after by eight priests, in the presence of many people: and when they
saw that G. Fox remained unshaken, they fawningly said, ‘What might
he have been if it had not been for the Quakers!’ Afterwards the
dispute was resumed in the steeple-house yard, where G. Fox showed,
by abundance of Scriptures, that they who preach for wages were false
prophets and hirelings; and that such who would not preach without
wages or tithes, did not serve the Lord Jesus Christ, but their
own bellies. This he treated on so largely, that a professor said,
‘George, what! wilt thou never have done?’ To this his answer was,
that he should have done shortly. And when he broke off, one of the
priests said, they would read the Scriptures he had quoted. ‘With all
my heart;’ said he: then they began to read Jer. xxiii. and when they
had read a verse or two, George said, ‘Take notice, people.’ But the
priests cried, ‘Hold thy tongue, George.’ He then bid them read the
whole chapter throughout; but they stopping, asked him a question:
and he told them, that if the matter he charged them with was first
granted, then he would answer their question: for his charge had
been that they were false prophets, and false teachers, such as the
true prophets, Christ and his apostles, cried against. ‘Nay,’ said a
professor to that: but he said, ‘Yes; for you, leaving the matter, and
going to another thing, seem to consent to the proof of the former
charge.’ Now their question was, seeing those false prophets were
adulterated, whether he did judge priest Stevens an adulterer. To this
he answered, that he was adulterated from God in his practice, like
those false prophets.
Then they broke up the meeting, and Stevens desired, that G. Fox, with
his father and mother, might go aside with him, that he might speak to
him in private. George, though his relations yielded to it, was very
loth to do so; yet, that it might not be said he was disobedient to
his parents, he went: but many of the people being willing to hear,
drew close to them. Then Stevens said, if he was out of the way, George
should pray for him; and if George was out of the way, he would pray
for him: moreover, that he would give to George a form of words to pray
by. To this G. Fox replied, ‘It seems thou dost not know, whether thou
art in the right way or no; but I know that I am in the everlasting
way, Christ Jesus, which thou art out of: and thou wouldst give me a
form of words to pray by, and yet thou deniest the common prayer book
to pray by, as well as I. If thou wouldst have me pray for thee by a
form of words, is not this to deny the apostles’ doctrine and practice
of praying by the Spirit as it gave words and utterance?’ Here, though
some of the people fell a laughing, yet others, that were grave and
sober, were convinced of the Truth, and the priests were greatly
shaken: insomuch that George’s father, though he was a hearer and
follower of the priest, was so well satisfied, that, striking his cane
upon the ground, he said, ‘Truly I see, he that will but stand to the
Truth, it will carry him out.’
G. Fox did not stay long at Drayton, but went to Leicester, and from
thence to Whetstone, where a meeting was to be kept; but before it
began, there came about seventeen troopers, of colonel Hacker’s
regiment, who, taking him up, brought him to the said colonel, where
there was also his major and captains. Here he entered into a long
discourse with them, about the priests, and about meetings; for at
this time there was a noise of a plot against Cromwell: and he spoke
also much concerning the light of Christ, which enlighteneth every man
that cometh into the world. The colonel hearing him speak thus, asked
whether it was the light of Christ that made Judas betray his Master,
and afterwards led him to hang himself? G. Fox told him, ‘No; that was
the spirit of darkness which hated Christ and his light.’ Then the
colonel said to George, he might go home, and keep at home, and not go
abroad to meetings. But he told him, he was an innocent man, free from
plots, and he denied all such works. Then the colonel’s son, Needham,
said, ‘Father, this man hath reigned too long; it is time to have him
cut off.’ G. Fox asked him for what? ‘What have I done, or whom have
I wronged from a child; and who can accuse me of any evil?’ Then the
colonel asked him, if he would go home, and stay there. To which G. Fox
answered, that if he should promise him so, it would imply that he was
guilty of something, to go home, and make his home a prison to himself;
and if he went to meetings, they would say, he broke their order; but
that he should go to meetings, as the Lord should order him; and that
therefore he could not submit to their requirings: and having further
added, that he and his friends were a peaceable people: the colonel
said, ‘Well then, I will send you to-morrow morning by six o’clock, to
my lord Protector, by captain Drury, one of his life-guard.’ The next
morning, about the appointed time, he was delivered to captain Drury.
Then G. Fox desired he would let him speak with the colonel, before
he went; and so the captain brought him to the colonel’s bed-side,
who again bade him go home and keep no more meetings. But G. Fox told
him he could not submit to that; but must have his liberty to serve
God, and go to meetings. ‘Then,’ said the colonel, ‘you must go before
the Protector.’ Whereupon G. Fox kneeled on his bed-side, and prayed
the Lord to forgive him: since, according to his judgment, he was as
Pilate, though he would wash his hands; (for he was stirred up and set
on by the priests,) and therefore George bade him, when the day of his
misery and trial should come upon him, then to remember what he had
said to him. Far was it now from Needham, who would have had G. Fox
cut off, to think that one time this would befal his father, in an
ignominious manner, at Tyburn. But what afterwards happened, when he
was condemned as one of the judges of King Charles the First, will be
related in its due place.
G. Fox then having left colonel Hacker, was carried prisoner by
captain Drury to London; where the captain went to give the Protector
an account of him; and coming again, he told G. Fox, the Protector
did require, that he should promise, not to take up a carnal sword
or weapon against him, or the government as it then was: and that he
should write this in what words he saw good, and set his hand to it.
G. Fox considering this, next morning writ a paper to the Protector,
by the name of Oliver Cromwell, wherein he did in the presence of God
declare, that he denied the wearing or drawing of a carnal sword, or
any outward weapon, against him, or any man: and that he was sent of
God to stand a witness against all violence, and against the works of
darkness; and to turn people from darkness to the light, and to bring
them from the occasion of war and fighting, to the peaceable gospel;
and from being evil-doers, which the magistrates sword should be a
terror to. Having writ this, he set his name to it, and gave it to
captain Drury, who delivered it to Oliver Cromwell; and after some time
returning to the Mermaid, near Charing-cross, where G. Fox was lodged,
he carried him to Whitehall, and brought him before the Protector who
was not yet dressed, it being pretty early in the morning. G. F. coming
in, said, ‘Peace be in this house,’ and bid the Protector keep in the
fear of God, that he might receive wisdom from him; that by it he might
be ordered, and with it might order all things under his hands to God’s
glory. He had also much discourse with him concerning religion, wherein
Cromwell carried himself very moderately, but said that G. Fox and his
friends quarrelled with the ministers, meaning his teachers. G. Fox
told him, he did not quarrel with them; but they quarrelled with him
and his friends. ‘But, (thus continued he,) if we own the prophets,
Christ, and the apostles, we cannot uphold such teachers, prophets, and
shepherds, as the prophets, Christ, and the apostles declared against;
but we must declare against them by the same power and spirit.’
