THREE
APOSTLES OF QUAKERISM,
POPULAR SKETCHES OF
FOX, PENN AND BARCLAY,
By B. RHODES,
Author of "JOHN BRIGHT, Statesman and Orator," &c.
WITH INTRODUCTION BY J. STOUGHTON, D.D.,
AUTHOR OF "ECCLESIASTICAL HISTORY OF ENGLAND,"
"LIFE OF WILLIAM PENN," &C., &C.
* * * * *
"They pleaded only for broad, unfettered, spiritual
Christianity."--_J. J. Gurney. Memoirs, vol. ii, p. 27._
* * * * *
PHILADELPHIA:
HENRY LONGSTRETH,
NO. 723 SANSOM STREET.
1886.
INTRODUCTION.
I have been requested by the Author of this Volume to write a few
introductory lines; with that request I cheerfully comply. Having read
the proof sheets, I can testify to the diligence, care, and ability,
with which the work has been executed. The perusal has been to me very
interesting and very pleasant; and I have felt much satisfaction at
finding that the historical conclusions here presented are, in general,
coincident with my own.
It might be supposed that a book of this limited size, and intended for
popular circulation, would be based chiefly, if not entirely, on the
larger and best known biographies and histories relative to the men and
the period described. But this is by no means the case. I find in these
pages numerous signs of original research, and abundant evidence that
the writer has formed an independent judgment of the questions coming
before him in his enquiries. He has had access to some unpublished
correspondence, of which he has made good use. Fourteen letters, not
printed before, are laid under contribution, and they add much to the
value of the volume.
Mr. Rhodes has evidently much sympathy with the life and labours of
the early Quakers; and not being a member of that Society, he is free
to judge impartially of certain points in their singular history. That
judgment he has wisely exercised. I am fully persuaded in my own mind
that Quakerism was a salutary reaction against the formalities, and the
hard theological systematising of the age; that it called attention
to forgotten truths; and that its excitements, though clouded by some
smoke, yet burnt with fire from heaven; also I quite concur with the
writer in thinking that the Society of Friends have still a place for
good amongst religious agencies at work in this nineteenth century. May
they have grace successfully to accomplish their mission!
I may add, that whilst all three of these biographical sketches are
valuable contributions to our ecclesiastical literature, the last,
which treats of Robert Barclay, is the fullest, most original, and best
of all.
JOHN STOUGHTON.
PREFACE.
The demand of this busy age is for small books, containing the pith and
marrow of important subjects. As regards my subject, I have endeavoured
to meet this demand. I hope that the volume supplies at once sketches
of three leaders in early Quaker history, and an informal manual of the
rise and tenets of the Society.
A few years ago, I was led to re-examine the journal of George Fox,
and I was surprised to find him an evangelist of a rare order, with a
heart burning and throbbing with pity for sinners and with zeal for
the Master. His ardent nature was laid hold of by the gospel in its
fulness, and the result was a spirituality at once delicate and strong.
The same features attracted me in William Penn. He also had many of
the gifts of the evangelist. He could collect and hold a crowd almost
as well as Fox, and preach them as full a gospel. If other schemes had
not claimed so large a share of his life, I think he might have done an
evangelistic work equal to that done by George Fox.
Robert Barclay deserves to be highly honoured as one who truly devoted
his all to Christ. And he had much to devote--an honoured name and
titled connections, rare intellectual gifts and great acquirements,
social position and wealth. Yet if I understand his life aright, there
was no half-heartedness in his decision. But I miss in him that glowing
and vigorous assertion of gospel truths which delights us in the pages
of Fox and Penn. The pungent and arousing appeals which stud like gems
the writings of his two brethren are not to be found in his pages.
Silent waiting on God is urged, entire self-surrender to God on the
part of the Christian is insisted on with great earnestness. But the
reader will look in vain, even in passages which seem to invite them,
for earnest calls to repentance or to diligent service of the gospel of
Christ.
The Quakerism of the eighteenth century followed Barclay. The work
of Fox was dropped. No one continued his vigorous aggression, but
repression of activity was advocated openly. To this I venture to trace
the decline of the Society in those days. In the Quakerism of to-day, I
think I see Fox's spirit, and I would fain help the healthy reaction,
however feebly, by these sketches. I hope they will also introduce to
some Christians of other denominations three beautiful examples of
spiritual-mindedness.
In the preparation of the sketches of Penn and Barclay, I have had
access to numerous unpublished letters in the keeping of a member of
the Barclay family. For these I desire to express my warmest thanks. I
have used them sparingly. A list of those from which I give extracts
will be found on the next page. To the best of my knowledge these
extracts have not been printed before.
