JUDITH ZINSPENNING.’

In the year 1664 came forth a small book in print, to the king, and

both houses of parliament, wherein were set forth, not only the violent

persecution almost over all England, with the names of persons, places,

and cases, which indeed were woful, and some bloody; but it was also

represented, that there were at that time in prison above six hundred

of those called Quakers, merely for religion’s sake.

1665.

In the month called January, in the year 1664-5, thirty-six of that

persuasion, among which were eight women, were condemned to be

transported to Jamaica. The jury not being so forward to declare the

prisoners guilty as the court desired, were persuaded however by the

threatenings of judge Keeling, the recorder Wild, and the boisterous

Richard Brown, to do what was demanded of them.

On the 18th and 22d of the next month, thirty-four of the said people

were sentenced to be carried to Jamaica, and five to Bridewell. The

manner of their trial I pass by with silence, to avoid prolixity. Those

that were tried on the 18th were sentenced by judge Wharton; and those

on the 22d by judge Windham, who said to Anne Blow, who declared, that

the fear of the Lord being upon her heart, she durst not conform to

any thing that was unrighteous, ‘Anne Blow, I would show you as much

favour as the court will allow you, if you will say that you will go no

more to that seditious meeting,’ meaning the Bull-and-Mouth. To which

she answered, ‘Wouldest thou have me sin against that of God in my own

conscience? if I were set at liberty to day, if the Lord required it of

me, I should go to the Bull-and-Mouth to-morrow.’

Concerning one John Gibson, the said judge spoke to the jury in this

manner: ‘Gentlemen, although it is true, as this Gibson saith, that it

cannot be proved that they were doing any evil at the Bull-and-Mouth;

yet it was an offence for them to be met there, because in process

of time there might be evil done in such meetings: therefore this

law was made to prevent them.’ By this we may see with what specious

colours the persecutors cloaked their actions. I find among my papers,

a letter of John Furly, and Walter Miers, (both of whom I knew well,)

mentioning, that some of the jury, for refusing to give such a verdict

as was required of them, were fined in great sums, and put into prison,

there to remain till they should pay the fine.

Having now said thus much of sentencing, it grows time to speak of the

execution thereof.

Some of the persons ordered for banishment, fell sick, and died

in prison; some became apostates, and some were redeemed by their

relations that were not Quakers; but yet a considerable number was,

though with great pains, brought on ship-board, to be transported to

the West Indies. We have seen already how those that were sentenced

at Hertford, by judge Orlando Bridgman, having been put ashore by the

master of the ship, returned. And it was not long after, that three of

their friends, being on board the ship the Many-fortune of Bristol,

were also set on shore with a certificate from the master of the ship,

signed by him and seven of his men, wherein they complained of their

adversity, and said, that God had said as it were in their hearts.

“Accursed be the man that separates husband and wife; and he who

oppresseth the people of God, many plagues will come upon him.”

But the first of those called Quakers, who really tasted banishment,

were Edward Brush, and James Harding, who were banished, not only out

of London, where they as citizens had as much right to live as the

chiefest magistrates, but also out of their native country, contrary to

the right of a free-born Englishman: these, with one Robert Hays, were

on the 24th of the month called March, early in the morning fetched

from Newgate in London, and brought to Blackfriars’ stairs, where they

were put into a boat, and so carried down to Gravesend, and there had

on board a ship. Hardly any warning had been given to these prisoners;

and Robert Hays being sickly, had taken some physic, which had not

done working; and since it was very cold that morning, and he had got

nothing to eat before he came to Gravesend, he was seized in the ship

with so severe sickness, that he died of it, and then his corpse was

carried to London, and there buried. The other two were carried to

Jamaica, where, by the providence of God, in time it fared well with

them, and Edward Brush lived to return into England. It was remarkable,

that not long after these persons were banished, the pestilence broke

out at London, first of all in the house of a meal-man in Bearbinder

lane, next door to the house where the said Edward lived, which by some

was thought worthy of being taken notice of; since that house was the

first which was shut because of the sickness.

With the other prisoners they had more trouble and pains, because no

shipmasters could be found that would carry them: wherefore an embargo

was laid on all merchantmen, with order that none should go down the

river without having a pass from the Admiral; and this they would give

to no master going to the West Indies, unless he made promise to carry

some Quakers along with him to the place to which they were banished.

Whatever any masters spoke against this, intimating that there was

a law, according to which no Englishman might be carried out of his

native country against his mind, was in vain. At length by force they

got one to serve their turn; and then seven persons that were sentenced

to banishment, were, on the 18th of the month called April, carried

from Newgate to Blackfriars’ stairs, and so in a boat to Gravesend.

But in the meantime the pestilence increased, and not long after judge

Hide, who had been very active in persecuting, was, with many others,

suddenly taken away out of this life; for he having been seen in the

morning at Westminster in health, as to outward appearance, it was told

in the afternoon that he was found dead in his chamber; being thus

summoned to appear and give account of his deeds before a higher court

than ever he presided in.

Yet transportation was not come to a stand; first, as hath been said,

three persons, next seven, and on the 16th of the month called May,

eight were carried down the river to Gravesend, and put on ship-board;

but as the number of those that were carried away was heightened,

so also the number of those that died of the pestilence much more

increased. But notwithstanding this scourge from Heaven, transportation

continued; for a master of a ship was found at length, who had said,

as was reported, that he would not stick to transport even his nearest

relations. And so an agreement was made with him, that he should

take between fifty and sixty Quakers into his ship, and carry them

to the West Indies. Of these eight or ten at a time were brought to

the water-side, and so with boats or barges carried to the ship,

which lay at anchor in the Thames, in Bugbey’s-hole, a little beyond

Greenwich. Many of these prisoners, among which several women, not

showing themselves ready to climb into the ship, lest it should seem

as if they were instrumental to their transportation, were hoisted

up with the tackle; and the sailors being unwilling to do this work,

and saying, that if they were merchants’ goods, they should not be

unwilling to hoist them in, the officers took hold of the tackle, and

said, ‘They are the king’s goods.’ This was on the 20th of the month

called July, and on the 4th of the next month, when, according to the

bill of mortality, three thousand and forty died in one week, the rest

of the banished prisoners were carried with soldiers to the said ship,

in which now were fifty-five of the banished Quakers, and among these

eighteen women. But something adversely hindered this ship from going

away, and the pestilence also entered into it, which took away many

of the prisoners, and so freed them from banishment. But though the

pestilence grew more hot at London, and that a war was risen between

England and Holland, yet the fire of persecution continued hot, and

great rejoicings were made when the Dutch were beaten at sea, and their

admiral Obdam was blown up with his ship. Neither did the persecutors

leave off to disturb the meetings of those called Quakers, and imprison

many of them; nay, so hardened and unrelenting were some, that when

at London more than four thousand people died in one week, they said,

that the only means to stop the pestilence, was to send the Quakers

out of the land. But these fainted not, but grew emboldened against

violence. In September some meetings were still disturbed at London,

though the number of the dead in one week was heightened to above

seven thousand, being increased in that time nigh two thousand. Now

such as intended to have met at the Bull-and-Mouth, were kept out from

performing worship there; but yet meeting in the street, they were not

disturbed; for there seemed to be some fear of the common people, who

grew discontented because there was little to be earned by tradesmen;

and the city came to be so emptied, that grass grew in the streets

that used to be most populous, few people being seen by the way. Thus

the city became as a desert, and the misery was so great, that it was

believed some died for want of attendance.

It was about this time that Samuel Fisher, who first had been a

prisoner in Newgate at London, and afterwards in Southwark, since the

beginning of the year 1663, till now, being about a year and a half,

died piously.

It is reported that the king, in the time of this great mortality,

once asked, whether any Quakers died of the plague? And having been

told, yes, he seemed to slight that sickness, and to conclude, that

then it could not be looked upon as a judgment or plague upon their

persecutors. But certainly his chaplains might well have put him in

mind of what Solomon saith, “There is one event to the righteous and to

the wicked:” and of this saying of Job, “He destroyeth the perfect and

the wicked:” as also that of the prophet, “That the righteous is taken

away from the evil to come.”

Now travelling in the country was stopped, which made some people go

with boats along the coast, and so went ashore where they had a mind.

Thus did Stephen Crisp, who came about this time to York, where the

duke of York was then, with many of the great ones. About this time

Alexander Parker, and George Whitehead came to London, where they had

good service in preaching the truth.

Great fires were now kindled in the streets to purify the contagious

air; but no relief was found by it; for in the latter end of September

there died at London above eight thousand people in one week, as I

remember to have seen in one of the bills of mortality at that time.

In the meanwhile the ship in which the banished prisoners were, could

not go off, but continued to lie as a gazingstock for those ships that

passed by; for the master was imprisoned for debt.

Now the prediction of George Bishop was fulfilled, and the plagues of

the Lord fell so heavily on the persecutors, that the eagerness to

banish the Quakers, and send them away, began to abate. The same G.

Bishop about Midsummer, wrote from the prison at Bristol, (where he

made account that he also should have been banished,) a letter to his

friends to exhort them to steadfastness, foretelling them, that if

they happened to be banished, God would give them grace in the eyes

of those among whom they should be sent, if they continued to adhere

to him; and that when he should have tried them, he should bring them

again into their native country; and that none should root them out;

but they should be planted and built up there; and that the Lord should

visit their enemies with the sword and pestilence, and strike them with

terror. This is but a short hint of what he wrote at large.

G. Fox, the younger, had also in the year 1661 given forth a little

book, of which some small mention hath been made before, in which he

lamented England, because of the judgments that were coming upon her

inhabitants for their wickedness and persecution; saying among the

rest, that the Lord had spoken in him concerning the inhabitants, ‘The

people are too many, the people are too many, I will thin them, I will

thin them.’ Besides that the spirit of the Lord had signified unto him,

that an overflowing scourge, yea even an exceeding great and terrible

judgment, was to come upon the land, and that many in it should fall,

and be taken away. And that this decree of the Lord was so firm, that

though some of the Lord’s children and prophets should appear so as to

stand in the gap, yet should not that alter his decree. This with much

more he wrote very plainly; and though he was deceased long ago, yet

this paper was reprinted, to show the inhabitants how faithfully they

had been warned.

What Isaac Pennington, being a prisoner, wrote about this time to the

king and parliament, and published in print, was also very remarkable,

being designed with Christian meekness to dissuade them if possible

from going on with this mischievous work of persecution. In this paper,

containing some queries, among many weighty expressions, I find these

also:

‘After ye have done all ye can, even made laws as strong as ye

can, and put them in the strictest course of execution ye can,

one night from the Lord may end the controversy, and show whether

we please the Lord in obeying him, or ye in making laws against

us for our fidelity and obedience to him.