Moreover, he showed that the prophets, Christ, and the apostles
preached freely, and declared against them that did not declare freely,
but preached for filthy lucre, and divined for money, or preached for
hire, being covetous and greedy, like the dumb dogs, that could never
have enough: and that they that had the same spirit, which Christ, the
prophets, and the apostles had, could not but declare against all such
now, as they did then. He also said, that all Christendom, (so called,)
had the Scriptures, but they wanted the power and spirit, which they
had who gave them forth; and that was the reason they were not in
fellowship with the Son, nor with the Father, nor with the Scriptures,
nor one with another. Whilst he was thus speaking, Cromwell several
times said, it was very good, and it was truth. G. Fox had many more
words with him; but seeing people coming in, he drew a little back: and
as he was turning, Cromwell catched him by the hand, and with tears in
his eyes, said, ‘Come again to my house; for if thou and I were but an
hour of a day together, we should be nearer one to another:’ adding,
that he wished him no more ill than he did to his own soul. To this
G. Fox returned, that if he did, he wronged his own soul; and bid him
hearken to God’s voice, that he might stand in his counsel, and obey
it; and if he did so, that would keep him from hardness of heart; but
if he did not hear God’s voice, his heart would be hardened. This so
reached the Protector, that he said it was true.
Then G. Fox went out; and captain Drury following, told him, that the
lord Protector said he was at liberty, and might go whither he would:
yet he was brought into a great hall, where the protector’s gentlemen
were to dine; and he asked what they did bring him thither for? They
told him it was by the Protector’s order, that he might dine with them.
But George bid them tell the Protector he would not eat a bit of his
bread, nor drink a sup of his drink. When Cromwell heard this, he said,
‘Now I see there is a people risen, and come up, that I cannot win
either with gifts, honours, offices, or places; but all other sects and
people I can.’ But it was told him again, that the Quakers had forsook
their own, and were not like to look for such things from him.
It was very remarkable that captain Drury, who, while G. Fox was under
his custody, would often scoff at him, because of the nickname of
Quakers, which the Independents had first given to the professors of
the light, afterwards came to him, and told him, that as he was lying
on his bed to rest himself in the day time, a sudden trembling seized
on him, that his joints knocked together, and his body shook so, that
he could not rise from his bed; he was so shaken, that he had not
strength enough left to rise. But he felt the power of the Lord was
upon him, and he tumbled off his bed, and cried to the Lord, and said,
he would never speak against the Quakers more, viz. such as trembled at
the word of God.
The particular occurrences that befel G. Fox, when he was at liberty
in London, I pass by. He had great meetings there, and the throngs of
people were such, that he could hardly get to and from the meetings,
because of the crowd. In the meanwhile the number of his friends
increased exceedingly, and some belonging to Cromwell’s court were
also convinced of the Truth preached by him. He wrote about that time
several papers, one of which was against pride, gaudy apparel, and the
world’s fashions.
I do not find that about this time there was at London any persecution
from the magistrates, but in other places there was: and it was in this
year that Anne the wife of John Audland, coming into a steeple-house at
Banbury, said, after the priest had ended, that those that were without
the doctrine of Christ, though they said the Lord liveth, yet spoke
falsely, according to Jer. v. 2. For this she was imprisoned as guilty
of blasphemy, and two boys swore against her, that she had said that
the Lord did not live. Thus false accusations prevailed, and at this
rate persecution was cloaked.
The year drew now to an end, and Cromwell concluded a peace with the
United Netherlands; to get things the more clear at home, it seems
he endeavoured to remove troubles abroad. And there being a rumour
spread of a plot as hath been hinted already, to be the more assured
of the parliament, he caused a guard to be set upon the door of the
house, to keep out those members that refused to sign a paper, whereby
they promised to be faithful to the lord Protector, and to make no
alteration in the government, so as it was settled, on a single person,
and a parliament. But several of the members would not sign this paper,
saying, that it was a violation of the privileges of the parliament,
and a depriving them of their liberty; and therefore they were kept
out; but others who subscribed the said paper were admitted. Yet this
assembly not acting to the satisfaction of Cromwell, he dissolved them
after a session of five months. The young king Charles, who lived in
exile, had left France, and was come to Cologne on the Rhine, where he
stayed for some time.
But I return to London, where we left G. Fox. He was in that city
continually at work, discharging his duty every where, both with mouth
and pen, suffering no time to be lost. There being commissioners
appointed for the trying of ministers, he writ a paper to them, wherein
he advised them, to see whether they were not such whom the prophets,
Christ, and the apostles disapproved; and who would admire men’s
persons because of advantage, &c. He staid at London till the year
1655; and after having cleared himself, he went to Bedfordshire, and
came to the house of John Crook, a justice of peace, where there was
a great meeting, and many were convinced of the Truth he declared, of
which number John Crook also was one; but for this he was soon turned
out from being a justice.
Whilst G. Fox was in Bedfordshire, there was also Alexander Parker,
one of the early ministers among those called Quakers. But leaving
them there, I now intend to speak of William Caton, who, as it hath
been said already, was one of the family of judge Fell. When he was
but about fourteen years of age, his father procured leave for him to
dwell in the said family; and his behaviour was so pleasing, that he
was allowed the judge’s son, as a companion night and day; he ate as
he did, and went with him a hunting, shooting, and fishing, partaking
of the same pleasure with him in every thing, and living in ease and
plenty; so that he had cause of joy, that Providence had cast his lot
into such a noted family; for not only judge Fell, but also his wife
Margaret, and their daughters, were well qualified. W. Caton conversing
with such choice company, grew up in piety, and was very zealous in
performing his private devotions, staying often in the bed-chamber,
till the judge’s son, his bed-fellow, was gone down, so that he might
the more freely pour out his heart before God in prayer. Having
attained to the age of fifteen years, he was very diligent, when he
had been at a lecture, to write down the chief heads thereof; for such
of the family as could make repetitions of sermons, and paraphrase
thereupon, were held in esteem. But William Caton found that what he
reaped thereby, could not satisfy the hunger and thirst of his immortal
soul.
After he and the judge’s son had for some time learned Latin together
in the family, where there was a priest that instructed them, they were
removed to a school at Hawkshead: but here he found company which he
disliked more than that in the judge’s family.
