“We are peaceable, and seek the peace, good, and welfare of all, as in

our lives and peaceable conduct is manifested; and we desire the

eternal good and welfare of all, and their souls’ everlasting peace.

We are become heirs of the blessing before the curse was, and of the

power of God before the devil was, and before the fall of man. We are

heirs of the gospel of peace, which is the power of God; and we are

heirs of Christ, who have inherited him and his everlasting kingdom,

and do possess the power of an endless life. Knowing this our portion

and inheritance, this is to remove all jealousies out of your minds,

and out of the minds of all people concerning us, that all plots and

conspiracies, plotters and conspirators against the king, and all

aiders and assisters thereunto, we always did and do utterly deny to

be of us, or to be of the fellowship of the gospel of Christ’s

kingdom, or his servants. For Christ said, ‘his kingdom was not of

this world; if it were his servants would fight.’ And therefore he bid

Peter ‘put up his sword, for,’ said he, ‘he that taketh the sword,

shall perish with the sword.’ Here is the faith and patience of the

saints, to bear and suffer all things, knowing that vengeance is the

Lord’s, and he will repay it to them that hurt his people, and wrong

the innocent. Therefore we cannot avenge, but suffer for his name’s

sake. We know that the Lord will judge the world in righteousness,

according to their deeds, and that, when every one shall give an

account to him of the ‘deeds done in the body,’ then will the Lord

give every man according to his works, whether they be good or evil.

Christ said, he came not to ‘destroy men’s lives;’ and when his

disciples would have had ‘fire to come down from heaven,’ to consume

them that did not receive him, he told them, ‘they knew not what

spirit they were of,’ that would have men’s lives destroyed, and

therefore he rebuked them and told them, ‘that he came not to destroy

men’s lives, but to save them.’ We are of Christ’s mind, who is the

great Prophet, whom all ought to hear in all things, who saith to his,

‘if they strike thee on one cheek, turn the other; and render to no

one evil for evil.’ This doctrine of his we have learned, and not only

confess him in words, but follow his doctrine; therefore we suffer all

manner of reproaches, scandals, slanders, spoiling of goods,

buffetings, whippings, stripes, and imprisonments, for these many

years; and can say, ‘the Lord forgive them that have thus served us,

and lay not these things to their charge.’ And we know that the Jews’

outward sword, by which they cut down the Heathen outwardly, was a

type of the inward sword of the Spirit, which cuts down the inward

Heathen, the raging nature in people. The blood of bulls, lambs, rams,

and other offerings, and that priesthood which offered them, together

with other things in the law, were types of Christ, the one offering,

and of his blood, who is the everlasting priest and covenant, our life

and way to God, the great prophet and shepherd, the head of his

church, and the great bishop of our souls, whom we witness come; and

he doth oversee and keep his flock. For in Adam, in the fall, we know

the striving, quarrelling, unpeaceable spirits are in the enmity one

with another, and not in peace; but in Christ Jesus, the second Adam,

that never fell, is peace, rest and life. The doctrine of Christ, who

never sinned, is, to ‘love one another;’ and they who are in this

doctrine, hurt no man; in which we are, in Christ, who is our life.

“Therefore it is well for you to distinguish between the precious and

the vile, between them that fear God and serve him, and them that do

not; and to make a difference between the innocent and the guilty,

between him that is holy and pure, and the ungodly and profane; for

they that do not so, bring troubles, burthens, and sorrows upon

themselves. This we write in love to your souls, that ye may consider

these things; for we cannot say that they who hate enemies and one

another, are of God, or in Christ’s doctrine, but are opposers of it.

And such as wrestle with flesh and blood, with carnal weapons, are

gone into the flesh, out of the Spirit. They are not in our fellowship

in the Spirit, in which is the bond of peace; neither are they of us,

nor have we unity with them in their fleshly state, and with their

carnal weapons. For our unity and fellowship stand in the gospel,

which is the power of God, before the devil was, the liar, and the

murderer, the man-slayer, and the envious. Christ’s mind and his

doctrine being to save men’s lives, we, who are of Christ’s mind, are

out of, and above these things. And our desire is, that in the fear of

the Lord, ye may all live, and receive God’s wisdom, by which all

things were created, that by it all may be ordered to his glory.

“This is from them that love all your souls, and seek your eternal

good.”

Being now a prisoner in Lancaster Castle, a deep sense came upon me of a

day of sore trial and exercise that was come and coming upon all who had

been in high profession of religion; and I was moved to give forth the

following paper as a warning to such:—

“Now is the day that every one’s faith and love to God and Christ will

be tried; they who are redeemed out of the earth, and they who are in

the earth, will be manifested; and who is the master they serve, and

whether they will run to the mountains to cover them. Now will it

appear who are the stony ground, who are the thorny ground, and who

are the highway ground, in whom the fowls of the air take away the

seed, and the thorns and cares of the world choke, and the heat of

persecution scorches and burns up your green blade; for the day trieth

all things. Therefore let not such as forsake truth, for saving the

earth, say that your brother priest only ‘serveth not the Lord Jesus

Christ, but his own belly, and mindeth earthly things,’ for such

themselves also do the same, and hug and embrace self, and not the

Lord. Now it will be made manifest, who is every one’s God, Christ,

and Saviour, and their love will be manifest, whether it be of the

world, or of God; for if it be the love of the world, it is enmity,

and the enmity will manifest itself what it is; and the day will try

every spirit and his fruits. Therefore, my dear friends, in the

everlasting Seed of God live, that is over all the house of Adam and

his works in the fall; and so dwelling in the Seed, Christ, that never

fell, in him you all have virtue, life, and peace, and through him ye

will overcome all that is in the fall.”

G.F.

I wrote also another epistle to Friends, to warn them to keep out of the

spirit, that wrought in John Perrot and his company against the truth:—

“DEAR FRIENDS,

“Dwell in the love of God, and in his righteousness; that will

preserve you above all changeable spirits, that dwell not in the

truth, but in quarrels. Avoid such, and keep your habitations in the

truth. Dwell in the truth, and in the Word of God, by which ye are

reconciled to him. Keep your meetings in the name of Jesus Christ, who

never fell; then ye will see over all the gatherings of Adam’s sons

and daughters, you being met in the life over them all, in which are

your unity, peace, and fellowship with God, and one with another, in

the life, in which ye may enjoy God’s presence among you. So remember

me to all Friends in the everlasting Seed of God. The fellowship of

all those that are got into fellowship in outward things, will corrupt

and wither away. Therefore live in the gospel, the power of God, which

was before the devil was. This fellowship in the gospel, the power of

God, is a mystery to all the fellowships of the world. So look over

all outward sufferings, and look at the Lord, and the Lamb, who is the

First and the Last, the Amen; in whom farewell.”

G.F.

In the sixth month, the assizes were held again at Lancaster, and the

same judges, Twisden and Turner, came that circuit again; but Judge

Turner then sat on the crown bench, and so I was brought before him.

Before I was called to the bar, I was put among the murderers and felons

for about two hours, the people, the justices, and the judge, also

gazing upon me. After they had tried several others, they called me to

the bar, and empannelled a jury. Then the judge asked the justices,

“whether they had tendered me the oath at the sessions.” They said,

“they had.” Then he bid, “give them the book, that they might swear they

had tendered me the oath according to the indictment.” Some of the

justices refused to be sworn; but the judge said, he would have it done,

to take away all occasion of exception. When the jury were sworn, and

the justices had sworn that “they had tendered me the oath according to

the indictment,” the judge asked me, “whether I had not refused the oath

at the last assizes?” I said, “I never took an oath in my life, and

Christ, the Saviour and Judge of the world, said, ‘Swear not at all.’”

The judge seemed not to take notice of my answer, but asked me, “whether

or not I had refused to take the oath at the last assizes?” I said, “the

words that I then spoke to them were, that if they could prove, either

judge, justices, priest, or teacher, that after Christ and the apostle

had forbidden swearing, they commanded that Christians should swear, I

would swear.” The judge said he was not at that time to dispute, whether

it was lawful to swear, but to inquire whether I had refused to take the

oath or not, I told him, “those things mentioned in the oath, as

plotting against the king, and owning the Pope’s, or any other foreign

power, I utterly deny.” “Well,” said he, “you say well in that, but did

you deny to take the oath? what say you?” “What wouldst thou have me to

say?” said I; “for I have told thee before what I did say.” Then he

asked me, “if I would have these men to swear, that I had taken the

oath?” I asked him, “If he would have those men to swear, that I had

refused the oath?” at which the court burst out into laughter. I was

grieved to see so much lightness in a court, where such solemn matters

are handled, and thereupon asked them, “if this court was a play-house?

where is gravity and sobriety? for this behaviour doth not become you.”

