The Ninth Book: 1668-1676

The Ninth Book: 1668-1676

1668.

In the beginning of the year 1668, William Penn, son of admiral sir William Penn, began to show himself openly an adherer to, and an asserter of the doctrine of those called Quakers. He had been trained up in the university of Oxford, and he was afterwards by his father sent into France, where for some time he lived, (as himself once told me,) with the famous preacher, Moyses Amyraut. After a considerable stay in that kingdom, being returned and come into Ireland, he once went to a meeting of those called Quakers, which being disturbed, he, though finely clothed as a young gentleman, and wearing a great perriwig, was with others carried from thence to prison, where by his fellow prisoners, he was more confirmed in that doctrine which he already apprehended to be truth. But when it come to be known that he was the son of Admiral Penn, he was soon released. This change did not a little grieve his father, who intended to have trained him up for the court; but now saw his eldest son in the early part, being about the twenty-second year of his age, entered into the society of the despised Quakers. Several means were used, nay even his necessaries were withheld from him, to draw him off, if possible, and bring him to other resolutions. But all devices and wiles proved in vain: for he continued steadfast, and conversed much with Josiah Coale, who likewise in his young years came over to the Quakers.

This summer Stephen Crisp was prisoner at Ipswich, where the number of friends was considerably increased by his ministry. I, with some other friends of Holland, visited him there in prison, and we found him in a cheerful condition, as well contented as if he had been at liberty: for he suffered for the ministry of the gospel, and continued to preach in prison when his friends came to visit him.

The journey which G. Fox made this year through England and Wales I pass by. The latter part of the summer he returned to London, where with great satisfaction I heard him preach several times before a numerous auditory: for about that time, the meetings of dissenters were not disturbed at London, but all was so quiet, that the Quakers, so called, were suffered to build a large meeting place in Gracechurch-street, where the first time a meeting was kept, I was present, and saw G. Fox, and heard him preach there, besides some others.

Whilst he was at London, he gave a visit to esquire Marsh, who now was a justice of the peace in Middlesex, and it so happened that he was at dinner when G. Fox came to his house, which so pleased him, that he kindly invited him to sit down with him to dinner, but G. Fox courteously excused himself. There were at that time several great persons at table with justice Marsh, who said to one of them, (a Papist,) ‘Here is a Quaker you have not seen before.’ From this the said Papist took occasion to ask G. Fox, whether he did own the christening of children? To which G. Fox answered, there was no Scripture for any such practice. ‘What!’ said he, ‘not for christening children?’ ‘Nay,’ replied G. Fox, ‘the one baptism by the one Spirit into one body, we own; but to throw a little water on a child’s face, and to call that baptizing and christening it, there is no Scripture for that.’ Then the Roman Catholic asked him, whether he did not own the Catholic Faith? ‘Yes,’ said G. Fox, but he added, that neither the pope nor the Papists were in that Catholic Faith; since the true faith worked by love, and purified the heart; and if they were in that faith which gives victory, by which they might have access to God, they would not talk to the people of a purgatory after death; neither would they ever use prisons, racks, or fines, to force others to their religion; because that was not the practice of the apostles and primitive Christians; but it was the practice of the faithless Jews and heathens, to use such forcing means. ‘But,’ continued G. Fox, ‘seeing thou art a great and leading man among the Papists, and sayest, there is no salvation but in your church, I desire to know of thee, what it is that bringeth salvation in your church,’ To this the Roman Catholic answered, ‘A good life:’ ‘And nothing else?’ said G. Fox. ‘Yes,’ replied the other, ‘good works.’ ‘Is this your doctrine and principle,’ said G. Fox. ‘Yes,’ said he. Then G. Fox replied, ‘Neither thou nor the pope, nor any of the Papists know, what it is that brings salvation.’ Then the Roman Catholic asked him, what brings salvation into your church? G. Fox answered, ‘That which brought salvation to the church in the apostles’ days, namely, the grace of God, which the Scripture says brings salvation, and hath appeared to all men; and teaches us to deny ungodliness, and worldly lusts, and to live godly, righteously, and soberly in this present world. By this it appears, it is not the good works, nor the good life, that brings the salvation, but the grace.’ ‘What!’ said the Roman Catholic, ‘doth this grace, that brings salvation, appear unto all men?’ ‘Yes,’ said G. Fox. ‘I deny that,’ returned the other. ‘All that deny that,’ replied G. Fox, ‘are sect-makers, and are not in the universal faith, grace, and truth, which the apostles were in.’ Then the Roman Catholic began to speak about the mother-church, which gave occasion to much discourse, and G. Fox asserted, that if any outward place had claim to be the mother-church, above all other churches, that Jerusalem had much more right to it than Rome. But in conclusion he said, that there was no other mother-church but Jerusalem, which is above, and is free, and which is the mother of us all, as saith the apostle. Upon this subject G. Fox did so paraphrase, that esquire Marsh said at length to the Roman Catholic, ‘O you do not know this man. If he would but come to church now and then, he would be a brave man.’

After some other discourse together, G. Fox, got an opportunity to go aside with the said Marsh into another room, and to desire that he who had much of the management of affairs, would prevent the persecution of his friends as much as possibly he could. Marsh showed himself not averse to this, but said, he was in a strait how to act between the Quakers and some other dissenters. ‘For,’ said he, ‘you say ye cannot swear, and the Independents, Baptists, and Fifth-monarchy people, say also, they cannot swear.’ To this G. Fox said, ‘I will show thee how to distinguish: the members of those societies thou speakest of, do swear in some cases, but we cannot swear in any case. If any one should steal their cows or horses, and thou shouldest ask them whether they would swear they were theirs? Many of them would readily do it. But if thou triest our friends, they cannot swear for their own goods. Therefore when thou puttest the oath of allegiance to any of them, ask them whether they can swear in any other case; as for their cow or horse? Which if they be really of us, they cannot do, though they can hear witness to the truth.’ Then G. Fox gave him a relation of a trial in Berkshire, viz. ‘A thief having stolen two beasts from one of those called Quakers, was imprisoned; but somebody having informed the judge, that the man that prosecuted was a Quaker, and he, (the judge,) perceiving that he would not swear, would not hear what the man could say, but tendered him the oath of allegiance and supremacy, which the said Quaker refusing, the judge premunired him, and let the thief go free.’

Esquire Marsh having heard this relation, said that judge was a wicked man. And by what G. Fox had told him, he sufficiently perceived how he might distinguish between the Quakers and other people. True it is, the Baptists in those days made some profession of the unlawfulness of swearing, but when they came to be tried on that account, they soon desisted from that part of their profession, as will be shown more at large in the sequel. But they and the Independents, &c. were very loth to take the oath of allegiance, because of a grudge they had to the government; and this was well known to those that were at the helm. But the innocent Quakers were continually exposed to the malice of their persecutors, and bore the hardest shock of the laws made against dissenters. But now justice Marsh did not omit to free the Quakers from persecution as much as was in his power; for he kept several from being premunired in those parts where he was a justice. And when sometimes he could not avoid sending those that were brought before him to prison, he sent some only for a few hours, or for a night. And even this was such hard work to him, that at length he told the king, he had sent some of the Quakers to prison contrary to his conscience, and that he could not do so any more. He also advised the king to give liberty of conscience: and he was so serviceable to stop the violence of persecution, that about this time little was heard about disturbing of meetings.

About the forepart of this year, if I mistake not, there happened a case at Edmondsbury, which I cannot well pass by in silence, viz. A certain young woman being delivered of a bastard child, destroyed it, and was therefore committed to prison: whilst she was in jail, it is said William Bennit, a prisoner for conscience-sake, came to her, and in discourse asked her, whether during the course of her life, she had not many times transgressed against her conscience? And whether she had not often thereupon felt secret checks and inward reproofs, and been troubled in her mind because of the evil committed; and this he did in such a convincing way, that she not only assented to what he laid before her, but his discourse so reached her heart, that she came clearly to see, that if she had not been so stubborn and disobedient to those inward reproofs, in all probability she would not have come to such a miserable fall as now she had: for man not desiring the knowledge of God’s ways, and departing from him, is left helpless, and cannot keep himself from evil, though it may be such as formerly he would have abhorred in the highest degree, and have said with Hazael, ‘What, is thy servant a dog, that he should do this great thing?’ W. Bennit thus opening matters to her, did by his wholesome admonition so work upon her mind, that she who never had conversed with the Quakers, and was altogether ignorant of their doctrine, now came to apprehend that it was the grace of God that brings salvation, which she so often had withstood; and that this grace had not yet quite forsaken her, but now made her sensible of the greatness of her transgression. This consideration wrought so powerfully, that from a most grievous sinner, she became a true penitent, and with hearty sorrow she cried to the Lord, that it might please him not to hide his countenance. And continuing in this state of humiliation, and sincere repentance, and persevering in supplication, she felt in time some ease; and giving heed to the exhortations of the said Bennit, she attained at length to a sure hope of forgiveness by the precious blood of the immaculate Lamb, who died for the sins of the world.

Of this she gave manifest proofs at her trial before judge Matthew Hale, who having heard how penitent she was, would fain have spared her, having on purpose caused to be inserted in the indictment, that she had committed the fact wilfully and designedly. But she being asked according to the form, ‘Guilty or not guilty?’ Readily answered, ‘Guilty.’ This astonished the judge, who purposely had got the words wilfully and designedly inserted in the indictment, that from thence she might find occasion to deny the charge, and so to quash the indictment; and therefore he told her, that she seemed not duly to consider what she said; since it could not well be believed that such a one as she, who it may be inconsiderately had roughly handled her child, should have killed it wilfully and designedly. Here the judge opened a back door for her to avoid the penalty of death. But now the fear of God had got so much room in her heart, that no tampering would do; no fig leaves could serve her for a cover; for she knew now that this would have been adding sin to sin, and to cover herself with a covering, but not of God’s Spirit; and therefore she plainly signified to the court, that indeed she had committed the mischievous fact intendedly, thereby to hide her shame; and that she having sinned thus grievously, and being affected now with true repentance, she could by no means excuse herself, but was willing to undergo the punishment the law required; and therefore she could not but acknowledge herself guilty, since otherwise how could she expect forgiveness from the Lord? This undisguised and free confession, being spoken with a serious countenance, did so affect the judge, that tears trickling down his face, he sorrowfully said, ‘Woman, such a case as this I never met with before; perhaps you, who are but young, and speak so piously, as being struck to the heart with repentance, might yet do much good in the world: but now you force me, that ex officio I must pronounce sentence of death against you, since you will admit of no excuse.’ Standing to what she had said, the judge pronounced sentence of death. And when afterward she came to the place of execution, she made a pathetical speech to the people, exhorting the spectators, especially those that were young, ‘To have the fear of God before their eyes, to give heed to his secret reproofs for evil, and so not to grieve and resist the good spirit of the Lord; which she herself not having timely minded, it had made her run on in evil, and thus proceeding from wickedness to wickedness, it had brought her to this dismal exit. But since she firmly trusted to God’s infinite mercy, nay surely believed her sins, though of a bloody dye, to be washed off by the pure blood of Christ, she could contentedly depart this life.’ Thus she preached at the gallows the doctrine of the Quakers, so called, and gave heart-melting proofs that her immortal soul was to enter into paradise, as well as anciently that of the thief on the cross. I have been credibly informed by a person who had it from the mouths of such as were present at the execution, that in her request to God she prayed, that it might please him to give a visible sign, that she was received into his favour. And that though it was then a cloudy day, yet immediately after she was turned off, the clouds broke a little, and the sun for a few moments shined upon her face, and presently after ceased shining, and the sky continued overcast. She thus in a serious frame of mind, suffered death, which her crime justly deserved.

This year at London died Thomas Loe, a man of an excellent gift, who zealously had laboured in the ministry of the gospel in Ireland, and by his preaching had brought many over into the society of his friends, and among others also William Penn, to whom on his death-bed he spoke thus, ‘Bear thy cross, and stand faithful to God; then he will give thee an everlasting crown of glory, that shall not be taken from thee. There is no other way which shall prosper than that which the holy men of old have walked in. God hath brought immortality to light, and life immortal is felt. Glory, glory to him, for he is worthy of it. His love overcomes my heart, nay, my cup runs over: glory be to his name for ever.’ No wonder that this speech of one that was at the point of entering into eternity, confirmed William Penn exceedingly in that doctrine, which he had now embraced as truth. At another time Thomas Loe said to his friends that stood at his bed-side, ‘Be not troubled, the love of God overcomes my heart.’ And to George Whitehead and others he said, ‘The Lord is good to me; this day he hath covered me with his glory. I am weak, but am refreshed to see you. The Lord is good to me.’ Another friend asking him how it was with him, he answered, ‘I am near leaving you, I think: but am as well in my spirit as I can desire: I bless the Lord: I never saw more of the glory of God than I have done this day.’ And when it was thought he was departing, he began to sing praises to the Lord, saying, ‘Glory, glory to thee for ever!’ Which did not a little affect the standers by, thus to hear a dying man sing. And in this glorious state he departed this life the 5th of October.

Now since persecution was at a stand this year at London, those of other persuasions sometimes bitterly inveighed from the pulpit against the Quakers, and would challenge them also to a dispute. William Burnet and Jeremy Ives, eminent Baptist teachers, had encountered George Whitehead this summer at Chertsey, and Horn, in Surry, about the resurrection, and Christ’s body in heaven, endeavouring to blacken the Quakers in respect of those points, because they kept to Scripture words, from which the others departing, advanced very gross absurdities.

One Thomas Vincent, a Presbyterian teacher, was much disturbed because some of his auditory were gone over to the society of the Quakers; and to render them odious, he and his fellow teachers accused them of erroneous doctrine concerning the Trinity; and this was chiefly because they did not approve of such expressions as were not to be found in the holy Scriptures, as that of Three persons. On this subject a dispute was held in the Presbyterian meeting-house at London, between the said Vincent on one side, and George Whitehead on the other. That which Vincent and his brethren advanced first, was an accusation, that the Quakers held damnable doctrine. George Whitehead denying this, would have given the people an information of the principles of his friends; but Vincent instead thereof, stated this question, ‘Do you own one Godhead, subsisting in three distinct and separate persons?’ Whitehead and those with him denying this as an unscriptural doctrine, Vincent framed this syllogism.

‘There are Three that hear record in heaven, the Father, the Word, and the Holy Ghost: and these three are one.

‘These are either three manifestations, three operations, three substances, or three somethings else besides subsistences.

‘But they are not three manifestations, three operations, three substances, nor three any things else besides subsistences.

Ergo, ‘Three subsistences.’

G. Whitehead rejected these terms, as not to be found in Scripture, not deducible from the 1 John, v. 7, the place Vincent instanced. And therefore he desired an explanation of those terms, insomuch as God did not use to wrap up his truths in heathenish metaphysics, but in plain language. But whatever was said, no better explanation could be obtained, than person, or the mode of a substance. G. Whitehead and William Penn, who also was there, alleged several places from Scripture, proving God’s complete unity: and they queried how God was to be understood, if in an abstracted sense from his substance? But instead of answering the question, they concluded it a point more fit for admiration than disputation. Then W. Penn denied the minor proposition of Vincent’s syllogism; ‘For,’ said he, ‘no one substance can have three distinct subsistences, and preserve its own unity: for every subsistence will have its own substance; so that three distinct subsistences, or manners of beings, will require three distinct substances or beings: consequently three Gods: for if the infinite godhead subsists in three separate manners or forms, then is not any one of them a perfect and complete subsistence without the other two: so parts, and something finite is in God; or if infinite, then three distinct infinite subsistences; and what is this, but to assert three Gods, since none is infinite but God? On the contrary, there being an inseparability betwixt the substance and its subsistence, the unity of substance will not admit a Trinity of incommunicable or distinct subsistences.’

After several words on both sides, G. Whitehead, to bring this strange doctrine nearer to the capacity of the people, comparing their three persons to three apostles, said, he did not understand, how Paul, Peter, and John could be three persons and one apostle. At which one Maddocks, one of Vincent’s assistants, framed this odd syllogism; ‘He that scornfully and reproachfully compares our doctrine of the blessed Trinity of Father, Son, and Spirit, one in essence, but three in persons, to three finite men, as Paul, Peter, and John, is a blasphemer. But you, G. Whitehead, have done so. Ergo.’ A rash conclusion; but how firm, let the judicious reader determine. I have no mind to enter further into this quarrel, since the parties on both sides went away unsatisfied: for Vincent had not been able to prove the doctrine of the Quakers damnable, as he had asserted. But his passion had transported him, as well as when he said from the pulpit to those of his society, that he had as lief they should go to a bawdy-house, as to frequent the Quakers’ meetings, because of their erroneous and damnable doctrines. And pointing to the window he further said, ‘If there should stand a cup of poison, I would rather drink it, than suck in their damnable doctrines.’ But this untimely zeal did not profit him; for it gave occasion to some of his hearers to inquire into the doctrines of the Quakers; and thus some came to be convinced of the truth thereof.

Now since the aforesaid dispute made a great noise at London, William Penn published a book with this title, The Sandy Foundation Shaken, in which he explained the points controverted, and defended his positions with good reason and the Holy Scriptures. But yet this book, which he himself spread, caused such a stir, that it was evil spoken of, and not long after he was committed to the Tower, and some thought it was not without his father’s being acquainted with it, perhaps to prevent a worse treatment.

This was at the latter end of the year, about which time Josiah Coale fell into a sickness, which took him off the stage of this life; he had languished long, and yet did not at all spare his voice, but was used both in preaching and praying so to raise it, that he spent his natural strength exceedingly, though he was yet as in a flourishing age; nay, it was his life and joy to declare the gospel, and to proclaim the word of God, for which he had an excellent ability: and when he spoke to the ungodly world, an awful gravity appeared in his countenance, and his words were like a hammer and a sharp sword. But though he was a son of thunder, yet his agreeable speech flowed from his mouth like a pleasant stream, to the consolation and comfort of pious souls. Oh! how pathetically have I heard him pray, when he, as transported and ravished, humbly beseeched God, that it might please him to reach to the hard-hearted, to support the godly, and to preserve them steadfast: nay, with what a charming and melodious voice did he sound forth the praises of the Most High in his public prayers! but his work was now done, he had finished his course, and a time of rest from his labours was come. Although he grew weak, yet his manly spirit and great courage bore him up for some time; but his disease, which seemed to be a kind of consumption, at length so increased, that he was fain to keep within doors for several weeks; then mending a little, he went abroad again, and came into a meeting in London, where I beheld his countenance much unlike what it used to be, for it clearly manifested his bodily indisposition: nevertheless he preached with a godly zeal, and his salutary exhortations flowed like a stream from his lips, which seemed to be touched with a coal from the altar of heaven, whilst he was preaching the gospel to the edification of his hearers. Now he began to lift up his voice again to that degree, that judging from thence, one would have supposed him to have been pretty well restored: but the ground of his distemper not being taken away, he was soon necessitated to keep at home again; and his natural strength wasted away so fast, and he so declined, that his death began to be expected, which not very long after fell out accordingly. A little before he died, G. Fox being come to see him, asked him, whether any thing lay upon him to write to the friends in England? But he signified that he had nothing to write, only desired that his love might be remembered to them, and desired G. Fox to pray to God, that he might have an easy passage, for he felt his end approaching. He having complied with his desire, and seeing him begin to be heavy, bid him go and lie on the bed: which J. Coale did; but finding this, as it seems, more uneasy, with the help of his friends he rose again, and sat on the side of the bed; and his friends sitting about him, he felt himself so lively and powerfully raised, that he spoke to them after this manner:

‘Well, friends, be faithful to God, and have a single eye to his glory; and seek nothing for self, or your own glory; and if any thing of that arise, judge it down by the power of the Lord God, that so ye may be clear in his sight, and answer his witness in all people; then will ye have the reward of life. For my part, I have walked in faithfulness with the Lord; and I have thus far finished my testimony, and have peace with the Lord: his majesty is with me, and his crown of life is upon me. So mind my love to all friends.’ Then he ceased speaking; and a little time after he said to Stephen Crisp, ‘Dear heart, keep low in the holy seed of God, and that will be thy crown for ever.’ After a short pause, he said, ‘a minister of Christ, must walk as he walked.’

A little afterwards fainting, and being stayed by his friends, he departed in their arms, without the least sigh or groan, but as one falling into a sweet sleep; and being filled with heavenly consolations, he passed from this mortal life, to that which is immortal, having attained the age of thirty-five years and two months, and preached the gospel about twelve years. He had travelled much in the West Indies, sustained great hardships, and laboured in the ministry at his own charge, being freely given up to spend his substance in the service of the Lord. And though he went through many persecutions, imprisonments, and other adversities, yet he was not afraid of danger, but always valiant; and continued in an unmarried state, that so he might more freely labour in the heavenly harvest, and many were converted by his ministry. He lived to see the desire of his heart accomplished; for when first he was raised up to true goodliness, being under the sense of his former transgressions, he cried to the Lord for deliverance, and said with David, ‘If thou, O God, wilt help me thoroughly, then will I teach transgressors thy ways, and sinners shall be converted unto thee.’ He had been long in a mournful state, though naturally of a cheerful temper; and having himself passed through a path of sorrow, he was the more able to comfort the mourners of Zion. The church was very sensible of this great loss; and I have reason to think his corpse was attended to the grave by more than a thousand of his friends, among whom I was then one; and his burying being very public and well known, drew the eyes of many spectators towards it. Let none think it strange, that I have here expatiated somewhat largely, seeing he was indeed dear to me, and I have his kind usage yet in fresh remembrance; for the piety of my mother, whom he had seen in England, caused him to give me marks of the esteem he bore to her memory: and his excellent endowments so affected me, that I was eager to go to that meeting where I heard he was likely to be; nay, I imagined I saw something in him so extraordinary valuable, that I bore a very reverent respect to him, and the more, because difference of age deprived me of a familiar conversation with him.

1669.

On the 20th of the First month called January, 1668-9, Francis Howgill, after a sickness of nine days, died in the prison at Appleby, where he had been kept above five years. During his sickness he was in perfect good understanding, and often very fervent in prayer, uttering many comfortable expressions, to the great refreshment of those about him. He was often heard to say, ‘That he was content to die, and praised God for the many sweet enjoyments and refreshments he had received in that his prison-house-bed, whereon he lay, freely forgiving all who had a hand in his restraint.’ And said he, ‘This was the place of my first imprisonment for the truth, here at this town, and if it be the place of my laying down the body, I am content.’ Several persons of note, inhabitants of Appleby, as the mayor, and others, came to visit him; and some of these praying that God might speak peace to his soul, he returned, ‘he hath done it.’ About two days before his departure, being attended by his wife, and several of his friends, he said to them: ‘Friends, as to matter of words, ye must not expect much more from me, neither is there any great need of it, or to speak of matters of faith to you who are satisfied: only that ye remember my dear love to all friends who inquire of me; for I ever loved friends well, or any in whom truth appeared. Truly God will own his people, as he hath ever hitherto done, and as we have daily witnessed; for no sooner had they made the act of banishment, to the great suffering of many good friends, but the Lord stirred up enemies against them, whereby the violence of their hands was taken off. I say, again, God will own his people, even all those that are faithful. And as for me, I am well, and content to die. I am not at all afraid of death; but one thing was of late in my heart, and that I intended to have written to George Fox and others, even that which I have observed, viz. that this generation passeth fast away; we see many good and precious friends within these few years have been taken from us; and therefore friends had need to watch, and be very faithful, that we may leave a good, and not a bad savour, to the next succeeding generation; for we see that it is but a little time that any of us have to stay here.’ A few hours before he departed, some friends from other places being come to visit him, he inquired about their welfare, and prayed fervently, with many heavenly expressions, that the Lord by his mighty power, might preserve them out of all such things as would spot and defile. His voice then, by reason of his great weakness failed him, and a little after he recovering some strength, said, ‘I have sought the way of the Lord from a child, and lived innocently as among men; and if any inquire concerning my latter end, let them know that I die in the faith in which I lived, and suffered for.’ After these words, he spoke some others in prayer to God, and so sweetly finished his days in peace with the Lord, in the fiftieth year of his age.

He left a good name behind him amongst all who knew him.--Sometime before his sickness, considering this mutable state, and finding in himself some decay of nature, he made his will, in which, as his love was very dear to his brethren, with whom he had laboured in the ministry, so he gave to each of them a remembrance of his love; he left also a legacy to his poor friends in those parts where he lived.

For although his moveable goods were forfeited to the king for ever, yet the confiscation of his real estate was only for life; so that from thence having something left, he could dispose of it by his will.

During his imprisonment, he neglected not to comfort and strengthen his brethren by writing, effecting that by his pen, which he could not by word of mouth: he also defended his doctrine against those who opposed the same; and among others, he wrote a large treatise against oaths, contradicting the opinion of those who account it lawful to swear under the gospel.

About two years before his decease, he wrote an epistle of advice and counsel as his last will and testament to his daughter Abigail, a child whom he much loved, who was born in a time of deep exercises and trouble, which nevertheless by the Lord’s goodness he was patiently brought through; wherefore he named this child Abigail, signifying, the father’s joy. In this testament he gave her instructions for the future conduct of her life, the beginning whereof is thus:

‘Daughter Abigail, this is for thee to observe and keep, and take heed unto all the days of thy life, for the regulating thy life and conversation in this world, that thy life may be happy, and thy end blessed, and God glorified by thee in thy generation. I was not born to great possessions, or did inherit great matters in this world; but the Lord hath always endowed me with sufficiency and enough, and hath been as a tender father unto me, because my heart trusted in him, and did love the way of righteousness from a child. My counsel unto thee is, that thou remember thy Creator in the days of thy youth, and fear the Lord in thy youth, and learn to know him and serve him all thy days: first seek the kingdom of God and the righteousness thereof; it is not far from thee, it is within thee; it consists in life and power, and it stands in righteousness, truth, and equity, justice, mercy, long-suffering, patience, love, light, and holiness, this is the being and centre thereof; therefore seek not lo here, or lo there without thee, in this or that outward observation, for many seek there and never find it; but seek and thou shalt find, wait and thou shalt receive. If thou inquire, in what must I seek? and what must I wait in? and how must I seek? I inform thee, that thou must silence all thy own thoughts, and thou must turn thy mind to that which is pure, and holy, and good within thyself, and seek and wait in that in the light of Jesus Christ, wherewith thou art enlightened, which shows thee when thou dost evil, and checks and reproves; take heed unto that, and it will show the evil motions and thoughts; and as thou lovest it, it will subdue them, and preserve thee for the time to come out of evil: for though thou be born into the world a reasonable creature, yet thou must be born again, and be made a new creature, or else thou canst not enter into God’s kingdom; thou must know the seed of the kingdom in thyself, of which thou must be born and formed again into God’s image. I have told thee God hath sown it in thee, a grain of it, a measure of it, a portion of it, a measure of light and truth, of righteousness and holiness; keep in thy mind to that, and love it, and thou wilt feel the heavenly Father working in thee, and begetting thee to life through Jesus Christ that hath enlightened thee, and thou wilt feel the power of the Lord strengthening thee, in thy little, and making thee to grow in the immortal seed of his kingdom, and outgrow and overgrow all evil, so that thou wilt daily die to that, and have no pleasure in it, but in the Lord, and in his goodness and virtue shed abroad in thy heart, which thou wilt taste and feel within, and have joy and comfort therein: love the Lord with thy heart and soul, even him that made thee, and gave thee a being, and all things in heaven and earth; and still wait for the knowledge of him in thyself, he is not far from thee, but near unto thee, and unto all that call upon him in an upright heart; and do thou inquire of thy dear mother, she will inform thee, she knows him, and the way to life and peace, and hearken to her instruction: God is a spirit, of light, and life, and power, that searcheth the heart, and shows thee when thou dost, or thinkest, or speakest evil, and shows unto man or woman their thoughts. That which shows the evil, is good, and that which shows a lie, is truth; this is within, take heed to it, this is called God’s spirit in the Scriptures, believe in it, love it, and it will quicken thy heart to good, and it will subject the evil: here is thy teacher near thee, love it, and if thou act contrary, it will condemn thee; therefore take heed unto this spirit of truth, and it will enlighten and enliven thee, and will open thy understanding, and give thee to know what God is, and to do that which is good and acceptable in his sight; this spirit never errs, but leads out of all error into all truth. Be sober-minded in thy youth, and wait on the Lord within, hearken unto him. God is light immortal, life immortal, truth immortal, an everlasting eternal Spirit: he speaks spiritually and invisibly within the hearts and consciences of men and women: hear what he speaks, and obey his voice, and thy soul shall live; fear to offend him, or sin against him, for the wages of sin are death; therefore prize his love in thy young and tender years, and do thou read the Scriptures and Friends’ books, and take heed to what thou readest to obey it, as far as thou understandest; and pray often unto the Lord, that he will give thee his knowledge, and open thy understanding in the things of his kingdom; search thy heart often with the light of Christ in thee, manifest and bring thy deeds to it, that they may be tried; and examine thyself how the case stands betwixt the Lord and thee; and if thou seest thyself wrong, humble thyself, and be sorry, and turn unto him, and he will show thee mercy; and take heed for the time to come, that thou run not into the same evil again; keep thy heart clean, watch against the evil in thyself, in that which shows it; therein there is power, and thereby thou hast power to overcome all evil. And, dear child, mind not the pleasures of sin, which are but for a moment, and the end is misery; but keep under and cross thy will and affection, so thy mind will have no pleasure in the evil, but in good; and thou wilt feel the immortal seed springing up in thee, which God’s peace and love is to. O child! these are great and weighty things, not to be slighted. Accompany thyself always with them that fear the Lord, and fear and worship him in spirit and truth, and lead a holy and blameless life and conversation; deny them not, but love them, and suffer with them. Take heed that thou follow not the hireling teachers, who preach for gain and lucre, and abide not in Christ’s doctrine; believe them not, heed them not, they do people no good; but thou wilt see them thyself, they have an outside show of godliness sometimes, but deny the power of God and true holiness; remember I have told thee, who have had perfect knowledge of them. But be sure that thou let nothing separate thy love from God and his people; those are his people that keep his law, and obey Christ’s voice, and lead a holy life, and they were ever hated and belied, and persecuted, and evil-spoken of, always by bad and evil loose people; these are God’s people, and his love, and peace, and blessing is with them; do thou grow as a natural branch, (up among them,) of the living vine, and continue all thy days in obedience unto God’s will, and thou wilt feel joy and love in thy heart, which above all things covet after, and thou shalt attain and obtain everlasting peace, which the Lord grant unto thee, according to the riches of his mercy and love, which endure for ever and ever. Amen.

