1668.
In the beginning of the year 1668, William Penn, son of admiral sir
William Penn, began to show himself openly an adherer to, and an
asserter of the doctrine of those called Quakers. He had been trained
up in the university of Oxford, and he was afterwards by his father
sent into France, where for some time he lived, (as himself once told
me,) with the famous preacher, Moyses Amyraut. After a considerable
stay in that kingdom, being returned and come into Ireland, he once
went to a meeting of those called Quakers, which being disturbed,
he, though finely clothed as a young gentleman, and wearing a great
perriwig, was with others carried from thence to prison, where by his
fellow prisoners, he was more confirmed in that doctrine which he
already apprehended to be truth. But when it come to be known that he
was the son of Admiral Penn, he was soon released. This change did not
a little grieve his father, who intended to have trained him up for the
court; but now saw his eldest son in the early part, being about the
twenty-second year of his age, entered into the society of the despised
Quakers. Several means were used, nay even his necessaries were
withheld from him, to draw him off, if possible, and bring him to other
resolutions. But all devices and wiles proved in vain: for he continued
steadfast, and conversed much with Josiah Coale, who likewise in his
young years came over to the Quakers.
This summer Stephen Crisp was prisoner at Ipswich, where the number of
friends was considerably increased by his ministry. I, with some other
friends of Holland, visited him there in prison, and we found him in a
cheerful condition, as well contented as if he had been at liberty: for
he suffered for the ministry of the gospel, and continued to preach in
prison when his friends came to visit him.
The journey which G. Fox made this year through England and Wales I
pass by. The latter part of the summer he returned to London, where
with great satisfaction I heard him preach several times before a
numerous auditory: for about that time, the meetings of dissenters
were not disturbed at London, but all was so quiet, that the
Quakers, so called, were suffered to build a large meeting place in
Gracechurch-street, where the first time a meeting was kept, I was
present, and saw G. Fox, and heard him preach there, besides some
others.
Whilst he was at London, he gave a visit to esquire Marsh, who now
was a justice of the peace in Middlesex, and it so happened that he
was at dinner when G. Fox came to his house, which so pleased him,
that he kindly invited him to sit down with him to dinner, but G.
Fox courteously excused himself. There were at that time several
great persons at table with justice Marsh, who said to one of them,
(a Papist,) ‘Here is a Quaker you have not seen before.’ From this
the said Papist took occasion to ask G. Fox, whether he did own the
christening of children? To which G. Fox answered, there was no
Scripture for any such practice. ‘What!’ said he, ‘not for christening
children?’ ‘Nay,’ replied G. Fox, ‘the one baptism by the one Spirit
into one body, we own; but to throw a little water on a child’s face,
and to call that baptizing and christening it, there is no Scripture
for that.’ Then the Roman Catholic asked him, whether he did not own
the Catholic Faith? ‘Yes,’ said G. Fox, but he added, that neither
the pope nor the Papists were in that Catholic Faith; since the true
faith worked by love, and purified the heart; and if they were in
that faith which gives victory, by which they might have access to
God, they would not talk to the people of a purgatory after death;
neither would they ever use prisons, racks, or fines, to force others
to their religion; because that was not the practice of the apostles
and primitive Christians; but it was the practice of the faithless
Jews and heathens, to use such forcing means. ‘But,’ continued G.
Fox, ‘seeing thou art a great and leading man among the Papists, and
sayest, there is no salvation but in your church, I desire to know of
thee, what it is that bringeth salvation in your church,’ To this the
Roman Catholic answered, ‘A good life:’ ‘And nothing else?’ said G.
Fox. ‘Yes,’ replied the other, ‘good works.’ ‘Is this your doctrine and
principle,’ said G. Fox. ‘Yes,’ said he. Then G. Fox replied, ‘Neither
thou nor the pope, nor any of the Papists know, what it is that brings
salvation.’ Then the Roman Catholic asked him, what brings salvation
into your church? G. Fox answered, ‘That which brought salvation to
the church in the apostles’ days, namely, the grace of God, which the
Scripture says brings salvation, and hath appeared to all men; and
teaches us to deny ungodliness, and worldly lusts, and to live godly,
righteously, and soberly in this present world. By this it appears, it
is not the good works, nor the good life, that brings the salvation,
but the grace.’ ‘What!’ said the Roman Catholic, ‘doth this grace,
that brings salvation, appear unto all men?’ ‘Yes,’ said G. Fox. ‘I
deny that,’ returned the other. ‘All that deny that,’ replied G. Fox,
‘are sect-makers, and are not in the universal faith, grace, and
truth, which the apostles were in.’ Then the Roman Catholic began to
speak about the mother-church, which gave occasion to much discourse,
and G. Fox asserted, that if any outward place had claim to be the
mother-church, above all other churches, that Jerusalem had much more
right to it than Rome. But in conclusion he said, that there was no
other mother-church but Jerusalem, which is above, and is free, and
which is the mother of us all, as saith the apostle. Upon this subject
G. Fox did so paraphrase, that esquire Marsh said at length to the
Roman Catholic, ‘O you do not know this man. If he would but come to
church now and then, he would be a brave man.’
After some other discourse together, G. Fox, got an opportunity to go
aside with the said Marsh into another room, and to desire that he who
had much of the management of affairs, would prevent the persecution
of his friends as much as possibly he could. Marsh showed himself not
averse to this, but said, he was in a strait how to act between the
Quakers and some other dissenters. ‘For,’ said he, ‘you say ye cannot
swear, and the Independents, Baptists, and Fifth-monarchy people, say
also, they cannot swear.’ To this G. Fox said, ‘I will show thee how
to distinguish: the members of those societies thou speakest of, do
swear in some cases, but we cannot swear in any case. If any one should
steal their cows or horses, and thou shouldest ask them whether they
would swear they were theirs? Many of them would readily do it. But
if thou triest our friends, they cannot swear for their own goods.
Therefore when thou puttest the oath of allegiance to any of them,
ask them whether they can swear in any other case; as for their cow
or horse? Which if they be really of us, they cannot do, though they
can hear witness to the truth.’ Then G. Fox gave him a relation of a
trial in Berkshire, viz. ‘A thief having stolen two beasts from one of
those called Quakers, was imprisoned; but somebody having informed the
judge, that the man that prosecuted was a Quaker, and he, (the judge,)
perceiving that he would not swear, would not hear what the man could
say, but tendered him the oath of allegiance and supremacy, which the
said Quaker refusing, the judge premunired him, and let the thief go
free.’
Esquire Marsh having heard this relation, said that judge was a wicked
man. And by what G. Fox had told him, he sufficiently perceived how he
might distinguish between the Quakers and other people. True it is,
the Baptists in those days made some profession of the unlawfulness of
swearing, but when they came to be tried on that account, they soon
desisted from that part of their profession, as will be shown more at
large in the sequel. But they and the Independents, &c. were very loth
to take the oath of allegiance, because of a grudge they had to the
government; and this was well known to those that were at the helm.