‘As the Lord is able to overturn you, so if ye mistake your

work, misinterpreting the passages of his providence, and erring

in heart concerning the ground of his former displeasure; and

so, through the error of judgment, set yourselves in opposition

against him, replanting the plants which he will not have grow,

and plucking up the plants of his planting; do ye not in this

case provoke the Lord, even to put forth the strength which is

in him against you? We are poor worms. Alas, if ye had only us

to deal with, we should be nothing in your hands! But if his

strength stand behind us, we shall prove a very burdensome stone,

and ye will hardly be able to remove us out of the place wherein

God hath set us, and where he pleaseth to have us disposed of.

And happy were it for you, if instead of persecuting us, ye

yourselves were drawn to wait for the same begettings of God,

which we have felt, out of the earthly nature into his life and

nature, and did learn of him to govern in that; then might ye

be established indeed, and be freed from the danger of those

shakings, and overturnings, which God is hastening upon the earth.

‘Now, because ye may be apt to think, that I write these things

for my own sake, and the sakes of my friends and companions

in the truth of God, that we might escape the sufferings and

severity which we are like to undergo from you, and not so mainly

and chiefly for your sakes, lest ye should bring the wrath of God

and misery upon your souls and bodies; to prevent this mistake in

you, I shall add what followeth. Indeed this is not the intent of

my heart: for I have long expected, and do still expect this cup

of outward affliction and persecution from you, and my heart is

quieted and satisfied therein, knowing that the Lord will bring

glory to his name, and good to us out of it: but I am sure it is

not good for you to afflict us for that which the Lord requireth

of us, and wherein he accepteth us; and ye will find it the

bitterest work that ever ye went about, and in the end will wish

that the Lord had rather never given you this day of prosperity,

than that he would suffer you thus to make use of it. Now that ye

may more clearly see the temper of my spirit, and how my heart

stands to this thing, I shall a little open unto you, my faith

and hope about it, in these ensuing particulars:

‘First, I am assured in my heart and soul, that this despised

people, called Quakers, is of the Lord’s begetting in his own

life and nature. Indeed, had I not seen the power of God in them,

and received from the Lord an unquestionable testimony concerning

them, I had never looked towards them: for they were otherwise

very despicable in my eyes. And this I cannot but testify

concerning them, that I have found the life of God in me owning

them, and that which God hath begotten in my heart, refreshed by

the power of life in them: and none but the Lord knows the beauty

and excellency of glory, which he hath hid under this appearance.

‘Secondly, The Lord hath hitherto preserved them against great

oppositions, and is still able to preserve them. Every power

hitherto hath made nothing of overrunning them; yet they have

hitherto stood, by the care and tender mercy of the Lord; and the

several powers which have persecuted them, have fallen one after

another.

‘Thirdly, I have had experience myself of the Lord’s goodness and

preservation of me, in my suffering with them for the testimony

of his truth, who made my bonds pleasant to me, and my noisome

prison, (enough to have destroyed my weakly and tenderly educated

nature,) a place of pleasure and delight; where I was comforted

by my God night and day, and filled with prayers for his people,

as also with love to, and prayers for, those who had been the

means of outwardly afflicting me, and others on the Lord’s

account.

‘Fourthly, I have no doubt in my heart that the Lord will deliver

us. The strength of man, the resolution of man is nothing in my

eye in compare with the Lord. Whom the Lord loveth, he can save

at his pleasure. Hath he begun to break our bonds and deliver

us, and shall we now distrust him? Are we in a worse condition

than Israel was, when the sea was before them, the mountains on

each side, and the Egyptians behind pursuing them? He indeed that

looketh with man’s eye, can see no ground of hope, nor hardly a

possibility of deliverance; but, to the eye of faith, it is now

nearer than when God began first to deliver.

‘Fifthly, It is the delight of the Lord, and his glory to deliver

his people, when to the eye of sense it seemeth impossible. Then

doth the Lord delight to stretch forth his arm, when none else

can help: and then doth it please him to deal with the enemies of

his truth and people, when they are lifted up above the fear of

him, and are ready to say in their hearts concerning them, they

are now in our hands, who can deliver them?

‘Well, were it not in love to you, and in pity, in relation

to what will certainly befal you, if ye go on in this course,

I could say in the joy of my heart, and in the sense of the

good-will of my God to us, who suffereth these things to come

to pass; go on, try it out with the spirit of the Lord, come

forth with your laws, and prison, and spoiling of our goods, and

banishment, and death, if the Lord please, and see if ye can

carry it: for we come not forth against you in our own wills,

or in any enmity against your persons or government, or in any

stubbornness or refractoriness of spirit; but with the lamb-like

nature which the Lord our God hath begotten in us, which is

taught, and enabled by him, both to do his will, and to suffer

for his name-sake. And if we cannot thus overcome you, even in

patience of spirit, and in love to you, and if the Lord our God

please not to appear for us, we are content to be overcome by

you. So the will of the Lord be done saith my soul.’

This the author concludes with a postscript, containing a serious

exhortation to forsake evil. Besides this he gave forth another paper,

wherein he proposed this question to the king and both houses of

parliament.

‘Whether laws made by man, in equity, ought to extend any further than

there is power in man to obey. And if it was not cruel to require

obedience in such cases, wherein the party hath not a capacity in

him of obeying.’ And to explain this a little further, he said, ‘In

things concerning the worship of God, wherein a man is limited by God,

both what worship he shall perform, and what worship he shall abstain

from, here he is not left at liberty to obey what laws shall be made

by man contrary hereunto.’ Thus Pennington strove by writing to show

the persecutors the evil of their doings: but a fierce party prevailed

then: and the clergy continually blew the fire of persecution; nay,

many presumed the time was now come totally to destroy the Quakers; and

in December twelve more were condemned to transportation.

* * * * *

Concerning those banished that were now in the ship which lay in the

Thames, I will yet leave them there, and take again a view of George

Fox, whom in the foregoing year we left in a hard prison at Lancaster.

In the month called March this year he was brought again to his trial

before judge Twisden; and though judge Turner had given charge at the

assize before, to see no such gross errors were in the indictment as

before, yet in that respect this was not much better than the former,

though the judge examined it himself. The jury then being called to

be sworn, and three officers of the court having deposed, that the

oath had been tendered to him at the last assizes, according to the

indictment, the judge said, it was not done in a corner: and then asked

him, what he had to say to it; and whether he had taken the oath at the

last assizes? George Fox thereupon gave an account of what had been

done then, and that he had said, that the book they gave him to swear

on, saith. “Swear not at all.” And repeating more of what he spoke

then, the judge said, ‘I will not dispute with you but in point of

law.’ George Fox offering to speak something to the jury concerning the

indictment, he was stopped by the judge; and then George Fox asked him,

whether the oath was to be tendered to the king’s subjects only, or to

the subjects of foreign princes? The judge replied, ‘To the subjects of

this realm.’ ‘Well,’ said he, ‘look to the indictment, and thou mayest

see that the word subject is left out of this indictment also.’ Several

other great errors as to time, &c. he had observed in the indictment,

but no sooner had he spoke concerning the errors, but the judge cried,

‘Take him away jailer, take him away.’ Then he was hurried away; yet

the people thought he should have been called again; but that was not

done. After he was gone, the judge asked the jury, whether they were

agreed? They said, ‘Yes,’ and found for the king against him. The

reason why George Fox was led away so suddenly, seemed to be that they

expected he would have proved the officers of the court to have sworn

falsely, seeing the day on which the oath had been tendered to him

at the assizes before, was wrong in the indictment; and yet they had

sworn, that on that day he had refused to take the oath. Before George

Fox was brought before the judge, he had passed sentence of _premunire_

against Margaret Fell, for having refused to take the oath. And though

this sentence had not been passed against George Fox, yet he was

recorded as a premunired person; though it had not been asked him what

he had to say why sentence should not be pronounced against him. And

thus he continued prisoner in Lancaster castle.

Whilst he was there, though weak of body, he wrote several papers; but

the neighbouring justices laboured much to get him removed from thence

to some remote place; for it was pretty well known among the people,

how the court at the assizes had dealt with him. So about six weeks

after, they got an order from the king and council to remove him from

Lancaster; and they received also a letter from the earl of Anglesey,

wherein it was written, that if these things which he was charged with,

were found true against him, he deserved no clemency or mercy: and yet

the greatest matter they had against him, was his refusal of the oath.

His persecutors now having prepared for his removal, the under sheriff,

and the head sheriff’s men, with some bailiffs, came and fetched him

out of the castle, when he was so weak, by lying in that cold, wet, and

smoky prison, that he could hardly go or stand. So they brought him

down into the jailer’s house where justice William Kirby, and several

others were. They called for wine to give him, but he well knowing

their malice against him, told them, he would have none of their wine.

Then they cried, ‘Bring out the horses.’ G. Fox therefore desired, that

if they intended to remove him, they would first show him their order,

or a copy of it. But they would not show him any but their swords. He

then told them, there was no sentence passed upon him, neither was he

premunired, that he knew of; and therefore he was not made the king’s

prisoner, but was the sheriff’s: for they and all the country knew that

he was not fully heard at the last assizes, nor suffered to show the

errors that were in the indictment, which were sufficient to quash it.

And that they all knew there was no sentence of premunire passed upon

him; and therefore he not being the king’s prisoner, but the sheriff’s,

desired to see their order. But instead of showing him their order,

they hauled him out, and lifted him upon one of the sheriff’s horses;

for he was so very weak, that he was hardly able to sit on horseback.

Riding thus along the street, he was much gazed upon by the people,

and had great reason to say, that he received neither Christianity,

civility, nor humanity, for how ill and weak soever he was, yet they

hurried him away about fourteen miles to Bentham in Yorkshire; and so

wicked was the jailer, one Hunter, a young fellow, that he lashed the

horse on which G. Fox rode, with his whip, to make him skip and leap,

insomuch that he had much ado to sit him; and then would this wanton

fellow come, and looking him in the face, say, ‘How do you Mr. Fox?’ To

which he answered, it was not civil in him to do so. Yet this malicious

fellow seemed little to regard it; but he had not long time to delight

in this kind of insolence; for soon after he was cut off by death.

G. Fox being come to Bentham, was met by a marshal and several

troopers, and many of the gentry, besides abundance of people, come

thither to stare at him. Being entered the house, and very much tired,

he desired they would let him lie down on a bed, which the soldiers

permitted; and the marshal, to whom he was delivered, set a guard upon

him. After having staid there a while, they pressed horses, and sending

for the bailiff and the constables, they had him to Giggleswick that

night. And there they raised the constables, who sat drinking all night

in the room by him, so that he could get but little rest. The next

day coming to a market town, several of his friends came to see him,

and at night he asked the soldiers, whither they intended to carry

him? To which some said, beyond sea, and others to Tinmouth Castle.

And there was a fear amongst them, lest some should rescue him; but

there was not the least reason for it. The next night he was brought

to York, where the marshal put him into a great chamber, where many of

the troopers then came to him. He then speaking something by way of

exhortation to the soldiers, many of them were very loving to him. A

while after the lord Frecheville, who commanded those horse, came to

him, and was civil and loving, and G. Fox gave him an account of his

imprisonment.