It was in the year 1652, about Midsummer, that G. Fox, (as hath been
said in its proper place,) first came to the house of judge Fell at
Swarthmore. His non-conformity to the ordinary salutations, W. Caton
not a little wondered at; but yet it did not hinder him from giving due
attention to the doctrine G. Fox preached, which in substance was, to
give heed to the light, which Christ Jesus had enlightened us withal,
and which shining in our hearts, convinceth us of sin and evil. This
so reached W. Caton, that in due time he began to be subject to this
inward convincement, by which he came to be much restrained in his
carriage, and could not allow himself so great liberty as he was wont
to do; for though he was no ways extravagant, yet now he saw that a
true Christian must be weaned from all vanity; and that the common
diversions of youth displeased God. This he clearly perceived, for the
witness of God had awakened and reproved him of that which was contrary
to true gravity, and sobriety of mind. He had not yet left the school:
but, though he was pretty much advanced in his learning, the making
of Latin verses became a burden to him, because he could not give his
thoughts that liberty for invention as others did; neither could he
well any longer give to the master of the school the compliment of
the hat, as he was used to do: this I had from his own mouth. One may
easily guess that hereby he was brought into a strait; but Margaret
Fell, seeing that he longed to be freed from the school, caused him to
stay at home, where he was employed by her in writing, and teaching her
children. And when he was about seventeen years of age, he became more
and more strengthened in the spiritual warfare, and his heart was often
filled with joy, because of the mercy and loving kindness of the Lord
to him.
Thus advancing in godliness, he was frequently moved to go to the
places of public worship, and also to markets, to warn people to
repentance; but then beating and buffeting was his share, and because
of his youth he was despised by many; yet he fainted not: and esteeming
it his duty now to labour in the ministry of the gospel, he desired to
be discharged of his service. Judge Fell was very unwilling to part
with him; but Margaret his wife, though she could not well give him
up before, yet believing that the Lord required his service, not only
freely resigned him, but also prevailed with her husband to let him
go: for he did not desire his liberty to serve other men, but to enter
into the service of the Lord, and to proclaim the everlasting gospel.
About the end of the year 1654, being eighteen years of age, he took
his leave of that family, which was not done without mutual shedding of
tears at parting.
He then went to visit his friends in Lancashire, Yorkshire, Derbyshire,
and Warwickshire; from thence to Norwich, and so to Wellingborough, in
Northamptonshire; where he found an opportunity to declare the Truth
of God in the steeple-house. After that he travelled to Cambridge,
visiting his friends there; and then returned to Norwich, where he
visited his friends in prison, and had great meetings in that city.
Then he went to London, where he was very kindly received by those
of the household of faith; and on a First-day of the week was at two
steeple-houses, at one of which he had large liberty to speak, being
indeed persuasive in speech; and in the afternoon, at a meeting of
dissenters from the public worship, he had liberty to publish Truth
without opposition, or contradiction from any; and many were added to
the faith: for at that time there were twelve ministering brethren,
most of them come out of the North of England, among whom was John
Stubbs, already mentioned, with whom he travelled into Kent: and coming
to Dover, where they were altogether strangers, not knowing any body
in the town, they took their lodging at an inn. J. Stubbs went on the
first day of the week to a meeting of the Baptists, and W. Caton to
the steeple-house, where he had but little liberty; but in the yard
he had more opportunity to clear his conscience to the people. In the
afternoon he went up to the castle, where the Independents performed
their worship. Shortly after, he and J. Stubbs went into the Baptists’
meeting, unto which much people resorted, and many began to be affected
with their testimony, and adhered to it. This made such a stir, that
they were hauled before the magistrates, who examined them, and ordered
that none should entertain them on a certain penalty; whereupon they
were turned out of their lodging. But one Luke Howard, a shoemaker, who
had already heard W. Caton at London, and afterwards at Dover, in the
steeple-house yard, though he little regarded him at London, but said
to his companion, ‘I know more than he can tell me, or more than either
I or he is able to live up to;’ yet now he became so affected with W.
Caton’s testimony, that he invited him and J. Stubbs to his house,
where he entertained them; and not long after they had a meeting there;
and he heard the testimony of his guests with no less satisfaction,
than Agrippa of old, did the speech of the apostle Paul, when he said
to him, ‘Almost thou persuadest me to be a Christian:’ For Luke Howard
was not yet come so far that he could resolve to conform himself with
the Quakers, so called: but yet, such was his love to them, that when
the mayor of the town sent four constables to his house, with an order
to deliver them up, that so they might be carried out of the town, he
refused to do so, relying on his right as a freeman of the corporation;
and the doors being shut, kept the constables out of his house, and
told them from the shop window, that the mayor had no lawful authority
to have these men hauled out of his house, and sent out of town,
there being no hue and cry come after them. They staid yet some days
in his house, and he became so strengthened by their ministry, that
he joined with them in profession, and also gave up his house to be a
meeting-place for their friends.
Then W. Caton and J. Stubbs departed the town, and went to Folkstone,
and from thence to Hithe, in both which places they found opportunity
to preach the Truth. After some stay, they went to Romney, and so to
Lydd. Here it was, that Samuel Fisher, both by their ministry, and by
that of Ambrose Rigge, and Thomas Robinson, (who now were also gone
forth in the service of the gospel,) was convinced, and brought over to
their society.
He was trained up to literature, and had studied diligently in the
University; and though but young then, yet was of a pious conversation,
and disliked many ceremonies and customs usual in the schools. When he
had finished his course there, he was ordained a priest of the church;
and a certain great man took him to be his chaplain; and afterwards he
got a living at Lydd, worth about two hundred pounds a year. But after
having been thus employed some time, he came to see that infant baptism
was an human institution, and to preach for wages unlawful. To this
may be added, that Luke Howard, some time before he knew the Quakers,
so called, not being satisfied concerning the singing of David’s
psalms at the public worship, so troubled his master that he had been
apprentice with, that he got Samuel Fisher, as a learned minister, to
come and discourse with him, and to try to convince him: and S. Fisher
talking with him, L. Howard told him, that God was a Spirit, and must
be worshipped in Spirit and Truth, of all those that would worship him
acceptably. And also, that it was contrary to Truth, for a proud man
to sing, “he was not puft in mind, he had no scornful eye, and he did
not exercise himself in things that were too high;” when he lived in
pride, wherein God beheld him afar off. And further, that it was very
unbecoming such an one to sing, “Rivers of tears run down mine eyes,
because other men keep not thy laws,” when he never knew a true sorrow
and repentance for his own sins. This reason of Howard’s against the
customary singing in their worship, had so much influence upon S.
Fisher, that from that time he was stopped from any more giving David’s
conditions to the people to sing; and becoming in time more and more
uneasy to go on in acting what was burdensome to his conscience, he
resolved to desist from his ministry, and so went to the bishop, and
delivered up the commission that he had received from him to preach:
and casting himself upon God’s providence, he took a farm, and turned
grazier, by which means he maintained his wife and children much better
to his content than before.