‘And now, Abigail, concerning thy well-being in this life, this is my advice and counsel unto thee; love thy dear mother, and ever obey her and honour her, and see thou grieve her not; be not stubborn nor wilful, but submit unto her, and be as an obedient child unto her, whose love and care hath been too great over thee and thy sisters, which hath brought too much trouble upon herself; learn in thy youth to read and write, and sew and knit, and all points of good labour that belong to a maid, and flee idleness and sloth, that nourisheth sin; and as thou growest up in years, labour in the affairs of the country, and beware of pride, and riotousness, and curiosity, but be well content with such apparel as thy mother will permit thee, that thou mayest be a good example unto others. Be not wanton, nor wild, nor light, but temperate, moderate, and chaste, and not forward in words, nor speech, but swift to hear, slow to speak; and do thou always live with thy mother, and be a help unto her, and cherish her in her old age and latter years, that she may be comforted in thee, and her soul may bless thee. Love thy sisters, and be always courteous to them and thy brother, encourage one another in good: and if thou live to be a woman of perfect years, keep thyself unspotted, and let not thy mind out after sports nor pastimes, the end of all those is sorrow: neither after young men; if thou have a desire to marry, do not thou seek a husband, but let a husband seek thee; and if thou live in God’s fear, and an honest life and virtuous, them that fear God will seek unto thee; let not thy affections out unto every one that proffers love, but be considerate, and above all things, choose one, (if thou dost marry,) that loves and fears the Lord, whose conversation and manner, and course of life, thou knowest well, before thou give consent. Be discreet and wise, hide nothing from thy mother, and she will advise thee, no doubt, for thy good; and if she be living, marry not without her consent: and if thou join to a husband, be sure thou love him in thy heart, and be obedient unto him, and honour him among all, so will his heart be more to thee, and his love increase; grieve him not, but be gentle, and easy to be intreated, and mind thy own business; and if the Lord give thee children, bring them up in God’s fear, and good exercise, and keep them in subjection unto thee, and be an example of virtue and holiness unto them, that the Lord’s blessing thou mayest feel in youth and in age, and all thy life long. O Abigail! remember these things, keep in mind these things, read often this writing over, get it copied over, and lay up my words in thy heart, and do them, so wilt thou be happy in this life, and in the life to come: these things I give thee in charge to observe, as my mind and will, and counsel unalterable unto thee, as witness hereof I have set my hand,

Thy dear father, FRANCIS HOWGILL.’

The 26th of the 5th Month, 1666.

In the beginning of this year the members of this society, held a general Yearly-meeting at London, which since that time, hath been used to be held there annually, in the week called Whitsun-week,[39] because at that time of the year it is commonly best travelling, &c. Several are deputed from all places to this meeting, and what concerns the church in general, is there treated on.

[39] It hath since been fixed to be held on the Second-day immediately following the third First-day in the 5th month.

Persecution for religion seemed now to be at a stand, which displeased some of the most rigid sort of churchmen, which we not only have already, but may again in due place demonstrate.

About this time, as I take it, a certain bishop said occasionally, that the Quakers by their unlimited freedom, increased much, and therefore it was very needful to take care of them, seeing they often had much greater assemblies than the national church; ‘For,’ said he, ‘at such a time I preached myself, and there were but a few hearers, when at the same time the Quakers’ meeting just by was crowded full;’ and thereupon he desired them to consider whether it was not high time to stop these sectaries? After he had set forth his matter at large, another lord then present among others, said, that indeed it seemed that the lord bishop had spoken what was very reasonable, that the sectaries had often more hearers than the national church-preachers, and that it was not strange to him that it displeased him, since he took so much upon himself: ‘For,’ said he, ‘his lordship observed, that he preached himself; and the professed Quakers, who had such great assemblies, preached Christ Jesus, and therefore no wonder that they had the more hearers.’ This was such a witty turn upon the bishop, as no doubt made him so sensible as not to think fit to enter upon the debate in a doubtful dispute, for it is observable, this lord’s turn upon the bishop was chiefly to stop him from promoting persecution.

This spring G. Fox travelling to York, went through several other places in the North of England; and although he came near to his old enemy, colonel Kirby, who had a fit of the gout, and had threatened him, yet he passed on unmolested. So he went to Liverpool, whence he, with some of his friends, passed over for Ireland: among others, were Thomas Briggs and John Stubbs; and being arrived at Dublin, he was kindly received by his friends; and journeying into the country, he met with no small opposition from the Papists, of whom there are many there. Being come to a certain place, he challenged the jesuits, priests, and monks, to try whether their god, which they make of a wafer, be an immortal god, but they could not be brought to it; wherefore he said, they were worse than Baal’s priests, for Baal’s priests tried their god. Then he went to Cork, where they had knowledge of his coming, and intended to take him prisoner; for the Quakers in Ireland were many years sharply persecuted, as their brethren were in England, of which to mention all circumstances it would make a very large treatise. At this time there were many prisoners at Cork, among whom was Samuel Thornton, with whom I was well acquainted, who being met with his friends in a chamber one First-day, the officer Quinnal came and shut the door of the room, and locked them in, to the number of eighty persons, and carried the key to the mayor, Matthew Dean, who gave order that there should neither victuals nor drink be carried to them, and they could only get what was pulled up with ropes through the grate, or thrown in through a hole: under this chamber the soldiers were ordered to keep guard, that none might get away, and they made so great a smoke, that many of the prisoners were sick, among whom were some weakly old people, and some women with child, and nurses, who were almost stifled; and complaint thereof being made to the mayor, he answered in a scoffing manner, ‘They are all brethren and sisters, let them lie upon one another; and if they are stifled it is their own fault.’ Thus they were kept twenty-four hours, and afterwards some of them made prisoners.

Solomon Eccles, whom I also knew very well, was this year in prison at Gallaway in Ireland, where he was put, by a strange accident. He was an extraordinary zealous man, and what he judged evil he warmly opposed, even to the hazard of his life. This zeal led him to perform a strange action in a chapel of the Papists without the town; for he went naked above his waist, with a chafing-dish of coals and burning brimstone on his head, and entered the chapel when all the people were on their knees to pray to their idol, and spoke as followeth: ‘Wo to these idolatrous worshippers! God hath sent me this day to warn you, and to show you what will be your portion except you repent.’ Which when he had done, he went away to the town, where he was presently made a prisoner. What the benefit of this strange action might be, I leave.

Amongst the martyrs of the reformed, we find some instances of persons zealous to a strange degree, as of William Gardiner at Lisbon, and Bertrand le Blas at Tournay, whose actions were not less remarkable; for this last, his snatching the host from the priest in their church as they were at mass, was certainly a bold attempt, and not praiseworthy, if it was only an act of human contrivance; but I shall leave the judgment thereof unto God, as I account it safest, and the rather, because under the sharpest punishment they could inflict, they seemed not to shrink, but rather to be strengthened. However so sharp a trial did not fall to Eccles’s portion, and I think it safer not to judge hastily of this uncommon performance. He was, to my knowledge, a bold and undaunted man, and before this action in the chapel, as above, he did something of a like nature at London at the fair-time, amongst the plays, where he suffered much by the coachmen whipping him grievously on his naked back; but that could not lay his fervent zeal, which was kindled not only against the immodest and ungodly carriage of the pretended fools, but also against those other vanities there used. To what height his zeal carried him, the following instance will show: he who had been a member of the church of England, and then went to the Presbyterians, and afterwards among the Independents, and after that was a Baptist, had been an eminent musician, so that by his art he could get near 150_l._ a-year; but at last being a Quaker, he could not follow for conscience-sake, what he now called his Babylonish trade of music: wherefore he learned to make clothes to get his living by, and sold his musical books and instruments; but, as he declared, he had no peace in his conscience; for observing them to be instruments of vanity, he judged they ought to be destroyed, and therefore bought them again, although they were worth above 20_l._ and carried them, viz. virginals, fiddles, &c. to Tower-hill, where laying them together, he set fire to them; but when some who were by, endeavoured to hinder him, and to get one of the virginals away, he stamped upon it with his foot, and would not rest until he had destroyed it; and after that he said, he found peace in his conscience, having made an offering of that which he once entirely loved, and in the use of which he was educated; for not only his father and grandfather, but his grandfather’s father had been musicians, and he himself had the name of an eminent music-master.

Another account we have of his strange zeal: when he saw how the Quakers were belied by William Burnet, Jeremy Ives, and Matthew Kiffin, teachers amongst the Baptists, as if they believed not in Christ nor the resurrection, he challenged all the teachers, and priests, and jesuits, openly in a book which he printed, to come to a proof with him, who were the true worshippers; first, to fast seven days and seven nights, and neither to eat nor drink; and then the next seven days not to sleep day nor night; but we may well think that none were to be found to enter the lists with him, nor to put themselves on such a test; and although some reckoned him out of his wits, yet he was not, for I remember the time very well, and had many an opportunity both to see and to hear him speak.

I now return to G. Fox at Cork in Ireland, where they intended to take him, nevertheless they let him go unmolested, although he rode through the market, by the mayor’s door, who not only saw him, but said, ‘There goes G. Fox,’ and yet he let him pass quietly. After he had travelled through many places in Ireland, he came again to Dublin, from whence he returned to England, and coming into Gloucestershire, he heard at Nailsworth of a report which had been spread abroad in the country, that he was turned Presbyterian, and they had prepared a pulpit for him in the open yard, where he was to preach. G. Fox hearing this, thought it very strange, whereupon he went to the place spoken of, where he indeed found a pulpit; but the case was this: a certain Presbyterian preacher, named John Fox, who went preaching about the country, was to preach there, and it seems some had changed his name from John to George, whereupon it was reported that he was turned from being a Quaker, to be a Presbyterian: this begat so great a curiosity in the people, that many went thither to hear this Quaker turned Presbyterian; so this John Fox came to have a great auditory of several hundreds, who would not have went a foot to have heard him, had they known it. Now some hundreds of them hearing afterwards that the real G. Fox was not far off at a meeting, they went thither and were sober and attentive; where they were by him directed to the grace of God in themselves, which would teach them and bring them salvation. And when the meeting was over, some of the people said, they liked George Fox the Quaker’s preaching, better than G. F. the Presbyterian. Not long after this John Fox was complained of in the house of commons, for having a tumultuous meeting, in which treasonable words were spoken. This John Fox had formerly been priest of Marshfield in Gloucestershire, and being put out of that place, was afterwards permitted by a common-prayer priest to preach sometimes in his steeple-house; at length this Presbyterian priest presuming too far upon the parish priest’s former grant, began to be more bold than welcome, and would have preached there whether the priest would or not; which caused a great bustle and contest between the two priests, and their hearers on either side, in which the common-prayer book was cut to pieces, and it is said some treasonable words were then spoken, by some of the followers of this John Fox; which case was quickly put into the newspapers, and some malicious Presbyterians caused it to be so worded as if it had proceeded from G. F. the Quaker, but some members of the house of commons certified it under their hands, that it was John Fox, formerly priest of Marshfield, who was complained of to be the ringleader of that unlawful assembly.

After this G. F. travelled to Bristol, where he met with Margaret Fell, then a widow, who came thither to visit her daughter Yeomans. He had before this intimated to her his affection, and proposed to take her in marriage at a suitable time; but though he had a sense in himself, it was of the Lord, yet he did not at first find a freedom to accomplish the same, but all obstructions being now removed, he so proposed the matter, that if she was willing to give her consent, that the same should be accomplished, she might first send for her children; who being come, he asked both her daughters and their husbands, whether they had any thing against his taking their mother to be his wife? And they all severally expressed their satisfaction therein. Then he asked Margaret, whether she had performed her husband’s will? And the children, whether, if their mother married, they should lose by it? The children said, she had answered it to them, and desired him to speak no more of that. So observing they were all well satisfied, he proceeded in his marriage, and took Margaret Fell to wife in a public meeting of friends in Bristol. She was a woman of a noble endowment, and this I know not only by her writings, but I have also heard her preach an hour together, delivering her matter compactly and orderly.

G. F. being married, he stayed with his wife about a week in Bristol, and then they went together to Oldstone, and there taking leave of each other, they parted, she went homeward into the north, and he travelled through Wiltshire, Berkshire, Oxfordshire, Bucks, and so to London: for although now he had a wife, yet he did not neglect his care towards the churches, all the nation over, in the gift which he had received of God, both in word and writing to their edification, and among the rest he had a special regard, that the poor might be taken care of, to which end he wrote an epistle in London, to this effect, that poor children should be put forth apprentices to trades, whereby in time, they might help their aged parents, and enable them to bring up their families, and maintain themselves handsomely.

1670.

G. Fox stayed not long in London; but the year 1670 being now come, he travelled through Hertfordshire, Cambridgeshire, Huntingdonshire, and Leicestershire, where he expected to have met with his wife; for he had wrote her word, if she found it convenient, to meet him there; but instead thereof he understood she was hauled out of her house and carried to Lancaster prison, upon the old premunire, which was executed upon her five years before, from which she was discharged by order of the king and council the last year. Wherefore, after he had visited friends in those counties, he returned to London, where he found two of his wife’s daughters, whom he hastened to go to the king, to acquaint him how their mother was dealt with, which they did, but met with much difficulty; yet they diligently attended the same, as it behoved them for their mother, who was a mother or overseer of the church also, and therefore of the greater concern; but at last through assiduous application, they got to the speech of the king, to whom one of them said, that instead of their waiting upon him to return him thanks for the discharge of their mother, they were now necessitated to make complaint of their mother’s being cast into prison a second time! Whereupon the king gave command to sir John Otway, to write to the sheriff of Lancashire, to set her at liberty, which letter G. F. accordingly hastened his daughters with into the country.

* * * * *

The parliament now sitting, made a law, entitled, An Act to prevent and suppress seditious conventicles, which is as follows:

For providing further and more speedy remedies against the growing and dangerous practices of seditious sectaries, and other disloyal persons, who under pretence of tender consciences, have or may at their meetings contrive insurrections, (as late experience hath shown,) (2) Be it enacted by the king’s most excellent majesty, by and with the advice and consent of the lords spiritual and temporal, and commons in this present parliament assembled, and by authority of the same, that if any person of the age of sixteen years or upwards, being a subject of this realm, at any time after the tenth day of May next, shall be present at any assembly, conventicle, or meeting, under colour or pretence of an exercise of religion, in other manner than according to the liturgy and practice of the church of England, in any place within the kingdom of England, dominion of Wales, or town of Berwick-upon-Tweed, at which conventicle, meeting, or assembly, there shall be five persons or more assembled together, over and besides those of the same household, if it be in a house where there is a family inhabiting; or if it be in a house, field, or place where there is no family inhabiting; then where any five persons or more, are so assembled, as aforesaid, it shall and may be lawful to and for any one or more justices of the peace of the county, limit, division, corporation or liberty, wherein the offence aforesaid shall be committed, or for the chief magistrate of the place where the offence aforesaid shall be committed; and he and they are hereby required and enjoined upon proof to him or them respectively made of such offence, either by confession of the party, or oath of two witnesses; (3) (which oath the said justice and justices of the peace, and chief magistrate respectively, are hereby empowered and required to administer,) or be notorious evidence and circumstance of the fact, to make a record of every such offence under his or their hands and seals respectively: which record so made, as aforesaid, shall to all intents and purposes be in law taken and adjudged to be a full and perfect conviction of every such offender for such offence: and thereupon the said justice, justices, and chief magistrate respectively, shall impose on every such offender so convicted, as aforesaid, a fine of five shillings for such first offence: which record and conviction shall be certified by the said justice, justices, or chief magistrate, at the next quarter-sessions of the peace, for the county or place where the offence was committed.

II. And be it further enacted by the authority aforesaid, that if such offender so convicted, as aforesaid, shall at any time again commit the like offence or offences, contrary to this act, and be thereof in manner aforesaid convicted, then such offender so convict of such like offence or offences shall for every such offence incur the penalty of ten shillings; (2) which fine and fines, for the first and every other offence, shall be levied by distress and sale of the offender’s goods and chattels; or in case of the poverty of such offender, upon the goods and chattels of any other person or persons who shall be then convicted in manner aforesaid of the like offence at the same conventicle, at the discretion of the said justice, justices or chief magistrate respectively, so as the sum to be levied on any one person in case of the poverty of other offenders, amount not in the whole to above the sum of ten pounds, upon occasion of any one meeting, as aforesaid; (3) and every constable, headborough, tithingman, churchwardens, and overseers of the poor respectively, are hereby authorized and required to levy the same accordingly, having first received a warrant under the hands and seals of the said justice, justices, or chief magistrate respectively, so to do; (4) the said monies so to be levied, to be forthwith delivered the same justice, justices, or chief magistrate, and by him or them to be distributed, the one third part thereof to the use of the king’s majesty, his heirs and successors, to be paid to the high sheriff of the county for the time being, in manner following; that is to say, the justice or justices of peace shall pay the same into the court of the respective quarter-sessions, which said court shall deliver the same to the sheriff, and make a memorial on record of the payment and delivery thereof, which said memorial shall be a sufficient and final discharge to the said justice and justices, and a charge to the sheriff, which said discharge and charge shall be certified into the exchequer together, and not one without the other: and no justice shall or may be questioned or accountable for the same in the exchequer or elsewhere, than in quarter-sessions; another third part thereof to and for the use of the poor of the parish where such offence shall be committed; and the other third part thereof to the informer and informers and to such person and persons as the said justice, justices or chief magistrate respectively shall appoint, having regard to their diligence and industry in the discovery, dispersing and punishing of the said conventicles.

III. And be it further enacted by the authority aforesaid, that every person who shall take upon him to preach or teach in any such meeting, assembly or conventicle, and shall thereof be convicted, as aforesaid, shall forfeit for every such first offence the sum of twenty pounds, to be levied in manner aforesaid upon his goods and chattels; (2) and if the said preacher or teacher so convicted, be a stranger, and his name and habitation not known, or is fled, and cannot be found, or in the judgment of the justice, justices or chief magistrate before whom he shall be convicted, shall be thought unable to pay the same, the said justice, justices, or chief magistrate respectively, are hereby empowered and required to levy the same by warrant, as aforesaid, upon the goods and chattels of any such persons who shall be present at the same conventicle; any thing in this or any other act, law, or statute to the contrary notwithstanding; and the money so levied, to be disposed of in manner aforesaid: (3) and if such offender so convicted as aforesaid, shall at any time again commit the like offence or offences contrary to this act, and be thereof convicted in manner aforesaid, then such offender so convicted of such like offence or offences, shall for every such offence, incur the penalty of forty pounds, to be levied and disposed, as aforesaid.

IV. And be it further enacted by the authority aforesaid, that every person who shall wittingly and willingly suffer any such conventicle, meeting, or unlawful assembly aforesaid, to be held in his or her house, outhouse, barn, yard, or backside, and be convicted thereof in manner aforesaid, shall forfeit the sum of twenty pounds, to be levied in manner aforesaid, upon his or her goods and chattels; or in case of his or her poverty or inability, as aforesaid, upon the goods and chattels of such persons who shall be convicted in manner aforesaid, of being present at the same conventicle; and the money so levied, to be disposed of in manner aforesaid.

V. Provided always, and be it enacted by the authority aforesaid, that no person shall by any clause of this act be liable to pay above ten pounds for any one meeting, in regard of the poverty of any other person or persons.

VI. Provided also, and be it further enacted, that in all cases of this act, where the penalty or sum charged upon any offender exceeds the sum of ten shillings, and such offender shall find himself aggrieved, it shall and may be lawful for him within one week after the said penalty or money charged shall be paid or levied, to appeal in writing from the person or persons convicting, to the judgment of the justices of the peace in their next quarter-sessions, (2) to whom the justice or justices of the peace, chief magistrate, or alderman, that first convicted such offender, shall return the money levied upon the appellant, and shall certify under his and their hands and seals the evidence upon which the conviction passed, with the whole record thereof, and the said appeal: (3) whereupon such offender may plead and make defence, and have his trial by a jury thereupon: (4) and in case such appellant shall not prosecute with effect, or if upon such trial he shall not be acquitted, or judgment pass not for him upon his said appeal, the said justices at the sessions shall give treble costs against such offender for his unjust appeal: (5) And no other court whatsoever shall intermeddle with any cause or causes of appeal upon this act, but they shall be finally determined in the quarter-sessions only.

VII. Provided always, and be it further enacted, that upon the delivery of such appeal, as aforesaid, the person or persons appellant shall enter before the person or persons convicting, into recognizance, to prosecute the said appeal with effect: (2) which said recognizance the person or persons so convicting is hereby empowered to take, and required to certify the same to the next quarter-sessions: (3) and in case no such recognizance be entered into, the said appeal to be null and void.

VIII. Provided always, that every such appeal shall be left with the person or persons so convicting, as aforesaid, at the time of the making thereof.

IX. And be it further enacted by the authority aforesaid, that the justice, justices of the peace, and chief magistrate respectively, or the respective constables, headboroughs, and tithingmen, by warrant from the said justice, justices, or chief magistrate respectively, shall and may with what aid, force and assistance they shall think fit, for the better execution of this act, after refusal or denial to enter, break open, and enter into any house or other place, where they shall be informed any such conventicle, as aforesaid, is or shall be held, as well within liberties as without: (2) and take into their custody the persons there unlawfully assembled, to the intent they may be proceeded against according to this act: (3) and that the lieutenants or deputy-lieutenants, or any commissionated officer in the militia, or other of his majesty’s forces, with such troops or companies of horse and foot; and also the sheriffs, and other magistrates and ministers of justice, or any of them, jointly or severally, within any of the counties or places within this kingdom of England, dominion of Wales, or town of Berwick-upon-Tweed, with such other assistance as they shall think meet, or can get in readiness with the soonest, on certificate made to them respectively under the hand and seal of any one justice of the peace or chief magistrate, of his particular information or knowledge of such unlawful meeting or conventicle held, or to be held in their respective counties or places, and that he with such assistance as he can get together, is not able to suppress and dissolve the same, shall and may, and are hereby required and enjoined to repair unto the place where they are so held, or to be held, and by the best means they can, to dissolve, dissipate or prevent all such unlawful meetings, and take into their custody such and so many of the said persons so unlawfully assembled as they shall think fit, to the intent that they may be proceeded against according to this act.

X. Provided always, that no dwelling-house of any peer of this realm, where he or his wife shall then be resident, shall be searched by virtue of this act, but by immediate warrant from his majesty, under his sign manual, or in the presence of the lieutenant, or one deputy-lieutenant, or two justices of the peace, whereof one to be of the quorum, of the same county or riding.

XI. And be it further enacted by the authority aforesaid, that if any constable, headborough, tithingman, churchwarden or overseer of the poor, who shall know, or be credibly informed of any such meetings or conventicles held within his precincts, parishes, or limits, and shall not give information thereof to some justice of the peace, or the chief magistrate, and endeavour the conviction of the parties according to his duty; but such constable, headborough, tithingman, churchwarden, overseers of the poor, or any person lawfully called in aid of the constable, headborough, or tithingman, shall wilfully and wittingly omit the performance of his duty, in the execution of this act, and be thereof convicted in manner aforesaid, he shall forfeit for every such offence, the sum of five pounds, to be levied upon his goods and chattels, and disposed in manner aforesaid: (2) and that if any justice of the peace, or chief magistrate, shall wilfully and wittingly omit the performance of his duty in the execution of this act, he shall forfeit the sum of one hundred pounds, the one moiety to the use of the informer, to be recovered by action, suit, bill, or plaint, in any of his majesty’s courts at Westminster, wherein no essoign, protection, or wager of law shall lie.

XII. And be it further enacted by the authority aforesaid, that if any person be at any time sued for putting in execution any of the powers contained in this act, otherwise than upon appeal allowed by this act, such person shall and may plead the general issue, and give the special matter in evidence; (2) and if the plaintiff be non-suit, or a verdict pass for the defendant, or if the plaintiff discontinue his action, or if upon demurrer judgment be given for the defendant, every such defendant shall have his full treble costs.

XIII. And be it further enacted by the authority aforesaid, that this act, and all clauses therein contained, shall be construed most largely and beneficially for the suppressing of conventicles, and for the justification and encouragement of all persons to be employed in the execution thereof: (2) and that no record, warrant, or mittimus to be made by virtue of this act, or any proceedings thereupon, shall be reversed, avoided, or any way impeached by reason of any default in form. (3) And in case any person offending against this act, shall be an inhabitant in any other county or corporation, or fly into any other county or corporation after the offence committed, the justice of peace or chief magistrate before whom he shall be convicted as aforesaid, shall certify the same under his hand and seal, to any justice of peace or chief magistrate of such other county or corporation wherein the said person or persons are inhabitants, or are fled into; (4) which said justice or chief magistrate respectively, is hereby authorized and required to levy the penalty or penalties in this act mentioned, upon the goods and chattels of such person or persons, as fully as the said other justice of peace might have done, in case he or they had been inhabitants in the place where the offence was committed.

XIV. Provided also, that no person shall be punished for any offence against this act unless such offender be prosecuted for the same within three months after the offence committed. (2) And that no person who shall be punished for any offence by virtue of this act, shall be punished for the same offence by virtue of any other act or law whatsoever.

XV. Provided, and be it further enacted by the authority aforesaid, that every alderman of London for the time being, within the city of London, and the liberties thereof, shall have, (and they and every of them are hereby empowered and required to execute,) the same power and authority within London, and the liberties thereof, for the examining, convicting, and punishing of all offences within this act committed within London, and the liberties thereof, which any justice of peace hath by this act in any county of England, and shall be subject to the same penalties and punishments, for not doing that which by this act is directed to be done by any justice of peace in any county of England.

XVI. Provided, and be it enacted by the authority aforesaid, that if the person offending, and convicted as aforesaid, be a feme-covert, cohabiting with her husband, the penalties of five shillings, and ten shillings, so as aforesaid incurred, shall be levied by warrant, as aforesaid, upon the goods and chattels of the husband of such feme-covert.

XVII. Provided also, that no peer of this realm shall be attached or imprisoned by virtue or force of this act; any thing, matter, or clause, therein to the contrary notwithstanding.

XVIII. Provided also, that neither this act, nor any thing therein contained, shall extend to invalidate or make void his majesty’s supremacy in ecclesiastical affairs: (2) but that his majesty, and his heirs and successors, may from time to time, and at all times hereafter, exercise and enjoy all powers and authority in ecclesiastical affairs, as fully and as amply as himself or any of his predecessors have or might have done the same: any thing in this act notwithstanding.