Then the clerk read the indictment, and I told the judge, “I had

something to speak to it;” for I had informed myself of the errors that

were in it. He told me, “he would hear afterwards any reasons that I

could allege, why he should not give judgment.” Then I spoke to the

jury, and told them, “that they could not bring me in guilty according

to that indictment, for the indictment was wrong laid, and had many

gross errors in it.” The judge said, “I must not speak to the jury, but

he would speak to them,” and he told them I had denied to take the oath

at the last assizes; and, said he, “I can tender the oath to any man

now, and premunire him for not taking it;” and he said, they must bring

me in guilty, seeing I refused to take the oath. Then said I, “What do

ye do with a form? ye may throw away your form then.” And I told the

jury, “it lay upon their consciences, as they would answer it to the

Lord God, before his judgment-seat.” Then the judge spoke again to the

jury, and I called to him to “do me justice.” The jury brought me in

guilty. Whereupon I told them, that “both the justices and they had

foresworn themselves, and therefore they had small cause to laugh, as

they did a little before.” O! the envy, rage, and malice that appeared

against me, and the lightness; but the Lord confounded them, and they

were wonderfully stopped. So they set me aside, and called up Margaret

Fell, who had much good service among them; and then the court broke up

near the second hour.

In the afternoon we were brought again to have sentence passed upon us.

Margaret Fell desired, that sentence might be deferred till the next

morning. I desired nothing but law and justice at his hands, for thieves

had mercy; only I requested the judge to send some one to see my prison,

which was so bad, they would put no creature they had in it; and I told

him, that Colonel Kirby, who was then on the bench, said, “I should be

locked up, and no flesh alive should come to me.” The judge shook his

head, and said, “when the sentence was given, he would leave me to the

favour of the jailer.” Most of the gentry of the country were gathered

together, expecting to hear the sentence; and the noise among the people

was, “that I should be transported.” But they were all crossed at that

time; for the sentence being deferred till next morning, I was sent to

prison again. Upon my complaining of the badness of my prison, some of

the justices, with Colonel Kirby, went up to see it; but when they came,

they durst hardly go in, the floor was so bad and dangerous, and the

place so open to wind and rain. Some that came up said, “sure it was a

jakes-house.” When Colonel Kirby saw it, and heard what others said of

it, he excused the matter as well as he could, saying, “I should be

removed ere long to some more convenient place.”

Next day, towards eleven, we were called again to hear the sentence; and

Margaret Fell being called first to the bar, had counsel to plead, who

found many errors in her indictment; whereupon, after the judge had

acknowledged them, she was set by. Then the judge asked, “what they

could say to mine?” I was not willing to let any man plead for me, but

to speak to it myself; and indeed, though Margaret had some that pleaded

for her, yet she spoke as much herself as she would. But before I came

to the bar, I was moved in my spirit to pray, that God would confound

their wickedness and envy, set his truth over all, and exalt his Seed.

The Lord heard and answered, and did confound them in their proceedings

against me; and though they had most envy against me, yet the most gross

errors were found in my indictment.

Now, I having put by others from pleading for me, the judge asked me,

“what I had to say, why he should not pass sentence upon me?” I told

him, “I was no lawyer, but I had much to say, if he would have patience

to hear.” At that he laughed, and others laughed also, and said, “Come,

what have you to say? he can say nothing.” “Yes,” said I, “I have much

to say, have but the patience to hear me.” Then I asked him, “whether

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

of foreign princes?” He said, “to the subjects of this realm.” “Then,”

said I, “look at the indictment, and ye may see that ye have left out

the word, subject: so not having named me in the indictment as a

subject, ye cannot premunire me for not taking the oath.” Then they

looked over the statute and the indictment, and saw that it was as I

said; and the judge confessed it was an error.

I told him, “I had something else to stop his judgment;” and I desired

him to look what day the indictment said the oath was tendered to me at

the sessions there. They looked, and said, “it was the eleventh day of

January.” “What day of the week were the sessions held on?” said I. “On

a Tuesday,” said they. “Then,” said I, “look at your almanacs, and see

whether there were any sessions held at Lancaster on the eleventh day of

January, so called?” So they looked, and found that the eleventh was the

day called Monday, and that the sessions were on the day called Tuesday,

which was the twelfth day of that month. “Look now,” said I, “ye have

indicted me for refusing the oath in the quarter sessions held at

Lancaster on the eleventh day of January last, and the justices have

sworn that they tendered me the oath in open sessions here that day, and

the jury upon their oaths have found me guilty thereupon; and yet ye see

there were no sessions held in Lancaster that day.” Then the judge, to

cover the matter, asked, “whether the sessions did not begin on the

eleventh?” But some in the court answered, “no; the sessions held but

one day, and that was the twelfth.” Then the judge said, “this was a

great mistake, and an error.” Some of the justices were in a great rage

at this, and were ready to quit the bench; they stamped and said, “who

hath done this? somebody hath done it on purpose;” and a great heat was

amongst them. “Then,” said I, “are not the justices here, that have

sworn to this indictment, forsworn men in the face of the country? But

this is not all,” said I, “I have more yet to offer why sentence should

not be given against me.”

Then I asked, “in what year of the king the last assize here was holden,

which was in the month called March last?” The judge said, “it was in

the sixteenth year of the king.” “But,” said I, “the indictment says it

was in the fifteenth year.” They looked, and found it so. This also was

acknowledged to be another error. Then they were all in a fret again,

and could not tell what to say; for the judge had sworn the officers of

the court, that the oath was tendered to me at the assize mentioned in

the indictment. “Now,” said I, “is not the court here forsworn also, who

have sworn that the oath was tendered to me at the assize holden here in

the fifteenth year of the king, when it was in his sixteenth year, and

so they have sworn a year false?” The judge bid them look whether

Margaret Fell’s indictment was so or not. They looked, and found it was

not so.

I told the judge, “I had more yet to offer to stop sentence;” and asked

him, “whether all the oath ought to be put into the indictment or not?”

“Yes,” said he, “it ought to be all put in.” “Then,” said I, “compare

the indictment with the oath, and there thou mayest see these words,

viz. [or by any authority derived, or pretended to be derived from him,

or his see] left out of the indictment, which is a principal part of the

oath, and in another place the words [heirs and successors] are left

out.” The judge acknowledged these also to be great errors. “But,” said

I, “I have something further to allege.” “Nay,” said the judge, “I have

enough, you need say no more.” “If,” said I, “thou hast enough, I desire

nothing but law and justice at thy hands, for I don’t look for mercy.”

“You must have justice,” said he, “and you shall have law.” Then I

asked, “Am I at liberty and free from all that hath ever been done

against me in this matter?” “Yes,” said the judge, “you are free from

all that hath been done against you. But then,” starting up in a rage,

he said, “I can put the oath to any man here, and I will tender you the

oath again.” I told him, “he had examples enough yesterday of swearing

and false-swearing, both in the justices and the jury; for I saw before

mine eyes, that both justices and jury had forsworn themselves.” The

judge asked me, “if I would take the oath?” “I bid him do me justice for

my false imprisonment all this while; for what had I been imprisoned so

long for? and I told him I ought to be set at liberty.” “You are at

liberty,” said he, “but I will put the oath to you again.” Then I turned

me about and said, “All people, take notice, this is a snare, for I

ought to be set free from the jailer and from this court.” But the judge

cried, “Give him the book;” and the sheriff and the justices cried,

“Give him the book.” Then the power of darkness rose up in them, like a

mountain, and a clerk lifted up a book to me. I stood still and said,

“If it be a Bible, give it me into my hand.” “Yes, yes,” said the judge

and justices, “give it him into his hand.” So I took it and looked into

it, and said, “I see it is a Bible, I am glad of it.”