But the innocent Quakers were continually exposed to the malice of
their persecutors, and bore the hardest shock of the laws made against
dissenters. But now justice Marsh did not omit to free the Quakers
from persecution as much as was in his power; for he kept several
from being premunired in those parts where he was a justice. And when
sometimes he could not avoid sending those that were brought before
him to prison, he sent some only for a few hours, or for a night. And
even this was such hard work to him, that at length he told the king,
he had sent some of the Quakers to prison contrary to his conscience,
and that he could not do so any more. He also advised the king to give
liberty of conscience: and he was so serviceable to stop the violence
of persecution, that about this time little was heard about disturbing
of meetings.
About the forepart of this year, if I mistake not, there happened a
case at Edmondsbury, which I cannot well pass by in silence, viz. A
certain young woman being delivered of a bastard child, destroyed it,
and was therefore committed to prison: whilst she was in jail, it is
said William Bennit, a prisoner for conscience-sake, came to her, and
in discourse asked her, whether during the course of her life, she had
not many times transgressed against her conscience? And whether she
had not often thereupon felt secret checks and inward reproofs, and
been troubled in her mind because of the evil committed; and this he
did in such a convincing way, that she not only assented to what he
laid before her, but his discourse so reached her heart, that she came
clearly to see, that if she had not been so stubborn and disobedient
to those inward reproofs, in all probability she would not have come
to such a miserable fall as now she had: for man not desiring the
knowledge of God’s ways, and departing from him, is left helpless, and
cannot keep himself from evil, though it may be such as formerly he
would have abhorred in the highest degree, and have said with Hazael,
‘What, is thy servant a dog, that he should do this great thing?’ W.
Bennit thus opening matters to her, did by his wholesome admonition so
work upon her mind, that she who never had conversed with the Quakers,
and was altogether ignorant of their doctrine, now came to apprehend
that it was the grace of God that brings salvation, which she so
often had withstood; and that this grace had not yet quite forsaken
her, but now made her sensible of the greatness of her transgression.
This consideration wrought so powerfully, that from a most grievous
sinner, she became a true penitent, and with hearty sorrow she cried
to the Lord, that it might please him not to hide his countenance. And
continuing in this state of humiliation, and sincere repentance, and
persevering in supplication, she felt in time some ease; and giving
heed to the exhortations of the said Bennit, she attained at length
to a sure hope of forgiveness by the precious blood of the immaculate
Lamb, who died for the sins of the world.
Of this she gave manifest proofs at her trial before judge Matthew
Hale, who having heard how penitent she was, would fain have spared
her, having on purpose caused to be inserted in the indictment, that
she had committed the fact wilfully and designedly. But she being
asked according to the form, ‘Guilty or not guilty?’ Readily answered,
‘Guilty.’ This astonished the judge, who purposely had got the words
wilfully and designedly inserted in the indictment, that from thence
she might find occasion to deny the charge, and so to quash the
indictment; and therefore he told her, that she seemed not duly to
consider what she said; since it could not well be believed that such
a one as she, who it may be inconsiderately had roughly handled her
child, should have killed it wilfully and designedly. Here the judge
opened a back door for her to avoid the penalty of death. But now the
fear of God had got so much room in her heart, that no tampering would
do; no fig leaves could serve her for a cover; for she knew now that
this would have been adding sin to sin, and to cover herself with a
covering, but not of God’s Spirit; and therefore she plainly signified
to the court, that indeed she had committed the mischievous fact
intendedly, thereby to hide her shame; and that she having sinned thus
grievously, and being affected now with true repentance, she could by
no means excuse herself, but was willing to undergo the punishment
the law required; and therefore she could not but acknowledge herself
guilty, since otherwise how could she expect forgiveness from the Lord?
This undisguised and free confession, being spoken with a serious
countenance, did so affect the judge, that tears trickling down his
face, he sorrowfully said, ‘Woman, such a case as this I never met
with before; perhaps you, who are but young, and speak so piously, as
being struck to the heart with repentance, might yet do much good in
the world: but now you force me, that _ex officio_ I must pronounce
sentence of death against you, since you will admit of no excuse.’
Standing to what she had said, the judge pronounced sentence of death.
And when afterward she came to the place of execution, she made a
pathetical speech to the people, exhorting the spectators, especially
those that were young, ‘To have the fear of God before their eyes,
to give heed to his secret reproofs for evil, and so not to grieve
and resist the good spirit of the Lord; which she herself not having
timely minded, it had made her run on in evil, and thus proceeding
from wickedness to wickedness, it had brought her to this dismal exit.
But since she firmly trusted to God’s infinite mercy, nay surely
believed her sins, though of a bloody dye, to be washed off by the
pure blood of Christ, she could contentedly depart this life.’ Thus
she preached at the gallows the doctrine of the Quakers, so called,
and gave heart-melting proofs that her immortal soul was to enter
into paradise, as well as anciently that of the thief on the cross. I
have been credibly informed by a person who had it from the mouths of
such as were present at the execution, that in her request to God she
prayed, that it might please him to give a visible sign, that she was
received into his favour. And that though it was then a cloudy day, yet
immediately after she was turned off, the clouds broke a little, and
the sun for a few moments shined upon her face, and presently after
ceased shining, and the sky continued overcast. She thus in a serious
frame of mind, suffered death, which her crime justly deserved.
This year at London died Thomas Loe, a man of an excellent gift, who
zealously had laboured in the ministry of the gospel in Ireland, and by
his preaching had brought many over into the society of his friends,
and among others also William Penn, to whom on his death-bed he spoke
thus, ‘Bear thy cross, and stand faithful to God; then he will give
thee an everlasting crown of glory, that shall not be taken from thee.
There is no other way which shall prosper than that which the holy men
of old have walked in. God hath brought immortality to light, and life
immortal is felt. Glory, glory to him, for he is worthy of it. His
love overcomes my heart, nay, my cup runs over: glory be to his name
for ever.’ No wonder that this speech of one that was at the point of
entering into eternity, confirmed William Penn exceedingly in that
doctrine, which he had now embraced as truth. At another time Thomas
Loe said to his friends that stood at his bed-side, ‘Be not troubled,
the love of God overcomes my heart.’ And to George Whitehead and others
he said, ‘The Lord is good to me; this day he hath covered me with his
glory. I am weak, but am refreshed to see you. The Lord is good to me.’
Another friend asking him how it was with him, he answered, ‘I am near
leaving you, I think: but am as well in my spirit as I can desire: I
bless the Lord: I never saw more of the glory of God than I have done
this day.’ And when it was thought he was departing, he began to sing
praises to the Lord, saying, ‘Glory, glory to thee for ever!’ Which did
not a little affect the standers by, thus to hear a dying man sing. And
in this glorious state he departed this life the 5th of October.