By this very law many an honest family was impoverished; for the Quakers did not leave off meeting together publicly, but the most sincere amongst them were the more zealous, and they were the more winnowed from the chaff, which in time of ease gets in amongst religious professors; and none need wonder at it, since the Quakers having gained the repute of an upright-hearted people, some, for by-ends, might creep in amongst them.

At London, as well as at other places, many were spoiled of their goods very unmercifully, and many times people of good substance brought to mere poverty, seeing not only the shop goods of some, but also their household goods have been seized, insomuch that the very sick have had their beds taken from under them, and they themselves laid upon the floor; nay, they have been so cruel, as to leave them nothing; insomuch that when the child’s pap hath stood in a pannikin, they have thrown out the pap to take the pannikin away.

Should I sum up all the particulars I have received, and the account I could give, it would make a volume of itself; for the informers were generally poor, and sometimes also the justices, so that they knew how to part their booty belonging to the king, as well as to the poor; and thus the king and the poor got but little of their plunder. Nevertheless it so happened sometimes, that those who were finable, were freed by the justices; for they knew very well, that these informers, who were also witnesses, were cunning sharkers, who were also concerned to get their thirds of the booty, and therefore found out a way by which they showed that they were knavish and unjust in their office, therefore not fit to give evidence; so that it hath sometimes fallen out, that an honest justice hath cleared those informed against, when the informer missed in his evidence, either in the day of the month, or the like, in the complaint.

At London there once appeared before the lord mayor, sitting at a court of aldermen, an impudent informer having such a quantity of informations for fines as would have wronged the parties to the value of 1500_l._ but the mayor abominating such a practice, adjourned the court, and went away. But this hardy informer was not content to let the matter fall thus, but appeared before the court from time to time, to make a booty of honest people’s goods; but they still put him off, until at last he was himself arrested for debt, and carried to prison, where he ended his days.

Although now the law against seditious conventicles had passed, upon a supposition that the Presbyterians were ready to rise, considering the bustle and tumult occasioned by John Fox in Gloucestershire, which was much taken notice of, as I have mentioned before, yet nevertheless the Quakers’ meetings became the chief object in the execution of this law. Whereupon G. Fox being in London, set forth in print the injustice of this law, in order, if possible, to moderate the government not to put the same in execution. Nevertheless, being also sensible that a great storm hung over the heads of friends, he also wrote an epistle to them, to exhort them to faithfulness, and to encourage them to stand fast in their testimony, and hear with Christian patience the suffering that was come upon them. Now the First-day that this law took place, he went to the meeting of friends at Gracechurch-street in London; but being come to the place, he found the street full of people, and a guard to keep them out of their meeting-house; whereupon he went to Lombard street, (out of which there was also a passage to the meeting-house,) and there he also found a guard; but there being a court before the door, which was full of people, one of the Quaker ministers was there preaching to the people, and when he had ended, G. Fox stood up and said, “Saul, Saul, why persecutest thou me; it is hard for thee to kick against the pricks.” Which words he thus explained: that it was Saul’s nature that persecuted; and that they persecuting Christ in his members, were kicking against the pricks; and that it was the birth of the flesh that persecuted the birth of the Spirit; and that it was the nature of dogs to tear and devour the sheep, but that they suffered like sheep, who did not bite again; but were a peaceable people, who loved even their persecutors. While G. Fox was thus preaching, there came a constable and an informer, with soldiers, who pulled him down from the place he stood on. Then, said he, “Blessed are the peace-makers,” but the commander of the soldiers ordered them to secure him: ‘For,’ said he, ‘you are the man I looked for.’ Wherefore he with two more of his friends, John Burnet and another, were had before the lord mayor; and as they were going, the informer said, ‘It will never be a good world, until all people come to the good old religion that was two hundred years ago.’ G. Fox hearing this, said, ‘Art thou a Papist? What! a Papist informer? For two hundred years ago there was no other public profession of religion but that of the Papists in this nation.’ It vexed the informer that G. Fox heard him speak thus; for he now saw he was ensnared in his own talk. When he came into the court before the lord mayor’s house, some people who were there asked G. Fox, why he was brought thither prisoner? ‘Pray,’ said he, ‘ask that informer, and ask him his name;’ but he would not tell his name. Then one of the mayor’s officers looking out at a window, told him, he should tell his name before he went away: ‘For,’ said he, ‘the lord mayor will know by what authority you have intruded yourself with soldiers in the execution of those laws which it belongs to the civil magistrate to execute, and not the military.’ The informer understanding this, got away, but not without some difficulty, because they would not then let him out of the court; but he forcibly pulling open the door, and being got into the street, the people gave a great shout, crying out, ‘a Papist informer! a Papist informer!’ and he would have come off but badly, had not G. Fox advised the constable and soldiers to keep him out of the hands of the common people. Whereupon he went into the house and changed his perriwig, and so got away.

When the lord mayor came home, and G. Fox was brought before him, he said, ‘Mr. Fox, you are an eminent man among those of your own profession, pray will you be instrumental to persuade them from meeting in such great numbers: for,’ said he, ‘seeing Christ hath promised, where two or three are met in his name, he will be in the midst of them; and the king and parliament are graciously pleased to allow of four to meet together to worship God, why will not you be content to partake both of Christ’s promise to two or three, and the king’s indulgence to four?’ To which G. Fox answered, that Christ’s promise was not to discourage many from meeting together in his name; but to encourage the few, that the fewest might not forbear to meet, because of their fewness. But if Christ hath promised to manifest his presence in the midst of so small an assembly, where but two or three were gathered in his name; how much more would his presence abound where two or three hundred are gathered in his name. G. F. wished him to consider, whether this act would not have taken hold of Christ, with his twelve apostles and seventy disciples, (if it had been in their time,) who used to meet often together; and that with great numbers? However, he told him, this act did not concern us; for it was made against seditious meetings, of such as met under pretence and colour of religion, to contrive insurrections, as, the act says, late experience had shown; but we had been sufficiently tried and proved, and always found peaceable: and therefore he should do well to put a difference between the innocent and the guilty. He said the act was made against meetings, and a worship not according to the liturgy. G. F. told him, [according to,] was not the very same thing; and asked him, whether the liturgy was according to the Scriptures? And whether we might not read Scriptures, and speak Scriptures? he said Yes. And told him, that this act took hold only of such as meet to plot and contrive insurrections, as late experience had shown; but they had never experienced that by us. Because thieves are sometimes on the road, must not honest men travel therefore? And because plotters and contrivers have met to do mischief, must not an honest, peaceable people, meet to do good? If we had been a people that did meet to plot and contrive insurrections, &c. we might have drawn ourselves into fours; for four might do more mischief in plotting, than if there were four hundred; because four might speak out their minds more freely one to another, than four hundred could: therefore we being innocent, and not the people this act concerns, we keep our meetings as we used to do; and said, he believed that he knew in his conscience we were innocent.

After this and more discourse, the lord mayor, whose name was Samuel Starling, let them go, seeing the informer was gone before, and now nobody accused them. The treatment this informer met with, made others scrupulous, yet several of their meetings in London were disturbed, and some of their preachers cast into prison; but though the Baptists and other dissenters ceased their public meetings, yet the Quakers continued to keep theirs, as they used to do, whereby it happened that some of their meeting-houses were pulled down, and amongst others that at Ratcliffe, which was a substantial building, almost new.

After some time, the heat of persecution in the city began to abate, but in other places it raged more fiercely; this engaged G. Fox to leave the city, and travel about the country in divers places to visit his friends.

This year G. Fox, had a very great fit of sickness, to such a degree, that he became both blind and deaf, insomuch that his recovery was despaired of by some; but after a time he grew better.

In the meanwhile persecution in many places grew very dismal; for many of the friends were beaten with swords, and pikes, and muskets, to that degree, that their blood ran along the ground, and the informers were so very eager to hunt after their prey, that they informed of meetings when there was none. Amongst others, this following was an instance. A Droitwitch, John Cartwright came to a friend’s house there, who sitting down to supper, he prayed before they ate, which being heard by an informer, the room being next to the street, he thereupon went immediately and informed that there was a meeting in the house, and so got a warrant to distrain the goods; and when he came riding with them in the evening, he fell from his horse, and brake his neck, thereby getting his death instead of his prey, which he hunted after.

Now, although persecution was not so hot in London, as in other places in the country, yet sometimes even there it was very severe, as may be seen by the instance of William Penn, and William Mead, who were taken from a meeting and imprisoned, and tried for the same in the month of September.

The indictment contained, ‘That William Penn, and William Mead, with divers other persons, to the number of three hundred, at Gracechurch-street, in London, on the 15th of August, with force and arms, had tumultuously assembled together, and that William Penn, by agreement between him and William Mead, had preached there in the public street, whereby was caused a great concourse and tumult of the people,’ &c. That there was a public meeting in the street, proceeded from necessity; because a guard was placed in the passage to hinder friends from going into their meeting-house; but it was a great untruth that they met with force and arms, which were never used by the Quakers. This indictment being read before the court, the prisoners were demanded, according to custom, whether they were guilty, or not guilty? Whereupon W. Penn said, ‘It is impossible that we should be able to remember the indictment verbatim, and therefore we desire a copy of it, as is customary on the like occasions.’ The recorder, John Howel said hereupon, ‘You must first plead to the indictment before you can have a copy of it.’ Then W. Penn said, that he first desired that no advantage might be taken against him, nor he deprived of any benefit, which he might otherwise receive, and that the court would promise him a fair hearing, and liberty of making his defence. Upon which the court said, that no advantage should be taken against him, and that he should have liberty, and should be heard. W. Penn then said, he pleaded not guilty in manner and form. Then W. Mead was demanded, whether he was guilty, or not guilty, and he answered the same as W. Penn. The court then proceeded with the business of trying thieves and murderers, making the prisoners stay waiting five hours, and then returned them to prison; and after two days brought them again before the court. And the officers of the court having taken off the prisoners’ hats, the lord mayor, Samuel Starling, showed himself displeased with it, and ordered the officers to put on their hats again, which being done, the recorder John Howel, who upon all occasions showed his fierceness, accused him, that they showed no respect to the court, and condemned them for it, in a fine of forty marks each, because they had not taken off their hats. Thereupon W. Penn said, that he desired it might be observed, that they came into court with their hats off, (that is, taken off,) and if they had been put on since, it is by order from the bench, and therefore not the prisoners, but the bench should be fined. The jury then being sworn, and the indictment read again, the witnesses were called, who declared that they saw W. Penn speaking to the people, who were assembled in a great number in Gracechurch-street, but they could not hear what he said.

The recorder then asked William Mead, whether he was there? Who answered, that ‘It is a maxim in your own law, nemo tenetur accusare seipsum, which if it be not true Latin, I am sure it is good English. That no man is bound to accuse himself; why then dost thou offer to ensnare me with such a question?’ Hereupon the recorder showed himself so displeased, that he said, ‘Sir, hold your tongue, I did not go about to ensnare you.’ Then William Penn said, ‘we confess ourselves to be so far from recanting, or declining to vindicate the assembling of ourselves, to preach, pray, or worship the Eternal, Holy, Just God, that we declare to all the world, that we do believe it to be our indispensable duty, to meet incessantly, upon so good an account; nor shall all the powers upon earth be able to divert us from reverencing and adoring our God who made us.’ The sheriff, Richard Brown, said. ‘You are not here for worshipping of God, but for breaking the law. You do yourselves a great deal of wrong in going on in that discourse.’ Hereupon W. Penn answered, ‘I affirm I have broken no law, nor am I guilty of the indictment that is laid to my charge: and to the end, the bench, the jury, and myself, with these that hear us, may have a more direct understanding of this procedure, I desire you would let me know by what law it is you prosecute me, and upon what law you ground my indictment?’ The recorder answered, ‘Upon the common law.’ ‘Where is,’ asked W. Penn, ‘that common law?’ ‘You must not think,’ said the recorder, ‘that I am able to run up so many years, and over so many adjudged cases, which we call common law, to answer your curiosity.’ ‘This answer,’ replied W. Penn, ‘I am sure is very short of my question, for if it be common, it should not be so hard to produce.’ The recorder replied, ‘Sir, will you plead to your indictment?’ ‘Shall I,’ answered W. Penn, ‘plead to an indictment that hath no foundation in law? If it contain that law ye say I have broken, why should you decline to produce that law, since it will be impossible for the jury to determine, or agree to bring in the verdict, who have not the law produced, by which they should measure the truth of this indictment, and the guilt or contrary of my fact.’ The recorder being angry, said, ‘You are a saucy fellow, speak to the indictment.’ W. Penn replied, ‘I say, it is my place to speak to matter of law; I am arraigned a prisoner, my liberty, which is next to life itself, is now concerned,’ &c.

At this time several upon the bench urged hard upon the prisoner to hear him down. W. Penn said, ‘You are many mouths and ears against me, and if I must not be allowed to make the best of my cause, it is hard; I say again, unless you show me and the people the law you ground your indictment upon, I shall take it for granted your proceedings are merely arbitrary.’ The recorder then replying, said, ‘The question is, whether you are guilty of this indictment.’ ‘The question,’ said W. Penn, ‘is not whether I am guilty of this indictment, but whether this indictment be legal: it is too general and imperfect an answer, to say it is the common law, unless we know both where, and what it is: for where there is no law, there is no transgression; and that law which is not in being, is so far from being common, that it is no law at all.’ The recorder snapped him hereupon, with, ‘You are an impertinent fellow, will you teach the court what law is? It is lex non scripta, that which many have studied thirty or forty years to know, and would you have me tell you in a moment.’ ‘Certainly,’ replied W. Penn, ‘if the common law be so hard to be understood, it is far from being very common; but if the lord Coke in his institutes, be of any consideration, he tells us, that common law is common right; and that common right is the great charter privileges confirmed, 9 Hen. 3. 29. 25 Edw. 1. 1. 2 Edw. 3. 8. Coke’s Institutes, 2. p. 56.’ The recorder taking no pleasure in that speech, said, ‘Sir, you are a troublesome fellow, and it is not for the honour of the court to suffer you to go on.’ ‘I have,’ replied W. Penn, ‘asked but one question, and you have not answered me; though the rights and privileges of every Englishman be concerned in it.’ ‘Well,’ said the recorder, ‘if I should suffer you to ask questions till to-morrow morning, you would be never the wiser.’ ‘That is,’ said W. Penn, ‘according as the answers are.’ ‘But,’ says the recorder, ‘we must not stand to hear you talk all night.’ Whereupon W. Penn replied, ‘I desire no affront to the court, but to be heard in my just plea; and I must plainly tell you, that if you deny me the oyer of that law, which you suggest I have broken, you do at once deny me an acknowledged right, and evidence to the whole world your resolution to sacrifice the privileges of Englishmen, to your sinister and arbitrary designs.’ This so enraged the recorder, that he called out to the officers, ‘Take him away.’ And to the lord mayor he said, ‘My lord, if you take not some course with this pestilent fellow, to stop his mouth, we shall not be able to do any thing to-night.’ Then the lord mayor cried, ‘Take him away; take him away; turn him into the bail-dock.’

W. Penn seeing how force and violence prevailed, said, ‘These are but so many vain exclamations; is this justice or true judgment? Must I therefore be taken away because I plead for the fundamental laws of England?’ Then addressing himself to the jury, he said, ‘However, this I leave upon your consciences who are of the jury, and my sole judges, that if these ancient fundamental laws which relate to liberty and property, and are not limited to particular persuasions in matters of religion, must not be indispensably maintained and observed, who can say he hath right to the coat upon his back? Certainly our liberties are openly to be invaded, our wives to be ravished, our children enslaved, our families ruined, and our estates led away in triumph, by every sturdy beggar and malicious informer, as their trophies, by our pretended forfeits for conscience-sake. The Lord of heaven and earth will be judge between us in this matter.’ The hearing of this emphatical speech was so troublesome to the recorder, that he cried, ‘Be silent there.’ At which W. Penn returned, ‘I am not to be silent in a cause wherein I am so much concerned, and not only myself, but many ten thousand families besides.’

He being now hauled into the bail-dock, it was W. Mead’s turn to plead, who spoke thus, ‘Ye men of the jury, I now stand here to answer to an indictment against me, which is a bundle of stuff full of lies and falsehoods: for therein I am accused, that I met vi & armis, illicite & tumultuose. Time was when I had freedom to use a carnal weapon, and then I thought I feared no man: but now I fear the living God, and dare not make use thereof, nor hurt any man, nor do I know I demeaned myself as a tumultuous person. I say, I am a peaceable man; therefore it was a very proper question that W. Penn demanded in this case, an oyer of the law, on which our indictment is grounded.’ To this the recorder said, ‘I have made an answer to that already.’ W. Mead then turning his face to the jury, said, ‘Ye men of the jury, who are my judges, if the recorder will not tell you what makes a riot, a rout, or unlawful assembly, Coke, he that once they called the lord Coke, tells us what makes a riot, a rout, or unlawful assembly. A riot is when three or more are met together to beat a man, or to enter forcibly into another man’s land, to cut down his grass, his wood, or break down his pales.’ The recorder interrupting him, and scornfully pulling off his hat, said, ‘I thank you, sir, that you will tell me what the law is:’ and Richard Brown, that inveterate enemy of the Quakers, said, ‘He talks at random, one while an Independent, another while of some other religion, and now a Quaker, and next a Papist.’ Mead, not being minded openly to affront this alderman, told him this well-known Latin verse.

Turpa est doctori cum culpa redarguit ipsum,

for Brown himself formerly had been an Independent, though now he belonged to the church of England, and was of the court party. But the lord mayor, who it seems was a great friend of Brown’s, said to Mead, ‘You deserve to have your tongue cut out.’ ‘And,’ added the recorder, ‘if you discourse on this manner, I shall take occasion against you.’ To which Mead returned, ‘Thou didst promise me I should have fair liberty to be heard. Why may I not have the privilege of an Englishman? and you might be ashamed of this dealing.’ At this the envious recorder said, ‘I look upon you to be an enemy to the laws of England, which ought to be observed and kept; nor are you worthy of such privileges as others have.’ Mead well seeing that force and violence prevailed, and that his speaking could not avail him, said with a composed mind, ‘The Lord be judge between me and thee in this matter.’

Upon which he was taken away into the bail-dock, and the recorder gave the jury the following charge: ‘You have heard what the indictment is; it is for preaching to the people, and drawing a tumultuous company after them; and Mr. Penn was speaking. If they should not be disturbed, you see they will go on; there are three or four witnesses that have proved this, that he did preach there; that Mr. Mead did allow of it; after this, you have heard by substantial witnesses what is said against them. Now we are upon the matter of fact, which you are to keep to, and observe, as what hath been fully sworn, at your peril.’ That the recorder spoke this to the jury in the absence of the prisoners, was indeed irregular; wherefore W. Penn, who heard this from afar, spoke with a very raised voice, that so he might be heard by those on the bench, after this manner, ‘I appeal to the jury, who are my judges, and to this great assembly, whether the proceedings of the court are not most arbitrary, and void of all law, in offering to give the jury their charge in the absence of the prisoners. I say it is directly opposite to, and destructive of the undoubted right of every English prisoner, as Coke in the 2 Inst. on the chap. of Magna Charta, speaks.’ The recorder being thus unexpectedly lashed for his extra-judicial procedure, said with a disdainful smile, ‘Why, ye are present; you do hear, do you not?’ To which Penn returned, ‘No thanks to the court, that commanded me into the bail-dock: and you of the jury take notice, that I have not been heard, neither can you legally depart the court, before I have been fully heard, having at least ten or twelve material points to offer, in order to invalidate their indictment.’ This plain speaking of W. Penn, so enraged the recorder, that he cried, ‘Pull that fellow down; pull him down.’ For Penn it seems, to be heard the better, was clambered up a little by the rails of the bail-dock. Then W. Mead said, ‘Are these according to the rights and privileges of Englishmen, that we should not be heard, but turned into the bail-dock for making our defence; and the jury to have their charge given them in our absence? I say, these are barbarous and unjust proceedings.’ The recorder yet more incensed, cried, ‘Take them away into the hole: to hear them talk all night as they would, that I think doth not become the honour of the court.’

The prisoners being kept in a stinking hole, the jury were commanded up, to agree upon their verdict; and after an hour and half’s time, eight came down agreed, but four remained above: the court then sent an officer for them, and they accordingly came down; but the court used many indecent threats to the four that dissented, and after much menacing language, and a very imperious behaviour against the jury, the prisoners being brought to the bar, the foreman was asked, ‘How say you; is William Penn guilty of the matter whereof he stands indicted in manner and form, or not guilty?’ Foreman: ‘Guilty of speaking in Gracechurch-street.’ The next question was, ‘Is that all?’ Foreman: ‘That is all I have in commission.’ This answer so displeased the recorder, that he said, ‘You had as good say nothing.’ And the lord mayor, Starling, said, ‘Was it not an unlawful assembly? You mean he was speaking to a tumult of people there?’ To which the foreman returned, ‘My lord, this was all I had in commission.’ Some of the jury seemed now to buckle to the questions of the court; but others opposed themselves, and said they allowed of no such word as an unlawful assembly in their verdict: at which some of the bench took occasion to vilify them with opprobrious language. And because the court would not dismiss the jury before they gave a more satisfactory verdict, they called for pen, ink, and paper, and so went up again: and after half an hour returning, delivered the following verdict in writing.

‘We, the jurors hereafter named, do find William Penn to be guilty of speaking or preaching to an assembly, met together in Gracechurch-street, the 14th of August last, 1670, and that William Mead is not guilty of the said indictment.

Foreman. Thomas Veer, Edward Bushel, John Hammond, Henry Henly, Henry Michel, John Brightman, Charles Milson, Gregory Walklet, John Baily, William Lever, James Damask, William Plumsted.’

This verdict the mayor and recorder resented at so high a rate, that they exceeded the bounds of all moderation and civility; and the recorder said, ‘Gentlemen, you shall not be dismissed till we have a verdict, that the court will accept; and you shall be locked up, without meat, drink, fire, and tobacco: you shall not think thus to abuse the court; we will have a verdict by the help of God, or you shall starve for it.’

Now, though the jury had given in their verdict, and signified that they could give no other, yet all was in vain; and W. Penn seeing how they were treated against all reason, said, ‘My jury, who are my judges, ought not to be thus menaced; their verdict should be free, and not compelled; the bench ought to wait upon them, but not forestal them. I do desire that justice may be done me, and that the arbitrary resolves of the bench may not be made the measure of my jury’s verdict.’ This modest speech so incensed the recorder, that he cried, ‘Stop that prating fellow’s mouth, or put him out of the court.’ And the lord mayor said to the jury, ‘You have heard that he preached, that he gathered a company of tumultuous people, and that they do not only disobey the martial power, but the civil also.’ To which W. Penn returned, ‘That is a great mistake; we did not make the tumult, but they that interrupted us. The jury cannot be so ignorant, as to think, that we met there with a design to disturb the civil peace, since, first, we were by force of arms kept out of our lawful house, and met as near it in the street as the soldiers would give leave. And, secondly, because it was no new thing, nor with the circumstances expressed in the indictment, but what was usual and customary with us. It is very well known that we are a peaceable people, and cannot offer violence to any man.’

The court now being resolved to send the prisoners to their jail, and the jury to their chamber, Penn spoke as followeth: ‘The agreement of twelve men is a verdict in law, and such an one being given by the jury, I require the clerk of the peace to record it, as he will answer it at his peril. And if the jury bring in another verdict contradictory to this, I affirm they are perjured men in law.’ And looking upon the jury, said, ‘You are Englishmen, mind your privilege; give not away your right.’ To which E. Bushel, one of them, returned, ‘Nor will we ever do it.’ Another of the jurymen pleaded indisposition of body, and therefore desired to be dismissed; but the lord mayor said, ‘You are as strong as any of them; starve then, and hold your principles.’ To which the recorder added, ‘Gentlemen, you must be content with your hard fate; let your patience overcome it; for the court is resolved to have a verdict, and that before you can be dismissed.’ And though the jurymen said, ‘We are agreed, we are agreed, we are agreed,’ yet the court swore several persons, to keep the jury all night, without meat, drink, fire, or any other accommodation; nay, they had not so much as a chamber-pot, though desired. Thus force and violence prevailed. The next day, though it was the first of the week, vulgarly called Sunday, the court sat again; and the prisoners being brought to the bar, the jury were called in, and their foreman was asked, ‘Is William Penn guilty of the matter whereof he stands indicted, in manner and form aforesaid, or not guilty?’ To which he answered as before, ‘William Penn is guilty of speaking in Gracechurch-street.’ The lord mayor then asking, ‘to an unlawful assembly?’ Edward Bushel answered, ‘No, my lord, we give no other verdict than what we gave last night; we have no other verdict to give.’ ‘You are,’ returned the lord mayor, ‘a factious fellow: I will take a course with you.’ ‘I have,’ said Bushel, ‘done according to my conscience.’ This so displeased the mayor, that he said, ‘That conscience of yours would cut my throat; but I will cut yours so soon as I can.’ To which the recorder added, ‘He has inspired the jury; he has the spirit of divination; methinks I feel him: I will have a positive verdict, or you shall starve for it.’

Then W. Penn said, ‘I desire to ask the recorder one question: do you allow of the verdict given of W. Mead?’ to which the recorder answered, ‘It cannot be a verdict, because you are indicted for a conspiracy; and one being found not guilty, and not the other, it cannot be a verdict.’ This made Penn say, ‘If not guilty be not a verdict, then you make of the jury and Magna Charta but a mere nose-of-wax.’ ‘How!’ asked W. Mead then, ‘Is not guilty no verdict?’ ‘No,’ said the recorder, ‘It is no verdict.’ To which Penn replied, ‘I affirm that the consent of a jury is a verdict in law; and if W. Mead be not guilty, it consequently follows, that I am clear, since you have indicted us of conspiracy, and I could not possibly conspire alone.’ After this, the court spoke to the jury, and caused them to go up again, if possible to extort another verdict from them. Then the jury being called, and asked by the clerk, ‘What say you? is William Penn guilty of the matter whereof he stands indicted, in manner and form aforesaid, or not guilty?’ The foreman answered, ‘Guilty of speaking in Gracechurch-street.’ To which the recorder returned, ‘What is this to the purpose? I say I will have a verdict.’ And speaking to E. Bushel, said, ‘You are a factious fellow, I will set a mark upon you; and whilst I have any thing to do in the city, I will have an eye upon you.’ To this the mayor added, ‘Have you no more wit than to be led by such a pitiful fellow? I will cut his nose.’

Thus the court endeavoured to baffle the jury; and therefore it was not without very good reason that W. Penn said, ‘It is intolerable that my jury should be thus menaced: is this according to the fundamental laws? are not they my proper judges by the great charter of England? what hope is there of ever having justice done, when juries are threatened, and their verdict is rejected? I am concerned to speak, and grieved to see such arbitrary proceedings. Did not the lieutenant of the tower render one of them worse than a felon. And do you not plainly seek to condemn such for factious fellows, who answer not your ends? unhappy are those juries, who are threatened to be fined, starved, and ruined, if they give not in their verdicts contrary to their consciences.’ These plain expressions so troubled the recorder, that he said to the lord mayor, ‘My lord, you must take a course with this fellow.’ And then the mayor cried, ‘Stop his mouth; jailer, bring fetters, and stake him to the ground.’ To which W. Penn said, ‘Do your pleasure; I matter not your fetters.’ The recorder then ventured to say, ‘Till now I never understood the reason of the policy and prudence of the Spaniards in suffering the Inquisition among them. And certainly it never will be well with us, till something like the Spanish Inquisition be in England.’ The jury being required to find another verdict, and they saying they could give no other, the recorder grew so angry, that he said, ‘Gentlemen, we shall not be at this pass always with you; you will find the next sessions of parliament there will be a law made, that those that will not conform, shall not have the protection of the law. Your verdict is nothing, you play upon the court. I say, you shall go together, and bring in another verdict, or you shall starve, and I will have you carted about the city, as in Edward the third’s time.’

