ONE SUNDAY MORNING.
THE exemplary punishment dealt out to the unfortunate martyr Westland
seemed to satisfy the authorities for some time, or it might have been
that their failure to silence Sir William Penn in spite of fines and
imprisonment, made them pause to consider before taking up another
crusade of persecution.
Sir William Penn was son of the Lord High Admiral of England, who had
recently died, leaving his son a considerable fortune, as well as
claims upon the government for money lent to them by the old admiral.
But while a student at Oxford, Master William Penn, his son, had
embraced Quakerism, and been expelled for preaching and teaching
it. His father was very angry, and threatened to disown him for his
connection with such a disgraceful set of people, but afterwards sent
him to travel on the Continent, in the hope that he would forget what
the old admiral thought was the wildest vagary.
But after two years of travel young Penn came home a confirmed Quaker,
and very soon was sent to the Tower for writing a pamphlet he called
"The Sandy Foundation Shaken," which was specially directed against the
Church of England. During his eight months' imprisonment, he wrote "No
Cross No Crown," and several others, which he published as soon as he
was released.
Then he began preaching again, and was again arrested. But the
indomitable young Quaker had won for himself the regard of the citizens
of London, and the jury refused to convict him upon the evidence
brought forward, and were themselves fined for their refusal.
Master Drayton had been one of these, and it had strained his resources
to make up this money; but he felt amply compensated by the friendship
that arose out of this between him and the ardent young champion of
their despised sect.
When Audrey Lowe had gone home, and the children had been put to bed,
Dame Drayton told her husband the errand her niece had come upon.
"The 'prentice lads suspect we are Quakers, and Sim Tompkins has told
his mother about it. What wilt thou do, my husband?" she asked.
"Nay, what can we do but put our trust in the Lord?"
"But thou wilt be careful, Gilbert, for the children's sake?"
"Careful, dear heart? It is not to be feared that I shall publish
abroad that I am a Quaker; but, as thou sayest, too many suspect it,
I fear, and I have been pondering on a thought that came to me to-day
when thinking of Westland and his wife. He will doubtless be sent out
to the plantations of America by the next cargo of convicts, and when
he can save money enough to pay for the passage of his wife, she will
be allowed to join him in his exile. Now, our young champion, Sir
William Penn, is rich, and moreover the government is deeply indebted
to him for moneys lent by his father, and which he hath small hope of
regaining, for the king is too extravagant ever to pay his debts. But
if he hath little money to spare, he hath many waste lands out in the
plantations of America, and he might be induced to sell some to our
friend Penn in part payment of his debt. On this land some of us might
go and settle, even as the Independents did in the reign of the first
Charles, for America is wide and free, and there we might serve God
even as the divine voice should guide and direct us, and none could
make us afraid."
"That were a blessing indeed," said Dame Drayton, but with a sigh, for
the prospect of leaving her native land and her beloved London was a
painful thought to her. "Oh that we could have this blessed freedom in
England!" she said, clasping her hands, while the tears slowly filled
her eyes.
"Nay, nay, dame, thou hast naught to fret over, I trow," said her
husband, in some surprise to see his wife in tears.
"It was not of myself I was thinking, but of Annie Lowe, my sister.
Audrey hath let me know—without herself understanding—that the way they
thought would be soft to their feet hath been strewn with thorns; none
the less sharp are they, I trow, because they have to be covered from
the world."
"Now thou art speaking in parables, Martha. I thought the vicar was
well content to abide in the church that could nourish him."
"It may afford nourishment for the body, but to sign the Act of
Uniformity, whereby Parson Lowe and many another gave up the right to
serve and worship God as the inner voice would fain lead them, could
but be starvation for the soul. I felt sure it would come to this with
Annie and her husband, and that she would one day wish she had been
among those who were ejected for the truth's sake."
"But—but I thought Annie sent to warn thee of the danger thou wert in
through Sim chattering to his mother of what had been spoken here?"
"Yea, she hath grown timid because she hath chosen the path of the
coward, until now she hath become timid at a shadow, for she fears that
if I walk not warily, men may even accuse her of being a Quaker. Dear
Annie! she hath always been feeble and timorous, and the times are hard
to endure for such. The child Audrey is different from either mother or
father, and so it is for her sake as well as Annie's I long and pray
that all in England may have freedom to worship God even as they will,
without let or hindrance from king or parliament."