It is not probable that I shall continue the series of sketches to
which this trio forms an appropriate introduction. But I am glad thus
to acknowledge my indebtedness to a Society to which I owe more than I
can ever repay. None of its members long more fervently than I do that
the spirit and labours of its first days may distinguish it again.
Batheaston,
near Bath.
LIST OF LETTERS
(HITHERTO UNPUBLISHED).
_From which extracts are given in this volume._
_From_ Geo. Fox to Robert Barclay, dated 16. X. 1675,
quoted pp. 84, 113
" Geo. Keith to R. Barclay, 12. III. 1676 54, 114
" D. Barclay to R. Barclay do. 113
" R. Barclay to the Princess Elizabeth, 6. VII. 1676 121
" the Princess Elizabeth to R. Barclay, Dec. 1, 1676 122
Do. do. Mar. 1, 1677 126
Do. do. July 6, 1677 126
" R. Barclay to the Princess Elizabeth, 6. V. 1679 127
" the Duke of York to R. Barclay, June 27th, 1680 131
" Geo. Fox to R. Barclay, 31. IV. 1680 129
" Christian Barclay to Friends in Aberdeen, 15. VI. 1693 95
" Wm. Penn to R. Barclay, junr., 7. XII. 1694 71
" Hy. Gouldney to R. Barclay, junr., 28. XII. 1694 70
" Sir D. Dalrymple to R. Barclay, junr., July 4th, 1710 76
* * * * *
R. Barclay's "Vindication" quoted pp. 91, 120, 137, 138.
GEORGE FOX,
THE
FIRST OF THE QUAKERS.
"This man, the first of the Quakers, and by trade a
Shoemaker, was one of those to whom, under ruder or purer
form, the Divine Idea of the Universe is pleaded to manifest
itself."--_Carlyle._
"That nothing may be between you and God, but
Christ."--_George Fox._
PREFACE TO THE FIRST EDITION.
The Author has long believed that a popular sketch of the Life and Work
of George Fox was wanted. His noble labours in the Gospel, and the
many excellences of his character are not known as they deserve to be.
The story of his life is full of dramatic interest, and the author has
endeavoured to tell it with sympathy and yet with faithfulness.
Too few outside the Society of Friends are aware of the great and
happy change which has lately come over it. The cramping influence
of custom and precedent is yielding to the free spirit which first
made the Society a power. In the present remodelling of its "Practice
and Discipline," the study of its early days is of great importance.
And for a fervent and constraining piety, for free and large-hearted
devotion to "the truth" wherever it leads, few men are more worthy of
study and imitation at the present day than George Fox.
Should this effort prove a success, companion sketches of Penn and
Barclay will shortly follow.
The Manse,
Batheaston, near Bath;
_September, 1883_.
PREFACE TO THE PRESENT EDITION.
That "a popular sketch of the Life and Work of George Fox was wanted,"
was proved by the sale of 1500 copies of this pamphlet within six
months of its publication. The opinions expressed by competent judges
made me feel that I had not laboured in vain. Ministers of various
denominations wrote to thank me, and to confess that they had not
understood George Fox before.
This Second Edition contains little that is new, but in the sketch of
Barclay will be found several extracts from Fox's letters hitherto
unpublished.
GEORGE FOX,
THE
FIRST OF THE QUAKERS.
The Protestant Reformation was at once a revolt against the claims of
Popery, and an assertion of the authority of the New Testament. In
neither particular did it satisfy the early Quakers. In their opinion
it retained some remnants of Popery to its great disfigurement, whilst
it was timid and halting in its acceptance of some of the teachings of
the Christian dispensation. They regarded it as their work to reject
the forms and ceremonies and "priestly pretentions" that had been
retained, in order to reproduce the spiritual worship and simple church
life of the apostolic days. Especially they believed themselves raised
up to assert the living presence of Christ with his church by his Holy
Spirit. They protested that feeble life, however orthodox its creed,
was as dishonouring to Christ, and as unworthy of these days of the
large outpouring of the Holy Ghost, as was formalism itself. The first
and chief exponent of these views was George Fox.
George Fox was born at Fenny Drayton, in Leicestershire, in 1624. His
parents were pious members of the Church of England, and he tells with
satisfaction that his father was generally denominated "righteous
Christer," whilst his mother sprung from "the stock of the Martyrs."