The jury refusing to give in another verdict, since they had all agreed to that which they had given, and showing themselves unwilling to go up again, the lord mayor bid the sheriff to make them go. The sheriff then coming off his seat, said, ‘Come, gentlemen, you must go up; you see I am commanded to make you go.’ Upon which the jury went up, and several were sworn to keep them without accommodation as aforesaid, till they brought in their verdict: and the prisoners were remanded to Newgate, where they remaining till next morning were then brought to the court again: and being set to the bar, and the jury called, and asked, ‘Is William Penn guilty of the matter whereof he stands indicted in manner and form, &c. or not guilty?’ the foreman answered, ‘You have there read in writing already our verdict, and our hands subscribed.’ Now the clerk who had that paper, was by the recorder stopped from reading it; and it was said by the court, that paper was no verdict. Then the clerk asked, ‘How say you? Is William Penn guilty, &c. or not guilty?’ to which the foreman answered, ‘Not guilty.’ The same question being put concerning W. Mead, the foreman answered likewise, ‘Not guilty.’ The jury then being asked by the clerk, whether they said so all, they answered, ‘We do so.’ The bench still unsatisfied, commanded that every person should distinctly answer to their names, and give in their verdict, which they unanimously did, in saying, ‘Not guilty.’ The recorder, who could not hear this, said, ‘I am sorry, gentlemen, you have followed your own judgments and opinions, rather than the good and wholesome advice which was given you. God keep my life out of your hands: but for this the court fines you forty marks a man, and imprisonment till paid.’

W. Penn then stepping up towards the bench, said, ‘I demand my liberty, being freed by the jury.’ ‘No,’ said the lord mayor, ‘you are in for your fines.’ ‘Fines!’ returned Penn, ‘for what?’ ‘For contempt of the court,’ said the lord mayor. ‘I ask,’ replied Penn, ‘if it be according to the fundamental laws of England, that any Englishman should be fined or amerced, but by the judgment of his peers or jury? since it expressly contradicts the 14th and 29th chapters of the great charter of England, which say, ’No freeman ought to be amerced but by the oath of good and lawful men of the vicinage.‘ Instead of answering to this question, the recorder cried, ’take him away, take him away; take him out of the court.‘ On which W. Penn said, ’I can never urge the fundamental laws of England, but you cry, take him away, take him away. But it is no wonder, since the Spanish Inquisition hath so great a place in the recorder’s heart. God Almighty, who is just, will judge you for all these things.’ W. Penn was not suffered to speak any more, but he and W. Mead were hauled to the bail-dock, and from thence sent to Newgate, and so were their jury. How they came at length to be freed, I do not know.

The trial was afterwards published in print more at large than is set down here, and an appendix subjoined to it; in which are showed not only the invalidity of the evidence, but also the absurdity of the indictment, and the illegal proceedings of the court; and from the great charter, that they had been dealt with contrary to law. The case of the lord chief justice Keeling is also mentioned, who having put restraints upon juries, a committee of parliament, the 11th of December, 1667, came to this resolution, ‘That his proceedings were innovations, in the trial of men for their lives and liberties; and that he had used an arbitrary and illegal power, which was of dangerous consequence to the lives and liberties of the people of England, and tended to the introducing an arbitrary government. Moreover, that in the place of judicature he had undervalued, vilified and condemned Magna Charta. And therefore, that he should be brought to trial, in order to condign punishment, in such manner as the house shall judge most fit and requisite.’ Two days after, viz. Die veneris, the 13th of December, it was resolved, that the precedents and practice of fining or imprisoning jurors for verdicts is illegal. The book containing the fore-mentioned trial of W. Penn and W. Mead was reprinted I think more than once; for it came to be much in request, because the liberties of the people were therein well defended, and arbitrary power controlled. The title of it was, The People’s Ancient and Just Liberties asserted; and underneath was added this well known verse of Juvenal,

Sic volo, sic jubeo; stat pro ratione voluntas.

This matter was more circumstantially treated of in a book in print, by Thomas Rudyard a lawyer, who showed therein at large the right of juries, and the unlawfulness of the proceedings then in vogue; which he made appear plainly, both from law, and by citations from the books of eminent lawyers. And having sometimes vigorously pleaded the cause of the oppressed, he also became the object of persecuting fury, which could not endure his faithful defending of the innocent. And therefore this summer the magistrates of London issued out a warrant to break open his house in the dead of the night, in order to apprehend him; and this warrant was executed by the soldiers of one captain Holford; and the next day he was sent to Newgate by a mittimus under the hands and seals of the lord mayor Samuel Starling, William Peak, Robert Hanson, and several others, under pretence, that he stirred up persons to disobedience of the laws, and abetted and encouraged such as met in unlawful and seditious conventicles, contrary to the late act. But his case being brought before the justices of the court of Common Pleas, at Westminster, by an habeas corpus, that court, after solemn debate, gave their judgment, that Thomas Rudyard was unjustly imprisoned, and unjustly detained. And so he was set at liberty. But the lord mayor Samuel Starling fretting at this discharge, found out new stratagems to compass his ends upon him. For an indictment was formed against him for having hindered due course of law against one Samuel Allingbridge. But Rudyard so well defended himself, that he was acquitted; which so incensed the lord mayor, that not long after he was again committed to Newgate, on a religious account, viz. for having been in the meeting at Whitehart-court in Gracechurch-street. The proceedings against him and others on that account were no less arbitrary than those against W. Penn and W. Mead, already mentioned, and therefore Rudyard exposed his and their trials in print; and seeing he understood the law, he was the more able to show the unjustness of these proceedings, and how inconsistent such prosecutions were with the laws of the land.

But to avoid prolixity I shall relate but little of them, since many things occur therein, which have been mentioned already in other cases. How the recorder Howel was inclined in respect to religion, may be deduced from what hath been said already of his panegyric upon the Spanish Inquisition. And to Rudyard and his fellow-prisoners, he gave no obscure evidence what religion he preferred; for they saying, that they were always quiet and peaceable in their assemblies, and that the laws against riots were never intended against them, but popish, or such like disturbers of the peace. The recorder returned, that the Papists were better subjects to the king, than they were; and that they were a stubborn and dangerous people, and must either be brought under, or there was no safe living by them. The prisoners offering to vindicate themselves from these odious and foul aspersions, were not suffered to say any thing in their own defence; but instead of hearing them, they were by order of the lord mayor and the recorder thrust into the bail-dock, and treated almost at the same rate as W. Penn and W. Mead had been before.

But violence prevailed now; and the recorder, because of his outrageous behaviour against the Quakers, was so much in favour of the court of justice, that alderman Jo. Robinson did not stick to tell them, that the recorder deserved an hundred pounds for his service done at the Old Bailey, the last sessions. And his proposal so took, that the court consented to pay him for the said service an hundred pounds, by the chamberlain of London. And since this was so well known to T. Rudyard, that in a book he published, he named the date of the said order, viz. the 8th of October, 1670: and that other orders had been given for two hundred pounds more to him, within eight months last past; he, to reprehend such doings in a satirical way, called them, ‘an excellent way to ease the treasury of being over-burdened with orphans’ money,’ by which sinister ends, and dispositions of its cash, the chamber was so deeply in debt, that it was almost incredible.

Now, since Rudyard as a lawyer, had a more full knowledge of these unlawful proceedings against him and his friends, than many others, he composed a treatise of those prosecutions, which he called the Second Part of the People’s Ancient and Just Liberties asserted. And true lovers of their country were pleased with it: for that party which countenanced popery, and therefore endeavoured to violate the people’s rights, strove to get the upper hand.

Persecution was now very hot and fierce all over the country, because a door was opened for all base and wicked fellows to get booty by informing; for by the act against meetings, which, though religious, were branded with the name of seditious, the informer, was to have a third part of the imposed fine. This set on many vile persons, and among these sometimes thieves and infamous fellows, to render any comings together of Quakers, though it was but a visit or a burial, the name of a meeting, and to swear that a meeting had been kept there. Nay, sometimes they swore only by guess, that in such a place a meeting had been kept, though the witnesses had not seen it, as was requisite by law. And this informing came so much in vogue, that some magistrates themselves turned informers.

---- _Quid non mortalia pectora cogis Auri sacra fames!_[40]

[40] What will not the cursed thirst of gold force mankind to perform!

I might write a large volume of these abominable deeds, if I could find leisure for it; yet now and then I will mention a few instances, by which the reader may make a conjecture of the rest.

This year at Alford in Somersetshire, in the month called August, the corpse of one Samuel Clothier was buried, and though in the burying-place all were silent, yet the justice, Robert Hunt, fined some that had been at the burial, for having assisted at this pretended meeting.

In Nottingham it happened in the latter end of this year, that the justice, Penniston Whaley, who had fined many of those called Quakers, for frequenting their religious meetings, encouraged the people at the sessions to persecute the Quakers without any pity, saying to them, ‘Harden your hearts against them; for the act of the 35th of queen Elizabeth, is not made against the Papists, since the church of Rome is a true church, as well as any other church; but these Quakers are erroneous and seditious persons.’ By these words one may easily judge to what religion this justice of peace was inclined; but such dissemblers feigned to the Protestants, that so they might hear honourable offices. I pass by unmentioned many persons, who by beating, pushing, and trampling, were grievously abused in their meetings, to that degree, that some not long survived the violence committed on them, and felt the painfulness or smart of it till death.

This year about midsummer, Thomas Budd deceased at Ivelchester in Somersetshire, after having been prisoner about eight years and a half, because for conscience-sake he could not swear. Some hours before his death, he was heard to say, that he had renewed his covenant with God, and was well satisfied in it; and that he believed God would sustain him by the right hand of his justice; and that he rejoiced and thanked God that all his children walked in the way of the Lord.

At Warborough in Oxfordshire, those called Quakers were also most grievously abused in their religious meetings, and even aged women not spared; which often caused the cry of innocent children to go up to heaven, when they saw their mothers thus ill treated. For magistrates themselves to break their canes to pieces on those that were met together, was but an ordinary thing; and then sometimes other sticks were made use of: often also women were stripped of their upper garments; and this accompanied with the spoil of goods. That the persecutors were thus enraged was not strange, when we consider that some were stirred up to it by their teachers; an instance of which was given by Robert Priest of the same place, who once said in his sermon, that the king’s laws, though they were contrary to the law of God, yet ought to be obeyed. Quite otherwise was the doctrine of the apostle Peter and John, when they said to the Jewish council, ‘Judge ye whether it be right in the sight of God, to hearken unto you more than unto God.’

In Northamptonshire, where persecution was also very hot, the bishop of Peterborough said publicly in the steeple-house, after he had commanded the officers to put in execution the last act against seditious meetings, ‘Against all fanatics it hath done its business, except the Quakers; but when the parliament sits again, a stronger law will be made, not only to take away their lands and goods, but also to sell them for bond slaves.’ Thus the churchmen blew the fire of persecution.

At York also, the spoiling of goods was fiercely driven on by alderman Richardson; and even boys and girls, that were under sixteen years of age, and therefore not subject to the penalty of the law, were fined; and when the constables showed themselves unwilling to assist in the robbery, they were snarled at, and one persecuted for not performing his duty, because he had refused to take away a man’s cloak. But if I should mention the ill-usage committed in all counties and places, when should I come to a conclusion!

Thomas Green, a grave man, with whom I have been very familiarly acquainted, being in prayer at a meeting at Sawbridgworth in Hertfordshire, was pulled off his knees, and dragged out; and being brought before the justices Robert Joslin and Humphrey Gore, they fined him twenty pounds, for speaking or preaching at the said meeting; and granted a warrant to John Smith and Paul Thomson, constables, to distrain; upon which they went into the said Thomas Green’s shop, in Royston, and took away as much goods as were worth fifty pounds. But this did not quench his zeal; for like a true and faithful pastor, he continued to feed the flock, and to edify the church with his gift: in which he was very serviceable.

At another time, the justices Peter Soames and Thomas Mead, gave a warrant to distrain twenty pounds worth of goods from the said Thomas Green, for preaching at a meeting in Upper Chissel in Essex. And the officers going to Thomas Green’s shop, took all they could get, leaving nothing in the shop but a skein of thread, which was fallen on the ground, and not observed by them.

Theophilus Green suffered also great spoil of goods: for having preached in a meeting at Kingston-upon-Thames, he was put into the stocks for some hours, and fined twenty pounds. And having preached the three next first-days of the week at Wadsworth, was for each fined at the same rate.

The week following, being at Uxbridge, and visiting some poor children of his friends, whose father and mother died shortly one after another, he took two of them as his own, and looked after the disposing of the rest. And staying there till the first day of the week, he went to the meeting, and exhorted his friends to keep their meetings in the name of Jesus: at the speaking of which words the constable and informer came in, and carried him away to justice Ralph Hawtrey, who fined him twenty pounds, and sent him prisoner to Newgate in London, with a mittimus; wherein he charged him, that he had exhorted the people to keep their meetings in the name of Jesus, notwithstanding the laws of men to the contrary. Warrants being issued forth to make distress for the above mentioned fines, which amounted to one hundred pounds, five shillings, they came and opened his doors, and took away all his goods they found, leaving him neither bed nor stool. And after he had been kept prisoner three months, he with seven more was brought to the session’s-house at Hicks’s Hall, and the oaths of allegiance and supremacy were tendered to them. To which his plea was, ‘As an Englishman, I ought either to be acquitted or condemned, for the cause for which I was committed, before I should answer to any other matter or cause. Besides, I look upon myself to be illegally committed, as being fined and committed for the same fact.’ But they told him, he must answer whether he would swear or no, and then he should be heard. But continuing to refuse swearing, he was remanded to prison with the rest; and afterwards being sent for again, and still unwilling to break Christ’s command, not to swear at all, the sentence of premunire was read against him and his fellow prisoners, and so they continued in jail above two years, till they were discharged by an act of grace from the king.

The meetings of those called Quakers were miserably disturbed in Horslydown in the county of Surry. On the 25th of September several musketeers came into the meeting-house, and hauling those that were met together in the street, the troopers came riding amongst them, and beat and abused them violently, pushing them with their carbines, which the others did with the butt-ends of their muskets, to that degree, that above twenty persons were wounded and sorely bruised; nay, so desperately wicked were these mischievous fellows, that a party of horse sought to ride over these harmless people; but the horses, more merciful than the riders, and not going forward, they turned them, and by curbing and reigning them backward, strove to do what mischief they could. On the 2d of October these peaceable people being kept out of their meeting-place, there came a party of foot, and a party of horse, and abused them no less violently than the week before; insomuch that with beating and knocking they broke several of their muskets and pikes, and one carbine, and above thirty persons were so sorely wounded and bruised, that their blood was spilt in the streets.

On the 9th of the said month the soldiers, both horse and foot, came again to the meeting at the aforesaid place, and one of them having a shovel, threw the dirt and mire from the channels, on both men and women; and after him the horse and foot came, and fell upon them, striking and knocking down, without respect to age or sex, until they drew blood from many; and when some of the inhabitants in pity took them into their houses, and saved their lives, the soldiers forced open the doors, and hauled them into the street again, and plucked off their hats, that they might strike on their bare heads; insomuch that many had their heads grievously broken. Some troopers also tore the women’s clothes off their backs, and hauled them through the mire by their horse sides; and some of the foot soldier’s put their hands in a most shameful manner under the women’s coats: nay, a soldier twice struck a woman that was big with child, with his musket on the belly, and once on the breast, whilst another flung dirt in her face: so that she miscarried. And above fifty persons were this day sorely wounded and bruised. The 16th of the said month these conscientious people meeting again to perform their worship to God, a great party of horse and foot came, and fell to beating them so violently, as if they would have killed all on the spot; so that the blood ran down about the ears of many; and one of the constables endeavouring to stop the wicked crew from shedding more blood, they fell upon him also, and broke his head; and when they were rebuked for their cruel dealing, some said, ‘If you knew what orders we have, you would say we dealt mercifully with you.’ And being asked, ‘How can ye deal thus with a people who make no resistance nor opposition;’ they answered, ‘We had rather, and it would be better for us, if ye did resist and oppose.’ From which it appeared plainly, that this mischief was done to provoke opposition, that they might have imbrued their hands in the blood of these sufferers, and so have had their lives and goods for a prey. It was therefore thought convenient to acquaint the king and his counsel with this barbarous cruelty; which had such effect, that some stop was made to these excessive cruelties, though their abuses did not altogether cease.

About this time it happened that Solomon Eccles came to Cork in Ireland, and went into the cathedral, where the priest, Benjamin Cross, preached in a surplice; and having formerly been a Presbyterian preacher in Dorsetshire in England, had there said, that he had rather go to a stake and be burned, than to put on a surplice. This priest, (now become a turn-coat for gain,) having finished his sermon and concluded with a prayer, Solomon Eccles said, that the prayer of the wicked was an abomination to the Lord. And knowing the deceitfulness of the said priest, and his being an apostate, he added, ‘What shall be done to the man that makes shipwreck of a good conscience?’ For this he was taken, and by the mayor committed to prison, where being kept ten days, he was accused as a vagabond, and without any examination, whipped along the streets of Cork, from North-Gate to South-Gate, and received about ninety stripes, and then was expelled. We have seen heretofore instances of his great zeal; and though in some respect he might by it have been transported a little too far, yet he gave proofs of a sincere heart; for having said some years after to one John Story, who launched out into great haughtiness and arrogancy, that it was the word of the Lord that he should die that year, (which by somebody to set a gloss upon it, was interpreted to be meant of the spiritual death,) yet Eccles himself said afterwards, both at London and Bristol, and elsewhere, that he had not spoken this according to the counsel of the Lord; but that it had been in his own will, and from a forward mind; and that he had felt the anger of the Lord, because he had called these his own words the word of the Lord; which he really repented of.

1671.

In the beginning of the year 1671, G. Fox was at London, and though by reason of a heavy sickness, of which he began to recover, he continued still weak, yet he did not omit preaching; and about this time he made the following prayer to the Lord, which he put in writing:

‘O Lord God Almighty! prosper Truth, and preserve justice and equity in the land, and bring down all injustice and iniquity, oppression and falsehood, and cruelty, and unmercifulness in the land, that mercy and righteousness may flourish.

‘And, O Lord God! establish and set up verity, and preserve it in the land: and bring down in the land all debauchery, and vice, and whoredoms, and fornication; and this raping spirit, which causeth and leadeth people to have no esteem of thee, O God! nor their souls or bodies, nor of Christianity, modesty, or humanity.

‘And, O Lord! put it in the magistrates’ hearts, to bring down all this ungodliness, and violence, and cruelty, profaneness, cursing and swearing: and to put down all these whore-houses and play-houses, which do corrupt youth and people, and lead them from the kingdom of God, where no unclean thing can enter, neither shall come; but such works lead people to hell. And the Lord in mercy bring down all these things in the nation to stop thy wrath, O God, from coming on the land.

This Prayer was wrote the 17th day, at Night, of the 2d Month, 1671.

G. FOX.’

G. Fox thinking his wife now at liberty, understood that her enemies, notwithstanding the king’s order to release her, had found means to hold her still in prison. Therefore he did not give himself rest, till by the help of others he obtained from the king a discharge under the great seal, to clear both her and her estate, after she had been ten years a prisoner, and premunired. This royal order he sent forthwith down to her, and thus she was set at liberty.

Now since the heat of persecution began to cool, he felt himself inclined to make a voyage to America, to visit his friends there. Of this his intention he gave notice to his wife by a letter, and desired her to come up to London; which she did accordingly. And he having taken leave of her, set sail in the latter part of the summer towards America, with several of his friends that accompanied him.

Now whilst I leave him on ship-board, I cannot forbear to mention, that this year at London came forth a witty pamphlet with this title, An easy Way to get Money cum Privilegio, without fear or cumber, printed for the society of informers. This book contained a satirical rebuke to the informers, and began thus: ‘To all you that can work, and will not; and to all those that through other ways of extravagancy have brought yourselves into debt, necessity, or other wants, (for your speedy supply and future support,) there is an opportunity put into your hands, that is both safe, profitable, and honourable. It is to be informers.’

Next the author said, ‘That it was an easy way, since it was no more than to seek out where there were in any house, barn, stable, or backside, five persons besides those of the family; though they spoke never a word. If you do but swear it, (thus he continued,) to be a conventicle, then it is a conventicle. It is no matter if there were never a thought in their hearts as to plotting or contriving insurrections; (for which the law was made,) they being there, it is sufficient to have them fined five shillings apiece the first time, and twenty pounds for the house: and for the second time ten shillings apiece; and if the justices be not well advised, it may be for the second time for the house you may get twenty pounds more, although the act doth not grant it. And of all this it is said, the thirds is yours: this you may easily have; for the justices are afraid of your power, since you have them under your lee; so they will not much question you, lest they be counted fanatics; and they know that if they do not please your wills, your power is such, that you may recover fifty pounds for your parts, by action, suit, bill or plea, in any of his majesty’s courts at Westminster, wherein no essoign, protection, or wager of law shall lie. Can your hearts desire more? who will not be informers? that must have all clauses construed most largely and beneficially to their justification and encouragement!’

As to the profitableness, the author said, ‘Besides the twenty pounds and ten shillings apiece for meeting, if you can but tempt any by your questions, or other provocations, to speak but a word to answer you, it will serve to make him a preacher, and then for the first time there is twenty pounds, and for the second forty pounds. It is no matter what is spoke, or to what concern; if you swear you did hear such an one speak, it is enough to make him a preacher. And as to the inability, there is no danger that you should fall short of your salary; for you can by your power make void that old proverb, Where it is not to be had, the king must lose his right. But your prerogative is such, that if the offender hath it not, you can command your servants to levy it on any other that is not an offender in that nature, provided he be there, otherwise an appeal will be granted.’

At this rate the author treated the matter, taking out of the way all difficulties and scruples which any might have objected; and though he did this mostly in a burlesque way, yet what he said was so firm and strenuous, that he gave proofs of being a man of understanding, and of a great wit; for though in an ingenious way he showed the abominableness of this informing trade, yet he proposed it safe every way: and if any might tell them they were knights of the post; yet however the thing fell out, it was never attended with loss, but always with a certain gain; since in the prosecution nothing could be objected, but what might be easily quashed, and the opposers thus frustrated.--‘And when to all these infallible profits was added the honourableness of the office, what could one desire more? for was it not honourable indeed to command both magistrates and military officers, to follow the informers where they will? and to obtain this office, one needed not to be at great cost to purchase it, nor to break his pate with studying; since at the very first conventicle they entered they might commence doctors.’ But of what religion or profession these informers should be, the author himself seemed not to know: ‘They must be no jews,’ said he, ‘for these were not to covet their neighbours’ ox, nor ass, nor any thing that was their neighbours; neither should they be gentiles, for they had conscience accusing, and did by nature the things contained in the law, having the law writ in their hearts. And Christians they could be by no means; for they say they forsake the devil and all his works, and all the lusts of the flesh, and not to hurt any by word nor deed, which is less than by swearing,’ [the common fact of the informers.] To conclude, the author said: ‘for any into whose hands this may come, if they fear any danger in it, they ought not to conceal it, but to bring it before some justice, or the chief magistrate of the place, with an account how they came by it, and then they are innocent: then if it cannot clear itself, let it lie in prison till it perish.’

Now I return to George Fox, whom we left in the ship going to America. During his voyage he suffered much in his body; for the many hurts and bruises he had formerly received, and the griefs and infirmities he had contracted in England by cold, and hardships, and long imprisonments, returned upon him now he came to sea, and caused great pain. And after having been seven weeks and some odd days at sea, he, with his fellow-travellers, came safe to the island of Barbadoes. His occurrences there he hath described at large in his journal. Many of the great ones, especially the governor, showed him much kindness. And after he had edified his friends there on many occasions, and exhorted them to the maintaining of good order, both in things relating to the church, and in the governing of their blacks; he now, being restored to health again, departed the island after a stay of three months, and set sail for Jamaica, where he had not been long, ere Elizabeth Hooton, several times mentioned in this work, departed this life, having been well the day before she died; and thus she finished her days in a good frame of mind. After he had been there about seven weeks, he performed his service to his satisfaction.

1672.

In the beginning of the year 1672 he took shipping for Maryland, where being come, he with those with him travelled through woods and wildernesses, over bogs and great rivers, to New England. By the way he had sometimes opportunity to speak to the Indians and their kings; and at other times he met with singular cases, all which, for brevity’s sake, I pass by in silence. He went also to the town formerly called New Amsterdam, which name is now changed into that of New York. Here he lodged at the governor’s house, and had also a meeting there. From thence he returned again to Maryland, and came also into Virginia, and Carolina, and thus spent above a year travelling to and fro in America.

Whilst he was there, England and France were entered into war against Holland. Now though I have yet in fresh remembrance those sad times, and in what a wonderful manner it pleased the Lord to save our country from being quite overrun and subdued, yet I shall not mention those things, since they are at large set down by other writers. Yet transiently I will give a touch of the remarkable exaltation of William III. prince of Orange, and afterwards king of Great Britain.

I have already said in its due place, how it was endeavoured to exclude him by the perpetual edict from ever being stadtholder or deputy. But how strong soever this edict was sworn to, yet heaven brought it to nought, and broke the ties of it by the refuse of the nation: for women, and many others of the mob, forced the magistrates, when the French were come into the province of Utrecht, and all seemed to run into confusion, to break their oaths, and to restore that young and magnanimous prince to the honour and dignity of his renowned ancestors. The miserable fate of the two brethren, John and Cornelius de Wit, who had been chief instruments in making the said perpetual edict, and were killed and butchered in a most abominable manner by the inhabitants of the Hague, was not without good reason disapproved by many grave and serious people. It is true, it was a great mistake that they acted so, that they seemed to set limits to the Almighty; though I do not believe their intent was such, but rather that what they did in making void the stadtholdership, they judged conducive to the benefit of their country. After they were murdered, the widow of Cornelius de Wit seemed to have a firm belief that they were entered into everlasting glory: for though for some time after their death she was under a great concern, considering how on a sudden, and at unawares, they were hurried out of this life; yet at length, early in the morning, either in a dream or in a vision, she beheld them both in a cloud in a glorious form, with hands lifted up, and clothed with pure white raiment. By this sight all her former solicitude and fear was taken from her, and she was fully satisfied concerning their eternal well-being. I have this relation from several credible persons, who said they had it from her own mouth; and they all agreed in the material circumstances.

1673.

In England, where it was observed that persecution for religion, during the war, could not but be prejudicial to the public, the king published a declaration, whereby the execution of the penal laws was suspended. But since the Papists, against whom the most of these laws had been made, thus got liberty to enter into offices of trust, many of the people grew jealous on this account; insomuch that the parliament in the year 1673, showed their dislike to the king, telling him, that the penal statutes about ecclesiastical matters could not be suspended but by an act of parliament. The king, wanting money to continue the war, yielded somewhat to parliament, in respect to the popish priests and jesuits, consenting that the laws against them should continue in force.

This summer G. Fox returned to England, and arrived at Bristol, of which he gave notice to his wife by a letter; and she delayed not to go to him; with her came also her son-in-law Thomas Lower, and two of her daughters: her other son-in-law John Rouse, accompanied by William Penn, &c. came also from London; and since at that time there was a fair at Bristol, many of his friends came thither from other parts of the country, and so were at a great meeting he had there, in which he preached concerning the three chief teachers, viz. ‘That God was the first teacher of man and woman in paradise; and that as long as they kept to God’s teaching, they kept in the image of God, and in righteousness, holiness, and dominion over all that God hath made: but when they hearkened to the false teaching of the serpent, who was out of truth, and so disobeyed God, they lost the image of God, to wit, righteousness and holiness; and so coming under the power of satan, were turned out of paradise. That this serpent was the second teacher, and that man following his teaching, came into misery, and into the fall. And that Christ Jesus was the third teacher, of whom God said, “This is my beloved Son in whom I am well pleased, hear ye him:” and that this Son himself said, “Learn of me:” that he was the true gospel teacher, that never fell, and therefore was to be heard in all things, since he was the Saviour and the Redeemer, and having laid down his life, had bought his sheep with his precious blood.’ Of this he treated at large in the said meeting. After some stay at Bristol, he went to Gloucestershire; and going from thence to Oxfordshire, he came at length to London, where persecution being not so hot now as formerly, the Baptists and Socinians were very active in blackening the Quakers, by publishing several books against them, in which they averred that the Quakers were no Christians. But these malicious books were not left unanswered, nor the falsehoods contained in them.