Departing thus from the Episcopalian church, he went over to the
Baptists, and became a zealous teacher among them. It was about this
time, that W. Caton, and J. Stubbs came to Lydd, whom S. Fisher
received into his house, remembering that Scripture exhortation, “Be
not forgetful to entertain strangers, for many thereby have entertained
angels unawares.” W. Caton went to the meeting of the Independents,
and Stubbs to that of the Baptists, where Fisher then preached; and
J. Stubbs having got opportunity to speak, declared Truth so plainly,
that S. Fisher being very much affected with it, began to paraphrase
upon it, with excellency of speech. W. Caton and J. Stubbs departing
this place, went to another town in this county, but not long after
returning to Lydd, they found S. Fisher in fellowship with themselves;
for it happened that this fellow-teacher, George Hammond, in his sermon
so violently inveighed against those called Quakers, that S. Fisher
could not be satisfied, until he stood up in the said meeting, and
bore a public testimony against the revilings of Hammond: saying to
him, ‘Dear brother, you are very dear and near to me, but the Truth
is nearer and dearer: it is the everlasting Truth and gospel which
they hold forth.’ And speaking more words to that effect, he openly
defended the doctrine of the reviled Quakers. This so vexed Hammond,
that falling into a greater rage, he said, ‘Our brother Fisher is
also bewitched.’ But Fisher rendered not reviling for reviling, but
continued with patience in the faith. This was he who afterwards writ
a book, called Rusticus ad Academicos, wherein he often encountered
the priests with their own weapons; for he was very dexterous at that,
and so well versed in the ancient poets, that he now and then with
their words, gave home blows to his adversaries, allowing himself
sometimes the freedom of the prophet Elijah against the prophets of
Baal. He writ also a paper in Hebrew to the Jews, in which language he
was well skilled. But before I say more of him, I return to W. Caton
and J. Stubbs. They went from Lydd to Ashford, Tenterden, Cranbrook,
and Staplehurst, where they found an open and tender hearted people,
who embraced their doctrine, and some would have given them money,
nay, even have forced it upon them, yet they would not take any: but
as they freely had received, so they freely gave: telling people it
was not theirs, but them, which they sought. Thence they travelled to
Maidstone, where J. Stubbs went to the public place of worship, and W.
Caton to the meeting of the Independents. J. Stubbs was taken at the
steeple-house, and W. Caton, the day following from his inn, and were
both sent to the house of correction, where they were searched, and
their money, inkhorns, and bibles, &c. taken from them. Afterwards they
were stripped, and their necks and arms put in the stocks, and in that
condition were desperately whipped. A hard encounter indeed, especially
for such a young man as W. Caton was; but they were supported by an
invisible hand. Afterwards means were used to compel them to work; and
it was told them, he that would not work should not eat. But they were
not free to consent thereto, because they esteemed this demand unjust,
not being guilty of the breach of any law. Thus they were kept without
victuals for some days, only a little water once a day was allowed
them. In the meanwhile, the malefactors that were there, would have
given them of their bread; yea, the women of the house being moved with
compassion, would have given them something privately; but they were
not free to accept of either. Now the report of this cruelty being
spread in the town, many began to be offended at it; so that an officer
was sent to make restitution of some of their things, which had been
taken from them, and then they bought victuals with their own money.
Not long after, they were parted, and with officers conveyed out of the
town, one at the one end of it, and the other at the other.
At length W. Caton came to London, where he found his companion, J.
Stubbs; but being there, it came upon them to return to the town from
whence they came, which was no small trial to them; but yet they
resigned, and gave up to what they believed to be the will of the Lord.
Now Providence so ordered it, that none meddled with them, though
they, to be more fully seen, went on a First-day of the week to the
steeple-house. They went also to Canterbury, where, at the meetings of
the Baptists and Independents, they had pretty good liberty to declare
the Truth amongst them; and some, being convinced, received their
testimony. They were likewise at Sandwich, where W. Caton had some
service among the Dutch people at their steeple-house.
It was now nigh Midsummer, when he felt a motion to go over to Calais,
in France. For that end he went to Dover, and so to Calais, where
coming to their high place of worship, his spirit was very much grieved
and burdened, with the great idolatry in vogue there; for he saw how
some were worshipping before their dumb idols, and he could not well
ease his spirit for want of the language. Having some time walked about
in the town, he came to be known to some of the chief of the city,
who desiring to speak with him, some of them came down in person to
the quay, to look for him; and understanding he was aboard, he was
called ashore, and conveyed to a large house, where several of the
great ones were come to see and hear him: so that he had a very good
opportunity to declare the Truth among them, there being a Scotch lord
who interpreted for him. And after he had cleared his conscience, they
suffered him to depart quietly.
Soon after he returned for England, and found his companion, J.
Stubbs, at Dover; and it being upon him to go for Holland, W. Caton
was made free to accompany him. With this intent, they went together
to Yarmouth, but could not find passage there for Holland, and so they
passed further to the North; and coming to Swarthmore, W. Caton found
his friends very glad to see him, especially Margaret Fell, who had
been as a nursing mother to him. After some stay there, having been
abundantly refreshed, they went to Shields, where they heard of a ship
bound for Flanders; but having little inclination to go thither, came
soon after to Yarmouth, where they found a ship intended for Flushing,
in Zealand. With this vessel they went over, and arrived safely at
the said town: and on the First-day of the week, they went to the
congregation of the English and Scotch, where many wondered at them
because of their non-conformity; and after they began to speak, there
arose a great stir, so that they were soon hurried out. The same day
they went to Midddleburg, whither being come, before the afternoon’s
worship was ended, one of them began to speak after the priest had
done: but he stopped him presently, thinking at first they were such
as came thither begging; but perceiving the contrary, he and others
were the more violent. After that, he sent for them to his house, and
reasoned awhile with them; but he being of a lofty mind, they found but
a slight entertainment there. After a short stay in town, they embarked
themselves for Rotterdam, in Holland, where being come, when they
had been some few days in the city, they got a meeting at an English
merchant’s house: but he that interpreted for them, not rendering their
words truly, it seemed not to satisfy the hearers. After some time they
returned to Zealand, and from thence again to England, where being
arrived, W. Caton journeyed to Swarthmore, and was received there with
joy; and having some drawings to Scotland, he went to Bishoprick, where
he found his companion J. Stubbs again, with whom he travelled towards
Scotland. It was about the beginning of the month called December, when
they came to Berwick upon Tweed, where W. Caton went into the great
public assembly; and when the priest had done, stepped upon a seat,
and beginning to speak, none seemed to make such haste to get away, as
the priest: in the meanwhile W. Caton spoke with great boldness, and
had pretty good liberty to declare the Truth. But when he had done,
he was taken hold of, and brought before the magistrates, who ordered
that he should be turned out of the town; which was done. J. Stubbs was
that day in a meeting of the Baptists, and had some service there. Not
long after, W. Caton, who wandering up and down, could not well get
any lodging for his money, returned, and came into the town again, the
guard suffering him very freely to pass.
