten pounds, for bringing them before the court covered.’ The jailer answered, ‘If you command me, I will take off their hats.’ To which the judge gave command, and the jailer’s man took them off. Then the judge said to Dewsbury, ‘What art thou here for?’ Dewsbury answered, ‘The mittimus will express what I was committed for; but a copy of it I am denied by the keeper of the jail.’ The next query of the judge was, ‘What is thy name?’ And the answer was, ‘Unknown to the world.’ ‘Let us hear,’ said the judge, ‘what name that is, that the world knows not.’ ‘It is,’ quoth Dewsbury, ‘known in the light, and none can know it, but he that hath it; but the name the world knows me by, is William Dewsbury.’ Then said the judge, ‘What countryman art thou?’ Dewsbury answered, ‘Of the land of Canaan.’ ‘That is far off,’ replied the judge; ‘Nay,’ said Dewsbury, ‘for all that dwell in God, are in the holy city, New Jerusalem, which comes down from Heaven, where the soul is in rest, and enjoys the love of God in Jesus Christ, in whom the Union is with the Father of light.’ To this the judge returned, ‘That is true; but are you ashamed of your country? Is it a disparagement for you to be born in England?’ ‘Nay,’ said Dewsbury, ‘I am free to declare that my natural birth was in Yorkshire, nine miles from York, towards Hull.’ Then the judge said, ‘You pretend to be extraordinary men, and to have an extraordinary knowledge of God.’ To which Dewsbury replied, ‘We witness the work of regeneration to be an extraordinary work, wrought in us by the Spirit of God.’ ‘But,’ said the judge, ‘the apostles wrought with their hands in their callings.’ ‘They had,’ answered Dewsbury, ‘callings in the world, some were fishermen, Paul, a tent-maker: but when they were called to the ministry of Christ, they left their callings to follow Christ, whither he led them by his Spirit, to preach the word: and I had a calling in the world, as they had, and in it did abide, until the Father revealed his Son in me, and called me from my calling I had in the world, to preach the eternal word he had made known to me in the great work of regeneration.’ ‘Why,’ queried the judge, ‘didst thou not abide in thy own country, and teach people in those parts?’ ‘There I did stay,’ returned Dewsbury, ‘until I was called from thence to go to where I was led by the Spirit of the Lord; and as many as are led by the Spirit of God, are the sons and daughters of God; and they that have not the Spirit of Christ are none of his.’ To this the judge said, ‘You say well; for we must in charity conclude, that every one in this place hath the Spirit of God in him: but how do you know that you are guided by the Spirit of God?’ ‘They that have the Spirit of God,’ replied Dewsbury, ‘are known by their fruits: and he that believeth in Jesus Christ, and is guided by his Spirit, hath the witness in himself.’ ‘That is true,’ said the judge, ‘yet notwithstanding, I see by your carriage, that what my brother Hale did at the last assizes, in requiring bond for your good behaviour, he might justly do it; for you are against magistrates and ministers.’ But Dewsbury returned, ‘Make that manifest wherein we are against them.’

Then said the judge to the clerk, ‘Robert Guy, what have you against these men?’ And he gave relation of what Dewsbury had said to priest Andrews in the steeple-house. Dewsbury then giving an account of the matter of fact, and how the thing happened; and that it was not any breach of the law of the nation; the judge resumed, ‘But in that you are found wandering in the country, you break the law; for there is an old law, that if any did go from their dwellings to travel in the country without a certificate from some justice, they were to be taken as wandering persons.’ To this Dewsbury said, ‘If there be any such law, read it to us; and if there be such a law, thou knowest in thy conscience it is contrary to the scripture; for the apostles and ministers of Christ went to and fro in the country, preaching the word of eternal life; and there were added to the church daily such as should be saved; and the number of the saints and brethren daily increased; and the law that is in force in this nation, doth allow all who profess faith in Jesus Christ, to have free liberty to walk in the faith, which is according to Scripture.’ To this the judge said, ‘Thou hast an eloquent tongue, and thou art proud of it.’ ‘Pride I deny,’ replied Dewsbury, ‘but the Truth I witness, which will judge pride, and torment all that live in it, until it be destroyed.’ The judge then spoke to the other prisoners; and though he behaved himself moderately, yet he could not resolve to set them at liberty; but they were continued in prison, though they had been kept there above twenty-nine weeks.