After G. Fox had been some time at London, he went with his wife and Thomas Lower to Worcester; and when he signified to her that it was like a prison would be his share, she seemed not without reason grieved at it. And not long after had a meeting at Armscot in Tredington parish, after the meeting was ended, he, with Thomas Lower, sitting in the parlour, and discoursing with some friends, they both were under pretence of having kept great meetings that might be prejudicial to the public peace, taken by Henry Parker, justice, and sent to Worcester jail, on the 17th of December, and his wife with her daughter returned into the north; and by that time he thought she could be got home, he wrote a short letter to her, and exhorted her, to be content with the will of the Lord. He also wrote a letter to the lord Windsor, who was lieutenant of Worcestershire, and other magistrates, wherein he informed them of his imprisonment, and that he had not been taken in a meeting, but in a house where he had some business. He also signified, that he intended to have visited his mother, from which he had now been stopped. But he could not thus obtain his liberty; yet Thomas Lower might have got free if he would; for his brother Dr. Lower, being one of the king’s physicians, had procured Henry Savil, a gentleman of the king’s bed-chamber, to write to the said lord Windsor to release Thomas Lower: but his love to his father-in-law, G. Fox, was such, that he kept the said letter by him unsent; and so they were both continued prisoners.

Now whilst I leave them in prison, I return once more to Miles Halhead, of whom mention hath been often made already. He being at Plymouth in this year, felt himself stirred up to go see John Lambert, who having formerly been a general, was now, as hath been said in due place, confined to perpetual imprisonment, in a little island not far from Plymouth. To this island Halhead passed over, and though he found there a strong guard of soldiers, yet he got leave to see Lambert; and being come to him, he said, ‘Friend, is thy name John Lambert?’ To which Lambert answered, ‘Yea:’ which made Miles say, ‘Then I pray thee, friend, hear what the servant of the Lord hath to say to thee:’ and he continued thus: ‘Friend, the Lord God made use of thee and others for the deliverance of his people, and when you cried to him, he delivered you in your distresses, as at Dunbar, and other places, and gave an opportunity into your hands to do good: and you promised what great things you would do for the Lord’s people: but truly John Lambert, ye soon forgot your promises ye made to the Lord in that day and time of your great distress, and turned the edge of your sword against the Lord’s servants and handmaids, whom he sent forth to declare his eternal truth; and made laws, and consented to laws, and suffered and permitted laws to be made against God’s people.’ To this Lambert said, ‘Friend, I would have you know, that some of us never made laws, nor consented to laws to persecute you, or any of your friends; for persecution we ever were against.’ To which Miles returned, ‘It may be so; but the Scripture of truth is fulfilled by the best of you: for although thou and some others have not given your consent to make laws against the Lord’s people, yet ye suffered and permitted it to be made and done; and when power and authority was in your hands, ye might have spoken the word, and the servants and handmaids of the Lord might have been delivered out of the devourers’ hands; but none was found amongst you that would be seen to plead the cause of the innocent; so the Lord God of life was grieved with you, because ye slighted the Lord and his servants, and began to set up your self-interest, and to lay field to field, and house to house, and make your names great in the earth. Then the Lord took away your power and authority, your manhood and your boldness, and caused you to flee before your enemies, and your hearts fainted with fear, and some ended their days in grief and sorrow, and some lay in holes and caves to this day. So the Lord God of heaven and earth will give a just reward to every one according to his works. So, my dear friend, prize the great love of God to thee, who hath not given thy life into the hands of the devourers, but hath given thee thy life for a prey, and time to prepare thyself, that thou mayest end thy days in peace. And truly the Lord is good to all them that fear him, and believe in his name: for, though all the powers of the earth rise up against a poor innocent people, yet the Lord God of life and love was with them, and pleaded their cause, although all men slighted them: and truly, the best was but as a brier, and the most upright among them as a thorn hedge. If the Lord had not pleaded our innocency, we had not had a being in the land of our nativity, glory to his name forever, who hath not suffered or permitted more of the wrath of man, nor laws, nor decrees of men, to come against his people, that believe in his name, than hath been for his honour, and for his glory, and for the eternal good of all his sons and daughters, and servants; and the remainder, the Lord God of life and love hath restrained to this day: glory, and honour, and living eternal praises be given and returned to the Lord God, and the Lamb for ever!’

Thus Halhead ended his speech, and Lambert, who had heard him with good satisfaction, desired him to sit down, which Halhead did; and then Lambert called for beer, and gave him drink; after which he said to him, ‘Friend, I do believe thou speakest to me in love, and so I take it,’ And then he asked him, if he was at Dunbar fight? To which Halhead having answered ‘No:’ he further asked, ‘How do you know what great danger we were in at that time?’ Upon which Halhead gave him to understand, that he coming that way a little time after the fight, and having viewed the town of Dunbar, and the ground about it where the English army lay, how the sea was on one hand of them, and the hills and mountains on the other, and the great Scotch army before and behind them, he then took into serious consideration, the great danger the English had been in, and thought how greatly the Englishmen were engaged to the Lord for their deliverance, to serve him in truth and uprightness of heart all the days of their life. ‘Truly John,’ said Halhead then to Lambert, ‘I never saw thy face before to know thee, although I have been brought before many of our English commanders in the time of Oliver Cromwell.’ Lambert then asking, who they were, Halhead named the generals Fleetwood and Desborough, major Blackmore, and colonel Fenwick, before whom he had been when he was governor of Edinburgh. Lambert then said, he knew the most of those men to have been very moderate, and that they ever were against persecution. To which Miles replied, ‘Indeed they were very moderate, and would not be much seen to persecute, or be severe with the Lord’s people; but truly they permitted others to do it, and took little notice of the sufferings of the people of God: so that none were found to plead our cause, but the Lord God.’ To this Lambert said, ‘Although you and your friends suffered persecution, and some hardships in that time, your cause therein is never the worse for that.’ ‘That is very true,’ returned Miles, ‘but let me tell thee, in the plainness of my heart, that is no thanks to you, but glory to the Lord for ever.’ About two hours Miles discoursed with Lambert, and his wife and two daughters, and after he had cleared himself, he took leave of them, and so parted in love.

Now before I leave Halhead, I will insert here a copy of a letter he wrote in the year 1674, to G. Fox, who was then prisoner in Worcester jail: the said letter was thus:

‘George Fox,

‘Thou dear and well beloved of the Lord, whom he sent, out of his eternal love to me, and many more, who were in darkness and in blindness, seeking the living among the dead, to show and direct us the way that leads out of sin and evil, up to God eternal, blessed for evermore. The living, eternal God of life and love, that sent thee into the north, keep and preserve me, by his eternal arm and power and all my dear friends and brethren truly sensible of his eternal love, which I hear record hath been exceeding great, since the day the Lord made his precious truth known amongst us. Therefore, dear George Fox, pray for me, for I am old, and infirm of body, and the sight of my eyes grows exceeding weak, that I may be kept faithful and upright to the Lord, in my measure I have received of the Lord, in this day of his eternal love; that I may give my account with joy and rejoicing, and gladness of heart, and be presented with thee, and all my brethren, blameless to the Lord, that I may go to my grave in peace, and rest for evermore. Amen.

‘My dear love to my good old friends, Margaret Fox, and Thomas Lower; their dear and tender love and care to me in months past, by me cannot be forgotten, as I dwell and abide faithful to him, who is my light and life, my joy and peace, God over all, blessed for evermore. Amen.

MILES HALHEAD.’

1674.

In the month called January, 1673-4, G. Fox and Thomas Lower, were brought to their trial in the court at Worcester, it being the last day of the sessions; and when they came in, those on the bench were struck with paleness in their faces, and continued awhile speechless, insomuch that a butcher in the hall said, ‘What! are they afraid? Dare not the justices speak to them?’ At length justice Parker, by whose order G. Fox and T. Lower had been committed, made a long speech, much to the same effect as the contents of the mittimus, and added, that he thought it a milder course to send them two to jail, than to put his neighbours to the loss of two hundred pounds, which they must have suffered, if he had put the law in execution against conventicles. But this was a very poor shift, and silly evasion; for there being no meeting when he came, nor any to inform, he had no evidence to convict them, or his neighbours by. When Parker had ended his speech, the justices spoke to the prisoners, and began with Lower, whom they examined why he came into that country. And when they had done with him, they asked of G. Fox an account of his travel, which he gave them, and showed them clearly, that he and his friends, of whom so great a noise had been made by justice Parker, as if many had come together from several parts, were in a manner all but one family. When he had ended speaking, the chairman Simpson said, ‘Your relation or account is very innocent.’ Then he and Parker having whispered awhile together, the said chairman stood up, and said, ‘You, Mr. Fox, are a famous man, and all this may be true which you have said; but that we may be the better satisfied, will you take the oaths of allegiance and supremacy?’ Now, though G. Fox answered to this, that they had said they would not ensnare him, and that this was a plain snare, since they knew he and his friends would not take any oath; all was in vain, and they caused the oath to be read, which being done, he told them, ‘I never took oath in my life, but I have always been true to the government. I was cast into the dungeon at Darby, and kept prisoner six months there, because I would not take up arms against king Charles, at Worcester fight; and for going to meetings, I was carried out of Leicester, and brought before Oliver Cromwell, as a plotter to bring in king Charles; and ye know in your own consciences, that we, the people called Quakers, cannot take an oath, or swear in any case, because Christ hath forbidden it; but as to the matter or substance contained in the oaths, this I can and do say, that I do own and acknowledge the king of England to be lawful heir and successor to the realm of England; and do abhor all plots and plotters, and contrivances against him; and I have nothing in my heart but love and good will to him and all men, and desire his and their prosperity; the Lord knows it, before whom I stand an innocent man. And as to the oath of supremacy, I deny the pope and his power, and abhor it with my heart.’ Whilst he was yet speaking, they cried, ‘Give him the book,’ viz. the Bible. ‘The book,’ saith G. Fox, ‘saith “Swear not at all:”’ and he going on to declare his mind further, they cried, ‘Take him away, jailer:’ who not showing himself very forward, they cried again, ‘Take him away: we shall have a meeting here; why do you not take him away?’ And one of the bench said, ‘That fellow,’ meaning the jailer, ‘loves to hear him preach.’ The jailer then taking him away, as he was turning from them, he said, ‘The Lord forgive you, who cast me into prison for obeying the doctrine of Christ.’ After G. Fox was led away, the justices told T. Lower, he was at liberty; for they did not think it safe to deal with him at the same rate as they did with G. Fox, because they thought he had some protection at court. Lower asked then, why his father-in-law might not be set at liberty, as well as he, since they were both taken together, and their case was alike? But they telling him they would not hear him, said, ‘you may be gone about your business, for we have nothing more to say to you, seeing you are discharged.’

This was all he could get from them; therefore after the court was risen, he went to speak with them at their chamber, desiring to know, what cause they had to detain his father, seeing they had discharged him; and wishing them to consider, whether this was not partiality.--Upon this Simpson said, ‘If you be not content, we will tender you the oath also, and send you to your father.’ To which Lower replied, ‘You may do that, if you think fit; but whether ye send me or no, I intend to go, and wait upon my father in prison; for that is now my business in this country.’ Then justice Parker said to him, ‘Do you think, Mr. Lower, that I had no cause to send your father and you to prison, when you had such a great meeting, insomuch that the parson of the parish complained to me, that he had lost the greatest part of his parishioners; so that when he comes amongst them, he hath scarce any auditors left.’ To this Lower returned, ‘I have heard that the priest of that parish comes so seldom to visit his flock, but once, it may be, or twice in a year, to gather up his tithes, that it was but charity in my father, to visit such a forlorn and forsaken flock: and therefore thou hadst no cause to send my father to prison for visiting them, or for teaching, instructing, and directing them to Christ their true teacher, who had so little comfort or benefit from their pretended pastor, who comes amongst them only to seek for his gain from his quarter.’ Upon this the justice fell a laughing; for Dr. Crowder, the priest spoken of, was then in the room, sitting among them; though Lower did not know him, and he had the wit to hold his tongue, and not to vindicate himself. But after Lower was gone away, the justices so jested on Crowder, that he grew ashamed; and was so nettled with it, that he threatened to sue T. Lower in the bishop’s court upon an action of defamation: which Lower having heard of, sent him word that he might begin if he would; and that he would answer him, and bring his whole parish in evidence against him. And he told him the same afterwards to his face; which so cooled the priest’s eagerness, that he thought it more safe for him to let him alone.

Soon after the sessions were over, an habeas corpus was sent down to Worcester, for the sheriff to bring up G. Fox to the king’s bench bar; whereupon his son-in-law, Lower, conducted him: for the under sheriff had made Lower his deputy, to convey G. Fox to London, who being arrived there, appeared before the court of king’s bench, where he found the judges moderate, and they patiently heard him, when he gave them an account how he had been stopped in his journey, and committed to jail; and how at his trial, the oath of allegiance and supremacy had been tendered to him; and also what he had offered to the justices as a declaration, that he was willing to sign, instead of the said oaths. To this it was told him, by the chief justice, that they would consider further of it. Being then delivered to the keeper of the king’s bench, he was suffered to go and lodge at the house of one of his friends; for though he continued a prisoner, yet they were sufficiently persuaded that he would not run away. But after this, justice Parker, as it was said, moved the court that G. Fox might be sent back to Worcester, that his cause might be tried there; for Parker saw clearly, that if G. Fox had been acquitted here, this would have tended to his shame, for having committed him unjustly.

A day then being appointed for another hearing, and G. Fox appearing again at the king’s bench, and hearing that it was under deliberation to send him back to Worcester, signified, that this was only to ensnare him, by putting the oath to him, that so they might premunire him, who never took oath in his life. And he further told them, if he broke his yea, or nay, he was content to suffer the same penalty as those that break their oaths. Now seeing Parker had spread a report at London, and it had been said in the parliament-house, that when he took G. Fox, there were many substantial men with him, out of several parts of the nation, and that they had a design or plot in hand, G. Fox did not omit to show the fallacy of that malicious story: and since he thus laid open Parker’s shame, it was not strange, that by his friends at court, he procured that the king’s judges complied with his desire that G. Fox should be remanded to Worcester jail; insomuch that whatever he said, he could not prevent it; only this favour was granted him, that he might go his own way, and at his leisure, provided he would be there without fail, by the assizes, which were to begin on the 2d day of the month called April.

G. Fox then after some stay, went down leisurely, and being come to Worcester, he was on the 2d day of the aforesaid month, brought from the jail, to an inn near the sessions hall; but not being called that day, the jailer came to him at night, and told him he might go home, meaning to the jail: whereupon he walked thither, being accompanied by one of his friends. Next day being brought up again, a boy of about eleven years old was set to be his keeper. Having in my relation of the proceedings before the king’s bench, passed by most part of the pleading, so I shall do here likewise, to avoid repetitions of what hath been several times related already, concerning such kind of trials; yet I cannot pass by in silence, that after he had given an account of his journey before he was taken, he added, that since his imprisonment, he had understood that his mother, who was an ancient and weak woman, and had desired to see him before she died, hearing that he was stopped and imprisoned in his journey, so that he was not likely to come and see her, it struck her so, that she died soon after; which had been very hard to him. Judge Turner, who formerly had been very severe to him, seemed now, as some thought, inclined to have him set at liberty, since he saw they had nothing justly against him; but Parker who had committed him, endeavoured to incense the judge against him; for if he had been released, then he himself must have borne the blame of having committed G. Fox unjustly; and therefore he told the judge that G. Fox was a ringleader, that many of the nation followed him; and one knew not what it might come to. Yet the judge gave but little ear to all this, being willing to be easy; but he could not resolve to do this, by setting G. Fox at liberty, lest he should displease others; and thus in conclusion, G. Fox and his cause were referred to the sessions again, and he continued prisoner, but with this proviso, that he should have the liberty of the town; which accordingly he had.

By this he got opportunity to speak with many persons, and sometimes with priests too, one of which asked him, whether he was grown up to perfection? To which he answered, what he was, he was by the grace of God. ‘This is,’ replied the priest, ‘a modest and civil answer.’ ‘But,’ continued he in the words of the apostle John, “If we say that we have no sin, we deceive ourselves, and the truth is not in us.” And asking what he said to that? G. Fox returned with the words of the same apostle, “if we say that we have not sinned, we make him a liar, and his word is not in us.” Moreover he said, ‘Christ came to destroy sin, and to take away sin. There is a time for people to see that they have sinned, and there is a time for them to confess their sin, and to forsake it, and to know the blood of Christ to cleanse from all sin.’ After some more reasoning, the priest said, ‘We must always be striving;’ to which G. Fox returned, that it was a sad and comfortless sort of striving, to strive with a belief that we should never overcome: and he told him also, that Paul, who once cried out because of the body of death, did also thank God, who gave him the victory; and that he said there is no condemnation to them that are in Christ Jesus: so that there was a time of crying out for want of victory, and a time of praising God for the victory. ‘But,’ said the priest, ‘Job was not perfect.’ To which G. Fox returned, that God hath signified in Scripture, that Job was perfect and upright, and that he eschewed evil: and that the devil himself was forced to confess, that God had set an hedge about him; which was not an outward hedge, but the invisible heavenly power. Yet said Job, replied the priest, ‘he charged his angels with folly, and the heavens are not clean in his sight.’ ‘That is a mistake,’ said G. Fox, ‘for it was not Job said so, but Eliphaz, who contended against Job.’ ‘Well, but,’ said the priest, ‘what say you to that Scripture, the justest man that is, sinneth seven times a day?’ ‘There is,’ answered G. Fox, ‘no such scripture.’ So the priest was silent, and this conference broken off, of which I have related thus much to show that G. Fox was not such a simple person, as some from mere envy have represented him: for he was never at a loss for an answer, but had it always in readiness.

Now the time of the sessions being come again, where the justice, who was chairman, was one Street, G. Fox was called there before the justices, and then the said justice exceedingly misrepresented the case, by telling the people, that G. Fox had a meeting at Tredington from all parts of the nation, to the terrifying of the king’s subjects; for which he had been committed, and that for the trial of his fidelity, the oaths had been tendered to him. And then turning to G. Fox, he asked him, since he had time to consider of it, whether he would now take the oaths? G. Fox having obtained liberty to speak for himself, gave a relation of his journey, and showed that he and his friends had in no wise kept a meeting that occasioned terror to any of the king’s subjects; and as to the oaths, he showed why he could not take them, and what he could declare instead thereof. But notwithstanding all this, the oaths were read to him again; and he persisting in his refusal to take them, the indictment was read also; and afterwards the chairman asked him ‘if he was guilty?’ G. Fox answered, ‘No, since the indictment was a bundle of lies,’ which he proved in several particulars, asking him, if he did not know in his conscience that they were lies? To which he said, it was their form. Whereupon G. Fox returned, it was not a true form. Then the chairman told the jury what they should do in this case: and before they gave in their verdict, G. Fox said to them, that it was for Christ’s sake, and in obedience to his and his apostle’s command that he could not swear: ‘and therefore,’ said he, ‘take heed what ye do; for before his judgment-seat ye shall all be brought.’ The chairman then said, ‘This is canting.’ ‘Why,’ said G. Fox, ‘if to confess Christ our Lord and Saviour, and to obey his command, be called canting by a judge of a court, it is to little purpose for me to say more among you. Yet ye shall see that I am a Christian, and shall show forth Christianity; and my innocency shall be manifest.’ By this his speaking, the people generally were affected; but the jury however found the bill against him; which G. Fox nevertheless traversed. Thus the matter could not be finished now, and therefore he was asked to put in bail, till the next sessions; this he refused, and warned his friends that seemed willing to be bound for him, not to meddle with that, since there was a snare in it. Yet he told the justices, that he would promise to appear, if the Lord gave him health and strength, and he were at liberty. Some of the justices showed themselves loving, and endeavoured to stop the rest from indicting him, or putting the oath to him. But the chairman said he must go according to law. Yet liberty was given G. Fox to go at large, till next quarter-sessions.

He then went up to London; where the time of the yearly meeting approached; but at the instance of some of his friends, he appeared again before the judges of the king’s bench, and delivered to them the following declaration, setting forth what he was ready to promise instead of the oaths of allegiance and supremacy.

‘This I do in the truth, and in the presence of God declare, that king Charles the Second is lawful king of this realm, and of all others his dominions; and that he was brought in, and set up king over this realm by the power of God: and I have nothing, but love and good-will to him and all his subjects, and desire his prosperity and eternal good. And I do utterly abhor and deny the pope’s power and supremacy, and all his superstitious and idolatrous inventions; and do affirm, that he hath no power to absolve sin: and I do abhor and detest his murderings of princes, or other people, by plots and contrivances. And likewise I do deny all plots and contrivances, and plotters and contrivers against the king and his subjects; knowing them to be works of darkness, and the fruits of an evil spirit, and against the peace of the kingdom, and not from the spirit of God, the fruit of which is love. I dare not take an oath, because it is forbidden by Christ and the apostle; but if I break my yea or nay, then let me suffer the same penalty, as they that break their oaths.

GEORGE FOX.’

This declaration, being the substance of what oaths of allegiance and supremacy contain, G. Fox presented to the judges of the king’s bench; but the proceedings having gone on at Worcester, they were unwilling to meddle with the business, but referred it to the next quarter-sessions at Worcester.

The yearly-meeting at London, at which he was, being over, he returned again to Worcester, where the sessions being held in the month called July, and he called to the bar, and the indictment read, justice Street caused the oaths to be read also, and tendered to him again. G. Fox then said, that he was come to traverse his indictment. But when he began to show the errors that were in the indictment, viz. such as were sufficient to quash it, he was soon stopped, and the oath required of him; and he persisting in the refusal, was by the jury found guilty. The chairman, how active soever he had been against G. Fox, yet was now troubled, and told him of a sad sentence he had to speak against him. To which G. Fox returned, that he had many and more errors to assign in the indictment, besides those he had already mentioned. Whereupon the chairman told him, he was going to show him the danger of a premunire, which was the loss of his liberty, and all his goods and chattels, and to endure imprisonment during life. ‘But,’ added he, ‘I do not deliver this as the sentence of the court, but as an admonition to you.’ Then the jailer was bid to take him away; and G. Fox afterwards understood concerning this pretended admonition, that the chairman had said to the clerk of the peace, that what he had spoken should stand for sentence.

Now whilst G. Fox was in prison, there came to him, amongst others, the earl of Salisbury’s son, who was very loving, and much concerned that they had dealt so with him; and he himself took a copy in writing of the errors that were in the indictment. And G. Fox afterwards got the state of his case, drawn up in writing, delivered to judge Wild. He also wrote a letter to the king, wherein he gave an account of the sentiments of those called Quakers concerning swearing; and how they abhorred all plottings and contrivances against the king. Not long after he fell into such a sickness, that some began to doubt of his recovery; and then one of his friends went to justice Parker, by whose order he had been first committed to prison, and desired him to give order to the jailer, that he might have liberty to go out of the jail into the city. Whereupon Parker wrote the following letter to the jailer.

‘Mr. Harris,

‘I have been much importuned by some friends to George Fox, to write to you. I am informed by them, that he is in a very weak condition, and very much indisposed. What lawful favour you can do for the benefit of the air, for his health, pray show him. I suppose the next term they will make application to the king. I am,

Sir, your loving friend, HENRY PARKER.’

Evesham, the 8th of October, 1674.

This letter was sufficient warrant for the jailer to permit G. Fox to be brought from prison to the house of one of his friends. His wife was come to him before that time, and after having been with him about seventeen weeks, and no discharge like to be obtained for him, she went up to London, and being come to Whitehall, and meeting with the king there, she gave him an account of her husband’s long imprisonment, and how weak he was, and not without danger of his life. To which the king said, he could do nothing in it, but she must go to the chancellor. And so she went to the lord Finch, who was then chancellor; and having given him an account of the matter, she told him that the king had left it wholly to him; and if he did not show pity, and release her husband out of prison, she feared he would end his days there. But the chancellor said to her, that the king could not release him, otherwise than by a pardon. Now G. Fox could not resolve to be freed thus, as well knowing he had done no evil; and therefore he would rather have lain in prison all his days, than to be thus set at liberty; otherwise he needed not to have lain so long, since the king had been willing long before to have given him a pardon; and also had said to one Thomas More, that G. Fox needed not scruple being released by a pardon; for many a man, that was as innocent as a child, had had a pardon granted him. G. Fox unwilling to have a pardon, but desiring to have the validity of his indictment tried before the judges, the lord chancellor, who showed himself a discreet man, procured that an habeas corpus was granted to bring G. Fox to London, once more to appear before the king’s bench. The habeas corpus was with the first opportunity sent down by his wife to Worcester; but there they would not part with him at first, (being now recovered a little of his sickness,) under a pretence that he was premunired, and was not to go out in that manner. Thus it became necessary to send to London again; and another order was got and sent down, to bring up G. Fox before the king’s bench. Being still weak, he was carried up to London in a coach, the under-sheriff and the clerk of the peace accompanying him.

Being come down, he was brought before the four judges at the king’s bench, where counsellor Thomas Corbet pleaded his cause, and acquitted himself exceeding well; for he started a new plea, and told the judges, that by law they could not imprison any man upon a premunire. The judges then saying they must have time to look in their books, and to consult the statutes, the hearing was put off till the next day. And since it appeared that Corbet was in the right, they chose to let their plea fall, perhaps for fear of worse consequences. And thus they began to examine the errors of the indictment, which proved to be so many and so gross, that all the judges were of opinion, that the indictment was quashed and void, and that G. Fox ought to have his liberty. The same day several lords and other great men, had the oaths of allegiance and supremacy tendered to them in open court; and some of G. Fox’s adversaries moved the judges, that the oaths might be tendered to him again, saying, he was a dangerous man to be at liberty. But judge Matthew Hale, who was then lord chief justice of England, and really an excellent and pious man, as hath been hinted already here before, said, he had indeed heard some such reports of G. Fox, but he had also heard more good reports of him. This saying was serviceable; and Hale and the other judges ordered G. Fox to be freed by proclamation. Thus he was set at liberty in an honourable way, and his counsellor Corbet, who had pleaded for him, got great fame by it; for many other lawyers told him, he had brought that to light, which had not been known before. And after the trial, one of the judges said to him, ‘You have obtained a great deal of honour by your way of pleading G. Fox’s cause in court.’

The year was now come to an end. But before I go over to the next, I am to mention that the Baptists in England, losing from time to time some of their best members, wrote therefore very fiercely against the Quakers, endeavouring thereby to render them no Christians. But those writings were continually answered, and that with so many convincing reasons, that the Quakers got more adherents by it. The consequence of this was, that a public dispute was appointed to be held between the Baptists and the Quakers, in the meeting-house of the Baptists at London. For the Quakers, there spoke by turns, George Whitehead, Stephen Crisp, William Penn, and George Keith; and the opponents were Jeremy Ives, William Kiffin, Thomas Plant, Thomas Hicks, and Robert Ferguson, a Presbyterian, afterwards eminently known in Holland, by the fierce declaration drawn up by him in the name of the duke of Monmouth, when that unhappy prince went over to England with forces, to dispute the throne against king James.

Jeremy Ives was an eminent teacher among the Baptists, that had been in prison in London fourteen years before on a religious account, and chiefly because for conscience-sake he refused to take the oath.