After a stay of two days at York, the marshal and five soldiers were

sent to convey him to Scarborough Castle: these behaved themselves

civilly to him. On the way they baited at Malton, and permitted his

friends to see him. Afterwards being come to Scarborough, they brought

him to an inn, and gave notice of it to the governor, who sent six

soldiers to guard him that night. The next day they had him into the

castle, and there put him into a room, with a sentinel to watch him.

Out of this room they soon brought him into another, which was so

open, that the rain came in, and it smoked exceedingly; which was very

offensive to him. One day the governor, sir John Crosland, came into

the castle with one sir Francis Cob. G. Fox desired the governor to

come into his room, and see how it was, and so they did: and G. Fox

having got a little fire made in the room, it was so filled with smoke,

that they could hardly find the way out again. And he being a Papist,

G. Fox told him, that was his purgatory which they had put him into.

For it plainly appeared that there was an intent to vex and distress

him: for after he had been at the charge of laying out about fifty

shillings, to keep out the rain, and somewhat to ease the smoke, they

put him into a worse room, which had neither chimney nor fire-hearth;

and lying much open toward the sea-side, the wind so drove in the rain,

that the water not only ran about the room, but also came upon his bed.

And he having no fire to dry his clothes when they were wet, his body

was so benumbed with cold, and his fingers swelled to that degree,

that one grew as big as two. And so malicious were his persecutors,

that they would hardly suffer any of his friends to come at him, nay,

not so much as to bring him a little food; so that he was forced to

hire somebody to bring him necessaries. Thus he spent about a quarter

of a year, and afterwards being put into a room where a fire could

be made, he hired a soldier to fetch him what he wanted. He then ate

almost nothing but bread, and of this so little, that a threepenny loaf

commonly served him three weeks: and most of his drink was water, that

had wormwood steeped in it; and once when the weather was very sharp,

and he had taken a great cold, he got some elecampane beer.

Now, though he desired his friends and acquaintances might be suffered

to come to him, yet this was refused; but some others were admitted to

come and gaze upon him, especially Papists, of whom a great company

once being come, they affirmed, that the pope was infallible, and

had been so ever since St. Peter’s time. But G. Fox denied this, and

alleged from history, that Marcellinus, one of the bishops of Rome,

denied the faith, and sacrificed to idols; and therefore was not

infallible. And he said also, ‘If the Papists were in the infallible

spirit, they would not maintain their religion by jails, swords,

gallows, fires, racks, and tortures, &c. nor want such means to hold it

up by: for if they were in the infallible spirit, they would preserve

men’s lives, and use none but spiritual weapons about religion.’

He also told them how a certain woman that had been a Papist, but

afterwards entered into the society of those called Quakers, having

a taylor at work at her house, and speaking to him concerning the

falseness of the popish religion, was threatened to have been stabbed

by him, for which end he drew his knife at her: since it was the woman

said, the principle of the Papists, if any turn from their religion to

kill them if they can. This story he told the Papists, and they did

not deny this to be their principle, but asked, if he would declare

this abroad. And he said, ‘Yes, such things ought to be declared

abroad, that it may be known how contrary your religion is to true

Christianity.’ Whereupon they went away in a rage. Some time after

another Papist came to discourse with him, and said, that all the

patriarchs were in hell, from the creation till Christ came; and that

when he suffered he went into hell, and the devil said to him, ‘What

comest thou hither for; to break open our strong holds?’ And Christ

said, ‘To fetch them all out.’ And so, he said, Christ was three days

and three nights in hell, to bring them all out. On which G. Fox said

to him that was false; for Christ said to the thief, “This day thou

shalt be with me in paradise.” He also said, that Enoch and Elijah were

translated into heaven; and that Abraham also was in heaven, since

the Scripture saith, that Lazarus was in his bosom. And Moses and

Elias were with Christ upon the mount, before he suffered. With these

instances he stopped his adversary’s mouth, and put him to a nonplus.

Another time there came to him a great physician, called Dr. Witty,

being accompanied with the lord Falconbridge, the governor of Tinmouth

Castle, and several knights. G. Fox being called to them, this doctor

undertook to discourse with him, and asked, what he was in prison for?

G. Fox told him, because he would not disobey the command of Christ,

and swear. To which the doctor said, he ought to swear his allegiance

to the king. Now G. Fox knowing him to be a great Presbyterian,

asked him, whether he had not sworn against the king and the house

of lords, and taken the Scotch covenant; and whether he had not

since sworn to the king. The doctor having no ready answer to this,

G. Fox asked him, what then was his swearing good for: telling him

further, ‘My allegiance doth not consist in swearing, but in truth and

faithfulness.’ After some further discourse, G. Fox was led away to his

prison again; and afterwards the doctor boasted, that he had conquered

G. Fox; which he having heard, told the governor, it was a small boast

in him to say he had conquered a bondman.

A while after, this doctor came again, having many great persons with

him, and he affirmed before them all, that Christ had not enlightened

every man that cometh into the world; that the grace of God, which

brought salvation, had not appeared unto all men; and that Christ

had not died for all men. G. Fox asked him, what sort of men those

were, which Christ had not enlightened; and whom his grace had not

appeared unto. To which the doctor answered, ‘Christ did not die for

adulterers, and idolators, and wicked men.’ Then G. Fox asked him,

whether adulterers and wicked men were not sinners; and he said, ‘Yes.’

Which made G. Fox say, ‘And did not Christ die for sinners? Did he not

come to call sinners to repentance?’ ‘Yes,’ said the doctor. ‘Then,’

replied G. Fox, ‘thou hast stopped thy own mouth.’ And so he proved,

that the grace of God had appeared to all men, though some turned it

into wantonness, and walked despitefully against it; and that Christ

had enlightened all men, though some hated the light. Several of those

that were present confessed it was true; but the doctor went away in a

rage, and came no more to him.

Another time the governor came to him, with two or three

parliament-men, and they asked him, whether he owned ministers and

bishops; to which he said, ‘Yes, such as Christ sent forth; such as had

freely received, and would freely give; and such as were qualified, and

were in the same power and spirit that they were in, in the apostles’

days. But such bishops and teachers as yours are, that will go no

further than they have a great benefice, I do not own; for they are not

like the apostles: for Christ saith to his ministers, “Go ye into all

nations and preach the gospel.” But ye parliament-men, that keep your

priests and bishops in such great fat benefices, ye have spoiled them

all: for do you think they will go into all nations to preach, or will

go any further than they have great fat benefices? Judge yourselves,

whether they will or no.’ To this they could say little, and whatever

was objected to G. Fox, he always had an answer in readiness; and

because sometimes it was simple and plain, his enemies from thence took

occasion to say, that he was a fool. But whatever such said, it is

certain that he had a good understanding, though he was not educated

in human learning. This I know by my own experience, for I have had

familiar conversation with him.

In this his prison he was much visited, even by people of note. General

Fairfax’s widow came once to him with a great company, one of which

was a priest, who began to quarrel with him, because speaking to one

person, he said thou and thee, and not you; and those that spoke so,

the priest said, he counted but fools. Which made G. Fox ask him,

whether they, that translated the Scriptures, and that made the grammar

and accidence, were fools; seeing they translated the Scriptures so,

and made the grammar so, thou to one, and you to more than one. With

these and other reasons he soon silenced the priest; and several of the

company acknowledged the truth he declared to them, and were loving

to him; and some of them would have given him money, but he would not

receive it.

Whilst I leave him yet prisoner, I will go to other matters, and relate

the remarkable case of one William Dundas, who being a man of some

repute in Scotland, came over to the communion of those called Quakers,

in a singular manner. He was a man of a strict life, and observed the

ecclesiastical institutions there as diligently as any of the most

precise; but in time he saw, that bodily exercise profited little, and

that it was true godliness which the Lord required from man. In this

state, becoming more circumspect than he was accustomed to be, he did

not frequent the public assemblies so much as formerly. But this was

soon taken notice of, and being asked the reason why, he said, that

there was a thing beyond that, which he looked for. But it was told

him, this was a dangerous principle. To which Dundas replied, that he

was not to receive the law from the mouth of man. Then the minister,

so called, said to him, that he tempted God. To which Dundas returned,

that God could not be tempted to evil. Now that which made him more

averse to the priests of that nation, was to see their domineering

pride: and how they forced some that were not one with them, in their

principles, to comply with their institutions, sprinkling the children

of parents even without their consent. Add to this, their going from

one benefice to another, being always ready to go over from a small

church to a great one, under pretence of more service for the church;

whereas it plainly appeared, that selfish interest generally was the

main cause. This behaviour of the clergy, and their rigid persecution,

if any deviated a little from the church ceremonies and the common

form, turned Dundas’s affection from them. An instance of this

rigidness was, that one Wood, who had some charge in the custom-house

of Leith, and approved in some respect the doctrine of those called

Quakers, had said, that Christ was the word, and that the letter was

not the word. For this he was cited before the ecclesiastical assembly

of Lothian, where Dundas was present; and Wood so well defended his

saying, that none were able to overthrow his arguments; chiefly drawn

from these words of John, “That the word was made flesh, and dwelt

among us.” Wood continuing to maintain his assertion, they began to

threaten him with excommunication, and would not allow him so much

time as to give his answer to the next assembly. Excommunication there

was such a penalty, that people under it were very much deprived of

conversation with men. The fear of this made Wood comply in a little

time; and meeting Dundas about three months after in the street at

Edinburgh, he told him, that he had been forced to bow to the assembly

against his light: for if he had been excommunicated, he had lost his

livelihood. Thus Wood bowed through human fear, but he hardly outlived

this two years.

In the meanwhile the priests became more and more jealous of Dundas;

for he not having them in such an esteem as they wished, they said that

he would infect the whole nation. And they did not stick here, but

to know with whom he corresponded in England, they opened, (so great

was their power,) his letters at the post-house, and sometimes kept

them: but if they found nothing in them, by which they could prejudice

him, they caused them to be sealed up again, and delivered to him. By

this base practice, they came to know that one Gawen Lawry, merchant

of London, sent him a box, with about three pounds sterling worth of

books. This box Dundas found afterwards that the priest, John Oswald,

had taken away: and whatever he did, he could not get them again, till

the English came into Scotland, but then many of them were wanting.

Dundas in the meanwhile unwilling to comply with the kirk, was at

length excommunicated; but he was generally so well esteemed, that none

seemed to regard that sentence, so as to keep at a distance from him;

which made this act the more contemptible. Now though Dundas favoured

the doctrine of the Quakers, yet they were such a despised people, that

he, who was a man of some account in the world, could not as yet give

up to join with them.