Then they both travelled to Edinburgh, in Scotland, where they found
things somewhat out of order, through the unfaithfulness of some that
were convinced of the Truth; but their ministry was so effectual among
them, that they were brought into better order again: and so they
edified the church according to their ability, the meeting being kept
at the house of William Osborn, who had been a lieutenant-colonel,
and afterwards become a zealous minister among the flock there.
While W. Caton was there, he went once to the chief steeple-house,
where, after the priest had done, he spoke to the people; but, the
multitude combining, he was not suffered to say much, but was carried
out; and coming into the street, there was a guard of soldiers, who
conducted him with drawn swords to the places where he desired to be.
He was about that time also with general Monk, who behaved himself
moderately, and heard him. J. Stubbs now returning to England, W.
Caton went to Stirling, where, being carried to the governor, he was
at first high, but when W. Caton, who was a man of meek behaviour,
had spoke a little to him, he became cool and sedate. He then went
to the English chaplain’s house, who was kind to him. From Edinburgh
he went to Glasgow, where, going into the great cathedral, after the
service was done, he had some liberty to speak to the multitude in the
yard, the rude people being kept under by the English soldiers, who
were moderate, so that he had very good service there. He also went
to Douglas, where his service was no less, both in the steeple-house
and elsewhere: so that having cleared himself in Scotland, he returned
to England, and came again to Swarthmore, where he was received as
formerly in very great love.
1655.
Leaving him there, I turn again to G. Fox, whom we left in
Bedfordshire. From thence he went by London to Kent, and came to
Romney, not long after W. Caton and J. Stubbs had been there. Here he
had a very large meeting, whither Samuel Fisher also came, and there
was a great convincement that day, so that many were turned to the
light of Christ: and after the meeting S. Fisher’s wife said, ‘Now
we may discern betwixt flesh and spirit, and distinguish spiritual
teaching from fleshly.’
From hence G. Fox went to Dover and Canterbury, and further into
Sussex, and so to Reading, where they had a great meeting, and many
were convinced that day. There came also George Bishop, of Bristol,
who, being a captain, then wore a sword, though in time, he entirely
left it off.
G. Fox, going from hence, passed up to London, where, leaving him for
some time, we will go and behold the life and occurrences of James
Parnel, who was born at Retford, in Nottinghamshire, and trained up
in the schools of literature. He laboured very early in the ministry
of the gospel, having been convinced by G. Fox, when not quite
sixteen years of age, and then embraced the Truth; though for that
reason despised and rejected by his relations. He was, (though of
low stature,) endued with great ability, and did not fear, wherever
he came, to call people to repentance. Being imprisoned at Cambridge
for his zealous testimony, and afterward turned out of town like a
vagabond, he soon came back and disputed with the scholars of the
university; but met with rude and bad entertainment from them. In the
beginning of this year he came into Essex, being then about eighteen
years of age, and preached the gospel in several parts of that county,
as Felsted, Stebbing, Witham, Coggeshall, Halsted, and other places,
and many received the word by his ministry. About the middle of the
summer he came to Colchester, and there preached the gospel on a
First day of the week in a steeple-house, after the sermon; then in a
great meeting appointed on purpose; and after that disputed with the
town-lecturer, and another priest, in the French school, all in one
day; so that many were convinced of the Truth preached by him; and
among these also Stephen Crisp, of whom more will be said hereafter.
J. Parnel spent that week in the said town, preaching, exhorting, and
disputing, to the convincing of many; though others were enraged,
insomuch, that his godly zeal was often rewarded with blows; as once
coming out of Nicholas’ steeple-house, he was struck by one with a
great staff, who said, ‘There, take that for Christ’s sake.’ To which
he meekly answered, ‘Friend, I do receive it for Jesus Christ’s sake.’
Many other grievous affronts he bore, without showing any heat or
anger; so that he was a real pattern of patience and meekness.
Having laboured in the gospel about ten days in Colchester, he went to
Coggeshall, where a fast was proclaimed, to be held upon the 12th of
the month called July, to pray against the errors of the people called
Quakers. J. Parnel being come thither, went into the steeple-house,
where he stood still, till the priest was coming out of the pulpit.
Now since this priest Sammes, who was an Independent, had cried out
fiercely against the Quakers, as deceivers, J. Parnel esteemed it his
duty to say something to that; and the first words he spoke were, ‘This
is the order of the true church, that all may speak one by one; and
if any thing be revealed to him that stands by, let the first hold
his peace.’ Then he spoke on behalf of those called Quakers: but the
priest, interrupting, asked what he would object against him? To which
J. Parnel answered, in that he reviled the people called Quakers,
and said they were built upon a sandy foundation, and so called them
Shakers. ‘But,’ said he, ‘I will prove their foundation not to be
sandy, and thee to be a false prophet.’ After some more words spoken by
him, some accused him, that he owned no church: to which he said it was
false. Then it was asked him what church he owned? And he answered, the
church in God. Then priest Willis stood up, and said, he spoke nothing
but nonsense. Parnel bade him name one word which he had spoken that
was nonsense. At which Willis said, ‘To say the church in God.’ Then
Parnel took out his bible, and read 1 Thes. i. 1. where the apostle
writes to the church, which is in God the Father. The priest now was at
a loss, and Parnell told him, that he blasphemed in saying the church
in God was nonsense. Then priest Stellum stood up, and accused Parnel
with lies and slanders, and not suffering him to clear himself from
those accusations, he got up into the pulpit, and began to pray; but
Parnel not taking off his hat, the magistrates called to him to put
it off. To which he returned, ‘Order the priest to put off his cap;’
and further said, before he should be subject to their wills, he would
rather pass out of the meeting place; and so he went out.
Not long after, justice Dionysius Wakering followed him, and struck
him with his hand upon his back, saying he arrested him in the name
of the lord protector. Parnel, not knowing him to be a magistrate,
asked him where his writ was. Wakering said he had one; but showed
none. Then Parnel was hurried into an house, and some of his friends
engaged, that he should be forthcoming when their worship was done. And
accordingly he appeared where four justices and six or seven priests
were met together. Then justice Wakering pulled his hat off his head,
and threw it away; and they questioned him concerning many things; all
which he answered, with many frivolous questions asked to ensnare him.
At last he was committed to the common jail at Colchester, where none
of his friends were permitted to come to him. The time of the sessions
at Chelmsford being come, he, with several felons and murderers was
fastened to a chain, and thus led about eighteen miles through the
country, remaining chained both night and day.