But Master Drayton shook his head.
"That were a vain wish, dear heart; but a tract of country might surely
be granted in America, where Quakers could dwell in peace, and another
where Independents might rule themselves in matters of religion, for it
hath been proved that they cannot abide in peace together. I will talk
to Friend Penn of the thought that hath come to me, and it may be he
will have sonic light given to guide him in this matter, for to provide
a refuge for the Lord's persecuted people will surely be a true way of
devoting the wealth he hath inherited to the service of the Lord, which
he is fully purposed to do."
It was evident to Dame Drayton that her husband feared trouble was
thickening around them, or he would not have spoken in this way, and it
must be confessed that life was indeed hard, when each time he went out
she knew not whether he would return, or whether some friend might not
come to tell her he had been arrested and carried off to Bridewell to
await the meeting of the court where his case would be heard.
But Master Drayton went in and out of Soper Lane without interference,
and for the next few weeks nothing was heard of the Quakers being
molested, so that at last the lady began to breathe more freely again;
other Quakers also took courage, and from meeting in their own or at
each other's houses for worship, ventured to open once more the little
meeting-house which was situated in an alley in Gracechurch Street.
The closing of this had been a great deprivation to many, but Dame
Drayton had never wholly given up attending the church of All Hallow's,
close to her home, for it was here she first learned to know God as
her Father and Friend, and here she could still hold communication
with Him, even through the prayers which were such a stumbling-block
to many sincere and earnest souls at this time. To her sister they
were little else than chains and fetters, galling instead of helping
her soul to rise as upon the rungs of a ladder to the very bosom of
the Father. This was what the service of the Church of England was to
Dame Drayton; but sometimes there were other seasons when nothing but
the solemn silence of their own meeting-house would satisfy her soul's
need. Yet so that she was fed with the bread of heaven, what did it
matter whether it was words or the absence of words, so long as the
still small voice of God spoke in her soul, and made itself heard above
her fears or the clamour of the world?
To Master Drayton, however, the church but ill supplied the quiet
meeting-house, and so he sat at home and read the Bible or some of the
pamphlets written by Barclay, Fox, or Penn, in defence of their faith,
and to him the opening of the meeting-house once more was a source of
great comfort and rejoicing.
He was the more glad, too, when he saw Sir William Penn among the
worshippers, for he doubted not the Spirit of God would move him to
speak a word of comfort and encouragement to many who were weary and
heavy laden with fear and apprehension. Only a few of the bravest among
the Quaker community had ventured to attend this first meeting, but as
it was uninterrupted by the authorities, the next time the doors were
open many more would attend, there was little doubt.
During this time Bessie Westland had taken up an occupation that no one
would have thought likely to attract her. A day or two after she came
to Soper Lane she asked to be allowed to work at hat-making like one of
the boy apprentices.
Dame Drayton looked rather horrified at the proposal, but Bessie said—
"I ought to do something to help to pay what we shall cost you, and if
I learn this hat-making now, I may be able to earn some money to help
mother and father in the new country." For to comfort her, Dame Drayton
had told her that a way would doubtless be opened for her and her
sisters to go to the plantations when her mother went.
So with this hope to spur her, Bessie took up the task of pasting and
sewing, doing all the lighter portions of the work required in the
manufacture of a hat, Master Drayton taking care that there was no
opportunity for the apprentices to talk to or interfere with her.
To his surprise the girl proved a far more apt pupil than any boy he
had ever had, and the same energy and enthusiasm that made her father
a most aggressive Quaker, being turned into this channel by the force
of circumstances, in Bessie showed itself in a marvellous quickness and
dexterity in doing all the lighter part of hat-making; and the girl
grew more content as the weeks went on.
Dame Drayton, however, did not know what to think of a girl taking up
what had always been considered boys' work. She would fain have kept
Bessie among the children or helping Deborah occasionally with the
bread-making and cooking, but as the girl certainly seemed happier now
that she had secured some constant employment, she could only think
this must be best for Bessie, however strange it might be to her.
She told her husband, however, that Bessie puzzled her. She could not
understand the girl wanting to do boys' work when she and Deb were
ready to teach her all sorts of womanly handiwork.
"Thou and I must trust it is the Lord's will she should do this,
for she hath certainly most deft and useful fingers, and a quick
understanding for all kinds of hat-work. Quick and thorough is she, so
that her work can be relied upon already, and I should sorely miss the
wench now from my side."