One of these prisoners was John Huchin, whom they had nothing else to charge with, but that being come into the steeple-house at Wellingborough, he stood there peaceably in silence, but before half the sermon was over, priest Andrews commanded to have him taken away; which was done by the church-warden, Henry Hensnan, who carried him to an alehouse, where it was told him by the constable, that if he would not come into the church in the afternoon he should be set free. But he refusing to make such a promise, though they let him alone then, yet some days after, a constable came to his master’s shop, where he was working, and took him away without showing any warrant.

Another of the prisoners was Michael Pattison, who having been in the same steeple-house, and stood peaceably in silence until priest Andrews had done, and the people were going away, said to him, ‘Friend, canst thou witness this to be the word of the Lord, that thou hast spoken here before the people?’ But this so offended the priest, that he commanded the officers to take Michael away, which the constable, John Brown, did.

Thomas Goodyar, who was also one of the prisoners, being come to Northampton, to visit his friends in prison there, it was denied him by the jailer; and he meeting the mayor and some aldermen in the streets, spoke to them about persecution; but one of the aldermen struck off his hat, and said he would teach him better manners, than to stand and talk before the mayor with his hat on. Then they required sureties for his good behaviour; and he told them, that he was bound to good behaviour by the righteous law of God; and refusing to find sureties, he was taken up in the street, and sent to prison without mittimus, or further examination. But I will not detain my reader any longer with these prisoners; for if I should relate all occurrences of this nature that are come to my knowledge, and under what unreasonable pretences, even such that were as yet not fully entered into the communion of those called Quakers, were committed to prison, I must write much more than I might be able to do, though my life should yet be lengthened considerably.

I find among my papers of this time, the names of about an hundred persons, who, for not paying tithes to the priests, and refusing to swear, suffered either by seizure of their cattle and goods, or imprisonment. Thomas Aldam, for not paying of tithes to the priest Thomas Rookby, of Warnsworth, was imprisoned at York in the year 1652, where he was kept above two years and a half, and besides had thirteen beeves and two horses taken from him.

But passing by a multitude of the like cases, I return again to G. Fox, whom I left at London. He, having had there several large meetings, went from thence to Colchester, where, with difficulty he visited James Parnel in prison. From Colchester he went to Ipswich, and so on to Norwich and Yarmouth, finding service every where.

Travelling further, in company with R. Hubberthorn, towards Lynn, and by the way being in bed at an inn, a constable and officers came thither, being sent with an hue and cry from a justice of peace, to search for two horsemen that rid upon grey horses and in grey clothes; a house being broken up at night, as was reported. Now though they said they were honest and innocent men, yet a guard with halberds and pikes was set upon them that night, and in the morning they were carried before a justice of peace about five miles off. The justice grew angry because they did not put off their hats to him: but G. Fox told him, he had been before the protector, and he was not offended at his hat; why then should he be offended at it, who was but one of his servants? The justice, having examined them, said, he believed they were not the men that had broken open the house; but he was sorry that he had no more against them. But G. Fox told him, he ought not to be sorry for not having evil against them; but rather to be glad. The justice, though stirred up by the constable to send them to prison, yet let them go. G. Fox being thus set at liberty, travelled on to Lynn, from whence he went to Sutton, where he had a great meeting, many people from other places being come thither, and also the mayor’s wife of Cambridge; and many hundreds were convinced of the truth he preached. From thence he passed to Cambridge, and though the scholars were exceeding rude, yet he got safe into an inn. In the dark of the evening, the mayor of the town came, and fetched him to his house, whither some friendly people were sent for, and he had a meeting there. Next morning he departed the town and returned to London, where he staid some time.

In this year came out the oath of abjuration against King Charles, whereupon he wrote to the protector, acquainting him, that many of his friends, who could not swear for conscience sake, suffered much on this account.

From London he went to Leicestershire, and coming to Whetstone, where formerly he had been taken by colonel Hacker, he now had a great meeting, to which Hacker’s wife, and his marshal came, and they, besides many more, were convinced of G. Fox’s ministry: who going from thence after having passed through many places, came again to London, where meeting James Nayler, and casting his eyes upon him, he was struck with a fear concerning him; being, as it were, under a sense of some great disaster that was like to befal him.