Now he had caused the jury to be called, and they stood by; for after

they had brought in their former verdict, he would not dismiss them,

though they desired it; but told them, “he could not dismiss them yet,

for he should have business for them, and therefore they must attend and

be ready when they were called.” When he said so, I felt his intent,

that if I was freed, he would come on again. So I looked him in the

face, and the witness of God started up in him, and made him blush when

he looked at me again, for he saw that I saw him. Nevertheless,

hardening himself, he caused the oath to be read to me, the jury

standing by; and when it was read, he asked me, “whether I would take

the oath or not?” Then said I, “Ye have given me a book here to kiss and

to swear on, and this book which ye have given me to kiss, says, ‘Kiss

the Son;’ and the Son says in this book, ‘Swear not at all;’ and so says

also the apostle James. Now, I say as the book says, and yet ye imprison

me; how chance ye do not imprison the book for saying so? How comes it

that the book is at liberty amongst you, which bids me not swear, and

yet ye imprison me for doing as the book bids me? Why don’t ye imprison

the book?” As I was speaking this to them, and held up the Bible open in

my hand, to show them the place in the book, where Christ forbids

swearing, they plucked the book out of my hand again; and the judge

said, “Nay, but we will imprison George Fox.” Yet this got abroad over

all the country as a by-word, “that they gave me a book to swear on,

that commanded me ‘not to swear at all;’ and that the Bible was at

liberty, and I in prison for doing as the Bible said.”

Now when the judge still urged me to swear, I told him, “I never took

oath, covenant, or engagement in my life, but my yea or nay was more

binding to me than an oath was to many others; for had they not had

experience how little men regarded an oath; and how they had sworn one

way and then another; and how the justices and court had forsworn

themselves now?” I told him, ‘I was a man of a tender conscience, and if

they had any sense of a tender conscience, they would consider, that it

was in obedience to Christ’s command that I could not swear. “But,” said

I, “if any of you can convince me, that after Christ and the apostle had

commanded not to swear, they altered that command and commanded

Christians to swear; then ye shall see I will swear.” There being many

priests by, I said, “if ye cannot do it, let your priests stand up and

do it.” But not one of the priests made any answer. “O,” said the judge,

“all the world cannot convince you.” “No,” said I, “how is it like the

world should convince me; for ‘the whole world lies in wickedness;’ but

bring out your spiritual men, as ye call them, to convince me.” Then

both the sheriff and the judge said, “the angel swore in the

Revelations.” I replied, “when God bringeth in his first-begotten Son

into the world, he saith, ‘Let all the angels of God worship him;’ and

he saith, ‘swear not at all.’” “Nay,” said the judge, “I will not

dispute.” Then I spoke to the jury, telling them, “it was for Christ’s

sake that I could not swear, and therefore I warned them not to act

contrary to that of God in their consciences, for before his

judgment-seat they must all be brought.” And I told them, “that as for

plots and persecution for religion and Popery, I do deny them in my

heart; for I am a Christian, and shall show forth Christianity amongst

you this day. It is for Christ’s doctrine I stand.” More words I had

both with the judge and jury before the jailer took me away.

In the afternoon I was brought up again, and put among the thieves some

time, where I stood with my hat on till the jailer took it off. Then the

jury having found this new indictment against me “for not taking the

oath,” I was called to the bar; and the judge asked me, “what I would

say for myself:” I bid them read the indictment, for I would not answer

to that which I did not hear. The clerk read it, and as he read the

judge said, “take heed it be not false again;” but he read it in such a

manner that I could hardly understand what he read. When he had done,

the judge asked me, “what I said to the indictment?” I told him, “at

once hearing so large a writing read, and at such a distance that I

could not distinctly hear all the parts of it, I could not well tell

what to say to it; but if he would let me have a copy, and give me time

to consider it, I would answer it.” This put them to a little stand; but

after a while the judge asked me “what time I would have?” I said, “till

the next assize.” “But,” said he, “what plea will you now make? are you

guilty or not guilty?” I said, “I am not guilty at all of denying

swearing obstinately and wilfully; and as for those things mentioned in

the oath, as jesuitical plots and foreign powers, I utterly deny them in

my heart; and if I could take any oath, I should take that; but I never

took any oath in my life.” The judge said, “I said well; but,” said he,

“the king is sworn, the parliament is sworn, I am sworn, the justices

are sworn, and the law is preserved by oaths.” I told him, “they had had

sufficient experience of men’s swearing, and he had seen how the

justices and jury had sworn wrongly the other day; and if he had read in

the _Book of Martyrs_ how many of the martyrs had refused to swear, both

within the time of the ten persecutions and in Bishop Bonner’s days, he

might see, that to deny swearing in obedience to Christ’s command was no

new thing.” He said, “he wished the laws were otherwise.” I said, “Our

Yea is yea, and our Nay is nay; and if we transgress our yea and our

nay, let us suffer as they do, or should do, that swear falsely.” This,

I told him, we had offered to the king; and the king said, “it was

reasonable.” After some further discourse, they committed me to prison

again, there to lie till the next assize; and Colonel Kirby gave order

to the jailer, “to keep me close, and suffer no flesh alive to come at

me, for I was not fit,” he said, “to be discoursed with by men.”

Then I was put into a tower, where the smoke of the other prisoners came

up so thick, that it stood as dew upon the walls, and sometimes it was

so thick that I could hardly see the candle when it burned; and I being

locked under three locks, the under-jailer, when the smoke was great,

would hardly be persuaded to come up to unlock one of the uppermost

doors, for fear of the smoke, so that I was almost smothered. Besides,

it rained in upon my bed, and many times, when I went to stop out the

rain in the cold winter season, my shirt was wet through with the rain

that came in upon me, while I was labouring to stop it out. And the

place being high and open to the wind, sometimes as fast as I stopped

it, the wind blew it out again. In this manner did I lie, all that long

cold winter, till the next assize; in which time I was so starved with

cold and rain, that my body was greatly swelled, and my limbs much

benumbed.

The assize began on the 16th day of the month called March, 1664-5. The

same Judges, Twisden and Turner, coming that circuit again, Judge

Twisden sat this time on the crown-bench, and before him I was brought.

I had informed myself of the errors in this indictment also. For though

at the assize before, Judge Turner had said to the officers in court,

“Pray see that all the oath be in the indictment, and that the word,

subject, be in, and that the day of the month and the year of the king

be put in right; for it is a shame that so many errors should be seen

and found in the face of the country;” yet there were many errors, and

those great ones, in this indictment, as well as in the former. Surely

the hand of the Lord was in it, to confound their mischievous work

against me, and to blind them therein; insomuch, that although after the

indictment was drawn at the former assize, the judge examined it himself

and tried it with the clerks, yet the word, subject, was left out of

this indictment also, the day of the month was put in wrong, and several

material words of the oath were left out; yet they went on confidently

against me, thinking all was safe and well.

When I was set to the bar, and the jury called over to be sworn, the

clerk asked me, first, “whether I had any objection to make against any

of the jury?” I told him, “I knew none of them.” Then, having sworn the

jury, they swore three of the officers of the court to prove “that the

oath was tendered to me at the last assizes, according to the

indictment.” “Come, come,” said the judge, “it was not done in a

corner.” Then he asked me, “what I had said to it, or whether I had

taken the oath at the last assize?” I told him, what I had said, viz.,

“that the book they gave me to swear on, says, ‘swear not at all;’” and

I repeated more of what I had formerly said to them, as it now came to

my remembrance. Whereupon the judge said, “I will not dispute with you,

but in point of law.” “Then,” said I, “I have something to speak to the

jury concerning the indictment.” He told me, I must not speak to the

jury, but if I had anything to say, I must speak to him. Then I asked

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

or to the subjects of foreign princes?” He replied, “to the subjects of

this realm; for I will speak nothing to you,” said he, “but in point of

law.” “Then,” said I, “look in the indictment, and thou mayest see that

the word, subject, is left out of this indictment also. And therefore

seeing the oath is not to be tendered to any but the subjects of this

realm, and ye have not put me in as a subject, the court is to take no

notice of this indictment.” I had no sooner spoken than the judge cried,

“Take him away, jailer, take him away.” So I was presently hurried away.

The jailer and people looked when I should be called for again; but I

was never brought to the court any more, though I had many other great

errors to assign in the indictment.

After I was gone, the judge asked the jury, “if they were agreed?” They

said, “yes,” and found for the king against me as I was told. But I was

never called to hear sentence given, nor was any given against me, that

I could hear of. I understood that when they had looked more narrowly

into the indictment, they saw it was not good: and the judge having

sworn the officers of the court, that the oath was tendered me at the

assize before, such a day, according as was set in the indictment, and

that being the wrong day, I should have proved the officers of the court

forsworn men again, if the judge would have suffered me to plead to the

indictment; which was thought to be the reason why he hurried me away so

soon. The judge had passed sentence of premunire upon Margaret Fell,

before I was brought in; and it seems, when I was hurried away, they

recorded me as a premunired person, though I was never brought to hear

the sentence or knew of it; which was very illegal. For they ought not

only to have had me present to hear the sentence given, but also to have

asked me first, “what I could say why sentence should not be given

against me?” But they knew I had so much to say, that they could not

give sentence, if they heard it.