Now since persecution was at a stand this year at London, those of
other persuasions sometimes bitterly inveighed from the pulpit against
the Quakers, and would challenge them also to a dispute. William
Burnet and Jeremy Ives, eminent Baptist teachers, had encountered
George Whitehead this summer at Chertsey, and Horn, in Surry, about
the resurrection, and Christ’s body in heaven, endeavouring to blacken
the Quakers in respect of those points, because they kept to Scripture
words, from which the others departing, advanced very gross absurdities.
One Thomas Vincent, a Presbyterian teacher, was much disturbed because
some of his auditory were gone over to the society of the Quakers;
and to render them odious, he and his fellow teachers accused them of
erroneous doctrine concerning the Trinity; and this was chiefly because
they did not approve of such expressions as were not to be found in the
holy Scriptures, as that of Three persons. On this subject a dispute
was held in the Presbyterian meeting-house at London, between the said
Vincent on one side, and George Whitehead on the other. That which
Vincent and his brethren advanced first, was an accusation, that the
Quakers held damnable doctrine. George Whitehead denying this, would
have given the people an information of the principles of his friends;
but Vincent instead thereof, stated this question, ‘Do you own one
Godhead, subsisting in three distinct and separate persons?’ Whitehead
and those with him denying this as an unscriptural doctrine, Vincent
framed this syllogism.
‘There are Three that hear record in heaven, the Father, the Word, and
the Holy Ghost: and these three are one.
‘These are either three manifestations, three operations, three
substances, or three somethings else besides subsistences.
‘But they are not three manifestations, three operations, three
substances, nor three any things else besides subsistences.
Ergo, ‘Three subsistences.’
G. Whitehead rejected these terms, as not to be found in Scripture,
not deducible from the 1 John, v. 7, the place Vincent instanced. And
therefore he desired an explanation of those terms, insomuch as God
did not use to wrap up his truths in heathenish metaphysics, but in
plain language. But whatever was said, no better explanation could
be obtained, than person, or the mode of a substance. G. Whitehead
and William Penn, who also was there, alleged several places from
Scripture, proving God’s complete unity: and they queried how God was
to be understood, if in an abstracted sense from his substance? But
instead of answering the question, they concluded it a point more
fit for admiration than disputation. Then W. Penn denied the minor
proposition of Vincent’s syllogism; ‘For,’ said he, ‘no one substance
can have three distinct subsistences, and preserve its own unity: for
every subsistence will have its own substance; so that three distinct
subsistences, or manners of beings, will require three distinct
substances or beings: consequently three Gods: for if the infinite
godhead subsists in three separate manners or forms, then is not any
one of them a perfect and complete subsistence without the other two:
so parts, and something finite is in God; or if infinite, then three
distinct infinite subsistences; and what is this, but to assert three
Gods, since none is infinite but God? On the contrary, there being an
inseparability betwixt the substance and its subsistence, the unity
of substance will not admit a Trinity of incommunicable or distinct
subsistences.’
After several words on both sides, G. Whitehead, to bring this
strange doctrine nearer to the capacity of the people, comparing
their three persons to three apostles, said, he did not understand,
how Paul, Peter, and John could be three persons and one apostle.
At which one Maddocks, one of Vincent’s assistants, framed this odd
syllogism; ‘He that scornfully and reproachfully compares our doctrine
of the blessed Trinity of Father, Son, and Spirit, one in essence,
but three in persons, to three finite men, as Paul, Peter, and John,
is a blasphemer. But you, G. Whitehead, have done so. Ergo.’ A rash
conclusion; but how firm, let the judicious reader determine. I have
no mind to enter further into this quarrel, since the parties on both
sides went away unsatisfied: for Vincent had not been able to prove the
doctrine of the Quakers damnable, as he had asserted. But his passion
had transported him, as well as when he said from the pulpit to those
of his society, that he had as lief they should go to a bawdy-house,
as to frequent the Quakers’ meetings, because of their erroneous and
damnable doctrines. And pointing to the window he further said, ‘If
there should stand a cup of poison, I would rather drink it, than suck
in their damnable doctrines.’ But this untimely zeal did not profit
him; for it gave occasion to some of his hearers to inquire into the
doctrines of the Quakers; and thus some came to be convinced of the
truth thereof.
Now since the aforesaid dispute made a great noise at London, William
Penn published a book with this title, The Sandy Foundation Shaken, in
which he explained the points controverted, and defended his positions
with good reason and the Holy Scriptures. But yet this book, which he
himself spread, caused such a stir, that it was evil spoken of, and not
long after he was committed to the Tower, and some thought it was not
without his father’s being acquainted with it, perhaps to prevent a
worse treatment.
This was at the latter end of the year, about which time Josiah Coale
fell into a sickness, which took him off the stage of this life; he had
languished long, and yet did not at all spare his voice, but was used
both in preaching and praying so to raise it, that he spent his natural
strength exceedingly, though he was yet as in a flourishing age; nay,
it was his life and joy to declare the gospel, and to proclaim the
word of God, for which he had an excellent ability: and when he spoke
to the ungodly world, an awful gravity appeared in his countenance,
and his words were like a hammer and a sharp sword. But though he was
a son of thunder, yet his agreeable speech flowed from his mouth like
a pleasant stream, to the consolation and comfort of pious souls. Oh!
how pathetically have I heard him pray, when he, as transported and
ravished, humbly beseeched God, that it might please him to reach to
the hard-hearted, to support the godly, and to preserve them steadfast:
nay, with what a charming and melodious voice did he sound forth the
praises of the Most High in his public prayers! but his work was now
done, he had finished his course, and a time of rest from his labours
was come. Although he grew weak, yet his manly spirit and great courage
bore him up for some time; but his disease, which seemed to be a kind
of consumption, at length so increased, that he was fain to keep within
doors for several weeks; then mending a little, he went abroad again,
and came into a meeting in London, where I beheld his countenance
much unlike what it used to be, for it clearly manifested his bodily
indisposition: nevertheless he preached with a godly zeal, and his
salutary exhortations flowed like a stream from his lips, which seemed
to be touched with a coal from the altar of heaven, whilst he was
preaching the gospel to the edification of his hearers. Now he began
to lift up his voice again to that degree, that judging from thence,
one would have supposed him to have been pretty well restored: but the
ground of his distemper not being taken away, he was soon necessitated
to keep at home again; and his natural strength wasted away so fast,
and he so declined, that his death began to be expected, which not very
long after fell out accordingly. A little before he died, G. Fox being
come to see him, asked him, whether any thing lay upon him to write to
the friends in England? But he signified that he had nothing to write,
only desired that his love might be remembered to them, and desired G.