Not long after he wrote a smart letter from the prison, to two of his society, (who having been imprisoned with him for the same cause, had taken the oath, thereby to obtain their liberty,) wherein he reproved them for their falling away, and signified that thus they had increased the burden of their faithful brethren, from the bearing of which they had withdrawn themselves. But what a changeable creature is man, if he doth not continue watchful, and keep close to the divine grace, continually laying hold thereon! For scarce five days passed, but this inconstant Jeremy grew weary of imprisonment, and took the oath also to get out of prison. Neither did he stop here; for it is plain that he was now departed from his profession. To temporize therefore, and to find out excuses for what he had done, he put forth a book in print, wherein he asserted the lawfulness of swearing. It was asked of him, whether he was that same Jeremy Ives, that once had been of such a tender conscience, that he durst not take an oath, and had afterwards publicly defended swearing as lawful? And he did not deny the fact, for it was notoriously known: but he went about to disguise the matter, and said, ‘I am that Jeremy who took the oath of allegiance, and wrote a book to prove that some oaths were lawful, though not all.’ Neither did he deny the fore-mentioned letter, for it was extant, and written as followeth:

‘Brother Pitman and Brother Shewel,

‘I am at this time surprised with a holy passion; and though Jonah could not say concerning the gourd, that he did well to be angry; yet, if my experience in the word of the Lord doth not deceive, I can truly say, I do well to be angry with you; whom I have had a godly jealously of all along, viz. That you would be as easily persuaded to part with, as unwilling to suffer for, your spiritual liberties. Oh my brethren! Where is your first love? How unlike the Christians in former times are you? Whose zeal was so hot for God, that their eyes prevented the morning, that thereby they might prevent the rage of the adversary, who, as it is now, commanded them no more to worship in the name of the Lord.--I always did conclude, that those that would--quit the cause of righteousness--would quit the ways of holiness, as yesterday’s sad experience hath taught, to the perpetual joy of your adversaries, and the saddening the hearts, and adding afflictions to the bonds of the prisoners of the Lord. I do therefore conjure you, as you will answer the great God another day, to consider, that now is the time for you to look to your ministry, and to the flock over which the Lord hath made you overseers, that you may be able through grace to say, ‘You are clear from the blood of all men;’ and observe, that God is now come to prove you, to see whether you will keep his commandments or not. Remember when that apostate’s case was debated, you had no zeal nor indignation against him, but you smothered all with this, ‘If it were in a matter of faith and worship that he had fallen from, you would have been as one man against it.’ Well, behold the Lord is come home to you; the matter now is purely for worshipping God; now God is proving you to see whether you will obey him or no: and did not yesterday’s work witness, that you were willing to prefer the fear of a man, that must die, before the fear of the great God; and the fear of them that can kill the body, before the fear of the Lord, that can cast body and soul into hell? I have no more to say but this, that your cowardly temporizing and complying with the precepts of men, makes me jealous, that your fear towards the Lord is taught by the precepts of men. I would not be too censorious, but my grounds are great; and my bonds are my crown; but your cowardly spirit is my great cross. You little think what a scandal it is amongst us to hear it affirmed that one of you should say, you had rather have given fifty pounds than have sworn, and yet swear that you swear willingly. Oh! for the Lord’s sake, do somewhat that may roll away this reproach; which that you may, is the prayers of your brother, who could be contented to write himself,

Your companion in tribulation, JER. IVES.’

Jan. 14, 1660.

‘Brother Ward, my fellow-prisoner, desires to present his love to you, and so do some others.’

Thus zealously Jer. Ives wrote to his fellow-teachers, who for human fear, and to avoid sufferings, had, against their profession, and the conviction of their consciences, taken the oath. But who could have imagined on sight of such letter, that he himself within so short a space of time, should have done that which he reproved so severely in others. Certainly in this case the saying of the prophet Jeremiah seems to be very applicable, “The heart is deceitful above all things, and desperately wicked; who can know it? Let therefore him who standeth, be cautious lest he fall.” Happy had this man been, if he had been so sensible of his transgressions as one Edward Chilton, who though by profession a Quaker, yet when it came to a trial, either to take the oath of allegiance, or to be premunired, he wavered and fainted; yet not so, that he fell away totally: for he became so penitent for the evil he had committed, that he found himself constrained to give proof thereof by a letter he wrote to his friends, who remained prisoners, because for conscience-sake they could not swear; whereas he, to be released from imprisonment, had taken the oath that was demanded of him. But of what a bitter relish this became to him, and what terror and horror he was seized with, the following letter will show:

‘My dear Friends,

‘I desire to lay before you this my condition in this my fall, that my fall may be no cause for you to stumble, but that you by it may be the more encouraged to stand; for I have yielded to the betrayer, and so betrayed the innocent seed in me; for I forsook the counsel of the Lord, and consulted with flesh and blood, and so I fell into the snare of the world, and yielded to the covenant; and so I rested satisfied in what I had done, for some certain hours; but when the Lord in his power looked back upon me, then I remembered what I had done; then I remembered that I had denied truth, which once I had professed, though once I thought I should have stood when others fell. So the terrors of the Lord have taken hold on me, and I lie under the judgments of the Lord.

‘And now I feel the truth of the words that were spoken by Christ, ‘that he that faileth in one tittle, is guilty of all;’ and now I feel the truth of that, ‘that it is better to forsake wife and children, and all that a man hath, even life itself, for Christ and the truth’s sake, than to break one tittle of the law of God written in the heart.’ So I hope that, by mercy and judgment, the Lord will redeem me to himself again. The Lord may suffer some to fall, that the standing of them that stand faithful may seem to be the more glorious, and for them to take heed lest they fall.

‘Now I know and feel, that it is better to part with any thing of this world, though it be as dear to one as the right hand, or the eye, than to break our peace with God.

‘Pray for me; for my bonds are greater than yours.

EDWARD CHILTON.’

Windsor, the 22d of the 11th month, 1660.

It is remarkable, that this Chilton in the conclusion of his letter saith, that his bonds were greater than those of his friends, who neither feared a premunire, nor loss of their liberty, when they must pay so dear for it, as the taking of an oath. For when any one truly abides in the fear of God, he dares not, against the convictions of his conscience, transgress the Divine commandments, and seek evasions to avoid the stress thereof: for certainly God will not be mocked. Could our Saviour have spoken in more plain and express terms than he did, when he said, “Swear not at all?” And yet what cunning devices have been invented by those who boast of the name of Christians, to enervate the force of these express words. It is not a proper place here to refute their reasons; but yet I cannot think it unsuitable to show briefly how dangerous it is to act against the express commandments of sacred writ, and against the conviction of one’s conscience, thereby to avoid persecution: for not only the apostle James saith, “Whosoever shall offend in one point, he is guilty of all;” but our supreme lawgiver Christ himself saith, “Whosoever shall deny me before men, him will I also deny before my Father which is in heaven. And whosoever shall be ashamed of me, and of my words, of him also shall the Son of Man be ashamed, when he cometh in the glory of his Father, with the holy angels.” And to encourage us to faithfulness he hath also said, “Fear not them which kill the body, but are not able to kill the soul; but rather fear him which is able to destroy both soul and body in hell.” Which words indeed are so emphatical, that it ought not to displease any that I repeat them, as they have been left on record by the evangelist Luke, viz. thus, “I say unto you, my friends, be not afraid of them that kill the body, and after that have no more that they can do. But I will forewarn you whom ye shall fear: fear him, which after he hath killed, hath power to cast into hell: yea, I say unto you, fear him.” Can it be otherwise, but that such words must needs make a powerful impression on a real Christian? And the more when we consider, that nothing in the world can retrieve or restore a perishing soul, as may appear from these of our blessed Lord, “What is a man profited, if he shall gain the whole world, and lose his own soul? Or what shall a man give in exchange for his soul?” A clear proof that the whole world, and all that is contained therein, is not able to save one soul, or to afford any thing that can redeem it. If I here thought it requisite, a godly zeal at present would make me say more on this subject; but not to expatiate too far beyond the limits of this historical tract, I shall not pursue this digression any further, but return to my relation from whence I thus stepped aside.

To take up again then the broken thread of my discourse, I once more come to Jeremy Ives, who, to avoid persecution, had taken the oath contrary to his understanding; and it was Thomas Rudyard, mentioned here before, who objected this to him; and he feeling himself pinched by it, endeavoured to break the stress thereof by saying, that the reason why in a letter he had blamed a friend, was for his saying he had rather have given fifty pounds than have took the oath of allegiance, and yet swore he took it freely and willingly. But who sees not what a poor shift this was?

Now to come to the dispute; I already mentioned it was asserted, that the Quakers were no Christians; and to maintain this, Thomas Hicks said, ‘They that deny the Lord’s Christ, are no Christians: but the Quakers deny the Lord’s Christ,’ &c. To which W. Penn said, ‘I deny the minor, viz. that the Quakers deny the Lord’s Christ.’ And T. Hicks returned, ‘They that deny Christ to be a distinct person without them, deny the Lord’s Christ; but the Quakers deny Christ to be a distinct person without them: therefore,’ &c. W. Penn then desired that T. Hicks would explain what he meant by the term person. And T. Hicks answered, ‘I mean the man Christ Jesus.’ To which W. Penn replied, ‘Then I deny the minor, viz. that we deny the man Christ Jesus.’ To which Hicks returned, ‘I prove ye deny the man Christ Jesus. One of your own writers saith, that Christ was never seen with carnal eyes, nor heard with carnal ears,’ &c. To this J. Ives added, ‘He that denies that Christ was ever seen with carnal eyes, &c. denies the man Christ: but the Quakers deny that Christ was ever seen with carnal eyes,’ &c. George Keith then said, ‘I answer by distinguishing: Christ as God was never seen with carnal eyes; but as man he was seen with carnal eyes.’ To this J. Ives returned: ‘But he was Christ as he was man: how then was not Christ seen with carnal eyes?’ To this question G. Keith answered thus: ‘We are to consider that the terms or names Jesus Christ, are sometimes applied to him as God, and sometimes to him as man; yea, sometimes to the very body of Jesus: but the question is, whether do those names more properly, immediately, and originally belong to him as God, or as he was before he took the manhood upon him; or to the manhood? We affirm, those names are given to him most properly and eminently as God; and less properly, yet truly, as man; and least properly to his body, yea to his dead body.’ Then J. Ives asked, ‘Where do you read that the carcase was called the Christ?’ This irreverent expression so displeased many, that some cried out, ‘Where didst thou ever read that Christ’s dead body was called a carcase?’ From this disgust W. Penn said, ‘I beseech you for the Lord’s sake, that we may treat of these things as becomes Christians.’

G. Keith then resuming the discourse, answered J. Ives’s question thus: ‘I prove that the dead body of Jesus was called Christ, from the words of Mary, “Where have ye laid him?” For she had just before called the body her Lord: likewise the angel said to her, “See the place where the Lord lay:” and that he was Jesus Christ before he took flesh, I prove from the saying of the apostle, “Who created all things by Jesus Christ.”’ Then T. Hicks said, ‘I will prove the Quakers to be no Christians:’ and J. Ives added, ‘They that say that Christ cannot be seen with carnal eyes, and was never visible to wicked men, do deny the Lord’s Christ; for he was seen with carnal eyes, and by wicked men.’ To this W. Penn said, ‘I distinguish upon the word seen; wicked men might see him in that bodily appearance, and yet not see him to be the Christ of God; they saw his manhood, but not his Christship: this I will prove from Christ’s words to Peter, when he confessed him to be Christ, the Son of the living God, viz. “Flesh and blood hath not revealed this unto thee, but my Father which is in heaven:” therefore Peter with a carnal eye could not have seen the Lord’s Christ, much less wicked men. My second proof is from the apostle’s words, “Whom none of the princes of this world knew; for had they known him, they would not have crucified him.”’ W. Penn enlarging a little more on this subject, said also, that seeing and knowing in Scriptures are sometimes equivalent. And G. Keith added, ‘Christ said, “He that hath seen me, hath seen the Father:” but no wicked man hath seen the Father, therefore no wicked man hath seen Christ, as such.’ Ives and his companions scoffed at this distinction: but the Quakers averred, that all who saw Jesus as the carpenter’s son, did not see him as the Christ of God. Then Ives asked, ‘Is the manhood a part of the Lord’s Christ?’ To which W. Penn returned, ‘Is this to prove the charge of our denying the Lord’s Christ? It seems we must be here to be catechised, and ye will not answer us one question, yet I shall answer J. Ives his question, if he will promise to answer mine.’

Ives then saying that he would answer it, W. Penn returned, ‘I here declare, that we do faithfully believe that holy manhood to be a member of the Christ of God:’ and directing his question to Ives, he said, ‘Was he the Christ of God before he was manifest in the flesh?’ ‘He was,’ answered Ives, ‘the Son of God.’ ‘But,’ replied W. Penn, ‘Was he the Lord’s Christ? I will prove him to have been the Lord’s Christ as well before as after: first from the apostle Paul’s words to the Corinthians, “That rock was Christ:” next from Jude, where some Greek copies have it thus, “That Jesus brought the people of Israel out of Egypt.”’ But to this Ives gave no answer, how often soever he was called upon for it. And this was no great wonder, since it was well known that there were such among the Baptists who favoured the Socinian principles. But Ives, that he might not appear altogether mute, came on again with a question, viz. ‘Do ye believe that Christ in his human nature is in heaven?’ This made G. Whitehead say to the auditory, ‘Ye have heard the charge against us, and the distinction that hath been made between seeing, and seeing of Christ, as namely between the spiritual saving sight of the Lord’s Christ, and the seeing of his outward man, person, or body. In this last sense it could never be intended that it was not visible to the outward eye; but it was the spiritual rock which all Israel drank of, and as he was before Abraham was, and as glorified with the Father before the world began; and as Christ himself said to Philip, “He that seeth me, seeth my Father also:” and only saints, or children of light, could truly say, “We have seen his glory as the only begotten of the Father, full of grace and truth.” In all which considerations, or senses of seeing, the Lord’s Christ was only seen spiritually, and not with carnal eyes.’ This Ives granted, that so it might be left: yet presently after, instead of proving the Quakers no Christians, he asked again, ‘Do ye believe or own that Christ is in heaven with his human nature?’ To which W. Penn answered, ‘We do believe the man Christ Jesus to be glorified in heaven.’ Which answer Ives refusing to accept, because it was not in the terms of his question, Penn asked, ‘What difference dost thou make between the manhood and human nature of Christ?’ ‘None,’ returned Ives, ‘if you mean candidly.’ To which Penn replied, ‘I do mean and speak candidly; we do believe that holy manhood to be in heavenly glory.’

Now since it began to grow dark, the Baptists desired to leave off, and to resume the matter at another time; as was done also: but the parties did not agree for all that; for though the Baptists continued to assert that the Quakers were no Christians, yet these had abundance of reasons to maintain the contrary; and this they did so effectually, that those of the other party, under a pretence of the meeting-place being overcharged with people, and that the gallery gave way, broke up the meeting, without a final conclusion.

Prosecution in this year was not very sharp at London, but for all that, active in other places, so that I do not want matter to make a relation of it; but to shun prolixity, I will mention but one case.

One Robert Tilles, in Buckingham, sick of a consumption, and believing his death to be nigh at hand, desired some of his friends to visit him. At this invitation some came to his house, yet not above the number of fourteen persons; and two informers went and acquainted a justice of the peace thereof, who recorded this small assembly as a seditious meeting, and fined the sick man twenty pounds for this pretended transgression; and so his goods were seized, and six cows taken from him. And one Robert Smith, being overheard by the informers to have spoken five or six words, was fined also twenty pounds as a preacher; which fine was afterwards extorted from some others then present.

The peace between England and Holland was concluded this year, at the instance of Spain, but the war between Holland and France continued still.

1675.

I now pass over to the year 1675. About the beginning whereof G. Fox came to London, whilst the parliament was sitting, who advised the king to the suppressing of the growth of popery; but in the meanwhile the Quakers bore the chiefest shock; for their religious meetings were styled seditious conventicles.

After G. Fox had been at the yearly-meeting of his friends at London, he left the city, and went to Lancaster, and from thence to Swarthmore, where having a dwelling-place of his own, he staid about two years to rest himself: having contracted distempers by hardships and imprisonments, which had much weakened his body. Being there, he understood that four young students at Aberdeen were convinced at a dispute held by Robert Barclay and George Keith, with some of the scholars of that university. And being visited by some of the neighbourhood, among others came also to him colonel Kirby, his old persecutor, who now carried himself very lovingly, and bid him welcome into the country. Yet notwithstanding this appearance of kindness, sometime afterwards he ordered the constables of Ulverstone to tell G. Fox, that they must have no more meetings at Swarthmore, for if they had, they were commanded by him to break them up; and they were to come the next Sunday after. But this threatening did not make G. F. afraid; for he, with his friends, had a meeting on that First day of the week, and none came to disturb them. During his abode at home, when he did not travel to and fro in the country, as he used to do, to edify his friends by his ministry, he supplied this with his pen, and exhorted them by writing, where he could not do it by word of mouth: besides he wrote other serviceable treatises, for he was a diligent man.

In the meanwhile persecution for the worship of God did not cease altogether: the act against seditious conventicles gave opportunity to the malicious to disturb the religious meetings of the Quakers, who never met in a clandestine manner, but always publicly: and on this account fines were extorted from them; to which may be added, that oftentimes they were still very ill treated, and most grievously abused, as among the rest at Long Clawston in Leicestershire, where some women were dragged by the neck along the street; and among these a widow, the skin of whose neck was rubbed off by this rudeness; and an ancient woman, above seventy, was violently cast down to the ground. Some of the men were dragged by the hair, and others by their legs, besides the many blows given them: and some were trodden upon till the blood gushed out of their mouth and nose. Yet all this they bore patiently, without making any resistance; whereby it happened sometimes that some who had not the gift of preaching, reached others by their patient suffering; showing by their meek behaviour, that their works did agree with their Christian profession: and though many were robbed of all they had, even clothes and beds not excepted, yet they continued steadfast without fainting; though often it was called a meeting when some were come together, not properly to perform religious worship, as hath been related already.

At Kirby Muckloe, where some were come to the house of John Penford, to provide for their poor, the priest of the parish, called John Dixon, informed against them by letter to Wenlock Stanly of Branston, who sent three of his servants to take inspection of the said meeting; and though these looking into the book, in which the charitable distributions were entered, found that this meeting had been only to consider of the necessities of the poor, yet several were fined, and Penford himself twenty pounds for his house, and ten pounds for the preacher, when there was never any one there; but they having heard him speak, this was counted sufficient to make him pass for a preacher. Now though he and Richard Woodland appealed for justice, yet the court positively denied their appeal, unless they would first take the oath of allegiance. This was the old snare, so that the hearing of the matter was denied, and treble damage given against them.

At Lewes in Sussex, the priest, William Snat, became himself an informer, and went several times to the Quakers’ meeting there; and from thence to the justice Henry Shully, to whom he declared on oath, in whose house the meeting had been, and who had preached; and this was so gross, that once he gave a false information with respect to the house; but the gain proceeding from this work, how abominable soever, did shine so alluringly, that his kinsman, James Clark, entered upon this informer’s office: which any one could easily do, without making suit for it.

In Norfolk, the rage of the persecutors was such, that some having been bereaved of all, were obliged, even in winter time, (as amongst the rest, Joseph Harrison, with his wife and children,) to lie on straw; and yet they, unwearied, did not leave frequenting their religious meeting; nay, even the dead were not suffered to rest, for outrageous barbarity came to that pitch, that Mary, the wife of Francis Larder, being dead and buried, was, by order of one Thomas Bretland, dug up again, whereby the coffin was broken, which they tied together, and carrying it away, exposed the corpse in the market-place. Thus this deceased woman was no more suffered to lie quiet in her grave, than in her sick bed, where the day before her death, she had been threatened by order of one Christopher Bedinfield, to have her bed taken from under her while living. Now the reason of thus taking up the corpse was, that though her husband was one of those called Quakers, yet she not being properly a member of that society, it was taken ill that she had been buried in a plain way, without paying to the priest his pretended due, for the ordinary service over the dead.

In Somersetshire thirty-two persons were fined for having been at a burial. The like happened in the county of Derby, where Samuel Roe, (his wife being deceased,) was fined twenty pounds, because his friends met in his house to conduct the corpse to the grave. Of this the priest, John Wilson, was informer to the justice of peace, John Loe; and out of the house of the said Samuel Roe, was taken the value of thirty pounds; so that the share of the informer was no less than ten pounds; since according to law, his due was a third of the spoil. I could here relate several instances of great adversities, and sad mischiefs that befel cruel persecutors; but not to expatiate too far, I have silently passed by many remarkable cases.

Yet, in general terms I may say, that many of the persecutors, both justices, informers, and others, came to a miserable end: some being by sudden, or unnatural death, and others by lingering sicknesses, or distempers, or by foul and stinking diseases, taken out of this life; whilst some, who by spoil had scraped much together, fell to great poverty and beggary; whose names I could set down, and mention also time and place; and among these some rapacious ecclesiastics, who came to a sad end; but I studiously omit particularizing such instances, to avoid the appearance of grudging and envy. Some of those that had been so active in spoil, signified themselves the terrible remorse of conscience they felt, because of their having persecuted the Quakers; insomuch, that they roared out their gnawing grief, mixed with despair, under the grievous pains they suffered in their body. And it was judged by many a very remarkable case, that one Christopher Glin, priest at Burford, who had acted with a very indiscreet zeal against the Quakers, having about the year 1663, read his text in the pulpit, and then intending to read his sermon, was on a sudden struck with blindness, and continued blind till he died. But none of the persecutors seemed to take notice, or to regard such instances; for they let their rage loose against the Quakers; who, for all that continued in patience, though they did not think it unlawful to give notice of the grievous oppression their friends suffered, to those that were in authority; lest they might have excused themselves as ignorant of these violent proceedings. Therefore it was not omitted to publish in public print, many of those crying instances that have been related here, and to present them to the king and parliament, with humble addresses to that purpose. But all this found but small entrance. King Charles it seems was not to be the man that should take off this yoke of oppression; this work was reserved for others. His brother James that succeeded him, made a beginning thereof, with what intention Heaven knows; and William III. that excellent prince, brought it to perfection as far as it was in his power.

This year deceased at sea William Bayly, coming from the West Indies, in the ship called the Samuel, of London, in the latitude of 46 degrees and 36 minutes: he had been a teacher among the Baptists, and had read much in the books of Jacob Behmen, but could not find thereby true satisfaction to his soul. And being afterwards entered into society with the Quakers, so called, he became a zealous preacher among them. When in this his last voyage he was grown sick, and felt death approaching, he bid John Clark, master of the said vessel, remember him to his dear wife and little ones, and also to G. Fox, G. Whitehead and others; and being filled with joy, began to sing, saying, ‘The creating word of the Lord endures for ever.’ He took several that were about him by the hand, and exhorted them to fear the Lord, and not to fear death: ‘Death,’ said he, ‘is nothing in itself; for the sting of death is sin. Tell the Friends at London, that would have been glad to have seen my face, I go to my Father and their Father, to my God and their God. Remember my love to my dear wife; she will be a sorrowful widow: but let her not mourn too much, for it is well with me.’ And having spoken something concerning his outward business to the master, he said in regard to his wife and children, ‘I have left them no portions, but my endeavour hath been to make God their father. Shall I lay down my head upon the waters? Well, God is the God of the whole universe; and though my body sink, I shall swim atop of the waters.’ Then taking his leave of the company, he said, ‘I see not one of you, but I wish you all well.’ And one asking, how it was with him? he answered, ‘I am perfectly well.’ After having spoken many more sensible words, about four in the morning he departed quietly, as if he had fallen asleep. His wife Mary, the same that had formerly been at Adrianople, and spoken with the emperor of the Turks, gave an excellent testimony in writing concerning him; and J. Crook, in a preface to W. Bayly’s works, said of him, (the truth of which I know by my own experience,) ‘As he was bold and zealous in his preaching, being willing to improve his time, as if he had known it was not to be long amongst us; so was he as valiant in suffering for his testimony, when called thereunto. Methinks I see how once I saw him stand at the bar to plead his innocent cause, like holy Stephen, in the senate-house, when the threats of his persecutors resembled the showers of stones, falling upon that blessed martyr, crying out with a hideous noise, ‘take him away, jailer,’ &c. and yet all this while he changed not his countenance, except by the additional ornaments of some innocent smiles. Sometimes by cruel persecutors he hath been thrown down, and dragged upon the ground by the hair of his head, and his mouth and jaws endeavoured to be rent and broke asunder, so that the ground whereon he lay was smeared with his blood: yet, as if this butchering had not been enough to make him a fit sacrifice for the shambles of their cruelty, a heavy gross bodied persecutor stamped upon his breast with his feet, endeavouring to beat the breath out of his body: and when this persecutor had done his pleasure, he commanded the jailer to take him away, and put him in some nasty hole for his entertainment and cure. And had not the God of Israel been his physician there, he had been taken from us long before this.’ Thus far John Crook.

1676.

At the beginning of this year, 1676, died at London, Matthew Hide, who had made it his business, during the space of about twenty years, publicly to contradict the Quakers in their meetings, and to disturb them in their worship of God, thinking from a blind zeal, that he did God an acceptable piece of service, by zealously opposing what he judged to be heresy. Now how much soever this man was bent against them, yet he showed this moderation, that in his gainsaying he did not behave himself furiously, but appeared to be well meaning, although he erred exceedingly, and often hindered the preaching of ministers among the Quakers; which induced W. Penn sometimes to pray to God very earnestly for him, and to tell him in the presence of many auditors, that God would plead with him by his righteous judgments; and that the time would come he should be forced to confess to the sufficiency of that light he then opposed, and to acknowledge that God was with those called Quakers.

This same Hide being by sickness brought to the brink of death, desired that G. Whitehead, and some of his friends, might be sent for: and to one Cotton Oade, who asked him, if he had any thing to say to clear himself, concerning his having so often opposed the friends called Quakers, in their declarations and prayers, he said, that he was sorry for what he had done: for, added he, they are the people of God. G. Whitehead, then, though it was late in the evening, being come to him, with some others, said, ‘I am come in love and tenderness to see thee.’ To which Hide returned, ‘I am glad to see you.’ And Whitehead again, ‘If thou hast any thing on thy conscience to speak, I would have thee to clear thy conscience.’ To this Hide replied, ‘What I have to say, I speak in the presence of God: as Paul was a persecutor of the people of the Lord, so have I been a persecutor of you, his people, as the world is who persecute the children of God.’ More he spoke, but being very weak, his words could not well be understood. Then G. Whitehead resumed, ‘Thy understanding being darkened when darkness was over thee, thou hast gainsaid the truth and people of the Lord; and I knew that that light which thou opposedst, would rise up in judgment against thee. I have often with others, laboured with thee to bring thee to a right understanding.’ To which Hide said, ‘This I declare in the presence of God, and of you here, I have done evil in persecuting you who are the children of God, and I am sorry for it: the Lord Jesus Christ show mercy unto me, and the Lord increase your number, and be with you.’ After some pause G. Whitehead said to him, ‘I would have thee, if thou art able to speak, to ease thy conscience as fully as thou canst. My soul is affected to hear thee thus confess thy evil, as the Lord hath given thee a sense of it. In repentance there is mercy and forgiveness; in confessing and forsaking sin, there is mercy to be found with the Lord, who in the midst of judgment remembers mercy, that he may be feared.’ Hide being in great anguish, and striving for breath, said, a little after, ‘I have done evil in opposing you in your prayers; the Lord be merciful unto me; and as I have been an instrument to turn many from God, the Lord raise up many instruments to turn many to him.’ G. Whitehead resumed, ‘I desire thou mayest find mercy and forgiveness at the hand of the Lord. How is it with thy soul? Dost not thou find some ease?’ ‘I hope I do,’ answered Hide, ‘and if the Lord should lengthen my days, I should be willing to hear a testimony for you, as publicly as I have appeared against you.’ His wife then said, ‘It is enough; what can be desired more?’ ‘If,’ queried Whitehead, ‘the Lord should not lengthen out thy days, dost thou desire what thou sayest should be signified to others?’ ‘Yes,’ answered Hide, ‘I do, you may; I have said as much as I can say.’ After some silence, he being much straitened for breath, Whitehead said, ‘If this company be wearisome unto thee, we may withdraw.’ To which he returned, ‘you may use your freedom.’ G. Whitehead then taking leave of him, said, ‘I shall leave thee to the Lord, desiring he may show mercy and forgiveness unto thee, as I hope he will.’ Upon which Hide replied, ‘The Lord be with your spirits.’

All this was spoken to G. Whitehead and his friends, in the presence of Hide’s wife, and some others of his acquaintance, about two hours before his death: and thus he gave manifest proofs of a sincere repentance; for Elizabeth his wife, having perceived him to be much troubled in his mind, had asked him, if he would speak with some of the Quakers? and he smiting his hand on his breast, said, ‘With all my soul.’ After G. Whitehead and his friends were gone, it being the seventh day of the week, he desired several times that he might live till morning, and might hear on that day, viz. the first day of the week, a testimony for the truth, he had on that day so often opposed; yet he signified that he had found some ease to his spirit. He also exhorted his wife, who conversed much with people that were great in the world, to use the plain language of the Quakers. And after some more words to this purpose, spoken by him, with good understanding, he stretched himself out, and died very quietly. An evident token of God’s unspeakable mercy, who wills not the death of a sinner, but that he should repent and live; and who entirely knowing the real disposition of man’s heart, forgives sin by mere grace, without any merit in man, but for his own sake, as he hath said himself, “I am he that blotteth out thy transgressions for mine own sake, and will not remember thy sins.” The truth of which saying very plainly appeared in the converted thief on the cross, though his impenitent fellow-sufferer hardened his heart against it.

In this year, while G. Fox was at Swarthmore, died William Lampitt, the priest of Ulverstone, who formerly had been a great friend to Margaret, now the wife of G. Fox, but grew so envious against the friends she was in society with, that he said in the year 1652, he would wage his life upon it, that the Quakers would all vanish and come to nought within half a year. But on his death-bed he said to one of his hearers, who came to visit him, ‘I have been a preacher a long time, and thought I had lived well; but I did not think it had been so hard a thing to die.’