While I was prisoner in Lancaster castle, there was a great noise and

talk of the Turk’s overspreading Christendom, and great fears entered

many. But one day as I was walking in my prison chamber, “I saw the

Lord’s power turn against him, and that he was turning back again.” And

I declared to some what the Lord had let me see, when there were such

fears of his over-running Christendom; and within a month after the news

came, that they had given him a defeat.

Another time, as I was walking in my chamber, with my eye to the Lord,

“I saw the angel of the Lord with a glittering drawn sword stretched

southward, as though the court had been all on fire.” Not long after the

wars broke out with Holland, the sickness broke forth, and afterwards

the fire of London; so the Lord’s sword was drawn indeed.

By reason of my long and close imprisonment in so bad a place, I was

become very weak in body; but the Lord’s power was over all, supported

me through all, and enabled me to do service for him, and for his truth

and people, as the place would admit. For while I was in Lancaster

prison, I answered several books, as the _Mass_, the _Common-Prayer_,

the _Directory_, and the _Church Faith_; which are the four chief

religions that are got up since the apostles’ days. And there being

several Friends in prison at Lancaster and other prisons for not paying

tithes, I was moved to give forth the following lines:—

_Concerning Tithes._

“In the time of the law, they that did not bring their tithes into the

store-house, robbed God; then there was not meat in their house;

therefore the Lord commanded ‘to bring them into his house, that there

might be meat in the store-house, which was to fill the fatherless,

stranger, and widow.’ But these priests, who are counterfeits, who

take people’s tithes now by a law, are from the beast; and if any will

not pay them, they imprison them, or make them pay treble. These rob

the poor, rob the fatherless; and the stranger and the widow are not

filled; so their cry is gone up to heaven against these. Many are made

almost beggars by these oppressing priests, their cattle and corn

being taken away, and they cast into prison. Others are sued at law by

them, and have treble damage taken from them; yet such priests are

cried up to be ministers of the gospel. Though, when the unchangeable

priest was come, the priesthood that was changeable, was denied, as we

now deny these. But if any be moved now to cry against them, they are

stocked, beaten, or imprisoned. Many are now in prison at Lancaster,

and in other places, by a national law; the like whereof was never

done by the law of God, which was delivered to Moses. For we do not

read, that under Moses’s law any suffered imprisonment, or spoiling of

their goods for not paying tithes, or had to pay treble damage.

Surely, surely, the cry for vengeance will be heard, which arises from

the oppressed souls that lie under the altar. There are many prisoners

at Kendal, because they cannot pay tithes, as Captain Ward, Thomas

Robertson,[8] and the widow Garland, who has many small children;

these suffer because they cannot pay tithes. Others are in Kendal

prison, who were moved of the Lord to speak to the priests, one to go

in sackcloth, and with ashes upon her head. Others have been moved to

go in sackcloth, as a lamentation for the miserable estate of this

nation, seeing so much crying up of the preaching of the gospel, and

yet so much strife, debate, and oaths, and dissension among people.

But where the gospel is received indeed, strife and contention are

ended, and oppression is taken off.

O! the land mourns, because of the oppression of those called

ministers! And though the cry of the oppressed hath not entered into

the ears of the magistrates; yet is the cry of the poor, oppressed

people of God, entered into the ears of the Lord of Sabaoth, who now

will be avenged of all his adversaries. You unjust lawgivers, and

unjust judges, to that in all your consciences I speak, to be cleared,

when ye are judged by the just Judge of heaven and earth; whose terror

is gone forth against all the ungodly, and all the oppressors of God’s

people whatsoever, whether ye will hear or forbear.”

G.F.

After the assize, Colonel Kirby and some other justices were very uneasy

with my being at Lancaster; for I had galled them sore at my trials

there, and they laboured much to get me removed to some remote place.

Colonel Kirby threatened I should be sent far enough, and sometimes

said, I should be sent beyond sea. About six weeks after the assizes,

they got an order from the king and council to remove me from Lancaster;

and with it they brought a letter from the Earl of Anglesea, wherein was

written, “that if those things were found true against me, which I was

charged withal, I deserved no clemency or mercy:” yet the greatest

matter they had against me was, because I could not disobey the command

of Christ, and swear.

When they had prepared for my removal, the under-sheriff and the

head-sheriff’s man, with some bailiffs, came and fetched me out of the

castle, when I was so weak with lying in that cold, wet, and smoky

prison, that I could hardly go or stand. They had me into the jailer’s

house, where were William Kirby, a justice, and several others, and they

called for wine to give me. I told them, “I would have none of their

wine.” Then they cried, “Bring out the horses.” I desired them first to

show me their order, or a copy of it, if they intended to remove me; but

they would show me none but their swords. I told them, “there was no

sentence passed upon me, nor was I premunired, that I knew of; and

therefore I was not made the king’s prisoner, but was the sheriff’s; for

they and all the country knew, that I was not fully heard at the last

assize, nor suffered to show the errors that were in the indictment,

which were sufficient to quash it, though they had kept me from one

assize to another, to the end they might try me. But they all knew,

there was no sentence of premunire passed upon me; and therefore not

being the king’s prisoner, but the sheriff’s, I desired to see their

order.” Instead of showing me their order, they haled me out, and lifted

me upon one of the sheriff’s horses. When I was on horseback in the

street, the town’s-people being gathered to gaze upon me, I told the

officers, I had received neither Christianity, civility, nor humanity,

from them. They hurried me away about fourteen miles to BENTHAM, though

I was so very weak, I was hardly able to sit on horseback; and my

clothes smelt so of smoke, that they were loathsome to myself. The

wicked jailer, one Hunter, a young fellow, would come behind, and give

the horse a lash with his whip, and make him skip, and leap; so that I

being weak, had difficulty to sit him; and then he would come and look

me in the face, and say, “How do you, Mr. Fox?” I told him, “it was not

civil in him to do so.” The Lord cut him off soon after.

When we were come to Bentham, there met us many troopers, and a marshal;

and many of the gentry of the country were come in, and abundance of

people to stare at me. I being very weak and weary, desired them to let

me lie down on a bed, which the soldiers permitted me; for they that

brought me thither, gave their order to the marshal, and he set a guard

of his soldiers upon me. When they had stayed a while, they pressed

horses, and raised the bailiff of the hundred, and the constables, and

others, and had me to GIGGLESWICK that night; but exceedingly weak I

was. There they raised the constables with their clog-shoes, who sat

drinking all the night in the room by me, so that I could not get much

rest. Next day we came to a market-town, where several Friends called to

see me; and Robert Widders and divers Friends came to me on the road.

The next night I asked the soldiers, “whither they intended to carry me,

and whither I was to be sent?” Some of them said, “beyond sea;” others

said, “to Tynemouth Castle.” A great fear there was amongst them, lest

some one should rescue me out of their hands; but that fear was

needless.

Next night we came to YORK, where the marshal put me into a great

chamber, where most part of two troops came to see me. One of these

troopers, an envious man, hearing that I must be premunired, asked me,

“what estate I had, and whether it was copyhold or free land?” I took no

notice of his question, but was moved to declare the word of life to the

soldiers, and many of them were very loving. At night the Lord

Frecheville (so called), who commanded these horse, came to me, and was

very civil and loving. I gave him an account of my imprisonment, and

declared many things to him relating to truth. They kept me at York two

days, and then the marshal and four or five soldiers were sent to convey

me to SCARBRO’ CASTLE. Indeed these were very civil men, and carried

themselves civilly and lovingly to me. On the way we baited at MALTON,

and they permitted Friends to come and visit me. When we were come to

SCARBRO’, they had me to an inn, and gave notice to the governor, who

sent six soldiers to be my guard that night. Next day they conducted me

into the castle, put me into a room, and set a sentry on me. Being very

weak and subject to fainting, they let me go out sometimes into the air

with the sentry. They soon removed me out of this room, and put me into

an open one, where the rain came in; and smoked exceedingly, which was

very offensive to me.