Fox to pray to God, that he might have an easy passage, for he felt
his end approaching. He having complied with his desire, and seeing
him begin to be heavy, bid him go and lie on the bed: which J. Coale
did; but finding this, as it seems, more uneasy, with the help of his
friends he rose again, and sat on the side of the bed; and his friends
sitting about him, he felt himself so lively and powerfully raised,
that he spoke to them after this manner:
‘Well, friends, be faithful to God, and have a single eye to his
glory; and seek nothing for self, or your own glory; and if any
thing of that arise, judge it down by the power of the Lord God,
that so ye may be clear in his sight, and answer his witness in
all people; then will ye have the reward of life. For my part, I
have walked in faithfulness with the Lord; and I have thus far
finished my testimony, and have peace with the Lord: his majesty
is with me, and his crown of life is upon me. So mind my love to
all friends.’ Then he ceased speaking; and a little time after he
said to Stephen Crisp, ‘Dear heart, keep low in the holy seed of
God, and that will be thy crown for ever.’ After a short pause,
he said, ‘a minister of Christ, must walk as he walked.’
A little afterwards fainting, and being stayed by his friends, he
departed in their arms, without the least sigh or groan, but as
one falling into a sweet sleep; and being filled with heavenly
consolations, he passed from this mortal life, to that which is
immortal, having attained the age of thirty-five years and two
months, and preached the gospel about twelve years. He had travelled
much in the West Indies, sustained great hardships, and laboured in
the ministry at his own charge, being freely given up to spend his
substance in the service of the Lord. And though he went through many
persecutions, imprisonments, and other adversities, yet he was not
afraid of danger, but always valiant; and continued in an unmarried
state, that so he might more freely labour in the heavenly harvest, and
many were converted by his ministry. He lived to see the desire of his
heart accomplished; for when first he was raised up to true goodliness,
being under the sense of his former transgressions, he cried to the
Lord for deliverance, and said with David, ‘If thou, O God, wilt help
me thoroughly, then will I teach transgressors thy ways, and sinners
shall be converted unto thee.’ He had been long in a mournful state,
though naturally of a cheerful temper; and having himself passed
through a path of sorrow, he was the more able to comfort the mourners
of Zion. The church was very sensible of this great loss; and I have
reason to think his corpse was attended to the grave by more than a
thousand of his friends, among whom I was then one; and his burying
being very public and well known, drew the eyes of many spectators
towards it. Let none think it strange, that I have here expatiated
somewhat largely, seeing he was indeed dear to me, and I have his kind
usage yet in fresh remembrance; for the piety of my mother, whom he
had seen in England, caused him to give me marks of the esteem he bore
to her memory: and his excellent endowments so affected me, that I was
eager to go to that meeting where I heard he was likely to be; nay, I
imagined I saw something in him so extraordinary valuable, that I bore
a very reverent respect to him, and the more, because difference of age
deprived me of a familiar conversation with him.
1669.
On the 20th of the First month called January, 1668-9, Francis Howgill,
after a sickness of nine days, died in the prison at Appleby, where he
had been kept above five years. During his sickness he was in perfect
good understanding, and often very fervent in prayer, uttering many
comfortable expressions, to the great refreshment of those about him.
He was often heard to say, ‘That he was content to die, and praised
God for the many sweet enjoyments and refreshments he had received in
that his prison-house-bed, whereon he lay, freely forgiving all who
had a hand in his restraint.’ And said he, ‘This was the place of my
first imprisonment for the truth, here at this town, and if it be the
place of my laying down the body, I am content.’ Several persons of
note, inhabitants of Appleby, as the mayor, and others, came to visit
him; and some of these praying that God might speak peace to his soul,
he returned, ‘he hath done it.’ About two days before his departure,
being attended by his wife, and several of his friends, he said to
them: ‘Friends, as to matter of words, ye must not expect much more
from me, neither is there any great need of it, or to speak of matters
of faith to you who are satisfied: only that ye remember my dear love
to all friends who inquire of me; for I ever loved friends well, or
any in whom truth appeared. Truly God will own his people, as he hath
ever hitherto done, and as we have daily witnessed; for no sooner had
they made the act of banishment, to the great suffering of many good
friends, but the Lord stirred up enemies against them, whereby the
violence of their hands was taken off. I say, again, God will own his
people, even all those that are faithful. And as for me, I am well,
and content to die. I am not at all afraid of death; but one thing was
of late in my heart, and that I intended to have written to George Fox
and others, even that which I have observed, viz. that this generation
passeth fast away; we see many good and precious friends within these
few years have been taken from us; and therefore friends had need to
watch, and be very faithful, that we may leave a good, and not a bad
savour, to the next succeeding generation; for we see that it is but a
little time that any of us have to stay here.’ A few hours before he
departed, some friends from other places being come to visit him, he
inquired about their welfare, and prayed fervently, with many heavenly
expressions, that the Lord by his mighty power, might preserve them out
of all such things as would spot and defile. His voice then, by reason
of his great weakness failed him, and a little after he recovering
some strength, said, ‘I have sought the way of the Lord from a child,
and lived innocently as among men; and if any inquire concerning my
latter end, let them know that I die in the faith in which I lived, and
suffered for.’ After these words, he spoke some others in prayer to
God, and so sweetly finished his days in peace with the Lord, in the
fiftieth year of his age.
He left a good name behind him amongst all who knew him.--Sometime
before his sickness, considering this mutable state, and finding in
himself some decay of nature, he made his will, in which, as his
love was very dear to his brethren, with whom he had laboured in the
ministry, so he gave to each of them a remembrance of his love; he left
also a legacy to his poor friends in those parts where he lived.
For although his moveable goods were forfeited to the king for ever,
yet the confiscation of his real estate was only for life; so that from
thence having something left, he could dispose of it by his will.
During his imprisonment, he neglected not to comfort and strengthen his
brethren by writing, effecting that by his pen, which he could not by
word of mouth: he also defended his doctrine against those who opposed
the same; and among others, he wrote a large treatise against oaths,
contradicting the opinion of those who account it lawful to swear under
the gospel.