At Norwich now great spoil was made upon the Quakers, for their religious assemblies. Erasmus Cooper coming once into the house of Anthony Alexander, said to his wife, who was big with child, he came to seize all she had. ‘All,’ said she, ‘and that for seven pounds fine, that is hard.’ But he slighting what she said, replied, he would not leave her a bed to lie on. And then began to break the doors with a pick-axe; he and his companions behaving themselves so desperately, that it drew tears from some of the neighbours who beheld it; and the warranted spoilers forced Alexander’s man to help them; which made Alexander say, that it was a most unreasonable thing, to require a servant to assist in the taking his master’s goods: for which the warden, Robert Clerk, snarled at him, saying, ‘They are our goods.’ To the house of Samuel Duncon, the aforesaid officers came also, and with them the informer, Charles Tennison, and the hangman. Here they staid several days and nights, and kept Samuel’s wife, who was big with child, as a prisoner in her own house, not suffering her to speak with any, so much as at the door, nor any to come to her. And after they had broken open all the locked doors, they took away to the value of about forty-three pounds in goods; and so insolent the informers were, that one did not stick to say, ‘I will make the mayor wait upon me as often as I will, at my pleasure.’ Nay, this wicked crew was become so powerful, that none durst oppose them, for fear of falling into disgrace with the court: since they were encouraged by such as were in high stations, and probably at the instance of the Papists, or popishly affected. The constable, William Poole, coming this summer into a meeting at Norwich, with an informer, who made him come, and hearing efficacious preaching there, cried with tears in his eyes, ‘What shall I do! I know the power of God is among you:’ and told the informer, that if there were a curse hung over any people upon the earth, it was over the informers. And Tennison the informer, who had assisted in taking away Samuel Duncon’s goods, being afterwards committed to prison for debt, confessed he never prospered since he took in hand that work; and said if he were at liberty, he would never meddle with it more.

In Nottinghamshire also great spoil and havoc was made, to which the justice Robert Thoroton, was greatly instrumental; for at Sutton he gave forth a warrant to seize the goods of two persons, one of which was a woman, who having in a meeting spoken five or six words, which, according to the testimony of some officers that were present, were not at all like preaching, was however informed against as a preacher, and so by the said Thoroton fined twenty pounds; and she being unable to pay, the one half of the fine was charged upon her, and the other half upon John Fulwood. At another time Thoroton gave order to seize the goods of William Day, a miller, because he having been at a meeting at Sutton, in the street, the fine of a pretended preacher, that was unable, was charged upon him; though Day proved, and the officers who kept the friends out of their meeting place, declared also, that those words, which were called preaching, were no more than an answer to what another had spoken. But for all that, Thoroton, to protect, and to gratify the informer, said, ‘Though but one word were spoken, it is sufficient.’ A poor woman at South Collingham, who was already bereaved of almost all that she possessed, and since by her friends provided with a bed and other necessaries, was also deprived of this little, because she continued to frequent meetings. Matthew Hartly, a poor man, who lived by spinning of wool, was likewise, for frequenting the meeting there, bereaved of what he had; and so it was with many others, whose names and surnames I could mention, if I had a mind to enlarge. And if their friends had not taken care of them, and other impoverished families, who had lost all by spoil, many might have perished.

In the town of Hereford the meetings were also disturbed from time to time, chiefly by boys, who threw among those that were met, not only stones, and excrements, but burning squibs; and used all manner of insolency and mischief they could think of, against these harmless people, either by breaking the glass windows, or the forms and seats. One of the leaders of this turbulent company, was the son of one Abraham Seward, who about this time was elected mayor; but when complaints were made to him of the outrageous actions of the said wicked crew, he pretended to be ignorant of his son’s doings, and for all that threatened those that came to him, with the execution of the law upon them, if they did not leave off to keep meetings. And as it was well known that the chief master of the town-school was displeased at the extravagant insolency of some of his scholars, so it was reported also, that he was forbidden to correct them for it; and that the college priests had set them on, and said they would hear them out in what they did; for some of those brutish boys were choristers. Two friends went to the justices, Robert Simons and Thomas Simons, to acquaint them with the excessive abuses they met with. But the justices not at all regarding their complaint, the said Robert endeavoured to draw some confession of a meeting from one of them, intending, as he himself said, immediately to have fined him, if he had confessed; but he was wary. Now since the insolency of the boys was thus encouraged by authority, it was no wonder it continued there a whole year. At length eight men were taken from the meeting, by the aforesaid mayor, Abraham Seward, and carried to the town-hall; and in their passage along, he said, they should never meet there more. To which a friend, going with him, said, ‘We are a people gathered by the power of the Lord; and therefore the power of man cannot scatter us.’ Being come to the town-hall, the oaths of allegiance and supremacy were tendered to them, on which they said, ‘We are Christians, therefore cannot break the command of Christ, which forbids to swear at all; but to render just and lawful allegiance to the king, we do not deny, nor refuse.’ And they persisting in their refusal to swear, were committed to prison. The next day after, one Walter Rogers, a prebend, walking by the meeting-house, and observing how it was broken, said to some, that they were very good boys, and had done their work better than he thought they had.

At one of the quarter-sessions in Nottingham, one John Sayton appeared, who, being fined twenty pounds for suffering a conventicle at his house, in the parish of Blyth, came to appeal for justice. The witness produced against him, said, ‘I was there on that day, and there were several people met, but were all silent, and no words spoken amongst them; but I did not see John Sayton there.’ And that the said John Sayton was above sixty miles from home the same day, for which he was fined twenty pounds, was made appear in open court by substantial evidence. Then the counsel for the appellant said, in the first place, forasmuch as there was neither preaching, praying, nor reading, as their own witness doth testify, therefore it was no conventicle. Secondly, being they cannot prove he was there, therefore how can it be judged, that he did either wittingly or willingly consent to that meeting, if they could make it a conventicle? To this the informer’s counsel objected, that although there was neither preaching, praying, nor reading, yet it was evident enough that they met under a pretence of religious exercise; and seeing there were more than five, and not of John Sayton’s family, therefore it must needs be a conventicle. And as to the second, seeing they cannot prove he was there, we must leave it to the consciences of the jury, whether he did willingly consent to that meeting or no. After the counsel had spoken on both sides, Peniston Whaley, one of the justices, who sat in the chair as judge of the court, stood up, and said to the jury, ‘Although there was no visible exercise that can be proved, yet the Quakers say, they worship God in spirit and truth; and we know their manner is to sit sighing and groaning,’ &c. The jury returning, and being asked by the court, ‘Do you find it for the king, or for the appellant,’ answered, ‘For the appellant.’ This so displeased the said justice Whaley, that he bid them go forth again. But one of the jurymen saying, they were agreed, and they had considered the thing very well, he thereupon fell into such a rage, that he said, ‘You deserve all to be hanged; for you are as ill as highwaymen.’ Perhaps he himself was either an informer, or a special friend to such, and therefore was sorry that the jury deprived him of the booty, or a share of it.

There was now great persecution in all parts of England, neither did it go better in the principality of Wales. Nine persons being taken prisoners, and brought this summer to the assizes held for the county of Merioneth, in the town Bala, upon an indictment for not resorting to their parish churches, the oaths of allegiance and supremacy were tendered to them, Kemick Eyton, and Thomas Walcot being judges; and upon their refusal of taking these oaths, the said judges declared it as their opinion in open court, that in case the prisoners would refuse the oaths the second time, they should be prosecuted as traitors, the men to be hanged and quartered, and the women to be burnt. But this threat could not make them afraid; for at the next assizes the oaths being tendered them again, they continued in refusing, though they solemnly acknowledged allegiance to the king as supreme magistrate; and thereupon were remanded to close imprisonment, where Edward Rees, one of them, being above sixty years of age, and not able to hear the cold, died about the height of the frost, not having been allowed the use of fire.

Sometime before, it happened within the corporation of Pool, in Montgomeryshire, that the justice, David Maurice, coming into a house where a small number of people were peaceably met, and all silent, required them to depart. Hereupon Thomas Lloyd, one of the company, began to speak a few words, by way of defining true religion, and what true worship was; and what he said was so reasonable, that the said justice approved of it as sound, and according to the doctrine of the church of England; yet notwithstanding he fined the said Thomas Lloyd in twenty pounds for preaching.

This year died in prison John Sage, being about eighty years of age, after having been in prison at Ivelchester in Somersetshire, almost ten years, for not paying of tithes. And it appeared that since the restoration of king Charles, above two hundred of the people called Quakers, died in prisons in England, where they had been confined because of their religion. I could relate abundance of occurrences this year, if I had a mind to extend my work, but I study brevity; yet cannot omit to mention, that in this year, in the island of Barbadoes, in the West Indies, a law was made to prevent negroes coming into the meetings of the Quakers, which was of this tenor:

‘Whereas of late, many negroes have been suffered to remain at the meetings of the Quakers, as hearers of their doctrine, and taught in their principles, whereby the safety of the island may be much hazarded: be it enacted, that if at any time after publication hereof, any negro, or negroes, be found with the people called Quakers, at any of their meetings, as hearers of their preaching, he or they shall be forfeited, one half to such as shall seize, or sue for him or them, if belonging to any of the Quakers, and the other moiety to the public use of the island; provided that if he or they be seized, such as seize, shall bring their actions upon this statute, within three months, against the owner of the negro, or negroes: wherein the defendant having ten days summons, shall appear, plead, and come to trial at the first court after summons, or judgment to be given by nihil dicit, and execution immediately to issue. And if such negro, or negroes, do not belong to any of the persons present at the same meeting, any person or persons may bring an action upon this statute, against any of the persons present at the said meeting, at the election of the informer, and so recover ten pounds for every negro, or negroes, present at the said meeting as aforesaid, to be divided as aforesaid, and in such actions proceedings to be as aforesaid. And no person whatsoever, shall keep any school, to instruct any child in any learning, unless within one month after the publication hereof, he first take the oaths of allegiance and supremacy, before some justice of peace of the parish where the party lives, and have a certificate thereof, or have a special license from the governor, on pain of three months imprisonment, and forfeiture of 300 lbs. of Muscovado sugar, the one moiety to the informer, and the other to the public use of the island, to be recovered as aforesaid. And no person whatsoever, who is not an inhabitant and resident of this island, and hath been so for twelve months together, shall hereafter publicly discourse, or preach at the meeting of the Quakers, on pain of six months imprisonment, and forfeiture of 1000 lbs. Muscovado sugar, the one moiety to such as sue for it, the other to the public use of the island, to be recovered as aforesaid: provided that all actions upon this statute, be brought within six months after the offence.

‘Read, and passed the council the 21st of April, 1676, and consented to by his excellency [the governor] the same day.

EDWARD STEED, Deputy-secretary.’

Although in the beginning of this statute, the instructing of the negroes in the doctrine of the Quakers, is represented as a thing whereby the safety of the island might be much hazarded, yet the sequel shows that this was not the matter, but that it was endeavoured to deprive the Quakers of their due liberty. What was the issue hereof I am unacquainted with.

This year Robert Barclay wrote a letter to the heer Adrian Paets, with whom he had some discourse when the said heer returned from Spain, where he had been ambassador for the States of the United Provinces. This Paets having a strange opinion of the doctrine of the Quakers, had a good while ago wrote a letter[41] to Christian Hartzoeker, at Rotterdam, about their doctrine; and having afterwards discoursed with Barclay concerning the inward and immediate revelation of the Spirit of God, this induced Barclay to write a letter on the said subject in Latin, to the aforementioned heer, wherein he made a more large reply to his arguments, than he had done by word of mouth. This letter being sent over from Scotland to Holland, was delivered by Benjamin Furly at Rotterdam, to the said heer Paets, with a desire that he might be pleased to return an answer to it, which he promised he would. But he continuing deficient in the case, Furly at last published the said letter in print, but without mentioning the name of him to whom it was written, only his character, viz. Cuidam legato.[42]

[41] To be found in the book called Præstantium ac eruditorum virorum Epistolæ Ecclesiastique & Theologicæ. Amstelodami apud Franciscum Halman. 1704.

[42] To a certain ambassador.

In this letter was set down first the objection of the heer Paets, to wit, that since the being and substance of the Christian religion consisted in the knowledge of, and faith concerning, the birth, life, death, resurrection, and ascension of Christ Jesus, he considered the substance of the Christian religion as contingent truth; which contingent truth was matter of fact. And matter of fact could not be known but by the relation of another, or by the perception of the outward senses; because there are naturally in our souls no ideas of contingent truths, such as are concerning necessary truths, viz. that God is, and that the whole is greater than the part. And since it might without absurdity be said, that God cannot make a contingent truth to become a necessary truth; neither can God reveal contingent truths or matters of fact, but as contingent truths are revealed; and matters of fact not being revealed but by the outward senses, the conclusion drawn from thence is, that men are not obliged to believe God producing any revelation in the soul concerning matter of fact, whether of a thing done, or to be done, unless there be added some miracles obvious to the outward senses, by which the soul may be ascertained that that revelation cometh from God. All these arguments Barclay answered very circumstantially, premising first, that it was falsely supposed that the essence of the Christian religion consisted in the historical faith and knowledge of the birth, life, death, resurrection and ascension of Christ. That faith and historical knowledge is indeed a part of the Christian religion, but not such an essential part as that without which the Christian religion cannot consist; but an integral part, which goes to the completing of the Christian religion, as the hands or feet of a man are the integral parts of a man, without which nevertheless a man may exist, but not an entire and complete man. Yet he agrees, that the historical knowledge of Christ is commonly manifested to us by the holy Scriptures as the means; but nevertheless he asserts, that God could without such an outward mean manifest the said historical knowledge to our minds: and also, that a contingent truth may be known by a supernatural knowledge. And he saith, that when God doth make known unto men any matter of fact by divine immediate revelation, he then speaks as to the ear of the heart of the inward man. And, that as when any natural idea is excited in us, we clearly know it; so also when a supernatural idea is raised, we clearly know that whereof it is the idea. He also holds forth, what properly is the inward supernatural sense in man; and then he distinguisheth between contingent and necessary truths, and shows how a divine revelation may be known to be such, saying that natural and spiritual senses are distinguishable by their objects, and demonstrating how godly men may know they are in the favour of God, and how the wicked feel the wrath of God as fire. He also relates after what manner the spiritual senses distinguish the good and the evil; and he confesseth there is in all men, as well the godly as the ungodly, some sort of idea of God, as of a most perfect being: but he asserts, that the supernatural idea of God differeth much from the natural; and that in all men there is a supernatural idea of God. He also shows, wherein the motions of the mind differ from those of the body; and that there are ideas as well of supernatural, as of natural things. And showing from whence the errors of false likenesses of reason proceed, he says, that the natural reason cannot perceive supernatural things. He also asserts, that the revelations to the prophets were by inward inspirations in their minds; and that they were most certainly persuaded that they were divinely inspired, even without any outward miracle; and that it is by the inspiration of the same divine Spirit, by which the prophets prophesied, that we do believe their words and writings to be divine, concerning contingent truths, as well past as to come. Moreover he inquires, whether faith comes by outward hearing, and he shows how the outward senses may be deceived; nay, that often they are vitiated both by outward casualties and natural infirmities, whereunto the godly are no less subject than the wicked.

All this is treated at large by Barclay, as may be seen in the said letter, and several years after, when the heer Paets was at London, being one of the commissioners for the Dutch East India company, Barclay spoke with him again, and so represented the matter, that he readily yielded that he had been mistaken in his notion of the Quakers; for he found they could make a reasonable plea for the foundation of their religion. And thereupon R. Barclay translated the said letter into English as follows:

‘My Friend,

‘Albeit I judge I did fully answer to all thy arguments in that conference we had, concerning the necessity and possibility of inward immediate revelation, and of the certainty of true faith from thence proceeding; nevertheless, because after we had made an end, and were parting, thou wouldest needs remit to my further consideration the strength of thy argument, as that in which thou supposedst the very hinge of the question to lie: that I might satisfy thy desire, and that the truth might more appear, I did further consider of it, but the more I weighed it, I found it the weaker. And therefore that thou thyself mayest make the truer judgment of it, I thought meet to send thee my further considerations thereon; (which I had done ere now, had not I, both at London and elsewhere, been diverted by other necessary occasions,) wherein I doubt not, but thou wilt perceive a full and distinct answer to thy argument. But if thou canst not as yet yield to the truth, or thinkest mine answer in any part to be defective, so that there yet remains with thee any matter of doubt or scruple; I do earnestly desire thee, that as I for thy sake, and out of love to the truth, have not been wanting to examine thy argument, and to transmit to thee my considerations thereon; so thou mayest give thyself the trouble to write and send me what thou hast further to say: which my friend, N. N. who delivers thee this will, at what time thou shalt appoint, receive from thee, and transmit to me thy letter; that at last the truth may appear where it is.

‘And that the whole matter may the more clearly be understood, it will be fit in the first place, to propose thy argument, whereby thou opposest the immediate revelation of God in the saints: thence concluding thou hast fully overturned the foundation of the people called Quakers. Which argument of thine is;

‘That since, (as thou judgest,) the being and substance of the Christian religion consisteth in the knowledge of, and faith concerning, the birth, life, death, resurrection, and ascension of Christ Jesus, thou considerest the substance of the Christian religion as a contingent truth; which contingent truth is matter of fact. Whence thou reasonest, that:

Matter of fact cannot be known but by the relation of another, or by perception of the outward senses; because there are naturally in our souls no ideas of contingent truths, such as are concerning necessary truths: to wit, that God is; and that the whole is greater than the part.--And since it may without absurdity be said, that

God cannot make a contingent truth to become a necessary truth; neither can God reveal contingent truths or matters of fact, but as contingent truths are revealed: but matters of fact are not revealed but by the outward senses.--From whence thou concludest, that

Men are not even obliged to believe God producing any revelation in the soul concerning matter of fact, whether of a thing done, or to be done, unless there be added some miracles obvious to the outward senses, by which the soul may be ascertained, that that revelation cometh from God.

‘All this thou endeavourest also to prove from the Scripture, Rom. x. where the apostle saith, “Faith cometh by hearing:” and because the apostle speaketh afterwards of those who were sent in the plural number; thence thou concludest that to be spoken of outward preaching by the ministry of men: and since the apostle uses a question, saying, “How shall they believe unless they hear,” thou gatherest from the induction and connexion of the text, that the apostle treats only of outward hearing; thence concluding, that without outward hearing, faith cannot be produced: and therefore, that there can be no immediate revelation by the simple operation of the Spirit in the mind, unless there be somewhat proposed to the outward senses.

‘Before I proceed to a direct answer to this argument, some things are necessary to be premised:

‘First then; That it is falsely supposed, that the essence of the Christian religion consists in the historical faith and knowledge of the birth, death, life, resurrection, and ascension of Jesus Christ. That faith and historical knowledge is indeed a part of the Christian religion; but not such an essential part, as that without which the Christian religion cannot consist: but an integral part, which goes to the completing of the Christian religion; as the hands or feet of a man are integral parts of a man, without which nevertheless a man may exist, but not an entire and complete man.

‘Secondly, If by immediate revelation be understood such a revelation of God, as begets in our souls an historical faith and knowledge of the birth of Christ in the flesh, without the means of the holy Scripture, we do not contend for such a revelation, as commonly given, or to be expected by us, or any other Christians. For albeit many other evangelical truths be manifested to us by the immediate manifestation of God, not using the Scripture as the means; yet the historical knowledge of Christ is not commonly manifested to us, nor to any others, but by the holy Scripture, as the means, and that by way of a material object: even as when we see the person of Peter or Paul to our visive faculty immediately, yet not without the medium of that person concurring as a material object to produce that sight; while the light of the sun concurs, as the formal object of that visit or sight. So that when we livingly and spiritually know the history of the birth of Christ in the flesh; the inward revelation or illumination of God, which is like the sun’s light, proceeding from the divine sun, doth shine into the eye of the mind, and by its influence moves the mind to assent unto the historical truth of Christ’s birth, life, &c. in the reading or hearing the Scripture, or meditating therein.

‘Thirdly, Nevertheless we do firmly assert, that God can most easily, clearly, and certainly, manifest to our minds the historical truths of Christ’s birth, &c. when it so pleaseth him, even without the Scripture, or any other outward means. And because this argument seems to be formed against the possibility of such a revelation, therefore I shall proceed to discuss it: but first thou mayest mind, that the prophets who foretold Christ’s coming in the flesh, and being to be born of a virgin, and afterwards to suffer death, did know these truths of fact by the inward inspiration of God, without outward means: for which see 1 Pet. i. 10, 11. Now that which hath been may be.

‘Fourthly, This argument doth at most conclude, that we cannot know naturally any truth of fact, but by the relation of another without, us, or by the preception of the outward senses; because there are naturally in our minds no ideas concerning contingent truths, (and every truth of fact is a contingent truth,) as there are of necessary truths. This then proveth, that we cannot naturally know any contingent truth, but by the relation of another, or perception of the outward senses: but that hindreth not, but we may know a contingent truth by a supernatural knowledge, God supplying the place of an outward relator; who is so true, that he may, and ought to be believed, since God is the fountain of truth.

‘Fifthly, When God doth make known unto men any matter of fact by divine immediate revelation or inspiration, God speaking as to the ear of the heart of the inward man, or as by his finger writing therein, two things are to be considered in such an immediate revelation.

[Greek: Τὸ: To][43] Materiale, The matter of fact, or thing revealed, which is contingent.

[43] The in Greek. Latin lacks a definite article.--Transcriber.

[Greek: Τὸ: To][44] Formale, The form or mode, how the revelation is made: which form is an inward, divine, and supernatural revelation, which is the voice or speech of God, inwardly speaking to the ear of the inward man or mind of man, or a divine writing supernaturally imprinted therein. Now as to the material part, or the thing and matter revealed, this is indeed a contingent truth, and of itself is not manifest to the mind; but because of the form, that is, because of the divine mode, and supernatural inward operation, the matter is known to be true. For that divine and supernatural inward operation, which the mind doth feel and perceive in itself, is the voice of God speaking unto man, which by its nature and specific property is as clearly distinguished and understood to be the voice of God, as the voice of Peter or James is known to be the voice of such men. For every being as a being is knowable, and that by its own specific nature, or property proceeding from its nature; and hath its proper idea, by which it is distinguishable from every other thing, if so be its idea be stirred up in us, and clearly proposed to us.

[44] The in Greek. Latin lacks a definite article.--Transcriber.

‘Sixthly: Now as some beings are natural, some supernatural, so some ideas are natural, some supernatural: and as when any natural idea is excited in us, we clearly know it; so also when a supernatural idea is raised, we clearly know that, whereof it is the idea. But the voice of God speaking to the mind of man, is a supernatural being, and stirreth up in us a supernatural idea, by which we clearly know that inward voice to be the voice of God, and not the voice or operation of another, or of any evil spirit, or angel, because none of these have a supernatural idea, as the voice of God, and his divine operation hath: for it is full of vigour, virtue, and divine glory, as saith the psalmist, who had often experience of it; and we also in our measures are witnesses thereof, for the voice of God is known to be his by its divine virtue.

‘Seventhly: The senses are either outward or inward: and the inward senses are either natural or supernatural; we have an example of the inward natural sense in being angered or pacified, in love and hatred; or when we perceive and discern any natural truth, such as the natural maxims, to wit, that the whole is greater than the part, &c. or when we deduce any conclusion by the strength of natural reason, that perception also in a larger sense, may be called an inward sense. But an example of an inward supernatural sense is, when the heart or soul of a pious man, feels in itself divine motions, influences, and operations, which sometimes are as the voice or speech of God, sometimes as a most pleasant and glorious illustration or visible object to the inward eye, sometimes as a most sweet savour or taste, sometimes as an heavenly and divine warmness, or, so to speak, melting of the soul in the love of God. Moreover, this divine and supernatural operation in the mind of man, is a true and most glorious miracle; which when it is perceived by the inward and supernatural sense divinely raised up in the mind of man, doth so evidently and clearly persuade the understanding to assent to the thing revealed, that there is no need of an outward miracle: for this assent is not because of the thing itself, but because of the revelation proposing it, which is the voice of God. For when the voice of God is heard in the soul, the soul doth as certainly conclude the truth of that voice, as the truth of God’s being, from whom it proceeds.

‘These things being thus premised, I now proceed to a direct answer. For what is said, that God cannot make a contingent truth to become a necessary truth, I agree; but when any contingent truth is manifest to us by the immediate revelation of God, there is in it two things to be considered, to wit, the thing revealed, which is contingent; and the revelation itself: which upon the supposition, that it is a divine revelation, is no contingent truth, but a most necessary truth. And this all mankind will say, that this proposition, every divine revelation is necessarily true, is as clear and evident, as that proposition, that every whole is greater than its part.

‘But thou wilt say; how knowest thou that a divine revelation is a divine revelation? I answer, how knowest thou that a whole is a whole, and a part is a part? thou wilt say, by the natural idea excited in me of a whole, and of a part. I answer again; even so a divine revelation is known to be such by a supernatural idea of divine revelation stirred up in us, and that by a divine motion, or supernatural operation. But it is no wonder that men, who have no experience of supernatural ideas, or at least do not heed them, do deny them; which is, as if a man naturally blind denied light or colours; or a deaf man sounds, because they experience them not. Therefore, we cannot dissemble, that we feel a fervent zeal even divinely kindled in us against such an absurd opinion, as affirms, that God cannot ascertain us of his will in any contingent truth, but by proposing it to the outward senses. This opinion does in a manner turn men into brutes, as if man were not to believe his God, unless he propose what is to be believed to the outward senses, which the beasts have common with us; yea, it derogates from God’s power, and imputes weakness to him, as if he could not do that, which not only both good and evil angels can do, but which the meanest creatures can do, and the most insensible. As for instance: the heat of the fire, the coldness of the air and water worketh upon us; yea, if a pin prick us, we feel it, and that by the outward sense; because the objects are outward and carnal: but since God is a most pure and glorious Spirit, when he operateth in the innermost parts of our minds by his will; shall not he and his will be clearly felt according to his nature, that is, by a spiritual and supernatural sense? For as the nature of God is, so is the nature of his will, to wit, purely spiritual, and therefore requireth a spiritual sense to discern it; which spiritual sense, when it is raised up in us by a divine operation, doth as clearly and certainly know the voice or revelation of the will of God, concerning any thing which God is pleased to reveal, however contingent, as the outward sense knows and perceives the outward object. And it is no less absurd, to require of God, who is a most pure Spirit, to manifest his will to men by the outward senses, else not to be credited; as to require us to see sounds, and hear lights and colours. For as the objects of the outward senses are not to be confounded, but every object is to have its proper sense; so must we judge of inward and spiritual objects, which have their proper sense, whereby they are to be perceived. And tell me, how God doth manifest his will concerning matters of fact, when he sends his angels to men, since angels, (as is commonly received,) have not outward senses, or at least not so gross ones, as ours are? Yea, when men die, and appear before the tribunal of God, whether unto eternal life or death, how can they know this, having laid down their bodies, and therewith their outward senses? And nevertheless this truth of God is a truth of fact, as is the historical truth of Christ’s birth in the flesh. And which is yet more near: how do good and holy men even in this life most certainly know, that they are in the favour and grace of God? no outward revelation doth make this known unto them; but the Spirit, as saith the apostle, beareth witness with our spirits, that we are the children of God. For the mere testimony of a human conscience, without inward testimony of the holy Spirit, cannot beget in us a firm and immoveable testimony of our sonship, because the heart of man is deceitful; and if the testimony thereof were true, at most it is but a human testimony, which begetteth in us only a human faith: but that faith, by which holy men believe they are the sons of God, is a divine faith, which leans upon a divine testimony of the holy Spirit, witnessing in them that they are the sons of God. Moreover, when a good man feels in himself that undeclarable joy of the holy Spirit, concerning which the holy Scripture speaks, and which is the common privilege of the saints, how or whence feels he this joy? Truly, this argument concludes no less against this heavenly spiritual joy, which is begotten in the souls of the saints by the holy Spirit, than it does against the immediate revelation of God: for there is no natural idea of this spiritual joy, else mere natural men, yea, such as are profane and ungodly, would feel it as much as the godly: but because it is a supernatural thing, therefore it can have no true idea but what is supernatural. Moreover, whence is it that profane men feel sometimes in themselves the wrath of God as fire, when all things, as to the outward, go as prosperously with them as with the godly, and oftentimes more prosperously? For there is no natural idea in men of this inward wrath of God. There is also an inward grief oftentimes raised up in wicked men from the sense of this wrath of God, which very much vexeth and tormenteth their minds; and nevertheless this grief hath no natural idea in us: for oftentimes wicked men feel not this sorrow; for God sometimes is, as it were, silent, while the wicked sin, as in Psalm 1.