One day the governor, Sir J. Crossland, came to see me, and brought with

him Sir Francis Cobb. I desired the governor to go into my room, and see

what a place I had. I had got a little fire made in it, and it was so

filled with smoke, that when they were in it, they could hardly find

their way out again; and he being a Papist, I told him, that was his

Purgatory which they had put me into. I was forced to lay out about

fifty shillings to stop out the rain, and keep the room from smoking so

much. When I had been at that charge, and made it somewhat tolerable,

they removed me into a worse room, where I had neither chimney nor

fire-hearth. This being to the sea-side and lying much open, the wind

drove in the rain forcibly, so that the water came over my bed, and ran

about the room, that I was fain to skim it up with a platter. And when

my clothes were wet, I had no fire to dry them; so that my body was

benumbed with cold, and my fingers swelled, that one was grown as big as

two. Though I was at some charge in this room also, I could not keep out

the wind and rain. Besides they would suffer few Friends to come to me,

and many times not any, no, not so much as to bring me a little food;

but I was forced for the first quarter to hire one, not a Friend, to

bring me necessaries. Sometimes the soldiers would take it from her, and

she would scuffle with them for it. Afterwards I hired a soldier to

fetch me water and bread, and something to make a fire of, when I was in

a room where a fire could be made. Commonly a threepenny loaf served me

three weeks, and sometimes longer, and most of my drink was water with

wormwood steeped or bruised in it. One time when the weather was very

sharp, and I had taken great cold, I got a little elecampane beer, and I

heard one of the soldiers say to the other, that they would play me a

trick, for they would send for me up to the deputy-governor, and in the

meantime drink my strong beer out; and so they did. When I came back,

one of the soldiers came to me in a jeer, and asked me for some strong

beer. I told him they had played their pretty trick; and so I took no

further notice of it.

But inasmuch as they kept me so very strait, not giving liberty for

Friends to come to me, I spoke to the keepers of the castle to this

effect: “I did not know till I was removed from Lancaster castle, and

brought prisoner to this castle of Scarbro’, that I was convicted of a

premunire; for the judge did not give sentence upon me at the assizes in

open court. But seeing I am now a prisoner here, if I may not have my

liberty, let my friends and acquaintance have their liberty to come and

visit me, as Paul’s friends had among the Romans, who were not

Christians but Heathens. For Paul’s friends had their liberty; all that

would, might come to him, and he had his liberty to preach to them in

his hired house; but I cannot have liberty to go into the town, nor for

my friends to come to me here. So you that go under the name of

Christians, are worse in this respect than those heathens were.”

But though they would not let Friends come to me, they would often bring

others, either to gaze upon me, or to contend with me. One time a great

company of Papists came to discourse with me; they affirmed, “the Pope

was infallible, and had stood infallible ever since Peter’s time.” But I

showed them the contrary by history; for one of the bishops of Rome,

(Marcellinus by name,) denied the faith and sacrificed to idols;

therefore he was not infallible. I told them, if they were in the

infallible spirit, they need not have jails, swords, and staves, racks

and tortures, fires and faggots, whips and gallows, to hold up their

religion by, and to destroy men’s lives about it; for if they were in

the infallible spirit they would preserve men’s lives, and use none but

spiritual weapons about religion. I told them also what one that had

been of their society told me. A woman who lived in Kent, had not only

been a Papist herself, but had brought over several to that religion;

but coming to be convinced of God’s truth, and turned by it to Christ

her Saviour, she exhorted the Papists to the same. One of them, a

tailor, being at work at her house, while she opened to him the

falseness of the Popish religion, and endeavoured to draw him from it to

the truth, drew his knife, and got between her and the door; but she

spoke boldly to him, and bid him put up his knife, for she knew his

principle. I asked the woman, “what she thought he would have done with

his knife?” She said, “he would have stabbed her.” “Stabbed thee,” said

I, “what would he have stabbed thee for? thy religion.” “Yes,” said she,

“it is the principle of the Papists, if any turn from their religion, to

kill them if they can.” This story I told those Papists, and that I had

it from a person that had been one of them, but had forsaken their

principles and discovered their practices. They did not deny this to be

their principle; but said, “What! would I declare this abroad?” I told

them, “yes, such things ought to be declared abroad; that it might be

known how contrary their religion was to true Christianity.” Whereupon

they went away in a great rage.

Another Papist came to discourse with me, who said all the patriarchs

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

suffered he went into hell, and the Devil said to him “What comest thou

hither for, to break open our strongholds?” And Christ said, “to fetch

them all out.” So he said, “Christ was three nights and three days in

hell, to bring them out.” I told him that was false, for Christ said to

the thief, “This day thou shalt be with me in paradise.” And Enoch and

Elijah were translated into heaven. And Abraham was in heaven, for the

Scripture saith, Lazarus was in his bosom; and Moses and Elias were with

Christ upon the Mount before he suffered. These instances stopped the

Papist’s mouth, and put him to a stand.

Another time came Dr. Witty, who was esteemed a great doctor of physic,

with Lord Falconbridge; with these came also the governor of Tynemouth

castle, and several knights. Being called to them, Witty undertook to

discourse with me, and asked me, “what I was in prison for?” I told him,

“because I would not disobey the command of Christ, and swear.” He said,

“I ought to swear my allegiance to the king.” He being a great

Presbyterian, I asked him, “whether he had not sworn against the King,

and House of Lords, and taken the Scotch covenant? and had he not since

sworn to the king? and what then was his swearing good for? But my

allegiance,” I told him, “did not consist in swearing, but in truth and

faithfulness.” After some further discourse, I was sent away to my

prison again. And afterwards this Dr. Witty boasted in the town amongst

his patients, that he had conquered me. When I heard of his boasting, I

told the governor, “it was a small boast in him to say he had conquered

a bondman.” I desired to bid him visit me again, when he came to the

castle.

He came again a while after, with sixteen or seventeen great persons;

and ran himself worse on ground than before. For he affirmed before them

all, “that Christ hath not enlightened every man that cometh into the

world; and that the grace of God, that bringeth salvation, hath not

appeared unto all men; and that Christ died not for all men.” I asked

him, “what sort of men those were whom Christ had not enlightened? and

to whom his grace had not appeared? and for whom he had not died?” He

said, “Christ did not die for adulterers, and idolaters, and wicked

men.” I asked him, “whether adulterers and wicked men were not sinners?”

He said, “Yes.” “And did not Christ die for sinners?” said I. “Did he

not come to call sinners to repentance?” “Yes,” said he. “Then,” said I,

“thou hast stopped thy own mouth.” So I proved that the grace of God had

appeared unto 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 the people that were present, confessed

it was true; but he went away in a great rage, and came no more to me.

Another time the governor brought a priest, but his mouth was soon

stopped. Not long after he brought two or three parliament-men, who

asked me, “whether I owned ministers and bishops?” I told them, “yes,

such as Christ sent, such as had freely received, and would freely give,

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 theirs

were, that would go no farther than a great benefice, I did not own; for

they were not like the apostles. Christ saith to his ministers, ‘Go ye

into all nations, and preach the gospel;’ but ye parliament-men, who

keep your priests and bishops in such great fat benefices, have spoiled

them all. For do ye think they will go into all nations to preach; or

any farther than they have a great fat benefice? Judge yourselves

whether they will or not.”

There came another time the widow of old Lord Fairfax, and with her a

great company; one of whom was a priest. I was moved to declare the

truth to them, and the priest asked me, “Why we said, Thou and Thee to

people? for he counted us but fools and idiots for speaking so.” I asked

him, “Whether they that translated the Scriptures, and that made the

grammar and accidence, were fools and idiots, seeing they translated the

Scriptures so, and made the grammar so, Thou to one, and You to more

than one, and left it so to us. If they were fools and idiots, why had

not he, and such as he, that looked upon themselves as wise men, and

that could not bear Thou and Thee to a singular, altered the grammar,

accidence, and Bible, and put the plural instead of the singular. But if

they were wise men that had so translated the Bible, and had made the

grammar and accidence so, I wished him to consider whether they were not

fools and idiots themselves, that did not speak as their grammars and

Bibles taught them; but were offended with us, and called us fools and

idiots for speaking so?” Thus the priest’s mouth was stopped, and many

of the company acknowledged the truth, and were pretty loving and

tender. Some of them would have given me money, but I would not receive

it.

After this came Dr. Cradock, with three priests more, and the governor

and his lady (so called) and another that was called a lady, and a great

company with them. Dr. Cradock asked me, “what I was in prison for?” I

told him, “for obeying the command of Christ and the apostle, in not

swearing. But if he, being both a doctor and a justice of peace, could

convince me, that after Christ and the apostle had forbidden swearing,

they commanded Christians to swear, then I would swear. Here was the

Bible,” I told him, “he might, if he could, show me any such command.”