About two years before his decease, he wrote an epistle of advice and
counsel as his last will and testament to his daughter Abigail, a
child whom he much loved, who was born in a time of deep exercises and
trouble, which nevertheless by the Lord’s goodness he was patiently
brought through; wherefore he named this child Abigail, signifying, the
father’s joy. In this testament he gave her instructions for the future
conduct of her life, the beginning whereof is thus:
‘Daughter Abigail, this is for thee to observe and keep, and
take heed unto all the days of thy life, for the regulating
thy life and conversation in this world, that thy life may be
happy, and thy end blessed, and God glorified by thee in thy
generation. I was not born to great possessions, or did inherit
great matters in this world; but the Lord hath always endowed me
with sufficiency and enough, and hath been as a tender father
unto me, because my heart trusted in him, and did love the way
of righteousness from a child. My counsel unto thee is, that
thou remember thy Creator in the days of thy youth, and fear
the Lord in thy youth, and learn to know him and serve him all
thy days: first seek the kingdom of God and the righteousness
thereof; it is not far from thee, it is within thee; it consists
in life and power, and it stands in righteousness, truth, and
equity, justice, mercy, long-suffering, patience, love, light,
and holiness, this is the being and centre thereof; therefore
seek not lo here, or lo there without thee, in this or that
outward observation, for many seek there and never find it; but
seek and thou shalt find, wait and thou shalt receive. If thou
inquire, in what must I seek? and what must I wait in? and how
must I seek? I inform thee, that thou must silence all thy own
thoughts, and thou must turn thy mind to that which is pure, and
holy, and good within thyself, and seek and wait in that in the
light of Jesus Christ, wherewith thou art enlightened, which
shows thee when thou dost evil, and checks and reproves; take
heed unto that, and it will show the evil motions and thoughts;
and as thou lovest it, it will subdue them, and preserve thee
for the time to come out of evil: for though thou be born into
the world a reasonable creature, yet thou must be born again,
and be made a new creature, or else thou canst not enter into
God’s kingdom; thou must know the seed of the kingdom in thyself,
of which thou must be born and formed again into God’s image.
I have told thee God hath sown it in thee, a grain of it, a
measure of it, a portion of it, a measure of light and truth, of
righteousness and holiness; keep in thy mind to that, and love
it, and thou wilt feel the heavenly Father working in thee, and
begetting thee to life through Jesus Christ that hath enlightened
thee, and thou wilt feel the power of the Lord strengthening
thee, in thy little, and making thee to grow in the immortal
seed of his kingdom, and outgrow and overgrow all evil, so that
thou wilt daily die to that, and have no pleasure in it, but
in the Lord, and in his goodness and virtue shed abroad in thy
heart, which thou wilt taste and feel within, and have joy and
comfort therein: love the Lord with thy heart and soul, even
him that made thee, and gave thee a being, and all things in
heaven and earth; and still wait for the knowledge of him in
thyself, he is not far from thee, but near unto thee, and unto
all that call upon him in an upright heart; and do thou inquire
of thy dear mother, she will inform thee, she knows him, and
the way to life and peace, and hearken to her instruction: God
is a spirit, of light, and life, and power, that searcheth the
heart, and shows thee when thou dost, or thinkest, or speakest
evil, and shows unto man or woman their thoughts. That which
shows the evil, is good, and that which shows a lie, is truth;
this is within, take heed to it, this is called God’s spirit in
the Scriptures, believe in it, love it, and it will quicken thy
heart to good, and it will subject the evil: here is thy teacher
near thee, love it, and if thou act contrary, it will condemn
thee; therefore take heed unto this spirit of truth, and it will
enlighten and enliven thee, and will open thy understanding,
and give thee to know what God is, and to do that which is good
and acceptable in his sight; this spirit never errs, but leads
out of all error into all truth. Be sober-minded in thy youth,
and wait on the Lord within, hearken unto him. God is light
immortal, life immortal, truth immortal, an everlasting eternal
Spirit: he speaks spiritually and invisibly within the hearts
and consciences of men and women: hear what he speaks, and obey
his voice, and thy soul shall live; fear to offend him, or sin
against him, for the wages of sin are death; therefore prize
his love in thy young and tender years, and do thou read the
Scriptures and Friends’ books, and take heed to what thou readest
to obey it, as far as thou understandest; and pray often unto
the Lord, that he will give thee his knowledge, and open thy
understanding in the things of his kingdom; search thy heart
often with the light of Christ in thee, manifest and bring thy
deeds to it, that they may be tried; and examine thyself how the
case stands betwixt the Lord and thee; and if thou seest thyself
wrong, humble thyself, and be sorry, and turn unto him, and he
will show thee mercy; and take heed for the time to come, that
thou run not into the same evil again; keep thy heart clean,
watch against the evil in thyself, in that which shows it;
therein there is power, and thereby thou hast power to overcome
all evil. And, dear child, mind not the pleasures of sin, which
are but for a moment, and the end is misery; but keep under and
cross thy will and affection, so thy mind will have no pleasure
in the evil, but in good; and thou wilt feel the immortal seed
springing up in thee, which God’s peace and love is to. O child!
these are great and weighty things, not to be slighted. Accompany
thyself always with them that fear the Lord, and fear and worship
him in spirit and truth, and lead a holy and blameless life and
conversation; deny them not, but love them, and suffer with them.
Take heed that thou follow not the hireling teachers, who preach
for gain and lucre, and abide not in Christ’s doctrine; believe
them not, heed them not, they do people no good; but thou
wilt see them thyself, they have an outside show of godliness
sometimes, but deny the power of God and true holiness; remember
I have told thee, who have had perfect knowledge of them. But be
sure that thou let nothing separate thy love from God and his
people; those are his people that keep his law, and obey Christ’s
voice, and lead a holy life, and they were ever hated and belied,
and persecuted, and evil-spoken of, always by bad and evil loose
people; these are God’s people, and his love, and peace, and
blessing is with them; do thou grow as a natural branch, (up
among them,) of the living vine, and continue all thy days in
obedience unto God’s will, and thou wilt feel joy and love in thy
heart, which above all things covet after, and thou shalt attain
and obtain everlasting peace, which the Lord grant unto thee,
according to the riches of his mercy and love, which endure for
ever and ever. Amen.
‘And now, Abigail, concerning thy well-being in this life, this
is my advice and counsel unto thee; love thy dear mother, and
ever obey her and honour her, and see thou grieve her not; be not
stubborn nor wilful, but submit unto her, and be as an obedient
child unto her, whose love and care hath been too great over
thee and thy sisters, which hath brought too much trouble upon
herself; learn in thy youth to read and write, and sew and knit,
and all points of good labour that belong to a maid, and flee
idleness and sloth, that nourisheth sin; and as thou growest up
in years, labour in the affairs of the country, and beware of
pride, and riotousness, and curiosity, but be well content with
such apparel as thy mother will permit thee, that thou mayest be
a good example unto others. Be not wanton, nor wild, nor light,
but temperate, moderate, and chaste, and not forward in words,
nor speech, but swift to hear, slow to speak; and do thou always
live with thy mother, and be a help unto her, and cherish her in
her old age and latter years, that she may be comforted in thee,
and her soul may bless thee. Love thy sisters, and be always
courteous to them and thy brother, encourage one another in good:
and if thou live to be a woman of perfect years, keep thyself
unspotted, and let not thy mind out after sports nor pastimes,
the end of all those is sorrow: neither after young men; if thou
have a desire to marry, do not thou seek a husband, but let a
husband seek thee; and if thou live in God’s fear, and an honest
life and virtuous, them that fear God will seek unto thee; let
not thy affections out unto every one that proffers love, but
be considerate, and above all things, choose one, (if thou dost
marry,) that loves and fears the Lord, whose conversation and
manner, and course of life, thou knowest well, before thou give
consent. Be discreet and wise, hide nothing from thy mother,
and she will advise thee, no doubt, for thy good; and if she be
living, marry not without her consent: and if thou join to a
husband, be sure thou love him in thy heart, and be obedient unto
him, and honour him among all, so will his heart be more to thee,
and his love increase; grieve him not, but be gentle, and easy
to be intreated, and mind thy own business; and if the Lord give
thee children, bring them up in God’s fear, and good exercise,
and keep them in subjection unto thee, and be an example of
virtue and holiness unto them, that the Lord’s blessing thou
mayest feel in youth and in age, and all thy life long. O
Abigail! remember these things, keep in mind these things, read
often this writing over, get it copied over, and lay up my words
in thy heart, and do them, so wilt thou be happy in this life,
and in the life to come: these things I give thee in charge to
observe, as my mind and will, and counsel unalterable unto thee,
as witness hereof I have set my hand,
Thy dear father,
FRANCIS HOWGILL.’