It happened once that he was riding from Edinburgh to his house, in a

winter evening, and hearing a noise of some men as if fighting, he bade

his man ride up in haste to see what it was, which he did, and calling

out, said, that there were two men on horseback, beating another on

foot, Dundas riding up to them, saw the two beating the other man, who

said to them, ‘What did I say to you, but bid you fear God?’ By this

Dundas presently perceived that the man thus beaten was a Quaker; and

asking his name, which the other telling, he knew it, though he did not

know the man by sight: and then he fell a beating the two with his rod,

and ordered those that were with him, to carry them to the next prison:

but the said Quaker intreated him to let them go, which he did, after

having asked their names, and dwelling-places. About a week after, the

said Quaker told a relation of Dundas what kindness he showed him, and

how he had in some manner been saved by him; ‘yet,’ said he, ‘I found

the same spirit in him that was in the other two men who beat me.’

Such a saying as this would have offended some men, but with Dundas it

had a contrary effect; for these words so reached him, that some time

after meeting the said Quaker again, he desired, that as he passed that

way, he would make his house his lodging place: which kind invitation

he seemed not unwilling to accept of. Dundas had now attained so much

experience, that he could discern between the spirits of meekness and

rashness; and sufficiently perceive that the said Quaker, by that which

he spoke concerning him, had not made himself guilty of the latter; but

yet he could not bow so low, as to join in society with the Quakers,

though secretly he endeavoured more and more to live up to their

doctrine; and therein he enjoyed more peace in his heart than formerly.

But his outward condition in the world not being very forward, he went

into France, and settled at Dieppe. Whilst he dwelt there, a certain

woman out of England, came thither with her maid, and spread in the

town some books of George Fox and William Dewsbury, translated into

French; and she herself having written some papers, got them turned

into French by Dundas, and so distributed them. But the message she

chiefly came for, she hid from him, and that not without reason; for

what she acted there, was so singular, that if it had been known

before, it is probable she would not have been able to perform it.

Though I do not find what her intent was in the thing, yet it seems

likely to me, that she, not knowing the language there spoken, would

by a sign testify against their apparel and dress, and that on this

wise: on the First-day of the week she came to the meeting-house of

the Protestants there, where some thousands of people were met: and,

having set herself in the most conspicuous place, just over against

him that preached, before the service was finished, she stood up, with

the maid that was with her, who taking off a mantle and hood she was

covered with, she appeared clothed in sackcloth, and her hair hanging

down, sprinkled with ashes: thus she turned herself round several

times, that all the people might see her. This sight struck both

preacher and auditory with no small consternation; and the preacher’s

wife afterwards telling somebody how this sight had affected her, said,

‘This is of deeper reach than I can comprehend.’ The said women having

stood thus awhile, fell both down upon their knees, and prayed, and

then went out of the meeting, many following them, and distributed some

books. Then they came to their lodging, which was in a Scotchman’s

house; but he refusing them entrance, they came to Dundas’s lodging,

who knew nothing of all this. They therefore told him, that the work

they came for in that nation, was now done; and he asking what they

had done, they told him, and signified that they wanted lodging till

they went away. Then he went abroad to see if he could find lodging for

them, but in vain; he then offered them his bed, being willing to shift

for himself somewhere else, but they refused to accept of his offer;

and his landlady not being willing to let them sit up that night in any

of her rooms, they were fain to stay that night in an outhouse.

Now this business had made such a stir in the town, that one of the

king’s officers coming the next day to Dundas, told him, that he had

transgressed the laws of the nation, by receiving persons of another

religion to his lodging: for the king tolerated only two religions,

viz. Papists and Protestants. To this Dundas said, that he had not

transgressed the law of hospitality, and he had been forced to do so,

since he could not let them lie in the street, where they would have

been in danger of their lives by the rude multitude. Then the women

were taken away, and sent to prison; and they not being provided

with food, Dundas took care of that. Sometime after, an order being

come from the parliament, at Rouen, it was read to them, viz. that

they should be transported forthwith back to England, with the first

passage-boat, and all their papers and books to be burnt in the market,

and themselves also, if ever they should come to that nation again.

In pursuance of this they were put into a passage-boat in the night

time, and so sent to England. Afterwards the people at Dieppe intended

to pursue Dundas as one of their judgment; but he was unwilling to be

looked upon as such, though the Protestants had informed against him,

that he did not come to their meetings: but of this no crime could be

made, and Dundas told them, if they persecuted him, being a merchant,

and trafficking there, they might expect the like to be done to their

merchants in England. And when the judge affirmed that Dundas was of

the judgment of these women, he told them that they were better than

he; but that their way was too strait for him to walk in. There fell

out two things which Dundas took singular notice of; the one was, that

the Scotchman who shut out the women, died within twelve months after;

and the other, that the house of his landlady, who refused them a

chamber to sit in, was burnt within the said time, without its being

known whence the fire came, no house being burnt besides, though it was

in the middle of the town.

In the meanwhile Dundas continued in an unquiet condition; for by

reason of human fear, he found himself too weak to profess publicly

before men, what he believed to be truth.

Then he went to Rouen, but could get no rest there, being somewhat

indisposed in body; and having from England gotten a great many books,

treating of the doctrine of those called Quakers, he sent some of them

to the judge criminal at Dieppe, and some to the Jesuits’ college

there, and at Paris. Afterwards he spread some books also at Caen,

where many Protestants lived. But since those books spoke against the

Papists, and the Calvinists were in fear that thereby they might be

brought to sufferings, they complained to the lieutenant-general of

the town, of Dundas, as one that did not come to their meeting. By

this he was forced to leave that place, and went to Alencon, where

staying a while, the judge criminal sent for him; and after a long

discourse, he and Dundas agreed so well, that he invited him to come

and see him oftener, and that if he would, he might have an opportunity

to discourse with some of the Jesuits. But Dundas told him, that he

was not willing to dispute with any; yet he should not be afraid to

maintain his principles, against all the Jesuits of the nation. This

being told the Jesuits, it so exasperated them against him, that being

once out of town, they caused his chamber-door to be broken up, to

search his lodging. He complaining of this to the judge criminal, the

judge told him, he knew nothing of it, and if there was any thing, it

did proceed from the Jesuits, because of his confidence against them.

This seemed not improbable, for he found his letters opened at the

post-house several times, and when he challenged the post-master, he

received for an answer, that they came so to him.

Some time after he returned to Caen, where he was not long; but his

correspondent at Alencon sent him word, that the day after he went from

thence, the governor of the town had been at his lodging to seek for

him.

In the next year, when a war arose between England and France, he came

again to Dieppe, in order to return to England; having got passage

in company of the lord Hollis, ambassador from England; where being

arrived, he frequented the meetings of those called Quakers, yet

was not bold enough to own the name of Quaker, but continued in the

common way of salutations, &c. Yet at length the truth they professed,

had such power over him, that not being able to enjoy peace without

yielding obedience to the inward convictions upon his mind, he at

length gave up, and so entered into their society, and obtained a true

peace with the Lord, which he had long reasoned himself out of. In

process of time he published a book in print, from which I have drawn

this relation, which he concluded with a poem, in which he thanked God

for his singular dealings and mercies bestowed upon him, wishing that

others might reap benefit by it.

Thus parting with William Dundas, I am now to say, that in this year,

1665, in December, William Caton died at Amsterdam. He was a man not

only of literature, and zealous for religion, but of a courteous and

affable temper and conversation, by which he was in good esteem among

those he was acquainted with: and as to the respect he had there,

this may serve as an instance. Holland at this time being in war with

England, there were several English prisoners of war in the prison of

the court of admiralty at Amsterdam, who now and then were visited by

Caton, and supplied with some sustenance: but in this he was hindered

by an officer of that court, who seemed offended because Caton did not

give him hat honour. This gave occasion to Caton to complain of it to a

burgomaster of the city, I think the lord Cornelius Van Vlooswyh, who

at that time was one of the lords of the admiralty; he bid Caton come

to his house at such a time as he was to go to the court; which he did,

and went with the said burgomaster towards the court, where being come,

and entrance denied him by the said officer, the burgomaster charged

him not to hinder Caton from visiting the prisoners. About this time a

law was made in England, called,

_An Act for restraining Non-Conformists from

inhabiting in Corporations._

Whereas divers persons, vicars, curates, lecturers, and other

persons in holy orders, have not declared their unfeigned assent

and consent in the use of all things contained and prescribed in

the book of Common Prayer, and administration of the sacraments,

and other rites and ceremonies of the church, according to the

use of the church of England, or have not subscribed to the

declaration or acknowledgment contained in a certain act of

parliament, made in the fourteenth year of his majesty’s reign,

and intitled, ‘An act for the uniformity of public prayers, and

administration of sacraments, and other rites and ceremonies,

and for the establishing the form of making, ordaining and

consecrating of bishops, priests, and deacons in the church of

England,’ according to the said act, or any other subsequent

act. And whereas they, or some of them, and divers other person

and persons not ordained according to the form of the church of

England, and as they have, since the act of oblivion, taken upon

them to preach in unlawful assemblies, conventicles, or meetings

under colour or pretence of exercise of religion, contrary to the

laws and statutes of this kingdom, and have settled themselves in

divers corporations in England, sometimes three or more of them

in a place, thereby taking an opportunity to distil the poisonous

principles of schism and rebellion into the hearts of his

majesty’s subjects, to the great danger of the church and kingdom.

II. Be it therefore enacted by the king’s most excellent majesty,

by and with the advice and consent of the lords spiritual and

temporal, and the commons in this present parliament assembled,

and by the authority of the same, that the said parsons,

vicars, curates, lecturers, and other persons in holy orders,

or pretended holy orders, or pretending to holy orders, and all

stipendiaries, and other persons who have been possessed of

any ecclesiastical or spiritual promotion, and every of them,

who have not declared their unfeigned assent and consent, as

aforesaid, and subscribed the declaration as aforesaid, and shall

not take and subscribe the oath following:

(2) ‘I, _A. B._ do swear, that it is not lawful upon any

pretence whatsoever, to take arms against the king; and

that I do abhor that traitorous position of taking arms by

his authority against his person, or against those that

are commissioned by him, in pursuance of such commission;

and that I will not at anytime endeavour any alteration of

government, either in church or state:’ shall not come within

five miles of any city, &c. nor teach school, on pain to

forfeit 40_l._

And though this act was chiefly made against the Presbyterians and

Independents, who formerly had been employed in the public church, yet

they suffered but little by it; but it was cunningly made use of to vex

the Quakers, who, because for conscience-sake they could not swear,

were on this law prosecuted and imprisoned, &c.

Now since the pestilence had been so fierce this year at London, that

about an hundred thousand people were swept away by it and otherwise,

and also many of those called Quakers, there must be consequently

many poor widows and fatherless children among those of that society.

And because the men, who at times kept meetings to take care for the

poor, found that this burden grew too heavy for them, they offered

part of this service and care to the most grave and solid women of

their church, who for this service met once a week at London, and this

in time gave rise to the women’s monthly meetings in other places in

England.