Being brought into the court before judge Hills, the jailer took off
his hat and cast it upon the floor. Then the clerk read his indictment,
and asked him if he was guilty; to which he said, that he denied all
guilt; and he called for his accusers. The judge said he might see
them; and that he ought to say guilty, or not guilty. On which Parnel
told him, he was not guilty. Then a jury of twelve men was called,
whose foreman was a drunkard; priest Willis was also called, who swore
against him, and so did two justices; one of their men swearing that
they would speak nothing against him but the truth. The accusations
were, that in a riotous manner he did enter into the parish church at
Great Coggeshall; that he there did stand up, and told the minister
he blasphemed, and spoke falsely, using many other reproachful words
against him: and he could not give a good account where he was last
settled, or of his life and conversation, appearing to be an idle
person. He was also accused with contempt of the magistracy, and of
the ministry. To this he answered, that he no ways in a riotous manner
entered the steeple-house, but came thither quietly, and alone: for
being followed by several boys that would have come in after him,
he bade them go in before, rather than to go in disorderly, whereby
to occasion any disturbance. That he had said to priest Willis, he
blasphemed, by saying the church in God was nonsense, he denied not;
but did not own himself to be a vagabond and idle person. And he
did not think it indecent to call an unjust judge, unrighteous; a
persecutor, persecutor; and a deceiver, deceiver. Thus Parnel pleaded
his cause. Yet the judge said to the jury, that if they did not find
him guilty, the sin would lie upon their heads; thus condemning the
prisoner before the jury had considered the case. Then J. Parnel began
to speak, to inform them concerning his cause, but the judge would not
suffer him, though one of the jury desired it. After consultation, the
jury had nothing to lay to his charge, but a paper in which he had
answered the mittimus, though he had already owned this paper to be his
writing. But in that they were at a loss, because in the indictment
he was accused of a riot: yet the judge and the clerk strove to draw
some words from the foreman, which the other jurymen did not consent
to, and he himself was unwilling to answer fully to their questions.
Then J. Parnel was made to withdraw; and being called in again, the
judge fined him to the value of about forty pounds, for contempt of the
magistracy and ministry; for he said the lord protector had charged him
to punish such persons as should contemn either magistracy or ministry.
Thereupon J. Parnel was carried back again to the prison, being an old
ruinous castle, built as it is reported, in the time of the ancient
Romans: here he was to be kept until the fine should be paid: and the
jailer was commanded, not to let any giddy-headed people, (by which
denomination they meant his friends,) come at him.
The jailer was willing enough to comply with this order, suffering none
to come to him, but such as abused him; and his wife, who was a wicked
shrew, did not only set her man to beat him, but several times herself
laid violent hands upon him, and swore she would have his blood: she
also set other prisoners to take away the victuals brought to him by
his friends; and would not let him have a trundle bed, which they would
have brought him to lie on, so that he was forced to lie on the cold
and damp stones. Afterwards he was put into the hole in the wall, a
room much like a baker’s oven; for the walls of that building, which is
indeed a direful nest, are of an excessive thickness, as I have seen
myself, having been in the hole where this pious young man ended his
days, as will be said by and by. Being confined in the said hole, which
was, as I remember, about twelve feet high from the ground, and the
ladder too short by six feet; he must climb up and down by a rope on a
broken wall, which he was forced to do to fetch his victuals, or for
other necessities: for though his friends would have given him a cord
and a basket to draw up his victuals in, yet such was the malice of his
keepers, that they would not suffer it.
Continuing in this moist hole, his limbs grew benumbed; and thus it
once happened, that as he was climbing up the ladder, with his victuals
in one hand, and come to the top thereof, catching at the rope with
his other, he missed the same, and fell down upon the stones, whereby
he was exceedingly wounded in his head, and his body so bruised, that
he was taken up for dead. Then they put him into a hole underneath the
other; for there were two rows of such vaulted holes in the wall. This
hole was called the oven, and so little, that some baker’s ovens were
bigger, though not so high. Here, (the door being shut,) was scarcely
any air, there being no window or hole. And after he was a little
recovered from his fall, they would not suffer him to take the air,
though he was almost spent for want of breath: and though some of his
friends, viz. William Talcot and Edward Grant, did offer their bond of
forty pounds to the justice Henry Barrington, and another, whose name
was Thomas Shortland, to lie body for body, that Parnel might but have
his liberty to come to W. Talcot’s house, and return, when recovered;
yet this was denied; nay so immoveable were they set against him, that
when it was desired that he might only walk a little sometimes in the
yard, they would not grant it by any means: and once the door of the
hole being open, and he coming forth, and walking in a narrow yard
between two high walls, so incensed the jailer, that he locked up the
hole, and shut him out in the yard all night, being in the coldest time
of the winter. This hard imprisonment did so weaken him, that after ten
or eleven months he fell sick and died. At his departure there were
with him Thomas Shortland, and Ann Langley: and it was one of these,
that came often to him, who long after brought me into this hole where
he died.
Several things which are related here, I had from the mouth of
eye-witnesses, who lived in that town. When death approached, he said,
‘Here I die innocently.’ A little after he was heard to say, ‘Now I
must go:’ and turning his head to Thomas, he said, ‘This death must I
die; Thomas, I have seen great things: don’t hold me, but let me go.’
Then he said again, ‘Will you hold me?’ To which Ann answered, ‘No,
dear heart, we will not hold thee.’ He had often said that one hour’s
sleep would cure him of all: and the last words he was heard to say,
were, ‘Now I go;’ and then stretched out himself, and slept about an
hour, and breathed his last. Thus this valiant soldier of the Lamb
conquered through sufferings: and so great was the malice and envy of
his persecutors, that to cover their guilt and shame, they spread among
the people, that by immoderate fasting, and afterwards with too greedy
eating, he had shortened his days. But this was a wicked lie; for
though it be true that he had no appetite to eat some days before he
fell sick, yet when he began to eat again, he took nothing but a little
milk, as was declared by credible witnesses. During his imprisonment he
writ several edifying epistles to his friends.
By continuing this relation without breaking off, I am advanced
somewhat as to time; but going back a little, let us see the
transactions of Edward Burrough and Francis Howgill. It was in the
year 1655, that they went together to Ireland, where they came in
the summer, and staid more than six months, having spent at Dublin
about three months, without being disturbed, though they omitted no
opportunity to declare the doctrine of Truth. Henry Cromwell, son of
the protector, was at that time lord deputy of Ireland; and it was in
his name that they were carried from Cork, (whither they were gone,)
to Dublin; for since several received their testimony, and adhered
to the doctrine they preached, it was resolved upon, not to let them
stay any longer in Ireland. Here it was, as I have been told, that
William Ames, by their ministry, was brought over into the society of
the Quakers, so called. He was a Baptist teacher, and also a military
officer, who being of a strict life himself, kept his soldiers under a
severe discipline. I remember how he used to tell us, when any soldier
under his colours had been guilty of any immorality on a First-day of
the week, he presently had him bound neck and heels. But being now
entered into the society of the despised Quakers, and in process of
time becoming a minister among them, it was not long before he was cast
into prison; of whom more may be said hereafter.