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

“Ay,” said I, “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 for swearing out of the Old Testament as thou, and it may be

more; but of what force are they to prove swearing lawful in the New

Testament, since Christ and the apostle had forbade it? Besides,” said

I, “in that text, where it is written, ye shall swear, what ye was this?

Was it ye Gentiles, or ye Jews?” To this he would not answer. But one of

the priests that were with him answered, “it was to the Jews that this

was spoken.” Then Dr. Cradock confessed it was so. “Very well,” said I,

“but where did God ever give a command to the Gentiles to swear? For

thou knowest that we are Gentiles by nature.” “Indeed,” said he, “in the

gospel-times everything was to be established out of the mouths of two

or three witnesses; but there was to be no swearing then.” “Why then,”

said I, “dost thou force oaths upon Christians, contrary to thy own

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

friends?” (for he had excommunicated abundance, both in Yorkshire and

Lancashire). He said, “for not coming to church.” “Why,” said I, “Ye

left us above twenty years ago, when we were but young lads and lasses,

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 if ye had

intended to keep the old men that did know them, to you, and your

principles alive, that we might have known them, ye should either not

have fled from us as ye did, or ye should have sent us your epistles,

collects, homilies, and evening-songs, for Paul wrote epistles to the

saints, though he was in prison. But they and we might have turned Turks

or Jews for any collects, homilies, or epistles, we had from you all

this while. And now thou hast excommunicated us, both young and old, and

so have others of you done: 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? Indeed, if ye had brought us into your church, and when

we had been in, if we had done some bad thing, that had been something

like a ground for excommunication or putting out again. But,” said I,

“what dost thou call the church?” “Why,” said he, “that which you call

the steeple-house.” Then I asked him, “whether Christ shed his blood for

the steeple-house; and purchased and sanctified the steeple-house with

his blood? And seeing 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 his

people?” “No,” said he, “Christ is the head of the people, and they are

the church.” “Then,” said I, “but you have given the title, church,

which belongs to the people, to an old house, and you have taught people

to believe so.”

I asked him also, “why he persecuted Friends for not paying tithes? And

whether God ever gave 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 sent

forth his disciples to preach, had not commanded them to preach freely,

as he had given them freely? And whether all ministers of Christ, are

not bound to observe this command of Christ?” He said, “he would not

dispute that;” neither did I find he was willing to stay on that

subject, for he presently turned to another matter, and said, “you

marry, but I know not how.” I replied, “it may be so; but why dost thou

not come and see?” Then he threatened that he would use his power

against us as he had done. “I bid him take heed, for he was an old man.”

I asked him also, “where he read from Genesis to the Revelations, that

ever any priest did marry any?” And I wished him to show me some

instance thereof, if he would have us come to them to be married; “for”

said I, “thou hast excommunicated one of my friends, two years after he

was dead, about his marriage. And why dost thou not excommunicate Isaac,

and Jacob, and Boaz, and Ruth? Why dost thou not use thy power against

these; for we do not read that they were ever married by the priests;

but they took one another in the assemblies of the righteous, in the

presence of God and his people; and so do we. So that we have all the

holy men and women, that the Scripture speaks of in this practice, on

our side.” Much discourse we had, but when he found he could get no

advantage over me, he went away with his company.

With such people I was much exercised while I was there; for most that

came to the castle would desire to speak with me, and great disputes I

had with them. But, as to Friends, I was as a man buried alive: for

though many came far to see me, yet few were suffered to come to me: and

when any Friend came into the castle about business, if he looked

towards me they would rage at him. At last the governor came under some

trouble himself; for he having sent out a privateer to sea, they took

some ships that were not enemies’ ships, but their friends’; whereupon

he was brought into trouble; after which he grew somewhat more friendly

to me. For before I had a marshal set over me, on purpose to get money

out of me, but I was not free to give him a farthing; and when they

found they could get nothing from me, he was taken away again. The

officers often threatened that I should be hanged over the wall. Nay,

the deputy-governor told me once that the king, knowing I had a great

interest in the people, had sent me thither, that if there should be any

stirring in the nation, they should hang me over the wall to keep the

people down. There being, a while after, a marriage at a Papist’s house,

upon which occasion a great many of them were met together, they talked

much then of hanging me. But I told them, “if that was what they

desired, and it was permitted them, I was ready; for I never feared

death nor sufferings in my life, but I was known to be an innocent,

peaceable man, free from all stirrings and plottings, and one that

sought the good of all men.” Afterwards, the governor growing kinder, I

spoke to him when he was going to London to the Parliament, and desired

him to speak to Esquire Marsh, Sir Francis Cobb (so called), and some

others; and let them know how long I had lain in prison, and for what;

and he did so. When he came down again, he told me, that Esquire

Marsh[9] said he would go a hundred miles barefoot for my liberty, he

knew me so well; and several others, he said, spoke well of me. From

which time the governor was very loving to me.

There were, amongst the prisoners, two very bad men, that often sat

drinking with the officers and soldiers; and because I would not sit and

drink with them too, it made them the worse against me. One time when

these two prisoners were drunk, one of them (whose name was William

Wilkinson, a Presbyterian who had been a captain), came to me and

challenged me to fight with him. Seeing what condition he was in, I got

out of his way; and, next morning, when he was more sober, showed him,

“how unmanly it was in him to challenge a man to fight, whose principle,

he knew, it was not to strike; but if he was stricken on one ear to turn

the other. I told him, if he had a mind to fight, he should have

challenged some of the soldiers, that could have answered him in his own

way. But however, seeing he had challenged me, I was now come to answer

him with my hands in my pockets; and (reaching my head towards him)

‘here,’ said I, ‘here is my hair, here are my cheeks, here is my back.’”

With that he skipped away from me, and went into another room; at which

the soldiers fell a laughing; and one of the officers said, “you are a

happy man, that can bear such things.” Thus he was conquered without a

blow. After a while he took the oath, gave bond, and got out of prison;

and not long after the Lord cut him off.

There were great imprisonments in this, and the former year, while I was

prisoner at Lancaster and Scarbro’. At London many Friends were crowded

into Newgate, and other prisons, where the sickness was; and many died

in prison.[10] Many also were banished, and several sent on shipboard by

the king’s order. Some masters of ships would not carry them, but set

them on shore again; yet some were sent to Barbadoes, to Jamaica, and to

Nevis, and the Lord blessed them there. One master of a ship was very

wicked and cruel to Friends that were put on board his vessel; for he

kept them down under decks, though the sickness was amongst them; so

that many died of it. But the Lord visited him for his wickedness; for

he lost most of his seamen by the plague, and lay several months crossed

with contrary winds, though other ships went out and made their voyages.

At last he came before Plymouth, and there the governor and magistrates

would not suffer him, or any of his men, to land, though he wanted many

necessaries for his voyage; but Thomas Lower, Arthur Cotton, John Light,

and other Friends, went to the ship’s side and carried necessaries for

the Friends that were prisoners on board. The master being thus crossed

and vexed, cursed them that put upon him this freight, and said, “he

hoped he should not go far before he was taken.” And the vessel was but

just out of sight of Plymouth before she was taken by a Dutch

man-of-war, and carried into Holland. When they came there, the States

sent the banished Friends back to England, with a passport, and a

certificate, “that they had not made an escape, but were sent back by

them.” In time the Lord’s power wrought over this storm, and many of our

persecutors were confounded and put to shame.[11]

After I had lain prisoner above a year in Scarbro’ Castle, I sent a

letter to the king, in which I gave him “an account of my imprisonment,

and the bad usage I had received in prison; and also that I was

informed, no man could deliver me but he.” After this, John Whitehead

being at London, and being acquainted with Esquire Marsh, went to visit

him, and spoke to him about me; and he undertook, if John Whitehead

would get the state of my case drawn up, to deliver it to the master of

requests, Sir John Birkenhead, and endeavour to get a release for me. So

John Whitehead and Ellis Hookes[12] drew up an account of my

imprisonment and sufferings, and carried it to Marsh; and he went with

it to the master of requests, who procured an order from the king for my

release. The substance of the order was, “that the king being certainly

informed, that I was a man principled against plotting and fighting, and

had been ready at all times to discover plots, rather than to make any,

&c., therefore his royal pleasure was, that I should be discharged from

my imprisonment,” &c. As soon as this order was obtained, John Whitehead

came to Scarbro’ with it, and delivered it to the governor; who, upon

receipt thereof, gathered the officers together, and without requiring

bonds or sureties for my peaceable living, being satisfied that I was a

man of a peaceable life, he discharged me freely, and gave me the

following passport:—

“Permit the bearer hereof, 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 Scarbro’

Castle, this first day of September, 1666.”