1666.

I return now to the ship with the banished prisoners, which I left

lying in the Thames; but the owners having put in another master,

whose name was Peter Love, the ship, after long lingering, left the

river, and came into the Downs. In the month called January of the year

ensuing, Luke Howard wrote from Dover, that of fifty-four banished

persons, who almost half a year ago had been brought on ship-board, but

twenty-seven remained, the rest being dead. By this long stay the ship

several times wanted a fresh supply of provision, and the ship’s crew

grew so uneasy, that two of them having gone ashore with the boat, ran

away, leaving the boat floating, by which it was staved to pieces. At

length the master, though he had but few, and those mostly raw sailors,

and was ill provided with victuals, yet resolved to set sail. And so

they weighed anchor, and went down the channel as far as Plymouth,

where after some stay, they set sail again, which was on the 23d of

the month called February, but the next day being advanced as far as

the Land’s End, a Dutch privateer came and took the ship; and to avoid

being retaken, went about the backside of Ireland and Scotland, and

so after three weeks came with some of the banished to Horn, in North

Holland, and some days after the prize, with the rest of them, entered

also into that port. Here they were kept some time in prison, but the

commissioners of the admiralty having understood, that there was no

likelihood to get the banished Quakers exchanged for Dutch prisoners of

war in England, resolved to set them at liberty, and gave them a letter

of passport, and a certificate, that they had not made an escape, but

were sent back by them. They coming to Amsterdam, were by their friends

there provided with lodging and clothes; for their own had been taken

from them by the privateer’s crew; and in process of time they all

returned to England, except one, who not being an Englishman, staid

in Holland. Thus the banished were delivered, and the design of their

persecutors was brought to nought by an Almighty hand.

In the meanwhile G. Fox continued prisoner in Scarborough Castle,

where the access of his friends was denied him, though people of other

persuasions were admitted. Once came to him one doctor Cradock with

three priests, accompanied with the governor and his wife, and many

besides. Cradock asked him, what he was in prison for? He answered,

for obeying the command of Christ and his apostle in not swearing:

but, if he, being both a doctor and a justice of peace, could convince

him, that after Christ and the apostle had forbidden swearing, they

commanded Christians to swear, then he would swear. ‘Here’s a bible,’

continued he, ‘show me any such command if thou canst.’ To this Cradock

said, ‘It is written, ye shall swear in truth and righteousness.’

‘Aye,’ said G. Fox, ‘it was written so in Jeremiah’s time, but that

was many ages before Christ commanded not to swear at all: but where

is it written so since Christ forbade all swearing? I could bring as

many instances out of the Old Testament for swearing as thou, and it

may be more too, but of what force are they to prove swearing lawful in

the New Testament, since Christ and the apostles forbade it? Besides,

where it is written, “Ye shall swear,” was this said to the Gentiles or

to the Jews?’ To this Cradock would not answer; but one of the priests

said, it was to the Jews. ‘Very well,’ said G. Fox, ‘but where did God

ever give a command to the Gentiles to swear? For thou knowest that we

are Gentiles by nature.’ ‘Indeed,’ said Cradock, ‘in the gospel-time

every thing was to be established out of the mouths of two or three

witnesses, and there was to be no swearing then.’ ‘Why then,’ returned

G. Fox, ‘dost thou force oaths upon Christians, contrary to thine own

knowledge in the gospel-times? And why dost thou excommunicate my

friends?’ Cradock answered, ‘For not coming to church.’ ‘Why,’ said

G. Fox, ‘ye left us above twenty years ago, when we were but young,

to the Presbyterians, Independents, and Baptists, many of whom made

spoil of our goods, and persecuted us because we would not follow

them: now we being but young, knew little then of your principles,

and those that knew them should not have fled from us, but ye should

have sent us your epistles or homilies; for Paul wrote epistles to

the saints, though he was in prison: but we might have turned Turks

or Jews for ought we had from you for instruction. And now ye have

excommunicated us, that is, ye have put us out of your church, before

ye have got us into it, and before ye have brought us to know your

principles. Is not this madness in you to put us out, before we were

brought in? But what dost thou call the church?’ continued he, ‘That

which you,’ replied Cradock, ‘call the steeple-house.’ Then G. Fox

asked him, whether Christ’s blood was shed for the steeple-house, and

whether he purified and sanctified it with his blood; ‘And seeing,’

thus continued he, ‘the church is Christ’s bride and wife, and that

he is the head of the church, dost thou think the steeple-house is

Christ’s wife and bride; and that he is the head of that old house, or

of his people?’ ‘No,’ said Cradock, ‘Christ is the head of the people,

and they are the church.’ ‘But,’ replied G. Fox, ‘ye have given that

title to an old house, which belongs to the people, and ye have taught

people to believe so.’ He asked him also why he persecuted his friends

for not paying tithes; and whether God did ever give a command to the

Gentiles, that they should pay tithes; and whether Christ had not ended

tithes, when he ended the Levitical priesthood that took tithes; and

whether Christ when he had sent forth his disciples to preach, had

not commanded them to preach freely, as he had given them freely; and

whether all the ministers of Christ were not bound to observe this

command of Christ. Cradock said, he would not dispute that: and being

unwilling to stay on this subject, he turned to another matter; but

finding G. Fox never to be at a loss for answer, and that he could get

no advantage on him, he at length went away with his company.

With such kind of people G. Fox was often troubled whilst he was

prisoner there; for most that came to the castle would speak with him,

and many disputes he had with them. But as to his friends, he was as a

man buried alive, for very few of them were suffered to come to him.

Josiah Coale once desiring admittance, the governor told him, ‘You

are an understanding man, but G. Fox is a mere fool.’ Now, though the

governor dealt hardly with him, yet in time he altered, for having

sent out a privateer to sea, they took some ships that were not their

enemies, which brought him in some trouble; after that he grew somewhat

more friendly to G. Fox: to whom the deputy-governor said once, that

the king knowing that he had a great interest in the people, had sent

him thither, that if there should be any stirring in the nation, they

should hang him over the wall. And among the Papists, who were numerous

in those parts, there was much talk then of hanging G. Fox. But he told

them, if that was it they desired, and it was permitted them, he was

ready, for he never feared death nor sufferings in his life; but was

known to be an innocent peaceable man, free from all stirrings, and

plottings, and one that sought the good of all men. But the governor

now growing kinder, G. Fox spoke to him when he was to go to the

parliament at London, and desired him to speak with esq. Marsh, sir

Francis Cob, and some others, and to tell them, how long he had lain

in prison, and for what. This the governor did, and at his coming back

told him, that esq. Marsh said, he knew G. Fox so well, that he would

go an hundred miles barefoot for his liberty; and that several others

at court had spoken well of him.

After he had been prisoner in the castle there above a year, he sent

a letter to the king, in which he gave an account of his imprisonment,

and the bad usage he had met with, and also that he was informed,

that no man could deliver him but the king. Esq. Marsh, who was a

gentleman of the king’s bed-chamber, did whatever he could to procure

his liberty, and at length obtained an order from the king for his

release; the substance of which order was, ‘That the king being

certainly informed that G. Fox was a man principled against plotting

and fighting, and had been ready at all times to discover plots, rather

than to make any, &c. that therefore his royal pleasure was, that he

should be discharged from his imprisonment, &c.’ This order being

obtained, was not long after brought to Scarborough, and delivered to

the governor, who upon the receipt thereof, discharged him, and gave

him the following passport:

‘Permit the bearer thereof, George Fox, late a prisoner here, and

now discharged by his majesty’s order, quietly to pass about his

lawful occasions, without any molestation. Given under my hand at

Scarborough Castle, this first day of September, 1666.

JORDAN CROSSLANDS,

_Governor of Scarborough Castle_.’

G. Fox being thus released, would have given the governor something

for the civility and kindness he had of late showed him; but he would

not receive any thing; and said, whatever good he could do for him and

his friends, he would do it, and never do them any hurt: and so he

continued loving to his dying day; nay, if at any time the mayor of the

town sent to him for soldiers, to disperse the meetings of those called

Quakers, if he sent any, he privately charged them, not to meddle with

the meeting.

The very next day after G. Fox was released, the fire broke out at

London, and the report of it came quickly down into the country, how

that city was turned into rubbish and ashes, insomuch that after an

incessant fire which lasted near four days, but little of old London

was left standing, there being about thirteen thousand and two hundred

houses burnt; the account whereof hath been so circumstantially

described by others, that I need not treat of it at large; but I cannot

omit to say, that Thomas Briggs, some years before passing through

the streets of London, preached repentance to the inhabitants; and

coming through Cheapside, he cried out, that unless London repented, as

Nineveh did, God would destroy it.

Now I may relate another remarkable prediction.

Thomas Ibbitt, of Huntingdonshire, came to London a few days before

the burning of that city, and, as hath been related by eye witnesses,

did upon his coming thither, alight from his horse, and unbutton his

clothes in so loose a manner, as if they had been put on in haste just

out of bed. In this manner he went about the city on the sixth, being

the day he came thither, and also on the seventh day of the week,

pronouncing a judgment by fire which should lay waste the city. On the

evening of these days some of his friends had meetings with him, to

inquire concerning his message and call, to pronounce that impending

judgment: in his account whereof he was not more particular and clear,

than that he said he for sometime had the vision thereof, but had

delayed to come and declare it as commanded, until he felt, as he

expressed it, the fire in his own bosom: which message or vision was

very suddenly proved to be sadly true, as the foregoing brief account

doth in part declare. The fire began on the 2d of September, 1666, on

the first day of the week, which did immediately follow those two days

the said Thomas Ibbitt had gone about the city declaring that judgment.

Having gone up and down the city, as hath been said, when afterwards he

saw the fire break out, and beheld the fulfilling of his prediction,

a spiritual pride seized on him, which, if others had not been wiser

than he, might have tended to his utter destruction: for the fire being

come as far as the east end of Cheapside, he placed himself before the

flame, and spread his arms forth, as if to stay the progress of it; and

if one Thomas Matthews, with others, had not pulled him, (who seemed

now altogether distracted,) from thence, it was like he might have

perished by the fire. Yet in process of time, as I have been told, he

came to some recovery, and confessed this error: an evident proof of

human weakness, and a notorious instance of our frailty, when we assume

to ourselves the doing of any thing, which heaven alone can enable us.

I cannot well pass by without taking notice of it, that about three

weeks before the said fire, the English landed in the island of

Schelling in Holland, under the conduct of captain Holmes, and setting

the town on fire, there were above three hundred houses burnt down,

belonging mostly to Baptists that did not hear arms. It may be further

observed, that the English were beaten at sea this summer by the Dutch,

under the conduct of admiral De Ruyter, in a fight, which lasted four

days; so that they had occasion to call to mind how often the judgments

of God had been foretold them, which now came over their country, viz.

pestilence, war, and fire.