The 26th of the 5th Month, 1666.
In the beginning of this year the members of this society, held a
general Yearly-meeting at London, which since that time, hath been used
to be held there annually, in the week called Whitsun-week,[39] because
at that time of the year it is commonly best travelling, &c. Several
are deputed from all places to this meeting, and what concerns the
church in general, is there treated on.
[39] It hath since been fixed to be held on the Second-day
immediately following the third First-day in the 5th month.
Persecution for religion seemed now to be at a stand, which displeased
some of the most rigid sort of churchmen, which we not only have
already, but may again in due place demonstrate.
About this time, as I take it, a certain bishop said occasionally, that
the Quakers by their unlimited freedom, increased much, and therefore
it was very needful to take care of them, seeing they often had much
greater assemblies than the national church; ‘For,’ said he, ‘at such a
time I preached myself, and there were but a few hearers, when at the
same time the Quakers’ meeting just by was crowded full;’ and thereupon
he desired them to consider whether it was not high time to stop these
sectaries? After he had set forth his matter at large, another lord
then present among others, said, that indeed it seemed that the lord
bishop had spoken what was very reasonable, that the sectaries had
often more hearers than the national church-preachers, and that it
was not strange to him that it displeased him, since he took so much
upon himself: ‘For,’ said he, ‘his lordship observed, that he preached
himself; and the professed Quakers, who had such great assemblies,
preached Christ Jesus, and therefore no wonder that they had the more
hearers.’ This was such a witty turn upon the bishop, as no doubt
made him so sensible as not to think fit to enter upon the debate in
a doubtful dispute, for it is observable, this lord’s turn upon the
bishop was chiefly to stop him from promoting persecution.
This spring G. Fox travelling to York, went through several other
places in the North of England; and although he came near to his old
enemy, colonel Kirby, who had a fit of the gout, and had threatened
him, yet he passed on unmolested. So he went to Liverpool, whence
he, with some of his friends, passed over for Ireland: among others,
were Thomas Briggs and John Stubbs; and being arrived at Dublin, he
was kindly received by his friends; and journeying into the country,
he met with no small opposition from the Papists, of whom there are
many there. Being come to a certain place, he challenged the jesuits,
priests, and monks, to try whether their god, which they make of
a wafer, be an immortal god, but they could not be brought to it;
wherefore he said, they were worse than Baal’s priests, for Baal’s
priests tried their god. Then he went to Cork, where they had knowledge
of his coming, and intended to take him prisoner; for the Quakers in
Ireland were many years sharply persecuted, as their brethren were in
England, of which to mention all circumstances it would make a very
large treatise. At this time there were many prisoners at Cork, among
whom was Samuel Thornton, with whom I was well acquainted, who being
met with his friends in a chamber one First-day, the officer Quinnal
came and shut the door of the room, and locked them in, to the number
of eighty persons, and carried the key to the mayor, Matthew Dean, who
gave order that there should neither victuals nor drink be carried to
them, and they could only get what was pulled up with ropes through the
grate, or thrown in through a hole: under this chamber the soldiers
were ordered to keep guard, that none might get away, and they made so
great a smoke, that many of the prisoners were sick, among whom were
some weakly old people, and some women with child, and nurses, who
were almost stifled; and complaint thereof being made to the mayor,
he answered in a scoffing manner, ‘They are all brethren and sisters,
let them lie upon one another; and if they are stifled it is their own
fault.’ Thus they were kept twenty-four hours, and afterwards some of
them made prisoners.
Solomon Eccles, whom I also knew very well, was this year in prison
at Gallaway in Ireland, where he was put, by a strange accident. He
was an extraordinary zealous man, and what he judged evil he warmly
opposed, even to the hazard of his life. This zeal led him to perform
a strange action in a chapel of the Papists without the town; for he
went naked above his waist, with a chafing-dish of coals and burning
brimstone on his head, and entered the chapel when all the people were
on their knees to pray to their idol, and spoke as followeth: ‘Wo to
these idolatrous worshippers! God hath sent me this day to warn you,
and to show you what will be your portion except you repent.’ Which
when he had done, he went away to the town, where he was presently made
a prisoner. What the benefit of this strange action might be, I leave.
Amongst the martyrs of the reformed, we find some instances of persons
zealous to a strange degree, as of William Gardiner at Lisbon, and
Bertrand le Blas at Tournay, whose actions were not less remarkable;
for this last, his snatching the host from the priest in their
church as they were at mass, was certainly a bold attempt, and not
praiseworthy, if it was only an act of human contrivance; but I shall
leave the judgment thereof unto God, as I account it safest, and the
rather, because under the sharpest punishment they could inflict, they
seemed not to shrink, but rather to be strengthened. However so sharp
a trial did not fall to Eccles’s portion, and I think it safer not to
judge hastily of this uncommon performance. He was, to my knowledge,
a bold and undaunted man, and before this action in the chapel, as
above, he did something of a like nature at London at the fair-time,
amongst the plays, where he suffered much by the coachmen whipping him
grievously on his naked back; but that could not lay his fervent zeal,
which was kindled not only against the immodest and ungodly carriage
of the pretended fools, but also against those other vanities there
used. To what height his zeal carried him, the following instance will
show: he who had been a member of the church of England, and then went
to the Presbyterians, and afterwards among the Independents, and after
that was a Baptist, had been an eminent musician, so that by his art
he could get near 150_l._ a-year; but at last being a Quaker, he could
not follow for conscience-sake, what he now called his Babylonish trade
of music: wherefore he learned to make clothes to get his living by,
and sold his musical books and instruments; but, as he declared, he had
no peace in his conscience; for observing them to be instruments of
vanity, he judged they ought to be destroyed, and therefore bought them
again, although they were worth above 20_l._ and carried them, viz.
virginals, fiddles, &c. to Tower-hill, where laying them together, he
set fire to them; but when some who were by, endeavoured to hinder him,
and to get one of the virginals away, he stamped upon it with his foot,
and would not rest until he had destroyed it; and after that he said,
he found peace in his conscience, having made an offering of that which
he once entirely loved, and in the use of which he was educated; for
not only his father and grandfather, but his grandfather’s father had
been musicians, and he himself had the name of an eminent music-master.