Now E. Burrough and F. Howgill were banished out of Ireland; but on the
same day that they were sent away, Barbara Blaugdone arrived there.
She went from England in a vessel bound for Cork, but by foul weather
carried to Dublin. When the tempest was high, the seamen said, that
she being a Quaker was the cause of it, and they conspired to cast
her overboard. Aware of this plot, she told the master what his men
designed to do, and said that if he did suffer this, her blood would
be required at his hands. So he charged them not to meddle with her.
The storm continuing, and it being on a First-day of the week, she went
upon the deck, feeling herself moved to speak to the seamen by way of
exhortation, and to pray for them; for their priest, afraid like the
rest, could not say any thing among them. Having spoke what was upon
her, she concluded with a prayer; and all the ship’s crew were very
quiet and sedate, saying, that they were more beholden to her than to
their priest, because she prayed for them; and he, for fear, could not
open his mouth to speak. At length they arrived safe at Dublin, without
damage, which indeed was strange, and made the master say, that he was
never in such a storm without receiving any loss.
Barbara going ashore, went to the house of the deputy; but the people
told her, there was for her no speaking with him; for she might know
that he had banished two of her friends out of the nation the day
before. Then she met with the secretary, and desired him to help her
to speak with the deputy. He answered that he did not think he could;
then she told him that if he would be so civil, as to go up and tell
the deputy that there was a woman below that would speak with him;
if he refused, she was answered. So the secretary went up; and there
came a man to fetch her into the withdrawing-room; and after she had
been there awhile, a person came out of the deputy’s chamber, and all
that accompanied him stood bare-headed; for they knew she never saw
the deputy, but she had a sense it was a priest, who showed himself
covered to deceive her: and the room being almost full of people, they
asked her why she did not do her message to their lord. To which she
answered, ‘When I see your lord, then I shall do my message to him.’ A
little after the deputy came forth, and sat down on a couch: she then
stood up, and speaking to him what was upon her mind, bade him beware
that he was not found fighting against God, in opposing the Truth, and
persecuting the innocent; but like wise Gamaliel, to let them alone;
for if it was of God, it would stand; but if of man, it would fall.
Further, that the enmity did not lie so much in himself, but he was
stirred up to it by evil magistrates, and bad priests; and that God’s
people were as dear to him now, as ever; and they that touched them,
touched the apple of his eye. In the meanwhile, in his name, and by
his power, there was much hurt done to the people of God, all over the
nation, and it would at last lie heavy upon him. Moreover, that the
teachers of the people did cause them to err, and that he knew the
priests’ condition. She touching upon that, the deputy said to the
priest that stood by, ‘There’s for you, Mr. Harrison:’ and she spoke
with such power, that it made the deputy much concerned: and when she
had done, he asked the priest what he had to say to that which she
spoke. And he said, it was all very true, and very good, and he had
nothing to say against it, if she did speak as she meant. Then she told
the priest, that the Spirit of God was true, and did speak as it meant,
and meant as it spoke; but that men of corrupt minds did pervert the
Scriptures, by putting their own imaginations and conceivings upon it,
and so did deceive the people: but the holy men of God wrote, and gave
forth the Scriptures as they were inspired of the Holy Ghost; and that
they were of no private interpretation; and could not be understood but
by the same spirit that gave them forth.
After having thus spoken, she went away, and returned to her lodging,
which was at one captain Rich’s house, who coming home, said, that the
deputy was so sad and melancholy, after she had been with him, that he
could not go to bowls, or to any other pastime.
Barbara having now performed her service at Dublin, went to Cork,
where she had some relations and acquaintance; but great were her
sufferings thereabout; for she was imprisoned almost wherever she
came, being moved to follow those of her acquaintance, into several
steeple-houses: yet wherever her mouth was opened, there was some that
received her testimony. Once she was made to speak in a market-place,
where a butcher swore he would cleave her head; and having lifted up
his cleaver to do it, there came a woman behind him, and catching his
arms, stopt him, till the soldiers came and rescued Barbara. Many of
her acquaintance, with whom she formerly had been very conversant,
were now afraid of her; for sometimes she spoke so awfully to them
in their houses, that it made them tremble; and some said she was a
witch; and, running away, their servants turned her out of doors. After
having been there some time, she returned home to Bristol; but it was
not very long ere she was moved to go to Ireland again; and being come
near Dungarvan, the ship foundered near the shore: the master and the
passengers got into the boat, save one man and a woman, who were cast
away; and Barbara who was still in the cabin, was almost stifled by
waves that beat in upon her; yet at length she got upon the deck. The
master in the meanwhile being come ashore, called to her, that if she
would leap down, he and another would venture to come into the water
to save her. Accordingly they came up to their necks, and she leaping
down, they caught her; but being entangled in the ropes in leaping
down, she was drawn from them again: but presently a wave came rolling
and beat the ship outward, which was their preservation; for if it had
beaten inward, it might have killed them all three; she was thus caught
again, and drawn to shore. Then she went to Dublin, where coming into
the court of justice, she spoke to the judges, and exhorted them to
righteousness. But this was taken so ill, that she was put into prison,
where she lay upon straw on the ground, and when it rained, the wet
and filth of the house of office ran in under her. Being arraigned at
the bar, she was required to plead guilty or not guilty. She answered
that there was no guilt upon any one’s conscience for what was done in
obedience to the Lord God. But she not answering in that form of words
they bid her, was sent back to prison again, where she suffered much.
In the meanwhile, there happened a singular instance, which I cannot
pass by with silence.
At that time there was in prison an inn-keeper, with his family,
being accused of a murder: now the brother of him that was either
murdered, or lost, could not enjoy some land, except he could prove
that his brother was dead; and in order thereto, he brought a fellow
into the prison, who said, he would prove that the man was killed at
such an inn, and buried under a wall: and he accused the inn-keeper
and his wife, their man and maid, and a smith, to be guilty of this
murder; they being already in prison. Barbara having heard of this,
found means to go to this desperate fellow: and asked him how he could
conceal this murder so long, when he was, according to law, as guilty
of it as any of them, if what he said were true. At this question he
trembled so exceedingly, that his knees struck one against another;
and he confessed that he never before saw the people with his eyes,
nor ever was at the place in his life, nor knew anything of it, but
only he was drawn in by the man that was to have the land, and was
persuaded to witness the fact. Other prisoners heard this confession
also, and Barbara sent to the deputy, desiring him to send down his
priest, that he might hear the said confession. The priest came, and
the fellow confessed the same to him as he had done to Barbara; and he
once also confessed the same before the judge. But afterwards he eat
his words; for the man that had induced him, came every day, and made
him drink plentifully, and also caused the jailer to lock up Barbara,
that she might not come to him. Then she wrote to the inn-keeper, and
his wife, and man, and judge Pepes, and told him the day of his death
did draw nigh, wherein he must give an account of his actions; and
that therefore he ought to take heed, that he did not condemn innocent
people, having but one witness, in whose mouth so many lies were found,
the others all saying they were innocent. For all that, the judge went
on, and condemned all the accused, and the accuser also, as conscious
to the crime. Hereupon a priest came to speak with the maid that was
condemned, and was in the same prison with Barbara, but she would not
see him, saying, ‘Nay, he can do me no good; I have done with man for
ever: but God, thou knowest that I am innocent of what they lay to my
charge.’ But, however, they were all hanged, and the witness first,
probably for fear he should have made another confession after he had
seen the others hanged.