Things were in this position when the winter set in, and the Quakers,
having met with no disturbance from the authorities, gathered at their
meeting-house each First Day—as they chose to call Sunday.
Of course Bessie was most regular in her attendance; but Dame Drayton
did not always go with her husband and Bessie, preferring to take some
of the children to All Hallow's Church, which was close to her home.
One Sunday, however, Bessie was suffering from a bad cold, and wholly
unfit to go out in the bleak drizzling rain that was falling, and
so her friends insisted that she should remain in bed. Dame Drayton
decided to go to the meeting-house with her husband, for there was
to be a gathering of the Friends afterwards, to hear something more
concerning the plan for founding a Quaker colony across the seas.
But, alas! that meeting was never held, for the Lord Mayor had ordered
that the place should be watched, and as soon as the Friends were all
assembled, the doors were forced open by a party of men-at-arms, and
after a little parleying with those who kept the door, the Quakers were
informed they might consider themselves under arrest, and until their
names were taken none were allowed to leave the building.
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When this business had been got through by the officer in charge,
some half-dozen names were read out as being the ringleaders in this
seditious gathering, and among them were those of Master Drayton and
his wife.
For a minute the heart of the poor woman seemed turned to stone, and
her thoughts instantly flew to the children at home,—her own and those
who had been practically orphaned by the rigour of the law,—and she
covered her face with her hands in the agony of her anxiety.
The halberdier who had been placed in charge of her, so far respected
her grief that he did not disturb her until he was compelled by the
officer to lead her out in the rear of some half-dozen others who were
being conducted to Newgate.
It was a pitiful sight. No resistance had been made by the unoffending
people, for it was one of the rules of their Society that they should
submit meekly to whatever outrage was perpetrated upon them, and so
Dame Drayton, comforted now by the thought that God would surely
protect her darlings, walked through the wet muddy streets behind her
husband. When they reached Newgate they were thrust into the common
prison, where thieves and drunkards were making the place a very hell
by their oaths and ribald songs.
The little company of Quakers sat down in one corner by themselves, and
for a time could only listen with shivering horror to what was going on
around them. But, hardened as most of this crowd were, Dame Drayton's
sympathy was soon awakened by the appearance of a young girl with a
baby in her arms, and leaving her husband's side, she went and sat down
by the girl to say a few words of comfort to her. From speaking to one,
she grew courageous enough to speak to others, and thus helped to pass
the long weary hours of that dreadful day.
On Monday morning they were taken before the Lord Mayor, and charged
with opening premises for seditious meetings, that had previously
been closed by order of the court. Master Drayton was one of the four
trustees holding the premises, and moreover he was known to be one
of the jury who had refused to convict Penn some time before; which
circumstance was brought forward against him, as proving him to be
an obstinate Quaker, who richly deserved to lose his ears and be
transported beyond the seas.
The court, however, sentenced him to six months' imprisonment, but
released his wife, when it was pleaded that she was a regular attendant
at her parish church, and was only guilty to the extent of having
married a Quaker.
It was an intense relief to Master Drayton when he heard that his wife
was not to be sent to prison. He could bear the hardship of this far
better if he knew that she was safe at home, though how they were to
live through the winter while he was in prison he did not know. Three
others besides himself had been sentenced to the same punishment, and
they would be a helpless burden on the hands of their friends all
the time they were in prison; for, although the authorities provided
a building in which they should be detained, prisoners had to pay
gaolers' fees and maintain themselves, or they had to be kept out of
the contributions of the charitable. At every prison door in those days
was a box fixed with this notice above it, "Pity the prisoners"; and
upon the pence dropped into this the destitute among them had to depend
for their daily bread. If the weather was bad and the passengers few,
the prisoners often grew savage with hunger, and stole from those whose
friends could afford to provide them with victuals.
Of course the Quaker community never allowed any of its members who
were imprisoned for conscience sake to become chargeable to the charity
fund of the prison, though being for the most part poor themselves,
they felt the increasing burden thrown upon them by the imprisonment of
their brethren with great severity.
Dame Drayton knew this, and she resolved to try and supply her
husband's needs herself, though how it was to be accomplished she did
not know; but she trusted that her Father in heaven would supply the
want somehow.
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