G. Fox being at liberty, did not omit to visit his friends, and in

their meetings to edify them with his exhortations, whereby others

also sometimes came to be convinced. And coming to Whitby, he went to

a priest’s house, who fourteen years before had said, that if ever he

met G. Fox again he would have his life, or he should have his. But now

his wife was not only become one of G. Fox’s friends, but this priest

himself favoured the doctrine professed by his wife, and was very

kind to G. Fox, who passed from thence to York, where he had a large

meeting, and visited also justice Robinson, who had been loving to him

from the beginning. At this time there was a priest with him, who told

G. Fox, ‘It is said of you that ye love none but yourselves.’ But he

showed him his mistake, and gave him so much satisfaction, that they

parted friendly.

In this county G. Fox had many meetings, and one not far from colonel

Kirby’s abode, who had been the chief means of his imprisonment at

Lancaster and Scarborough castles: and when he heard of his release,

said, he would have him taken again: but now when G. Fox came so near

him, he himself was caught by the gout, which had seized him so that

he was fain to keep his bed; and afterwards he met with adversities,

as did most of the justices and others who had been the cause of the

imprisonment of G. Fox, who now coming to Sinderhill Green, had a large

meeting there, where the priest sent the constable to the justices for

a warrant; but the notice being short, the way long, and having spent

time in searching for G. Fox in another house, before the officers

came where the meeting was, it was ended, though they had almost

spoiled their horses by hard riding.

G. Fox passing from thence through Nottinghamshire, Bedfordshire,

Buckinghamshire, and Oxfordshire, and visiting his friends in all

places where he came, and edifying them in their meetings, gets at

length to London: but he was so weak, by lying almost three years in

hard and cold imprisonments, and his joints and body were so stiff and

benumbed, that he could hardly get on horseback.

Being now at London, he beheld the ruins of the city, and saw

the fulfilling of what had been shown him some years before.

Notwithstanding this stroke on London, persecution did not cease, which

gave occasion to Josiah Coale to write these lines to the king:

‘_King Charles_,

‘Set the people of God at liberty, who suffer imprisonments for

the exercise of their conscience towards him, and give liberty

of conscience to them to worship and serve him as he requireth,

and leadeth them by his spirit; or else his judgments shall

not depart from thy kingdom, until thereby he hath wrought

the liberty of his people, and removed their oppressions. And

remember thou art once more warned,

By a servant of the Lord,

JOSIAH COALE.’

London, Dec. 2d, 1666.

About this time, or it may be in the next month, Stephen Crisp

published an epistle, containing an exhortation to his friends, and

also a prediction concerning succeeding times, which is as followeth:

‘_Friends_,

‘I am the more drawn forth at this time to visit you with an

epistle, because the Lord hath given me some sight of his great

and dreadful day, and workings in it, which is at hand, and

greatly hastens, of which I have something to say unto you,

that ye may be prepared to stand in his day, and may behold his

wondrous working among his enemies, and have fellowship with his

power therein, and may not be dismayed nor driven away in the

tempest, which will be great.

‘And as concerning those succeeding times, the spirit of the Lord

hath signified, that they will be times of horror and amazement,

to all that have, and yet do reject his counsel: for as the days

of his forbearance, warning and inviting, have been long, so

shall his appearance amongst those that have withstood him, be

fierce and terrible; even so terrible, as who shall abide his

coming? for the Lord will work both secretly and openly, and his

arm shall be manifest to his children in both.

‘Secretly he shall rise up a continual fretting anguish among his

enemies, one against another, so that being vexed and tormented

inwardly, they shall seek to make each other miserable, and

delight therein for a little season; and then the prevailer must

be prevailed over, and the digger of the pit must fall therein;

and the confidence that men have had one in another shall fail,

and they will beguile and betray one another, both by counsel and

strength; and as they have banded themselves to break you, whom

God hath gathered, so shall they band themselves one against

another, to break, to spoil and destroy one another; and through

the multitude of their treacheries, all credit or belief, upon

the account of their solemn engagement, shall fail; so that few

men shall count themselves, or what is theirs, safe in the hand

of his friend, who hath not chosen his safety and friendship

in the pure light of the unchangeable truth of God; and all

the secret counsels of the ungodly shall be brought to nought,

sometimes by the means of some of themselves, and sometimes

by impossibilities lying in their way, which shall make their

hearts fail of ever accomplishing what they have determined; and

in this state shall men fret themselves for a season, and shall

not be able to see the hand that turns against them, but shall

turn to fight against one thing, and another, and a third thing,

and shall stagger, and reel in counsel and judgment, as drunken

men that know not where to find the way to rest; and when they

do yet stir themselves up against the holy people, and against

the holy covenant of light, and them that walk in it, they shall

but the more be confounded; for they shall be helped with a

little help, which all the ungodly shall not hinder them of, to

wit, the secret arm of the Lord, maintaining their cause, and

raising up a witness in the very hearts of their adversaries to

plead their innocency, and this shall make them yet the more to

vex themselves, and to go through hard-bestead; for when they

shall look upward to their religion, to their power, policy, or

preferments, or friendships, or whatsoever else they had trusted

in, and relied upon, they shall have cause to curse it; and when

they look downwards to the effects produced by all those things,

behold then trouble, and horror, and vexation take hold on them,

and drive them to darkness; and having no help but what is

earthly, and being out of the knowledge of the mighty overturning

power of the Lord God Almighty, they shall despair and wear out

their days with anguish; and besides all this, the terrible hand

of the Lord is, and shall be openly manifested against this

ungodly generation, by bringing grievous and terrible judgments

and plagues upon them, tumbling down all things in which their

pride and glory stood, and overturning even the foundations of

their strength; yea, the Lord will lay waste the mountain of the

ungodly, and the strength of the fenced city shall fail; and

when men shall say, “We will take refuge in them,” Nah. iii. 12,

13, they shall become but a snare, and there shall the sword

devour: and when they shall say, we will go into the field, and

put trust in the number and courage of our soldiers, they shall

both be taken away; and this evil also will come of the Lord, and

his hand will be stretched out still, and shall bring confusion,

ruin upon ruin, and war upon war; and the hearts of men shall be

stirred in them, and the nations shall be as waters, into which a

tempest, a swift whirlwind is entered, and even as waves swell up

to the dissolution one of another, and breaking one of another,

so shall the swellings of people be: and because of the hardship

and sorrow of those days, many shall seek and desire death rather

than life.

‘Ah! my heart relents, and is moved within me in the sense of

these things, and much more than I can write or declare, which

the Lord will do in the earth, and will also make haste to

accomplish among the sons of men, that they may know and confess,

that the Most High doth rule in the kingdoms of men, and pulleth

down and setteth up according to his own will: and this shall men

do before seven times pass over them, and shall be content to

give their glory unto him that sits in heaven.

‘But, oh friends! while all these things are working and bringing

to pass, repose ye yourselves in the munition of that rock that

all these shakings shall not move, even in the knowledge and

feeling of the eternal power of God, keeping you subjectly given

up to his heavenly will, and feel it daily to kill and mortify

that which remains in any of you, which is of this world; for the

worldly part in any, is the changeable part, and that is up and

down, full and empty, joyful and sorrowful, as things go well

or ill in the world: for as the truth is but one, and many are

made partakers of its spirit; so the world is but one, and many

are partakers of the spirit of it; and so many as do partake of

it, so many will be straightened and perplexed with it, but they

who are single to the truth, waiting daily to feel the life and

virtue of it in their hearts, these shall rejoice in the midst

of adversity; these shall not have their hearts moved with fear,

nor tossed with anguish, because of evil tidings, Psalm, cxii. 7,

8. Because that which fixeth them remains with them: these shall

know their entrance with the bridegroom, and so be kept from

sorrow, though his coming be with a noise; and when a midnight is

come upon man’s glory, yet they being ready and prepared, it will

be well with them, and having a true sense of the power working

in themselves, they cannot but have unity and fellowship with the

works of it in the earth, and will not at all murmur against what

is, nor wish nor will what is not to be; these will be at rest

till the indignation passeth over, and these having no design to

carry on, nor no party to promote in the earth, cannot possibly

be defeated nor disappointed in their undertakings.

‘And when you see divisions, and parties, and rendings in the

bowels of nations, and rumours and tempests in the minds of the

people, then take heed of being moved to this party, or to that

party, or giving your strength to this or that, or counselling

this way or that way, but stand single to the truth of God, in

which neither war, rent, nor division is; and take heed of that

part in any of you, which trusts and relies upon any sort of

men of this world, in the day of their prosperity; for the same

party will bring you to suffer with them in the time of their

adversity, which will not be long after; for stability in that

ground there will be none; but when they shall say, come join

with us in this or that, remember you are joined to the Lord by

his pure spirit, to walk with him in peace and in righteousness,

and you feeling this, this gathers out of all bustlings, and

noises, and parties, and tumults, and leads you to exalt the

standard of truth and righteousness, in an innocent conversation,

to see who will flow unto that; and this shall be a refuge for

many of the weary, tossed, and afflicted ones in those days, and

a shelter for many whose day is not yet over.

‘So dearly beloved friends and brethren, who have believed and

known the blessed appearance of the truth, let not your hearts

be troubled at any of these things: oh let not the things that

are at present, nor things that are yet to come, move you from

steadfastness, but rather double your diligence, zeal, and

faithfulness to the cause of God: for they that know the work

wrought in themselves, they shall rest in the day of trouble.

Yea, though the fig-tree fail, and the vine brings not forth, and

the labour of the olive-tree ceaseth, and the fields yield no

meat, and the sheep be cut off from the fold, and there be no

bullocks in the stall, yet then mayest thou rejoice in the Lord,

and sing praises to the God of thy salvation. Hab. iii. 16, 17.

‘And how near these days are to this poor nation, few know, and

therefore the cry of the Lord is very loud unto its inhabitants,

through his servants and messengers, that they would prize their

time while they have it, lest they be overturned, wasted, and

laid desolate before they are aware; and before destruction come

upon them, and there be no remedy, as it hath already done upon

many.

‘Oh, London! London! that thou and thy rulers would have

considered, and hearkened and heard, in the day of thy warnings

and invitations, and not have persisted in thy rebellion, till

the Lord was moved against thee, to cut off the thousands and

multitudes from thy streets, and the pressing and thronging of

people from thy gates, and then to destroy and ruin thy streets

also, and lay desolate thy gates, when thou thoughtest to have

replenished them again.

‘And, oh! saith my soul, that thy inhabitants would yet be

warned, and persuaded to repent and turn to the Lord, by putting

away every one the evil that is in their hearts, against the

truth in yourselves, and against those that walk in it, before a

greater desolation and destruction overtake you.

‘Oh, what shall I say to prevail with London, and with its

inhabitants! The Lord hath called aloud, he hath roared out of

Sion unto them, but many of them have not hearkened at all, nor

considered at all.