Another account we have of his strange zeal: when he saw how the
Quakers were belied by William Burnet, Jeremy Ives, and Matthew Kiffin,
teachers amongst the Baptists, as if they believed not in Christ nor
the resurrection, he challenged all the teachers, and priests, and
jesuits, openly in a book which he printed, to come to a proof with
him, who were the true worshippers; first, to fast seven days and seven
nights, and neither to eat nor drink; and then the next seven days
not to sleep day nor night; but we may well think that none were to
be found to enter the lists with him, nor to put themselves on such a
test; and although some reckoned him out of his wits, yet he was not,
for I remember the time very well, and had many an opportunity both to
see and to hear him speak.
I now return to G. Fox at Cork in Ireland, where they intended to take
him, nevertheless they let him go unmolested, although he rode through
the market, by the mayor’s door, who not only saw him, but said, ‘There
goes G. Fox,’ and yet he let him pass quietly. After he had travelled
through many places in Ireland, he came again to Dublin, from whence
he returned to England, and coming into Gloucestershire, he heard at
Nailsworth of a report which had been spread abroad in the country,
that he was turned Presbyterian, and they had prepared a pulpit for him
in the open yard, where he was to preach. G. Fox hearing this, thought
it very strange, whereupon he went to the place spoken of, where he
indeed found a pulpit; but the case was this: a certain Presbyterian
preacher, named John Fox, who went preaching about the country, was
to preach there, and it seems some had changed his name from John to
George, whereupon it was reported that he was turned from being a
Quaker, to be a Presbyterian: this begat so great a curiosity in the
people, that many went thither to hear this Quaker turned Presbyterian;
so this John Fox came to have a great auditory of several hundreds, who
would not have went a foot to have heard him, had they known it. Now
some hundreds of them hearing afterwards that the real G. Fox was not
far off at a meeting, they went thither and were sober and attentive;
where they were by him directed to the grace of God in themselves,
which would teach them and bring them salvation. And when the meeting
was over, some of the people said, they liked George Fox the Quaker’s
preaching, better than G. F. the Presbyterian. Not long after this John
Fox was complained of in the house of commons, for having a tumultuous
meeting, in which treasonable words were spoken. This John Fox had
formerly been priest of Marshfield in Gloucestershire, and being put
out of that place, was afterwards permitted by a common-prayer priest
to preach sometimes in his steeple-house; at length this Presbyterian
priest presuming too far upon the parish priest’s former grant, began
to be more bold than welcome, and would have preached there whether
the priest would or not; which caused a great bustle and contest
between the two priests, and their hearers on either side, in which the
common-prayer book was cut to pieces, and it is said some treasonable
words were then spoken, by some of the followers of this John Fox;
which case was quickly put into the newspapers, and some malicious
Presbyterians caused it to be so worded as if it had proceeded from G.
F. the Quaker, but some members of the house of commons certified it
under their hands, that it was John Fox, formerly priest of Marshfield,
who was complained of to be the ringleader of that unlawful assembly.
After this G. F. travelled to Bristol, where he met with Margaret Fell,
then a widow, who came thither to visit her daughter Yeomans. He had
before this intimated to her his affection, and proposed to take her in
marriage at a suitable time; but though he had a sense in himself, it
was of the Lord, yet he did not at first find a freedom to accomplish
the same, but all obstructions being now removed, he so proposed the
matter, that if she was willing to give her consent, that the same
should be accomplished, she might first send for her children; who
being come, he asked both her daughters and their husbands, whether
they had any thing against his taking their mother to be his wife?
And they all severally expressed their satisfaction therein. Then he
asked Margaret, whether she had performed her husband’s will? And the
children, whether, if their mother married, they should lose by it? The
children said, she had answered it to them, and desired him to speak no
more of that. So observing they were all well satisfied, he proceeded
in his marriage, and took Margaret Fell to wife in a public meeting of
friends in Bristol. She was a woman of a noble endowment, and this I
know not only by her writings, but I have also heard her preach an hour
together, delivering her matter compactly and orderly.
G. F. being married, he stayed with his wife about a week in Bristol,
and then they went together to Oldstone, and there taking leave of each
other, they parted, she went homeward into the north, and he travelled
through Wiltshire, Berkshire, Oxfordshire, Bucks, and so to London: for
although now he had a wife, yet he did not neglect his care towards the
churches, all the nation over, in the gift which he had received of
God, both in word and writing to their edification, and among the rest
he had a special regard, that the poor might be taken care of, to which
end he wrote an epistle in London, to this effect, that poor children
should be put forth apprentices to trades, whereby in time, they might
help their aged parents, and enable them to bring up their families,
and maintain themselves handsomely.
1670.
G. Fox stayed not long in London; but the year 1670 being now come,
he travelled through Hertfordshire, Cambridgeshire, Huntingdonshire,
and Leicestershire, where he expected to have met with his wife; for
he had wrote her word, if she found it convenient, to meet him there;
but instead thereof he understood she was hauled out of her house
and carried to Lancaster prison, upon the old premunire, which was
executed upon her five years before, from which she was discharged by
order of the king and council the last year. Wherefore, after he had
visited friends in those counties, he returned to London, where he
found two of his wife’s daughters, whom he hastened to go to the king,
to acquaint him how their mother was dealt with, which they did, but
met with much difficulty; yet they diligently attended the same, as
it behoved them for their mother, who was a mother or overseer of the
church also, and therefore of the greater concern; but at last through
assiduous application, they got to the speech of the king, to whom one
of them said, that instead of their waiting upon him to return him
thanks for the discharge of their mother, they were now necessitated
to make complaint of their mother’s being cast into prison a second
time! Whereupon the king gave command to sir John Otway, to write to
the sheriff of Lancashire, to set her at liberty, which letter G. F.
accordingly hastened his daughters with into the country.