Now some friends of Barbara, viz. Sir William King, colonel Fare,
and the lady Brown, hearing she was in prison, came to see her, and
afterwards went to the aforementioned judge, to get her released: but
when they came to him, he told them, that he was afraid of his life.
At which they laughed, and said, they had known her from a child, and
there was no harm in her at all. And being all very earnest to get her
liberty, they at last obtained it. Then she went to the steeple-house
where this judge was, and cleared herself of him. He being come home,
went to bed, and died that night. The noise of which sudden death being
spread, it made people say, that Barbara had been a true prophetess
unto him.
She now went to Limerick, where she was put into prison, but after a
while being released, she took shipping for England again; and at sea
was robbed of all that she had, by a privateer, who, coming on board,
took the master away, until he should pay them a sum of money, for the
ship and goods; but she came safe to England. She travelled at her own
charge, paying for what she had.
But leaving her, I will return to Miles Halhead, who, as he was
following the plough, in the beginning of this year, felt a motion
to go to London. Taking York and Hull in his way, and passing thence
through Lincolnshire and Leicestershire, he came to the city of London,
from whence, after some stay, he went to Bristol with Thomas Salthouse,
and so to Exeter and Plymouth, where he suffered much persecution, and
was imprisoned. He writ about that time a letter to his wife, which I
think worth the while to insert here, and was as followeth.
‘_Anne Halhead_,
‘My dear heart, my dear love in the bowels of love, in the Lord
Jesus Christ, salutes thee and my children. My soul, my soul
is poured forth in love to thee daily, and the breathings, of
my soul to my Father is for thee, that thou mayest be kept in
the fear of the Lord, and in his counsel daily, that so thou
mayest come to rest and peace, that is laid up for all that fear
him, and walk in obedience to the light that Jesus Christ hath
enlightened them withal. So my dear heart, I declare to thee,
in the presence of the living God, who is Lord of heaven and
earth, and before men and angels, there is no other way that
leads to peace, and eternal rest, but walking in obedience to
the light that comes from Jesus Christ, and of this light thou
hast received a measure. Therefore my dear heart, be faithful
to the Lord in what is made known unto thee, that thou mayest
come to witness true peace and rest, that eye hath not seen, nor
ear heard, neither hath it entered into the heart of man, what
is laid up for all them that fear him. So, my dear heart, as I
have found peace and eternal rest to my soul from the Lord, so I
am moved of the Lord in love to thy soul, to show thee the way
that leads to peace and eternal rest; which way is Christ, who
is the light, and the way that leads to the Father, from whence
all light comes; and of this light which comes from Christ, I
bear record thou hast received a measure. Therefore, in dear
love, I exhort thee to walk in obedience to thy measure, which
thou hast received from the Lord. So, in the presence of the Lord
God do I declare, that walking in obedience to this light that
comes from Christ, is the way that leads to eternal rest and
peace. Therefore, as thou tenderest the eternal good of thy soul,
be faithful to the light that comes from Christ, which light
beareth witness against lying, and swearing, and vain talking,
and all manner of evil. So, my dear wife, in bowels of dear love
to thy soul, which is more precious than all the world, have I
showed thee the way; if thou wilt walk in it, it will lead thee
into the eternal covenant of life and peace. So, my dear wife,
in love, in love I have cleared my conscience to thee, in the
presence of the living God, as a true and faithful husband to
thee, desiring thy eternal good and welfare as my own, the Lord
God is my witness. Dear wife, remember my dear love to all my
friends and countrymen, according to the flesh; for I desire the
eternal good and welfare of you all, and that you all may come
to believe in the light in your own consciences, which Jesus
Christ hath enlightened you with; which light bears witness
against lying, and swearing, and all manner of evil. This is the
light of Christ, and walking in obedience to this light is the
way that leads out of sin and evil, up to God eternal, blessed
for evermore: and he that acts contrary to this light in his own
conscience, it is his condemnation. Now, dear friends, while you
have time prize it.
Thy husband, and a lover of thy soul,
MILES HALHEAD.’
Wiltshire, the 7th of the
Third month, 1655.
This year also he writ the following epistle to his fellow-believers.
‘_Dearly beloved friends and brethren_,
‘In the North of England, even to the South, the land of our
nativity, whom the Lord God of heaven and earth hath called
and chosen in this the day of his eternal everlasting love, to
serve him in truth and in righteousness, who hath received the
Lord’s Truth in the love of it, not only to believe in his name,
but to suffer bonds and imprisonments, and hard sentences for
the testimony of Jesus, and the word of God. Dear friends, and
beloved brethren, my prayers to the Lord God of heaven and earth,
and my soul’s desire is for you all, that you may all dwell
together as children of one father, in the eternal bond of love,
and oneness of the spirit; that you may all grow in the eternal
living Truth of God, to be established upon the rock and sure
foundation, that the gates of hell and death cannot prevail
against you; that under the shadow of the wings of the Almighty,
you may all be kept and preserved in peace and rest, now in the
day of trial, and hour of darkness, when hell hath opened her
mouth, and the raging sea cast out her proud waves, even like to
overflow the banks. Glory, glory, and eternal living praises be
given to the Lord God, and to the Lamb forevermore, of all the
children of the light, who hath found a resting-place for all his
dear ones, lambs, and babes, and children of light to flee into,
in the needful time of trouble, where none can make them afraid,
nor take away their peace, as they abide faithful to him, who is
our way, our light, our life, our strength, and eternal portion
for ever. My dear friends and brethren, I beseech you in the
bowels of dear and tender love, that you walk as dear children,
faithful to him who hath called you with an honourable calling,
and loved you from the beginning with an everlasting love, that
all your friends and neighbours, and men of this world, that
see your life coupled with fear, may be made to confess and
acknowledge, to the honour and glory of the living Lord, that the
God whom we serve and fear, is the only true God of Israel: and
herein you become a precious savour unto the living eternal God,
and a sweet smelling savour unto all the children of light, and
no good thing will the Lord God withhold from you; the mouth of
the Lord God of Hosts hath spoken it, whose promises are yea and
amen to his own seed forevermore.