‘Well, oh my friends, and thou, oh my soul, return to your rest,

dwell in the pavilion of the house of your God, and my God, and

shelter yourselves under the shadow of his wings, where ye shall

be witnesses of his doings, and see his strange act brought to

pass, and shall not be hurt therewith, nor dismayed.

‘Oh, my friends, in the bowels of dear and tender love have I

signified these things unto you, that ye might stand armed with

the whole armour of God, clothed in righteousness, and your feet

shod with the preparation of the gospel of peace; and freely

given up in all things to the disposing of the Lord, who will

deliver us, not by might, nor by sword, nor spear, but by his own

eternal, invisible arm, will he yet save us and deliver us, and

get himself a name by preserving of us; and we shall yet live to

praise him who is worthy of glory, of honour and renown, from the

rising of the sun, to the setting of the same, now and forever,

amen, amen, saith my soul.’

1667.

In the year 1667 a book came forth in print at London, with this title,

Persecution appearing with its open face in William Armorer. This

was written by some of the prisoners called Quakers, and contained

a relation of the impetuous carriage of the said Armorer, who being

a knight and justice of peace, had made it his business many years,

one after another, to persecute the Quakers, and from time to time to

disturb their religious meetings. From a multitude of cases I meet with

in the said book, I will pick out but a few. The aforesaid Armorer came

very often to the house of Thomas Curtis, at Reading, to disturb the

meeting, taking many persons prisoners from thence, particularly once

thirty-four, both men and women, at a time. And when they were brought

to their trial, the oath was tendered them as the most ready means to

ensnare and to keep them in prison. Among the prisoners taken out of

the meeting was one Henry Pizing, who coming to the bar with his hat in

his hand, judge Thomas Holt said, here is a man that hath some manners,

and asked him, if he would take the oath of allegiance? to which Pizing

answered, he had taken it twice already. But said the judge, ‘You

were no Quaker then.’ To which the said Henry replied, ‘Neither am I

now, but have been many weeks among them, and I never met with any

hurt by them, but found them to be an honest and civil people.’ Upon

which William Armorer, who had taken him prisoner, said, ‘Why did you

not tell me so before?’ to which Henry returned, your worship was so

wrathful, that you would not hear me. Then the judge said, ‘He must

take the oath again.’ The oath being read, he took it, upon which they

let him go free without paying any fees. But they required of him,

to go out at a back door, and to come no more among the Quakers. But

Pizing told them, he hoped now he was freed, he might go out at which

door he would.

Thomas Curtis afterwards being called, the judge asked him, if he

would take the oath of allegiance? to which he answered, that he did

not refuse the oath upon the account of not bearing allegiance to the

king, but because Christ had commanded not to swear at all: for he was

persuaded that he had manifested himself to be as good a subject to

the king as most in the county, since he came into it, and that if he

could take any oath, either to save his estate or life, he professed

he would begin with that oath. Then he desired, that the court would

be pleased to let some of their ministers show him by the Scriptures,

how he might take it, and not break the command of Christ. And the

judge called to one Worrel, a priest, that was near him, and desired

him to satisfy Curtis in that particular. But the priest putting off

his hat, and bowing to the court, desired to be excused, saying, he had

had to do with some of them already, but they were an obstinate people

and would not be satisfied. ‘Aye,’ said Curtis, ‘this is commonly the

answer we have from these men, when they are desired to answer us a

question according to the Scripture; for when we make it appear that

they give no satisfactory answer to the question, they use to say, we

are obstinate.’ Curtis, (whose wife Anne was a daughter of a sheriff

of Bristol, that had been hanged near his own door, for endeavouring

to bring in the king,) was released after some small time; but quickly

taken prisoner again by Armorer, who perceiving that he intended to

have gone to Bristol fair, caused him to be brought to an inn, where

he told him, ‘You are going to Bristol fair, but I will stop your

journey.’ And then commanding the constable to carry him to prison, he

was compelled thither without a mittimus.

About this time Curtis’s imprisoned friends wrote a paper, and it is

like he had a hand in it, to show the hurt and mischief proceeding from

swearing. This paper being sent by him to one of the magistrates, and

leave being given him to read it in the council chamber, at the reading

of these words, ‘Because of swearing the land mourns,’ Alderman Johnson

said that was very true.

Sometime after it happened that T. Curtis, his wife and man-servant

being all prisoners, Armorer sent his man to inquire if there were any

in the house more than the family, to which the maid having answered

no, a little after Armorer came himself, and knocked at the door;

but the maid being in fear, did not open it. Armorer then pulling an

instrument out of his pocket, picked the lock, entered the house,

and searching from room to room, came at length where he found one

Joseph Coale, who dwelt in the house, and was not well at that time;

and Armorer taking him by the arm, and pulling him down stairs, said

to him, ‘Will you take the oath of allegiance?’ Which he refusing, was

sent to the house of correction, whither the day before seven women,

taken from a meeting, had also been brought. This bold act of picking

the lock he did at other times also, and once when the maid was gone

out to carry some victuals to her master and mistress in prison. In

the meanwhile he searched the warehouse, where was much cloth; and to

a woman that was there, and spoke against his picking of the locks,

he said, ‘What have you to do with it?’ And ‘Where’s that whore?’

meaning the maid servant. The woman answered him, she had to do with

it; for she was to see that nobody did steal any thing out of the

house. Besides, Armorer continually made it his business to disturb the

meeting which commonly was twice a week; and then he used to curse,

and to strike those he found there with a great cane, always sending

some to prison. Having once caused three women to be brought before him

from the house of correction, he would have them pay a fine for having

been at a meeting; to which one Anne Harrison said, ‘Thou hast got our

house already that we built, and hast taken away our means; and wouldst

thou have me pay more money when I have broken no law? We were but four

above the age of sixteen years, and the act says, it must be above

four.’ To which Armorer said, his man told him there were six: and two

of them ran away. ‘It is false,’ said Anne, ‘there was Frances Kent,

but she being a midwife, was fetched out of town; and as for the sixth,

she was not there.’ But Armorer not regarding whatever Anne said, spoke

in a rude manner, ‘I shall have Mrs. Kent, and then let the best lady

in the land want her, she shall not go, except the king or court send

for her.’

If I should mention all the enormities of Armorer’s violent behaviour,

this relation must needs be very large; and therefore I pass by the

most cases, and touch but on some few. More than once it happened when

the prisoners being brought to their trial, reproved Armorer because of

his injustice, and put him in mind that once he must give an account

for his bad deeds; he in a most impudent manner said, ‘you shall see

at the day of judgment whose arse will be blackest, yours or mine.’

And when a prisoner told him, it was an uncivil thing for one called a

justice to speak such words, he replied, ‘Why, sirrah, what incivility

is it? Is not your nose your nose, and your arse your arse?’ Other

absurdities the prisoners met with in the court, I pass by, as also how

from time to time, they were treated when they refused the oath. From

what hath been said already in more than one place concerning the like

cases, one may easily guess how matters were transacted here, which

sometimes was so grossly, that the spectators showed their dislike.

When once the jury for want of good witnesses, could not agree to find

the bill, Armorer rose off the bench, and appeared as a witness. But

notwithstanding the jury, returning the second time, brought it in

ignoramus. Upon which the other justice said to them, that sir William

Armorer, an honourable gentleman, had taken his oath also. To which

the jury returned, it was true, sir William Armorer was an honourable

gentleman, but was a man subject to passion. And they continuing

unwilling to bring in the prisoners guilty, the two justices Proctor

and Armorer, (for there were then no more on the bench,) for all that

would not discharge the prisoners, but sent them to jail again, as

seditious persons; for Proctor had told the jury the day before, that

if they did not bring in the prisoners guilty, they would make William

Armorer and the clerk perjured persons.

Anne, the wife of Thomas Curtis, being called to the bar, and asked

if she would take the oath, said, ‘I look on it as a very hard thing,

that I should be required to take this oath, being under covert, and my

husband being here a present sufferer, for the same thing; for there

is no other woman in England, that I have heard of, under covert, that

is required to take that oath, and kept in prison on that account.’

But Armorer full of passion, cried, ‘Hold your tongue, Nan, and turn

your back.’ And so she, with another woman, that had also been required

to take the oath, was sent back to jail, as dangerous and suspected

persons. At length some justices procured her liberty; and this so

displeased Armorer, that he did not rest before he had her in prison

again: but others it seems so eagerly desired her liberty, that she

was discharged a second time, though her husband’s goods and money

were seized. How a prisoner who spoke something in his own defence,

was threatened to be gagged, how girls were sent to the house of

correction, and how Armorer coming in winter-time into the meeting, and

having got a bucket of water into the room, he himself threw it with a

nasty bowl in the faces of some young maidens, I cursorily skipt over.

He seemed exceedingly offended with Anne Curtis, who being a witty

woman, did not omit, when occasion was offered, to tell of his uncivil

behaviour: and therefore he soon had her in jail again; and when it was

proposed in the summer-time to discharge some of the prisoners, because

of the extreme hot weather, provided they gave security, ‘No,’ said

Armorer, ‘Mrs. Curtis shall not go out, though she would give security,

but she shall lie in jail till she rot.’ But how wicked soever he was,

yet he could not prevent, that all his exorbitant carriage against the

Quakers was published in print.

But such behaviour was at that time no rare or uncommon thing; for

since persecution was continually cloaked with a pretence of rebellion

and sedition all over the country, such were found, who to their utmost

power did persecute the Quakers, so called; as among others, one

Henry Marshall, priest at Crosthwait in Westmoreland, who being also

a prebendary, and having several benefices, yet how great soever his

revenues were, kept poor people of that persuasion in prison for not

paying tithes to him: and once he said very presumptuously from the

pulpit, that not one Quaker should be left alive in England. But this

temerity he did not out-live long: for as he was going half-undressed

to his chamber to bed, he fell down stairs, as was concluded from the

circumstances; for he was found lying on the floor, with his skull

broken, wrestling with death, without being able to speak one word;

and being taken up he died, leaving his wife and children in such a

condition, that by reason of debts they fell into poverty.

About this time a certain popish author, who expressed his name no

further than with the letters A. S. gave forth a book called, ‘The

Reconciler of Religions; or, A Decider of all Controversies in matters

of Faith.’ Josiah Coale, who was very zealous for religion, and well

saw what this author aimed at, answered him by a book that appeared

in print, with the title of, ‘The Whore unveiled; or The Mystery of

the Deceit of the Church of Rome revealed.’ Now although the said A.

S. chiefly struck at the Quakers as the worst of heretics, falsely

perverting their doctrine, as importing, that the same spirit that

reproved Judas of sin, did also induce him to desperation, and to

hang himself; yet he omitted not to encounter the doctrine of other

Protestant societies; and the Roman church he stated as the true

church, from which they were unjustly departed, and to whom they must

all return again: for the Roman, said he, was the true church, and not

any other; she was the holy Catholic and apostolical church, that was

infallible, and could not err, and had the power to work miracles.