In this year Edward Burrough writ a letter to the protector, wherein he told him, that the Lord’s controversy was against him, because he had not been faithful in God’s work; but that he had taken his rest and ease upon a lofty mountain of pride and vain glory; having set up himself to be worshipped, and exalting his own horn, without giving glory and honour to God. Moreover, that he had not performed his vows made to the Lord in the day of distress; and that now he suffered grievous oppression, cruelty, and tyranny to be acted in his name, by unjust imprisonments, and persecution of the Lord’s people. That therefore the Lord would bring his judgments upon him, except he did repent. How boldly soever Burrough wrote in this letter to Cromwell, yet I do not find that he showed himself angry because of it; but yet he hearkened too much to the flatteries of those teachers, who, being now entered into the possession of the Episcopalians, exalted him as their idol, by their applause. And he revering them as such who could strengthen his authority with the people, winked at the grievous persecution, by their instigation carried on against the Quakers, so called.

In the meanwhile there were many malcontents, who could not bear that Cromwell should force the members of parliament to consent to make no change in the government then established, and would not suffer any one to sit in the house, without having promised by writing, not to oppose, or give his consent there, to the change of the said government. This gave occasion, that even some of those who had been his eminent friends, now did not stick to reprove him sharply.

Among these was lieutenant-colonel John Lilburn, who being an extraordinary bold man, very stiff and inflexible, had more than once showed himself a public asserter of the people’s liberties and freedoms; for which he had been prosecuted at law; viz. once in the year 1645, when he was imprisoned as guilty of treason, but was discharged; and afterwards, in the year 1649, when, having published several books, to expose to the public the arbitrary power he thought was exercised in the government, he was confined in the tower: and, after having been prisoner about seven months, was impeached of high treason. But he so vigorously defended his cause, that though strong persuasions had been used to move the jury to bring him in guilty, yet he so far prevailed, that at length he was set at liberty again: though I find that once he was whipt for a crime laid to his charge, of which he gloried publicly. And when Cromwell had usurped the supreme power, Lilburn made bold to charge him, both by word of mouth, and by writing, with falseness and tyranny; and he went on at that rate, that Cromwell, foreseeing that if this man continued thus to expose his doings, he should not be able to maintain his credit and authority, ordered him to be taken into custody, and impeached of high treason. When Lilburn, thus accused, appeared at the bar, he behaved himself with that undauntedness, and so defended his cause, that he seemed less to plead for his life, than for the freedom of his country; and, boldly answering what was objected to him, said that what he had done was not only no high treason; but the government was such, that no high treason could be committed against it; and that therefore all true Englishmen were obliged to oppose the tyranny that was exercised. He also said that having been once in favour with Cromwell, he might have attained to great preferment, if he would have been quiet; but that he having thought this unlawful, it was now resolved to have his life taken away; which he did not fear, because he asserted a good cause. Thus vigorously Lilburn pleaded, and he defended his cause with such strong arguments, that the jury brought him in not guilty, notwithstanding the endeavours of the judges to the contrary.

Now, though according to law, he must have been set at liberty, yet Cromwell would not consent to it, but kept him prisoner: and because he indeed feared him, as one that would weaken his government, he ordered him to be carried from one prison to another; till at length he came to be confined in the castle of Dover, in which town lived Luke Howard, mentioned before; who thereby having occasion to speak with Lilburn concerning religion, gave him such convincing reasons for his professions, as prevailed upon Lilburn to receive the Truth; as he himself signified in a letter he writ to his wife; who having visited him in prison, afterwards writ to him this following exhortation.

‘My dear,

‘Retain a sober patient spirit within thee, which I am confident thou shalt see shall be of more force to recover thee, than all thy keen metal hath been. I hope God is doing a work upon thee and me too, as shall make us study ourselves more than we have done.’

These words were so acceptable to Lilburn, that repeating them in his letter to her, he answered thus, after many other passages.

‘O, my dear love!

‘I am deeply already entered into my part of it: the mighty power of God enable thee to get in too, and also to go through thine, and effectually to go cheerfully and willingly along hand in hand with me, which would render thee abundantly more amiable, lovely, and pleasant in mine eyes, although thou wert then clothed in rags, than thou couldest be to me in the drawing back, or standing still where thou wast when I last saw thee, though therein thou wert clothed all over with rich and outwardly glistering earthly diamonds, and in the greatest of earthly prosperity. I am sorry thou art so straitly put to it for money; but to live upon God by faith, in the depth of straits, is the lively condition of a Christian. O that thy spirit could attain unto this, according to thy desire in thy letter, and my own present frame of spirit!----I now can contentedly feed savourily upon bread and cheese, and small beer alone, for saving of money. And for my liberty, about which thou so weariest and spendest thyself, as thy letter acquaints me thou dost, I can say to thee, that I am in my present temper of spirit, ready really with Peter, at the sight of the glorious transfiguration of Christ, to say, it is good being here. For here in Dover Castle, through the loving-kindness of God, I have met with a more clear, plain, and evident knowledge of God and myself, and his gracious outgoings to my soul, than ever I had in all my lifetime, not excepting my glorying and rejoicing condition under the bishops.--And now submissively and heartily I can say, the will of my heavenly Father be done in me, by me, and for me; in whose will I leave thee and thine, with all thy and my friends, and rest