‘All which things do most clearly demonstrate, that there are in men supernatural ideas of supernatural beings; which ideas are nevertheless not perceived by us, unless they be stirred up by some supernatural operation of God, which raiseth up in us supernatural and spiritual senses, which by their nature are as distinguishable from the natural senses, whether inward or outward, as the natural senses are distinguished one from another by their specific difference. Of which spiritual senses the Scripture speaks frequently, as Heb. v. and xiv. where is spoken of the spiritual senses in general, by which the spiritual man hath the discerning of good and evil: which good is of a spiritual nature, and conduceth to feed in us a spiritual and divine life; and the evil is of that kind, by which the spiritual life is in us hurt; to wit, sins, whether carnal or spiritual; all which cannot be discerned but by such who have spiritual senses stirred up in them, as saith the apostle. In other places the Scripture also speaketh of these spiritual senses in particular; as of the spiritual seeing, Psalm xxxiv. 9. Of the spiritual hearing, Psalm lxxxv. 9. Of spiritual tasting, Psalm xxxiv. 8. Of spiritual smelling, Cant. i. 3. Of spiritual touching, Acts xvii. 8, and in many other places of Scripture we read of those spiritual senses in particular. Yea, it is the promise of the gospel, that the glory of God shall be seen of holy men, such as are clean of heart, even in this life: Isaiah xxxiii. 17. Mat. v. 8. Which were fulfilled in the primitive Christians, see John i. 14. 1 John i. 2, 3, 4. 2 Cor. iii. 18, and chap. iv. 6. But what is this vision of God and divine glory, which the souls of the saints enjoy in this life, which is only as the earnest or first-fruits of that more abundant glorious vision in the life to come, concerning which the Scripture so much declareth, which is the highest happiness of the immortal soul.

‘For this argument seemeth to do no less injury to the saints, than to rob them of this most glorious treasure both in this life, and that to come. For there is in us no natural idea of this divine glory, as there is not of God himself which is any ways proportionable unto so great happiness, which the Scripture so much declareth of, by which the godly are rewarded partly in this life, and plenarily in that which is to come. We confess indeed, there is in all men, as well the godly as ungodly, some sort of idea of God, as of a most perfect being; and that therefore this proposition, there existeth a most perfect being, doth as clearly appear to human understanding, as that the whole is greater than the part: and therefore this proposition, that a most perfect being existeth, ought to be numbered among the principles, that of themselves are manifest. But this idea of God is as manifest to ungodly, as to godly men; yea, it is clearly perceived by the devil, as by the most holy angels: for all the devils know that God is; but yet how blind is the devil, and all wicked men, as to the vision of God, which is the chief reward of the saints.

‘There is then either no such vision of God, neither in this life, nor in that to come; or there is a supernatural idea of God in us, by which we are made capable of this vision; which supernatural idea of God differeth much from that natural idea of God, which Cartesius and his followers so much talk of, (albeit others long before Cartesius did observe this natural idea of God, and spoke of it.) But the happiness of the saints consists not in contemplating this natural idea of God, else the wicked would be as happy as the godly; yea, the very devil as the most holy angel: since, as is said, both the devil and most wicked men do as clearly perceive this natural idea of God, as the most holy men or angels.

‘If the Scripture then be true, there is in men a supernatural idea of God, which altogether differs from this natural idea: I say, in all men; because all men are capable of salvation, and consequently of enjoying this Divine vision. Now this capacity consisteth herein, that they have such a supernatural idea in themselves: for if there were no such idea in them, it were impossible they should so know God. For whatsoever is clearly and distinctly known, is known by its proper idea; neither can it other-ways be clearly and distinctly known: for the ideas of all things are divinely planted in our souls; for they are not begotten in us by outward objects, or outward causes, as the better philosophy teacheth, but only are by these outward things excited or stirred up. And this is true not only in supernatural ideas of God, and things divine, and in natural ideas of the natural principles of human understanding, and conclusions thence deduced by the strength of human reason: but even in the ideas of outward objects, which are perceived by the outward senses; as that noble Christian philosopher Bœtius hath well observed; to which also the Cartesian philosophy agreeth. For when I see any outward object, whether it be a man, or horse, or bird, the outward object does not treat in my eye, nor yet in my mind the idea of those things; for the outward object does nothing but imprint in our sensible organs a corporeal motion. Now there is nothing in a corporeal motion that can form in us the ideas of those things; for all ideas are of a spiritual nature: now nothing that is corporeal can produce that which is spiritual, because the less excellent cannot produce the more excellent, else the effect would exceed its cause: which is against all sound reason, that it should bring forth what were of a higher and more excellent kind. Therefore all ideas, whether of natural or spiritual things, are divinely implanted in our minds; which nevertheless do not always appear, but sometimes appear, and sometimes are as it were hid in us, and sometimes are stirred up in us by causes outward or inward, and again do as it were sleep and shun our observation, and seem not to be otherways distinguished by our minds, but as thoughts and perceptions of the mind from the mind itself; that is, as the mode from the subject, or as a bodily motion from the body, whereof it is the motion: for as is the relation of a bodily motion to a body, so is the relation of a thought or perception of the mind to the mind. In this nevertheless they differ, that the mind can move itself, and operate in itself: which a body cannot do: but as a body can be moved by another, so also can the mind after this manner be moved by another, and that both by outward and inward causes, but chiefly by God himself, in whose hand all souls and creatures are. But of these things there is enough said at present; and I hope, I have not thus far impertinently philosophised.

‘As there are then natural ideas concerning the things of the natural world; as for instance, ideas of light and colours, ideas of voice and sound, ideas of savouring and smelling, ideas of tasting and feeling, as of heat and cold, of grief and joy; it follows also, that there are ideas of supernatural things, concerning the divine and supernatural things of the divine and supernatural world; as ideas of those things above-mentioned in the spiritual world. And as the natural ideas are stirred up in us by outward and natural bodies, so those divine and supernatural ideas are stirred up in us by a certain principle, which is a body in naturals, in relation to the spiritual world, and therefore may be called a divine body; not as if it were a part of God, who is a most pure spirit; but the organ, or instrument of God, by which he worketh in us, and stirreth up in us these ideas of divine things. This is that flesh and blood of Christ, by which the saints are nourished; which is a mystery to all unregenerated and mere natural men, never to be reached by them, while they remain in that state.

‘Now if there be such supernatural ideas, there are also senses, or perceptive faculties by which those ideas are perceived; for those are two relatives that suppose and infer one another: but in wicked men those senses or faculties do as it were sleep, as the visive faculty of a blind man; but in the godly they are stirred up. Now by these divine and spiritual senses, which are distinct and distinguishable from all the natural faculties of the soul, whether of imagination, or natural reason, spiritual minded men do behold the glory and beauty of God, in respect whereof, and for which, all the glory of this world is despicable to them; yea, even as dross and dung. And they also hear God inwardly speaking in their souls, words truly divine and heavenly, full of virtue and divine life; and the savour and taste of divine things, and do, as it were, handle them with the hands of their souls. And those heavenly enjoyments do as really differ in their nature from all false similitudes, and fictitious appearances of them, which either the mind of man by its own strength can imitate, or any evil spirit to deceive man can counterfeit; as a true man differs from the dead image of a man, or true bread, honey, wine, or milk, doth from the mere picture of those things. And albeit either the imagination of man, or subtilty of the devil, may counterfeit false likenesses of these enjoyments, by which men may be deceived; and no doubt many are deceived; that doth not hinder, but that those divine enjoyments are clearly perceived in such, in whom the divine and spiritual senses are truly opened, and the true supernatural ideas of those things truly raised up.

‘And if there be at any time a mistake, the divine illumination is not the cause of that mistake, but some evil disposition of the mind; as happeneth in those things relating to natural reason. For there are many false appearances of reason, which differ as much from true reason, as those false and pretended revelations, and diabolical inspirations from such as are truly divine. Now, how many men who would be esteemed philosophers, are miserably deceived by those false likenesses of reason, judging their false reasons to be the true similitudes of things and solid ratiocinations; which nevertheless moveth no man of sound reason, to reject sound and solid reason, as doubtful and uncertain? For even sound natural reason is an excellent gift of God, and very useful to mankind, when used in its proper place: but let none think to comprehend by their natural reason things that are of a divine and supernatural kind. And as we use to do, when any one is deceived by false appearances of reason, we endeavour to reduce them to contemplate the first natural ideas of natural things, and to meditate therein, which is as a test or touchstone, by which all the appearances and likenesses of reason are to be examined; if they contradict them, to be rejected; so also when any one is deceived by his own imagination, or the cunning of satan, thinking any evil inspiration of the devil to be a true divine revelation, he that is so deceived, is to be reduced to the natural ideas of things, (if so be that pretended revelation doth contradict them, for no true divine revelation can contradict the true natural ideas,) or to the supernatural ideas of divine things, which are most simple, clear, and obvious to the minds of men, if they will turn their minds to the divine seed in them; or at least those ideas are readily and easily stirred up. For as in natural ideas, so in supernatural, some are more easily raised than others: for there is a certain order both of natural and supernatural ideas, whereby they are gradually excited: nor is there any mortal man, in whose mind at some time or other there is not stirred up some idea that is truly supernatural and divine, and who hath not felt in himself both the wrath and judgment of God for his sins; and also some tender and gentle taste of God’s love and goodness, by which wicked men are invited to repentance. Now that which is thought to be a divine revelation, and is felt to contradict any divine and supernatural idea, which is clearly perceived in the soul, it is a manifest token that it is not a divine revelation, but either a false imagination, or the wicked suggestion of some evil spirit.

‘But to proceed: if we will hear the Scripture, (as all Christians ought,) it testifies to us, that God hath declared his mind and will even concerning contingent truths to come, in the prophets; as that of the first to the Hebrews doth evidently declare: “God, who at sundry times, and in divers manners spoke to our fathers in the prophets.” Yea, let us hear the prophets themselves; Hosea, chap. i. saith plainly, “That the word of the Lord was made in him,” as it is in the Hebrew. Habakuk also says, As he was standing on his watch, to see what Jehovah would speak in him. And it is so manifest that the most heavenly revelations are by inward illustrations, and inspirations in the very minds of the prophets, that it is strange how any that believe in the Scripture should doubt of it. And if it happened at any time, such revelations were made in the natural imaginations of the prophets, or any of their inward natural senses, then it may be confessed, they could not be infallibly certain they came from God; unless they also felt God in the divine and supernatural senses, by which they did most nearly approach to him, from these superior and most inward senses, working upon the lower and less noble faculties of the mind. But whichever way the prophets were certain, that they were inspired of God, even when they foretold contingent truths to come, it is without doubt, they were most certainly persuaded, that they were divinely inspired, and that frequently without any outward miracle. For John the Baptist did no miracle; and many prophesied, where there appeared no miracle: as in the Scriptures may be often observed. And we also by the inspiration of the same Divine spirit, by which the prophets prophesied, do believe their words and writings to be divine, concerning contingent truths, as well past as to come; else that faith, by which we believe the Scripture, would not be divine, but merely human. And thence we need no outward miracles to move us to believe the Scriptures; and therefore much less were they necessary to the prophets who wrote them. For we see in many places of the prophets, where they declare prophesies as revealed to them of God, there is not a word mentioned of any outward miracle, as that by which alone they were certain of it.

‘Moreover, the falseness of this argument doth appear, in that the Scripture doth declare many contingent truths to have been revealed to the prophets in dreams. Now as natural and wicked men do not see what they dream by a real perception of the outward senses, but by inward ideas which are presented to the mind, and perceived by it, so it is also in divine revelations of this nature. Of which we have a clear example in Joseph, the husband of the blessed Virgin, who, when he observed his wife with child, was told in a dream, that she had conceived by the Holy Ghost: now I would know, to which of Joseph’s outward senses was this revealed? or what miracle had he to induce him to believe? which could neither be proved, so as to make an infallible application to Mary, by the testimony of the Scripture; and which being against the order of nature, did choke his reason. The Scripture mentions no miracle in this matter; and yet no doubt Joseph had highly sinned had he not believed this revelation, and notwithstanding, rejected his wife as an adultress. But if thou sayest, that according to thy hypothesis there must have been a miracle; that is only to beg the question: and how false this hypothesis is, the apostle shows clearly, 1 Cor. ii. 14. the natural or animal man knoweth not, receiveth not, the things of God. Now divine revelations are of this nature; if either chiefly or only those things were to be judged by the outward senses, it would contradict the apostle. For natural men, yea, the most wicked, have the use of the outward senses as true and exact as the most godly. And whereas the apostle adds, “For they are spiritually discerned,” it puts the matter out of all question: for thence it abundantly appears, that this discerning is not by the outward senses according to the following verse; for the apostle saith, “The spiritual man judgeth all things:” this then must be done by some senses or properties peculiar to the spiritual man, and in which he excels the natural man, which is not in the outward senses, as we all do know. Therefore the perception of “spiritual things cannot be by the outward senses, either as the chief or only means,” as is falsely contended for.

‘Now as to these words of the apostle, Rom. x. That faith comes by hearing; Zuinglius observed well, that the apostle intended not to affirm faith to come by the hearing of the outward word; neither do the following words prove it, “How shall they believe, unless they hear? and how shall they hear without a preacher? and how shall they preach, unless they be sent?” for the apostle uses these words, not as his arguments, but as objections which might be formed; as the same apostle uses in other places; to which objections he answers in the same chapter, as appears verse 18. “But I say, have not they all heard? yes, truly their voice went into all the earth:” that is, of the Father and Son, or the Father in the word; which word is not only near us, but according to the same apostle in the same chapter, in our mouths, and in our hearts. But further thou canst conclude nothing from this, but that faith is begotten by outward hearing only, and no otherwise: for this is the strength of thy argument, that since faith cannot be without outward hearing, therefore nothing can certainly be believed, but where somewhat is proposed to the outward hearing. For if thou acknowledge faith can be begotten any otherwise than by hearing, thou losest the strength of thy argument: and if that argument hold, that faith comes only by outward hearing, thou destroyest the whole hypothesis. For having before affirmed, that outward miracles are sufficient to render one certain of the truth of any revelation; whether it be the healing of the sick, or the raising of the dead, would avail nothing, because those, (as for the most part all miracles,) are obvious to the sight, not to the hearing: and if it be not by outward hearing only, thou canst conclude nothing from this place.

‘But I the more wonder thy using of this argument, considering the discourse we had together before we entered upon this debate: for when we were speaking of the opinion of a certain person, who denied the certainty of every thing, but what was discerned by the outward senses, thou condemnedst it as most absurd; but why, I cannot conceive, since there is no great difference betwixt these two opinions: the one saith there can be no great certainty concerning any truths, whether they be necessary or contingent, but by the perception of the senses: the other affirms the same of contingent truths, though not of necessary truths. But among the number of contingent truths thou esteemest what belongs to Christian religion, for thou reckons the necessary truths only to belong to natural religion. This then is all the difference, that that other person says, there is no certainty of any religion, neither natural nor Christian, but by the perception of the outward senses: but thou sayest though thou esteemest the certainty of natural religion to be without them, yet not of the Christian religion. But again, since thou esteemest that not natural religion but the Christian religion is necessary to salvation, thou must necessarily conclude, that those truths which are necessary to salvation, are only known and believed by the benefit of the outward senses: in which conclusion, (which is the sum of all,) thou yieldest the matter to that other person.

‘But lastly: if all the certainty of our faith, hope, and salvation, did depend upon the infallibility of outward senses, we should be most miserable; since these senses can be easily deceived, and, by many outward casualties and natural infirmities, whereunto the godly are no less subject than the wicked, are often vitiated; and there are, (as the Scripture affirms,) false miracles, which, as to the outward, cannot be distinguished from the true; of which we cannot infallibly judge by the outward senses, which only discern what is outward.

‘There is a necessity then to have recourse to some other means.

‘From all which it does appear, how fallacious and weak this argument is: but thanks be unto God, who would not that our faith should be built upon so uncertain and doubtful a foundation. And whoever hath known true faith, or hath felt the divine testimony of God’s spirit in his soul, will judge otherwise, neither will be moved by such reasonings. I pray God therefore to remove these clouds, which darken thy understanding, that thou mayest perceive the glorious gospel of Christ; this is that saving word of grace which I commend thee unto; and that God may give thee a heart inclinable to believe and obey the truth, is the desire of

Thy faithful friend, R. BARCLAY.’

From the prison of Aberdeen, in Scotland, where I am confined for the sake of the testimony of Jesus. November 24, 1676.

This letter, a year ago, at the desire of my friend R. B. I delivered into the hands of the afore-named ambassador, desiring his answer in writing, which he then promised; but not having as yet done, it was seen meet to be published.

B. F.

Rotterdam, the 28th of March, 1678.

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A brief and distinct Solution of the Argument which the Ambassador aforesaid useth against Robert Barclay’s Thesis, whereby he attempts to evince, that not the inward revelation of the Holy Spirit, but the outward by the Scripture, is the principal rule, and foundation of our faith: at least to us Europeans, who have the Scriptures.

As to his argument, as it was transmitted to us, if he considers the strength and substance of it, thus it stands: ‘The history of the outward coming, nativity, death, resurrection, and ascension of Jesus Christ, is either necessary to their salvation, to whom the Scriptures came, or it is not necessary, viz. to be known and believed. If we say the second, namely, that the history is not necessary to be known and believed in order to the salvation of us Europeans who have the Scriptures, then it will follow that we are not Christians, because we deny that true, essential, and constitutive character of the Christian religion, which consists in believing that Christ was sent into the world, born of the Virgin Mary, dead and buried, rose again the third day, ascended into heaven, where he sitteth at the right hand of the Father, &c. But if they say the first, viz. That the knowledge and faith of the history are necessary to our salvation, then it will follow, that the Scripture, and not the inward revelation of the holy Spirit, is the principal rule and foundation of that historical faith and knowledge.

Now this he endeavours to prove, both from some other principles of the Quakers, so called, and from R. B.’s sixth Thesis, after this manner:

That, said the ambassador, is the principal rule and foundation of our faith, which is the only medium or mean, whereby that historical knowledge and faith are brought unto us: but, according to the Quakers, and the sixth Thesis, the Scripture is the only medium or mean, whereby that historical knowledge and faith are brought unto us: therefore, according to the Quakers, and the sixth Thesis, the Scripture is the principal rule and foundation of our faith.

The minor he proves thus: the author of the Thesis, (says he,) confesseth in his sixth Thesis, that there is a people, to whom God, by some inevitable accident, hath made that historical knowledge and faith impossible: and the reason why that historical knowledge and faith are impossible to that people, is because they are destitute of the Scriptures, and live in those corners of the world, whereunto the outward preaching of the history never came; from which argument it will follow, that the Scriptures are the only medium or mean, whereby the historical knowledge and faith of Christ came to any people.

For the clearer understanding the solution of this argument, some things worthy observation are to be considered:

1. First then observe, that the force of this argument at most intends to prove this, viz. That the Scripture is the principal rule and foundation of historical faith and knowledge; but we with good reason distinguish between historical and saving knowledge, and between historical and saving faith; because many may have an historical knowledge and faith, who have not that which is saving. Yea, it is possible, that a man, by the inward revelation of the holy Spirit, may have an historical knowledge and faith, who yet may not have that faith which is saving; because saving faith hath regard to God, not precisely as revealing some outward history concerning God and Christ but as revealing very God and Christ by his grace, goodness, mercy, and power, ready and willing to save us, according to his unspeakable good-will towards us: by which saving faith we rest upon God through Christ, our light and life, as upon our most merciful Father; which faith can neither exist, nor be conceived without love to God, humility before God, denial, and diffidence of self; and therefore such a faith is saving. But historical faith, though wrought in the hearts of men by the inward revelation and operation of the holy Spirit, may be without that divine love, humility and self-denial: wherefore precisely considered in its own nature, it is not saving. It was this kind of knowledge and faith which wicked Balaam had, who saw and knew many historical futurities, and believed them, but had not saving faith.

2. Observe, secondly, That the knowledge and faith necessary to salvation, are to be understood two ways, either by a necessity antecedent, or in way of priority, or by a necessity consequent, or in way of posteriority. Necessity antecedent, or in way of priority, is, when something is absolutely necessary to our salvation, that we both know and believe it; and because it is necessary, God doth therefore reveal it to us; of which sort are such principles as these, viz. That God follows men with his love and good-will; that he invites and persuades them to come unto him; that he is ready to show favour to men, and pardon their sins, if they sincerely repent themselves of their past misspent life, and lead a new one for the time to come; that God hears the prayers of those that are truly humble and suppliant; that he is a glorious rewarder of all that live soberly, righteously, and godly; that he is a most just avenger against all those who despise his grace and love, and repent not of their sins, &c. All which, in some degree, are to all men, even to those who are destitute of the Scriptures, revealed by that inward evangelical light, which enlightens all men. Necessity consequent, or in way of posteriority, is, when something is not absolutely necessary to our salvation, but after a certain sort, or under some respect, condition, and limitation; of which kind are those things which are not revealed, because they are necessary; but because they are revealed, they are necessary to be believed by us: for example; if God should reveal to any man, that it was his will and command, he should go to Rome to reprove tyranny and superstition; certainly this revelation were necessary to be believed to that man’s salvation, by a necessity consequent, because that faith is an act of obedience; and to obey God is necessary to salvation.

3. Observe in the third place, that among those things that are necessary to be believed to salvation by a necessity consequent, there are some things, though not absolutely necessary, yet are they very profitable and conducive means to our salvation; of which sort are the historical knowledge and faith concerning God, the creation and government of the world. Christ’s taking flesh, and dying therein for our sins, &c. whether that historical knowledge come to us, either by the sole inward revelation of the holy Spirit, without the medium or mean of Scripture, or also by both, to wit, both by the inward inspiration of the holy Spirit, and by the Scriptures; which two mediums or means, do sometimes concur in producing in men historical knowledge and faith concerning God and Christ, as is said before, but in a different manner. The outward revelation, as it is called, of Scripture, is a medium or mean, by way of material object, in producing that historical knowledge and faith: but the inward inspiration and revelation wrought in the hearts of men by the holy Spirit, are a medium or mean by way of formal object, in producing the same historical knowledge and faith. By the material object we understand that which is believed; and therefore the Scriptures which are believed, are the material object of historical knowledge and faith. By the formal object we understand the principal motive in respect to the object, for which the Scriptures are believed. But the principal motive in respect of the object, is not the Scripture itself, but that inward testimony of the holy Spirit, which when we hear or read the Scriptures, when it pleaseth the most good and great God to inspire the hearts of men, works an assent in us, whether it inclines us to assent to the historical truths hitherto declared in the Scriptures or no: wherefore we do not affirm that the holy Spirit doth ordinarily and commonly speak in us something that is new, or declare to our inward hearing those particular histories of God and Christ, (though God may, if he shall please, do it at this day;) but we say, that God doth by his holy Spirit, through his sensible and perceptible motions and operations objectively representing themselves, move and incline us to assent unto, and believe the Scriptures, and the historical truths declared of in the Scriptures.

These things considered, we affirm, that though the Scriptures are ordinarily and commonly a certain medium or mean, by way of material object or condition, for the producing of historical knowledge and faith in us; and that, commonly speaking, a necessary mean too, as being that without which God doth not ordinarily reveal the outward history of God and Christ; yet we utterly deny that in true Christians the Scripture, or outward history in the Scriptures, is the principal motive, foundation, or principal rule of that historical faith, much less of saving faith, to the producing of which the letter of the Scripture doth very frequently, (as to many of its acts, if not all,) not concur or co-operate, either as a material object, or as a necessary condition, which is wont commonly to be called in the schools, Causa sine quâ non, or a cause or condition without which a thing cannot be done, though it doth not influence the effect.

Now for a direct solution of the argument aforesaid, we answer, that the historical knowledge and faith concerning Christ’s being born, dead, buried, &c. to us Europeans, who have the Scriptures, are necessary to salvation, that is to say, by a necessity consequent, or in way of posteriority, (as was before explained,) which assertion of ours nevertheless militates not against the sixth Thesis, which granteth, that that historical knowledge and faith are impossible to those who live in those corners of the world, where the knowledge of the history is wanting: which impossibility is not absolutely to be understood, but after a sort, and in some respect; because, without doubt, God doth ordinarily communicate that historical knowledge unto men, by the medium or mean of the Scriptures; yet not as the principal medium or mean, much less as by the only one: because certainly that inward motion of the holy Spirit wrought in our hearts, moving and inclining us objectively to assent unto, and believe the Scriptures, is the principal motive in respect of the object, for which we believe the Scriptures, and therefore is the foundation and principal rule of our historical faith also.

Wherefore we answer unto the minor proposition of the last syllogism, by plainly and directly denying that minor proposition, viz. That the Scriptures are the only medium or mean for attaining to the knowledge of the history: they are indeed one certain medium or mean, and that necessary; but they are not the only or principal. An example for the illustration hereof, occurs in natural and outward vision: for when I see a white or red rose, that white or red rose is the material object of my sight, and one necessary medium for the producing of that sight; yet that rose is not the only medium or mean; for the light is another, no less necessary, concurring to produce my sight, by way of formal object, by means of which I see that rose represented under such or such a colour and figure. Moreover, in that he asserts, these inward motions wrought by the holy Spirit in the hearts of believers, are so undiscernible by us, that believers cannot clearly and infallibly distinguish them from their own private and proper motions; this he supposes but proves not. And therein he is deceived, either through his inexperience, or want of that due waiting, and attention to those motions in the divine illumination of Christ, wherewith he hath enlightened both him [the ambassador] and all men coming into the world. But our experience, together with the experience of the holy prophets and apostles, is a stronger motive to induce us to believe, that divine inward revelation is sufficiently clear and convincing by its own light and evidence, than his own bare and jejune supposition to the contrary, by reason of his want of experience or attention.

As to the Latin, we have not been very curious in this writing, by reason of haste; yet have briefly answered the argument as a friend communicated it to us by letter; if he hath omitted any thing in this transmission, or we may seem not to have understood, or touched the strength of the argument, let it be remitted to us; and we, through divine assistance, shall answer it at large.

GEORGE KEITH, AND ROBERT BARCLAY.

This solution was delivered to the said ambassador, not long before the epistle cited page 537, and at page 17, in the Appendix to Sewel’s Dutch History.

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A brief Enodation of an Argument proposed by another person.

Moreover as to what relates to another person’s argument against that part of R. B.’s second Thesis, which asserts, that divine inward revelation is that which is evident and clear of itself, moving the well-disposed understanding by its own evidence, &c. to the end of the Thesis.

The argument is thus formed: Such an evidence as is asserted in the Thesis, is destructive of faith, because it is not the evidence of faith. He proves the antecedent by the words of the Apostle, “Faith is the evidence of things not seen.” Heb. xi. 1. By which words the apostle seems to intimate, that faith hath not this kind of evidence; for if it were of things seen, it would contradict the apostle.

The solution of this argument is easy; for evidence is three-fold.

The first is the evidence of things sensible, appertaining to the outward senses.

The second is the evidence of things intellectual, but natural, appertaining to natural reason.

The third is the evidence of things spiritual and supernatural, as they are proposed to the understanding by the inward illumination and revelation of the Holy Spirit.

The first evidence may be called the evidence of sense, or animal evidence.

The second, the evidence of reason, or rational evidence.

The third, the evidence of faith, or spiritual evidence.

But faith is the evidence of things not seen, that is, neither visible by the outward senses, or by natural reason; yet these things hinder not, but that faith may be the evidence of things not seen by the understanding of a man, not as operating in its own natural way, but as divinely elevated and assisted by the inward illumination and operation of the holy Spirit. Wherefore, though things appertaining to faith may be very obscure, and as it were mere darkness, both to the outward senses, and natural reason; yet they have their evidence, if duly proposed to an understanding divinely enlightened. Is it not said in the same chapter to the Hebrews, concerning Moses, that by faith he saw God? That is to say, not by the outward eye, nor by the eye of natural reason, but by the eye of faith.

The curious may see the original Latin, from which the preceding are translated, in the Appendix to William Sewel’s Dutch History of the Quakers.

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