He also asserted, that she was one in matters of faith, that she was

governed by one invisible head Christ, and by a visible head, the pope;

and that therefore she was the true church. Now for as much as he held

forth at large these and several other positions, so Josiah Coale did

not omit to answer all these pretences distinctly and emphatically; for

he was an undaunted and zealous disputant. Besides the superstition,

idolatry, and cruel persecution of the Roman church, which had taken

away the lives of many thousands of honest and pious people, supplied

abundant matter to Josiah Coale, to show the papal errors, and clearly

to prove her to be the false church. For though he did not deny

that the true church was Catholic, or universal, yet he denied that

the universality of the church of Rome was a sufficient argument to

prove her to be the true church, ‘What church, (thus he queried,)

is more universal than the great whore, the false church, who had a

name written, Mystery Babylon the Great, the Mother of Harlots, and

Abominations of the Earth? Who sits upon the waters, which are peoples,

and multitudes, and nations, and tongues? And did not the whole world

wonder after the beast that carried the whore? Did she not sit as queen

over them all, with her fair profession, or golden cup in her hand,

full of abominations, and filthiness of her fornication? And did not

all the inhabitants of the earth, and the kings of the earth, drink of

the wine of her fornication, and commit fornication with her? Mark how

universal was this great whore, the false church; and how confident she

was: for she said in her heart that she should see no sorrow; and she

glorified herself, and reigned over the kings of the earth. Is not this

the very state of the church of Rome at this day? Doth she not reign

over the kings of the earth? And hath she not done so long, even for

many ages? And how she hath exercised authority over kings, may appear

from the case of the emperor Frederick, who was fain to hold the pope’s

stirrup while he got on horseback. And did not the great whore, which

John saw, drink the blood of the saints and martyrs of Jesus. Surely

the histories of many generations past testify this. And was she not to

have blood given her to drink? as may appear not obscurely from Rev.

xvii. 6.’ At this rate Josiah Coale encountered the masked A. S. but

in a more copious way; and thus he answered his assertions. To that,

that the church of Rome should always remain to the end of the world,

and that therefore she was infallible, J. Coale said, that the bare

affirmation of A. S. was no proof, except he would produce that saying

of the mother of harlots, ‘I sit as a queen, and am no widow, and shall

see no sorrow.’ But indeed that would be a very pitiful argument to

prove the church of Rome infallible, unless she was first proved to be

the true church. And as J. Coale answered these and other objections

at large, so he showed also the vanity of the boast of miracles, of

which the church of Rome gloried; and he refuted all the falsities

which that anonymous author had belched out against the Quakers, as a

people that might be wronged without incurring any danger. But I omit

to recite all J. Coale’s answers for brevity sake; yet may make mention

of a poem which he wrote sometime before, when he was prisoner at

Launceston, in Cornwall, to which the reader is referred, being to be

found in Josiah Coale’s works, at page 111.

Thus zealously J. Coale wrote against popery; and yet such hath been

the malice of many, that they represented the Quakers as favourers of

the church of Rome, though on many occasions they had effectually shown

the contrary. But their enemies endeavoured to brand them many ways;

and they left no stone unturned to blacken them; to which sometimes

false brethren gave occasion: for about this time there were yet many

of the adherents of John Perrot, who often ill-treated, and spoke evil

of those who did not approve their absurdities. This befel Richard

Farnsworth, one of the first preachers among those called Quakers,

though he was a man of a notable gift, and on his dying bed he gave

evidences of a firm and steadfast trust in God; for it was not long

before this time that he fell sick, and deceased at London. Among the

many expressions which signified his good frame of mind, and the divine

consolation he felt, were also these words, that were taken in writing

from his mouth:

‘_Friends_,

‘God hath been mightily with me, and hath stood by me at this

time; and his power and presence hath accompanied me all along,

though some think that I am under a cloud for something. But God

hath appeared for the owning of our testimony, and hath broken in

upon me as a flood, and I am filled with his love more than I am

able to express; and God is really appeared for us,’ &c.

This he spoke but a short time before his departure; and exhorted his

friends to faithfulness and steadfastness, and that nothing might be

suffered to creep in of another nature than the truth they professed,

to intermix therewith, saying, ‘No linsey-woolsey garment must be

worn.’ Some more consolatory words he spoke, and his last testimony

was as a seal unto all the former testimonies he had given for the

Lord. And after having lain yet an hour or two, he slept in peace with

the Lord, and left a good repute behind, with those who truly were

acquainted with him, and knew how zealously he laboured in the ministry

of the gospel for many years.

Now I return again to G. Fox, who was this year not only in Wales,

but in several other places, without being imprisoned, though at

Shrewsbury, where he had a great meeting, the officers being called

together by the mayor, consulted what to do against him, since it was

said, the great Quaker of England was come to town. But they could not

agree among themselves, some being for imprisoning him, and others for

letting him alone: and they being thus divided, he escaped their hands.

As several eminent men among those called Quakers, were taken away by

death, so others came in who filled their places; among these, and

none of the least was Robert Barclay, son of colonel David Barclay,

descended of the ancient and famous family of the Barclays, and of

Katharine Gordon, from the house of the dukes of Gordon. This his

son Robert being born at Edinburgh, in the year 1648, was educated

in France and trained up in literature, having lived some years with

his uncle at Paris, where the Papists were very active to bring him

over to their religion. But though in that tender age he seemed a

little to hearken to them, yet growing up in years, and so advancing

in knowledge, he soon got a clear sight of their errors. During his

stay in France, he not only became master of the French, but also of

the Latin tongue; and after he had been instructed in the language

of the learned, and other parts of human literature, he returned to

Scotland; but during his absence, his father had received the doctrine

of the Quakers, and showed by his pious behaviour, that he had not

therein acted inconsiderately. Robert Barclay having attained the age

of nineteen years, and being come to a good maturity of understanding,

found so much satisfaction in the religion which his father made

profession of, that he also embraced it, and openly showed before all

the world, that the despised name of Quakers, could not hinder him from

maintaining boldly that which he now apprehended to be truth. Nay, he

grew so zealous and valiant in the doctrine he now professed, that he

became a public promulgator of it; and often engaged in disputes with

the scholars, not only verbally, but also by writing: for he was so

skilful in school learning, that he was able to encounter the learned

with their own weapons, and of such quick apprehension, as not to be

inferior to the refined wits; his meekness also was eminent; and these

qualifications were accompanied with so taking a carriage, as rendered

him very acceptable to others. And though his natural abilities were

great enough to have made him surpass others in human learning, and

so to have become famous among men, yet he so little valued that

knowledge, that he in no wise endeavoured to be distinguished on that

account. But his chief aim was to advance in real godliness, as the

conversation I had with him hath undoubtedly assured me: for I was

well acquainted with him; as also with Roger Haydock of Lancashire, a

learned and intelligent man, who about this time also came to enter

into society with those called Quakers, whose doctrine his eldest

brother John Haydock, had received before him. But it so happened, that

Roger coming once to his father’s house, was by his mother put on to

discourse with his brother John, in hopes that thereby he might have

been drawn off from the way of the Quakers. But John gave such weighty

reasons for what he asserted to be truth, that he quickly put Roger

to silence, which so displeased his mother, who was inclined to the

Presbyterian way, that she blamed him for not having held it out longer

against his brother: but he told her, ‘It is truth, I dare not say

against it.’ Being thus convinced, he also became a public professor of

the doctrine of the Quakers, and in time a zealous preacher of it too.

And he being a man of great parts, well read and full of matter, many

times engaged in disputes with the priests, sometimes making use of his

pen also to that end; for he was an unwearied labourer, and suffered

the spoiling of his goods, and several imprisonments; and though he was

attended with bodily weaknesses, yet he did not use to spare himself,

but travelled much to visit the churches in England, Scotland, Ireland,

Holland, &c. And he continued steadfast to the end of his days; not

only for which, but also because of a special affection he bore me, his

remembrance is dear to me still.

I must now make some mention again of Miles Halhead, several times

named in this history, who this year coming into Devonshire, and being

brought before the magistrates, it was asked him, what business he,

(who dwelt in Westmoreland,) had in Devonshire? to which he answered,

that he was come there to see his old friends, whom formerly, about ten

years ago, he had acquaintance with. One of the magistrates asked him,

what were the names of those friends he meant? To which he returned,

‘One Sir John Coplestone, who was then high sheriff of Devonshire;

John Page, who was mayor of Plymouth; one justice Howel, who was then

the judge of the sessions of Exeter, and one colonel Buffet, who was

also a justice at that time.’ One of the magistrates then said to the

others, ‘Truly, gentlemen, this man calls these men his friends, yet

they have been his persecutors.’ Another of the magistrates then gave

him an account, into what pitiful condition those men were fallen, and

how they lost their estates; nay, Buffet had been committed to prison

for high treason, and was escaped out of jail, and not to be seen in

his own country. And further he said to Halhead, ‘Thus I have given you

a true account of your old friends; if these men were your persecutors,

you may be sure they will trouble you no more: for if they that trouble

you and persecute you, have no better fortune than these men, I wish

that neither I, nor any of my friends, may have any hand in persecuting

of you.’ And thus these discreet magistrates suffered him to go his

ways, without meddling with him.

Neither was persecution now generally so hot in England as it had been

before, yet the Presbyterians and some others durst not keep public

meetings, lest they should be fined; but at times when they have met

for worship, they have had tobacco pipes, bread and cheese, and cold

meat on the table, having agreed beforehand, that if the officers came

in upon them, they should leave their preaching and praying, and fall

to their meat. This made G. Fox say to one Pocock, whose wife was

one of his friends, ‘Is not this a shame to you who persecuted and

imprisoned us, and spoiled our goods, because we would not follow you,

and be of your religion, and called us house-creepers?’ ‘Why,’ said

Pocock, ‘we must be wise as serpents,’ To which G. Fox returned, ‘This

is the serpent’s wisdom indeed. Who would ever have thought, that you

Presbyterians and Independents, who persecuted and imprisoned others,

for not following your religion, now should flinch away yourselves, and

not stand to, and own your own religion.’

G. Fox travelled this year through England, and visited his friends in

their meetings. But I pass by his occurrences.

This year also came forth the perpetual edict, so called, in Holland,

made as the title recites, for the maintenance of liberty, and for

preservation of the unity, and the common quiet of the country of

Holland and West-Friesland. By this edict, the chief command of

the military forces of the states, and the stadtholdership, (or

deputy-ship,) were separated. This was on purpose to prevent the prince

of Orange’s becoming too potent, for hereupon followed the suppression

of the stadtholdership. But how strong soever this law was made, and

confirmed by oaths, yet afterwards it was broken by the instigation of

the rabble, as will be seen in its due time. This year also a peace was

concluded between England and Holland, not long after the Dutch had

burnt some of the king’s ships in the Thames.