Thine in the strength of renewedness of true love, JOHN LILBURN.’

From Dover Castle, the place of the present enjoyed delightful dispensation of the eternal, everlasting love of God unto my soul. The 4th of the Tenth Month, 1655.

Whilst Lilburn was prisoner here, Cromwell, as it seemed, would have released him, if he would have signed a declaration that he would never draw a sword against his government. But Lilburn as yet not being fully convinced, that to refrain from the use of the carnal sword, was the duty of a true Christian, refused; thinking that though G. Fox had signed such a declaration, yet this did not become him, because he did not perfectly approve that point of self-denial. But however, continuing in faithfulness, to persevere in respect of that knowledge he had already attained to, he became, in process of time, such an asserter of the true Christian life, that in a paper, which at his desire was given out in print, he expressed himself thus:

‘I have now the faithful and true witness in my own soul, that the Lord himself is become, within me, the teacher of my soul, and enabler of me to walk in a measure of his pure ways and paths; yea, and so clear a teacher within me is he already become unto me, as that I with confidence believe my inward teacher shall never now more be removed into a corner; but is, and shall be, as a continual voice speaking in my ears, “This is the way, walk in it:” by which divine teaching, I am now daily taught to die to sin, and led up by it into living power, to be raised up, and enabled to live in a pure measure of righteousness; and by which inward spiritual teachings, I am, I say again, led up into power in Christ, by which I particularly can, and do hereby witness, that I am already dead, or crucified to the very occasions, and real grounds of all outward wars, and carnal sword-fightings, and fleshly bustlings and contests; and that therefore confidently I now believe, I shall never hereafter be an user of a temporal sword more, nor a joiner with those that so do. And this I do here solemnly declare, not in the least to avoid persecution, or for any politic ends of my own, or in the least for the satisfaction of the fleshly wills of any of my great adversaries, or for satisfying the carnal will of my poor weak afflicted wife; but by the special movings and compulsions of God now upon my soul, am I in truth and righteousness compelled thus to declare; that so I may take away from my adversaries, all their fig-leaf covers, or pretences, for their continuing of my every way unjust bonds. And that thereby, if yet I must be an imprisoned sufferer, it may from this day forward, be for the Truth as it is in Jesus; which Truth I witness to be truly professed and practised by the savouriest of people called Quakers.

‘And to this my present declaration, which I exceedingly long and earnestly desire to have in print, and for which I know that I can cheerfully and assuredly lay down my life, if I be called to witness the truth of it, I subscribe my name,

JOHN LILBURN.’

From my innocent and every way causeless captivity in Dover Castle, the place of my soul’s delightful and contentful abode, where I have really and substantially found that which my soul many years hath sought diligently after, and with unsatisfied longingness thirsted to enjoy: this present First-day of the week, being the 4th of the Third Month, 1655.

It sufficiently appears by this, that Lilburn did not think that this declaration would procure his liberty; and he guessed not wrong; for before he was released, Cromwell died. Lilburn being then discharged from his confinement, continued steadfast to the doctrine of the Truth he had embraced, and died at London in the year 1660. But being advanced in the time, I go therefore back a little, and intend in the sequel to give a more circumstantial description of Cromwell’s death.

And thus I conclude this book with the year 1655, in which year there was a plot of the royalists against Cromwell; and in Nottinghamshire they had already surprised some places; and towards the West the city of Salisbury. The young king, (Charles,) was now come from Cologne into Zealand, to be the nearer if the attempt succeeded. But his time of ruling was not yet come; for the cavaliers were soon forced to give way to the power of Cromwell: and the design being thus squashed, king Charles returned to Cologne. In the meanwhile, Cromwell, to raise his esteem abroad, sent a fleet, under admiral Penn, to the West Indies, and another, under the command of admiral Blake, towards the Mediterranean sea.

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