JORDAN CROSLANDS,

Governor of Scarbro’ Castle.

After I was released, I would have made the governor a present for

the civility and kindness he had of late showed me; but he would not

receive anything; saying, “whatever good he could do for me and my

friends he would do it, and never do them any hurt.” And afterwards,

if at any time the mayor of the town sent to him for soldiers to

break up Friends’ meetings, if he sent any down he would privately

give them a charge “not to meddle.” He continued loving to his dying

day. The officers also and the soldiers were mightily changed, and

became very respectful to me, and when they had occasion to speak of

me, they would say, “he is as stiff as a tree, and as pure as a

bell; for we could never bow him.”

The very next day after my release, the fire broke out in London,

and the report of it came quickly down into the country.[13] Then I

saw the Lord God was true and just in his word, which he had showed

me before in Lancaster jail, when I saw the angel of the Lord with a

glittering sword drawn southward, as before expressed. The people of

London were forewarned of this fire; yet few laid it to heart, or

believed it; but rather grew more wicked, and higher in pride. For a

Friend was moved to come out of Huntingdonshire a little before the

fire, to scatter his money, and turn his horse loose on the streets,

to untie the knees of his breeches, let his stockings fall down, and

to unbutton his doublet, and tell the people, “so should they run up

and down, scattering their money and their goods, half undressed,

like mad people, as he was a sign to them;” and so they did, when

the city was burning.

Thus hath the Lord exercised his prophets and servants by his power,

showed them signs of his judgments, and sent them to forewarn the

people; but, instead of repenting, they have beaten and cruelly

entreated some, and some they have imprisoned, both in the former

power’s days and since. But the Lord is just, and happy are they

that obey his word. Some have been moved to go naked in their

streets, in the other power’s days, and since, as signs of their

nakedness; and have declared amongst them “that God would strip them

of their hypocritical professions, and make them as bare and naked

as they were.” But instead of considering it, they have many times

whipped, or otherwise abused them, and sometimes imprisoned them.

Others have been moved to go in sackcloth, and to denounce the woes

and vengeance of God against the pride and haughtiness of the

people; but few regarded it. And in the other power’s days, the

wicked, envious, and professing priests, put up several petitions

both to Oliver and Richard, called protectors, and to the

parliaments, judges, and justices, against us, full of lies,

vilifying words and slanders; but we got copies of them, and,

through the Lord’s assistance, answered them all, and cleared the

Lord’s truth and ourselves of them. But O! the body of darkness that

rose against the truth in them that made lies their refuge. But the

Lord swept them away; and in and with his power, truth, light, and

life, hedged his lambs about, and preserved them as on eagles’

wings. Therefore we all had, and have great encouragement to trust

the Lord, who, we saw by his power and Spirit, overturned and

brought to naught all the confederacies and counsels that were

hatched in darkness against his truth and people; and by the same

truth gave his people dominion, that therein they might serve him.

Indeed I could not but take notice, how the hand of the Lord turned

against those persecutors, who had been the cause of my

imprisonment, or had been abusive or cruel to me in it. The officer

that fetched me to Holker-Hall wasted his estate, and soon after

fled into Ireland. And most of the justices that were upon the bench

at the sessions when I was sent to prison, died in a while after; as

old Thomas Preston, Rawlinson, Porter, and Matthew West, of Borwick.

And Justice Fleming’s wife died, and left him thirteen or fourteen

motherless children, who had imprisoned two Friends to death, and

thereby made several children fatherless. Colonel Kirby never

prospered after. The chief constable, Richard Dodgson, died soon

after, and Mount, the petty constable, and the wife of the other

petty constable John Ashburnham, who railed at me in her house, died

soon after. William Knipe, the witness they brought against me, died

soon after also. Hunter, the jailer of Lancaster, who was very

wicked to me while I was his prisoner, was cut off in his young

days: and the under-sheriff that carried me from Lancaster prison

towards Scarbro’, lived not long after. And Joblin, the jailer of

Durham, who was prisoner with me in Scarbro’ castle, and had often

incensed the governor and soldiers against me, though he got out of

prison, yet the Lord cut him off in his wickedness soon after. When

I came into that country again, most of those that dwelt in

Lancashire were dead, and others ruined in their estates; so that,

though I did not seek revenge upon them, for their actings against

me contrary to the law, yet the Lord had executed his judgments upon

many of them.

-----

Footnote 1:

Thomas Salthouse of Lancashire (but afterwards resided in the South of

England,) was born about 1630, and convinced when George Fox first

came to Swarthmore. He became an eminent minister of the gospel, for

which he suffered much. In 1655 he, and Miles Halhead, being pressed

in spirit to visit the Friends imprisoned at Plymouth, they were taken

up on suspicion of having a hand in an insurrection which broke out a

little before; and though the high Sheriff confessed he did not

believe them concerned in it, he caused them to be kept close

prisoners at Exeter for fourteen days, and then sent them from officer

to officer towards home. In going towards Bridgewater, the officer who

conducted them fell down, and lay grovelling on the ground in the

sight of many people, and was able to go no further. So they returned

to the justice to tell him what had befallen the officer, and to know

what further he would do with them. But he declined to interfere with

them again; set them at liberty, and desired the Lord to be with them.

For further particulars of Thomas Salthouse, the reader is referred to

Whiting’s _Memoirs_, p. 452-460. Whiting concludes his account by

saying, “He was a pleasant man in conversation, which rendered him

acceptable to many others as well as Friends, had a large capacity,

and an excellent gift in the ministry. He wrote some notable books,

and excellent epistles to Friends, though never collected as they

deserve. He died at his own house Cornwall in 1690, about sixty years

of age, in peace with the Lord; and is no doubt at rest with him from

all his labours and sufferings, and his works follow him.”

Footnote 2:

Near Handsworth-Woodhouse.

Footnote 3:

John Whitehead was a very eminent Minister amongst the early Friends,

valiant for the truth, and a great sufferer for it. His life and

writings have been published, to which the reader is referred. He

wrote a very beautiful and encouraging epistle to Friends, dated

Aylesbury prison, 12th month, 1660, which is inserted in _Letters,

&c., of Early Friends_, 382-387. William Penn, in his preface to

_Whitehead’s Works_, says, “He was among the most eminent for his

sound mind and capacity, great zeal and boldness, and as great

humility, patience, and labour in word, doctrine, and charity.”

Footnote 4:

Hugh Tickell was born in Cumberland, about the year 1610, being

convinced by George Fox when he first visited Cumberland in 1653, he

gave up his house for meetings, and entertained the Lord’s messengers.

He became a faithful and eminent minister, travelling up and down in

the service of the Gospel, suffering much for it, both in the spoiling

of his goods and in imprisonments. In 1664 he was cast into Carlisle

jail, with four other Friends, by priest Marshall of Crosthwaite, and

though he kept him in prison three years, yet he took tithe of his

land. But afterwards this priest fell down stairs and broke his skull,

upon which he died. Hugh Tickell was again imprisoned in Carlisle

jail, when about sixty-eight years old, by Richard Lowry, another

priest of Crosthwaite, because he could not pay him tithes, who kept

him prisoner about nine months, part of it in a cold winter, and in a

damp nasty place not fit for men to lie in. This priest Lowry was

suddenly stricken, and had the use of one side of his tongue, and his

understanding much taken from him, and so continued a long time—a

remarkable judgment.

Hugh Tickell patiently bore all his sufferings, and willingly endured

them for the testimony of Jesus and a good conscience. But in his last

imprisonment he contracted a distemper of body, which, increasing upon

him after he came home, he grew weak, but continued in great patience;

and being sensible his end drew nigh, set his house in order, and,

taking leave of friends and neighbours, he sweetly departed in great

peace in 1680, being above seventy years of age.