* * * * *
The parliament now sitting, made a law, entitled, An Act to prevent and
suppress seditious conventicles, which is as follows:
For providing further and more speedy remedies against the
growing and dangerous practices of seditious sectaries, and other
disloyal persons, who under pretence of tender consciences,
have or may at their meetings contrive insurrections, (as
late experience hath shown,) (2) Be it enacted by the king’s
most excellent majesty, by and with the advice and consent of
the lords spiritual and temporal, and commons in this present
parliament assembled, and by authority of the same, that if any
person of the age of sixteen years or upwards, being a subject of
this realm, at any time after the tenth day of May next, shall be
present at any assembly, conventicle, or meeting, under colour
or pretence of an exercise of religion, in other manner than
according to the liturgy and practice of the church of England,
in any place within the kingdom of England, dominion of Wales,
or town of Berwick-upon-Tweed, at which conventicle, meeting, or
assembly, there shall be five persons or more assembled together,
over and besides those of the same household, if it be in a house
where there is a family inhabiting; or if it be in a house,
field, or place where there is no family inhabiting; then where
any five persons or more, are so assembled, as aforesaid, it
shall and may be lawful to and for any one or more justices of
the peace of the county, limit, division, corporation or liberty,
wherein the offence aforesaid shall be committed, or for the
chief magistrate of the place where the offence aforesaid shall
be committed; and he and they are hereby required and enjoined
upon proof to him or them respectively made of such offence,
either by confession of the party, or oath of two witnesses;
(3) (which oath the said justice and justices of the peace, and
chief magistrate respectively, are hereby empowered and required
to administer,) or be notorious evidence and circumstance of the
fact, to make a record of every such offence under his or their
hands and seals respectively: which record so made, as aforesaid,
shall to all intents and purposes be in law taken and adjudged
to be a full and perfect conviction of every such offender for
such offence: and thereupon the said justice, justices, and chief
magistrate respectively, shall impose on every such offender
so convicted, as aforesaid, a fine of five shillings for such
first offence: which record and conviction shall be certified
by the said justice, justices, or chief magistrate, at the next
quarter-sessions of the peace, for the county or place where the
offence was committed.
II. And be it further enacted by the authority aforesaid, that
if such offender so convicted, as aforesaid, shall at any time
again commit the like offence or offences, contrary to this act,
and be thereof in manner aforesaid convicted, then such offender
so convict of such like offence or offences shall for every such
offence incur the penalty of ten shillings; (2) which fine and
fines, for the first and every other offence, shall be levied by
distress and sale of the offender’s goods and chattels; or in
case of the poverty of such offender, upon the goods and chattels
of any other person or persons who shall be then convicted in
manner aforesaid of the like offence at the same conventicle, at
the discretion of the said justice, justices or chief magistrate
respectively, so as the sum to be levied on any one person in
case of the poverty of other offenders, amount not in the whole
to above the sum of ten pounds, upon occasion of any one meeting,
as aforesaid; (3) and every constable, headborough, tithingman,
churchwardens, and overseers of the poor respectively, are hereby
authorized and required to levy the same accordingly, having
first received a warrant under the hands and seals of the said
justice, justices, or chief magistrate respectively, so to do;
(4) the said monies so to be levied, to be forthwith delivered
the same justice, justices, or chief magistrate, and by him or
them to be distributed, the one third part thereof to the use
of the king’s majesty, his heirs and successors, to be paid to
the high sheriff of the county for the time being, in manner
following; that is to say, the justice or justices of peace shall
pay the same into the court of the respective quarter-sessions,
which said court shall deliver the same to the sheriff, and make
a memorial on record of the payment and delivery thereof, which
said memorial shall be a sufficient and final discharge to the
said justice and justices, and a charge to the sheriff, which
said discharge and charge shall be certified into the exchequer
together, and not one without the other: and no justice shall or
may be questioned or accountable for the same in the exchequer or
elsewhere, than in quarter-sessions; another third part thereof
to and for the use of the poor of the parish where such offence
shall be committed; and the other third part thereof to the
informer and informers and to such person and persons as the said
justice, justices or chief magistrate respectively shall appoint,
having regard to their diligence and industry in the discovery,
dispersing and punishing of the said conventicles.
III. And be it further enacted by the authority aforesaid, that
every person who shall take upon him to preach or teach in any
such meeting, assembly or conventicle, and shall thereof be
convicted, as aforesaid, shall forfeit for every such first
offence the sum of twenty pounds, to be levied in manner
aforesaid upon his goods and chattels; (2) and if the said
preacher or teacher so convicted, be a stranger, and his name and
habitation not known, or is fled, and cannot be found, or in the
judgment of the justice, justices or chief magistrate before whom
he shall be convicted, shall be thought unable to pay the same,
the said justice, justices, or chief magistrate respectively, are
hereby empowered and required to levy the same by warrant, as
aforesaid, upon the goods and chattels of any such persons who
shall be present at the same conventicle; any thing in this or
any other act, law, or statute to the contrary notwithstanding;
and the money so levied, to be disposed of in manner aforesaid:
(3) and if such offender so convicted as aforesaid, shall at any
time again commit the like offence or offences contrary to this
act, and be thereof convicted in manner aforesaid, then such
offender so convicted of such like offence or offences, shall
for every such offence, incur the penalty of forty pounds, to be
levied and disposed, as aforesaid.
IV. And be it further enacted by the authority aforesaid, that
every person who shall wittingly and willingly suffer any such
conventicle, meeting, or unlawful assembly aforesaid, to be held
in his or her house, outhouse, barn, yard, or backside, and be
convicted thereof in manner aforesaid, shall forfeit the sum
of twenty pounds, to be levied in manner aforesaid, upon his
or her goods and chattels; or in case of his or her poverty or
inability, as aforesaid, upon the goods and chattels of such
persons who shall be convicted in manner aforesaid, of being
present at the same conventicle; and the money so levied, to be
disposed of in manner aforesaid.
V. Provided always, and be it enacted by the authority aforesaid,
that no person shall by any clause of this act be liable to pay
above ten pounds for any one meeting, in regard of the poverty of
any other person or persons.
VI. Provided also, and be it further enacted, that in all cases
of this act, where the penalty or sum charged upon any offender
exceeds the sum of ten shillings, and such offender shall find
himself aggrieved, it shall and may be lawful for him within
one week after the said penalty or money charged shall be paid
or levied, to appeal in writing from the person or persons
convicting, to the judgment of the justices of the peace in their
next quarter-sessions, (2) to whom the justice or justices of the
peace, chief magistrate, or alderman, that first convicted such
offender, shall return the money levied upon the appellant, and
shall certify under his and their hands and seals the evidence
upon which the conviction passed, with the whole record thereof,
and the said appeal: (3) whereupon such offender may plead and
make defence, and have his trial by a jury thereupon: (4) and
in case such appellant shall not prosecute with effect, or if
upon such trial he shall not be acquitted, or judgment pass not
for him upon his said appeal, the said justices at the sessions
shall give treble costs against such offender for his unjust
appeal: (5) And no other court whatsoever shall intermeddle with
any cause or causes of appeal upon this act, but they shall be
finally determined in the quarter-sessions only.
VII. Provided always, and be it further enacted, that upon the
delivery of such appeal, as aforesaid, the person or persons
appellant shall enter before the person or persons convicting,
into recognizance, to prosecute the said appeal with effect: (2)
which said recognizance the person or persons so convicting is
hereby empowered to take, and required to certify the same to the
next quarter-sessions: (3) and in case no such recognizance be
entered into, the said appeal to be null and void.
VIII. Provided always, that every such appeal shall be left with
the person or persons so convicting, as aforesaid, at the time of
the making thereof.