Footnote 5:

Of the William Wilson here alluded to, the following particulars have

been gathered:—He was a man of an innocent life, and though he had

little outward learning, God was pleased to teach him himself, and

called him to bear a testimony to his name, which he did faithfully,

not only in many parts of England, but in Germany and Scotland, which

he visited several times. He was of a lowly and meek spirit, upright

and just among his neighbours, which caused them often to submit their

differences to his arbitration, in which he was careful to find out

the real truth, and would never countenance deceit. In this service he

was successful, seldom missing his desired end, viz., to restore

peace. He was faithful in his testimony for the truth, and a sufferer

for the same in prison at Kendal, in 1666, and several times

afterwards, as well as by distress on his goods. Besides which he

suffered cruel mockings, stoning, blows, and wounds, both from priests

and people, particularly at Eskdale, where he exhorted the people “to

mind that of God in their consciences, and turn to that holy light and

law which he had put into their inward parts, that by the same they

might come to know the will of God, and do it.” Because of these and

like words, one Parker, a priest, beat and wounded him, and with one

of his crutches broke his head, causing the blood to run down his

shoulders. The priest being lame, and not able as he would to effect

his cruel purpose, caused his horse to be brought, on which he

mounted, and in the sight of the people broke his staff in three

pieces upon William Wilson’s bare head, which made them cry out

against such merciless behaviour. Before the priest got home, he was

overtaken with sickness, and never came more to the steeple-house.

During the time of his sickness he was very loathsome, and so died.

A few weeks after, William Wilson went to the same place at Eskdale,

and for speaking to the people, one Fogo, a priest, took him by the

hair of the head, pulled him to the ground, and drew him out. In rage

and cruelty he also abused his brother Michael Wilson; but a few

months after, this same Fogo, riding over some sands, accompanied by

several people, fell into a quicksand, and was immediately smothered.

William Wilson left behind him a widow and two daughters, to whom he

was a true husband and a tender father, instructing his children “to

keep in the fear of the Lord, and to walk in the way of truth, which

he walked in himself;” often saying to them, “it would be the best

portion that they could enjoy.” His last illness was short. Having

recently returned from a long journey, wherein his body was much spent

and weak, he said, “I have not served the Lord unfruitfully; I have no

trouble upon me; and I am very sensible that all is well with me.”

Again he said, “He was content, whatsoever way the Lord pleased; he

felt as a dove, harmless; and as a lamb, innocent.” A few hours before

he died, at which time he walked several times over the room, he said,

as he had often before, “My peace far exceeds my pain;” and standing

upon his feet before two Friends, he said, “O that every one would

mind the Lord, that they might keep life.” He then sat down and drew

breath no more.

He died at his own house at Langdale, the 10th of the 5th month, 1682.

Footnote 6:

We cannot be surprised at the hard language sometimes used by the

early Friends in protesting against the unchristian conduct of their

persecutors. The rapacity of their enemies in the early periods of the

Society carried their plunder to so great an excess, as not only to

involve many in total ruin, but subjected them to long and cruel

imprisonments, which, in many cases of particular hardship, terminated

in death. It has already been stated that at one time there were 4,500

Quakers in prison in England and Wales at one time. In 1662, twenty

died in different prisons in London, and seven more after their

liberation, from ill treatment. In 1664, twenty-five died, and in

1665, fifty-two more. The number which perished in this way,

throughout the whole kingdom, amounted to 369. But for fuller

particulars of the cruelties practised against the early Quakers, the

reader is referred to the two closely printed folio volumes, entitled

_Besse’s Sufferings_.

Footnote 7:

The word Sirrah must not be confounded with Sir. It was no doubt

made use of strictly in the sense of the only meaning Walker gives

to it in his _Dictionary_, viz., “A compellation of reproach and

insult.”

Footnote 8:

Of Thomas Robertson not much is known, but he appears to have been a

faithful labourer in his day. Ambrose Rigge, in the _Account of his

Life_, states. “A fellow-labourer was prepared for me, which was

Thomas Robertson of Westmorland; who was made willing to leave his

dear wife and tender babes, to go with me into the Lord’s harvest.” In

_Letters, &c., of Early Friends_, p. 226, is a letter from Thomas

Robertson to Margaret Fell, under date 1655.

Footnote 9:

The person whom George Fox here and elsewhere styles Esquire Marsh,

was a gentleman attached to the court of Charles II. He always

remained attached to George Fox, and ever retained a most friendly

interest for the Society in general. From his station at court and

office as a magistrate, he had frequent opportunities of interposing

his authority to protect the early Friends from the unjust oppression

of their persecutors.

Footnote 10:

The sickness here alluded to was the “Plague,” which visited London in

1665. The state of the city during this dreadful visitation seems to

have been most deplorable. The following striking description is from

_Ellis’s Original Letters in the British Museum_. The letter is one

addressed to Dr. Sancroft from J. Tillison, dated Sept. 14, 1665:—

“The desolation of the city is very great. That heart is either of

steel or stone, that will not lament this sad visitation, and will not

bleed for those unutterable woes! What eye would not weep to see so

many habitations uninhabited—the poor sick not visited—the hungry not

fed—the grave not satisfied! Death stares us continually in the face

in every infected person that passes by us, in every coffin which is

daily and hourly carried along the streets. The custom was in the

beginning to bury the dead in the night only; but now both night and

day will hardly be time enough to do it. The Quakers (as we are

informed) have buried, in their piece of ground, a thousand for some

weeks together past.”

George Whitehead relates the satisfaction and comfort many innocent

Friends expressed on their deathbeds, both in Newgate and other

noisome places during the plague. Death was truly gain to these: “it

being through death,” says Whitehead, “that the Lord had appointed the

final deliverance of many from the cruelties and rod of the

oppressors, and from the miseries and evil to come.”—“Whilst the

plague was raging in the city,” he adds, “our persecutors took

fifty-five of our Friends (men and women) out of Newgate, where the

distemper also prevailed, and forced them on board a ship for

banishment, which lay for some time in the river. They were so crowded

on board, and the distemper breaking out amongst them, most of them

were infected, and twenty-seven of them soon died. I visited them, and

had a meeting with them on board, and the Lord my God preserved me,

both from the distemper and also from banishment, wherein I did humbly

confess his power and special providence to his own praise and glory.”

Footnote 11:

See extraordinary occurrences in an attempt to banish a number of

Friends recorded in a note in _Letters, &c., of Early Friends_, p.

142-145.

Footnote 12:

Ellis Hookes was employed in London as a recording clerk to the

Society of Friends. It was he who commenced the _Record of

Sufferings_ (mentioned to George Fox in a letter bearing date

1660, inserted in _Letters, &c., of Early Friends_, p. 86, 87),

which were written out into large folio volumes, still preserved

among the Society’s records in London. These are continued down to

the present day in forty or more of these large volumes. The clear

and excellent writing of Ellis Hookes extends over a large portion

of the first of these bulky folios. To the narratives of

sufferings and persecutions, were added accounts of what were

regarded as judgments upon persecutors; which were, doubtless in

that day, ordered to be recorded, under a sense of the fear of

God, and in testimony unto his overruling power.

Ellis Hookes died in 1681. In the London _Register of Burials_, he

is described “of Horslydown in Southwark, scrivenor;” and “died

the 12th of the 9th month, 1681, of a consumption (having been

clerk to Friends in London about twenty-four years)—he was buried

in Checker Alley.”

Footnote 13:

The great fire of London occurred towards the latter end of 1666.

The narratives given in the Diaries of Evelyn and Pepys, who were

eye-witnesses of it, are sad indeed. Evelyn writes—“Sept. 3. The

fire continued all this night (if I may call that night, which was

light as day for ten miles about), after a dreadful manner—when

conspiring with a fierce eastern wind, in a very dry season. I

went on foot to the Bankside in Southwark, and saw the whole south

part of the city burning from Cheapside to the Thames, and all

along Cornhill, Tower Street, Gracious Street, and so along to

Bainard’s Castle, and was now taking hold of St. Paul’s Church.

The conflagration was so universal, and the people so astonished,

that from the beginning (I know not by what despondency or fate)

they hardly stirred to quench it; so that there was nothing heard

or seen but crying out and lamentation, and running about like

distracted creatures. O! the miserable and calamitous spectacle!

such as happily the world had not seen the like since the

foundation of it, nor to be outdone till the universal

conflagration. All the sky was of a fiery aspect, like the top of

a burning oven, the light [being] seen above forty miles round

about for many nights. The poor inhabitants were dispersed about

St. George’s Fields and Moorfields, as far as Highgate, and

several miles in circle—some under tents, some under miserable

huts and hovels, many without a rag or necessary utensils, bed or

board; who, from delicateness, riches, or easy accommodations in

stately and well-furnished houses, were now reduced to extremest

misery and poverty,” &c., vol. i. p. 372-374.