His religious life seems to have commenced almost in infancy. His
childhood and youth were marked by a sober bearing, a precocious
thoughtfulness, and a love of solitude, which made many notice him;
and it was proposed to make him a clergyman. Accordingly, Nathaniel
Stevens, the parish priest, seems to have regarded him hopefully, until
his deepening experience made the youth aware how blind his guide was,
when the former friend became a bitter persecutor. But as some of
George's friends objected to his entering the church, he became, in the
mingling of businesses so common in that day, shoemaker and shepherd,
excelling in the latter contemplative employment, which his friend,
William Penn, regards as a fit emblem of his future work. Though he had
received only the plainest English education, yet the keen cravings
of his strong mind, together with his earnest Bible-reading and much
careful thought, soon made him at home in Christian truth, the great
topic of conversation and theme of discussion in that age. A noble,
severe truthfulness foreshadowed his future teachings, and indicated
the stamp of the man. It "kept him to yea and nay," refusing all
asseveration or other strengthening of his statements, excepting his
favourite "verily." But people remarked that if George said "verily" it
was impossible to move him. His own strict and pure life made him feel
keenly the poor living of some who made great professions.
But his great preparation for his future work was soon to begin. In his
20th year, his soul began to be racked with conflicts, the nature and
source of which he could not understand. This crisis in Fox's history
is generally spoken of as his conversion. In some respects it resembles
more the deepening and intensifying of a life which already existed.
His spiritual nature was waking up to vigorous life. The slight and
ill-grasped views which had satisfied the boy did not satisfy the man.
They seemed to give no real and sufficient answer to his questionings.
He wanted to understand the meaning of life, the plans of God, and
his own part in them. In religion he felt that there should be the
clearest and strongest mental grasp, insight into the very heart and
core of things. He had only seen as in a mist. Where was the seer that
could show, by his apt and living words and his accent of conviction,
that the veil had been lifted up for him, and that he had verily seen
the Shekinah? To such a one he would listen reverently if he could find
him; all others seemed mere triflers to his earnest mood. Then again,
if God was a real Father, he felt that real and close relations with
him must be possible, but he sadly owned that he did not enjoy those
relations, and asked himself and others "Why am I thus?" He began to
look facts intently in the face, to find out their meaning. He looked
at himself and saw only sin; he looked into the professing church, and
even there saw the same sad sight. It made him ask, was the gospel a
mistake and Christ powerless? Or was he worse than others that his soul
should be in such darkness and distress? Was he worse than in former
days when he enjoyed comfort, and when the Lord shewed him some of his
truth? Had he sinned too deeply to be allowed to enjoy peace? Had he
sinned against the Holy Ghost?
In his anguish, like a good churchman he went to his vicar, and asked
him to explain his condition to him, but he could not. Then he sought
other clergymen, who had a name for strict living or wisdom, but they
could give him no help, though he went as far as London in the quest.
Some of the advice which he received, he mentions with a pity that is
keener than the severest sarcasm. One bade him sing psalms and chew
tobacco; another wished to bleed him, but his large frame had been
brought into such a condition by his distress, that no drop of blood
would flow from him. Such blindness was not peculiar to the clergy. His
friends proposed to relieve his sorrows by excitement, and by diverting
his attention. Some recommended him to marry, but he sadly replied
he was but a lad and must gain wisdom. Others would have him enlist
and seek diversion in the exciting events of the civil war; but says
Marsden, the historian of the Puritans, "though the bravest man in
England, perhaps, if moral courage is bravery, he detested the business
of the soldier. Far other thoughts possessed his mind. He had been
religiously educated by Puritan parents of the Church of England, and
he was now awaking to the consideration of his eternal state."
Meanwhile he fasted often and searched the Scriptures with desperate
earnestness. He wandered in solitary places, and spent hours in the
trunks of hollow trees in meditation and prayer. Disappointed in the
clergy, he turned to the dissenters with no better success. Evidently
the thing was of God, for he missed men like Baxter, who could have
given him at least good counsel and Christian sympathy. Fox was for
some time in Coventry, in 1643, when Baxter was preaching there, one
part of the day to the garrison, and the other to the civilians.
But possibly if they had met, Baxter's hatred of heresy might have
overborne his charity, and obscured his spiritual vision, and he
might have branded Fox as a heretic, just as he afterwards dubbed his
followers "malignants."[1]
[1] A similar experience is to be found in the unpublished memoir
of that pious and accomplished Quakeress, Miss P. H. Gurney, p. 43.
"I was painfully struck with the want of any sign of true devotion
or spiritual mindedness in the several congregations I attended in
London, both in preachers and hearers. Had I gone, as I once felt some
inclination to do, to that called St. Mary Woolnoth, (Jno. Newton's) I
might have found an exception to this description; but being accidently
prevented, I have sometimes thought it was in the ordering of
Providence that whatever of spiritual religion was then circulating in
the national church, I was not permitted to find it, though I sought it
with the most earnest desire of success." Miss Gurney took these facts
as a proof that God intended that she should turn Quakeress; but surely
the true explanation of these providences is that God will have us look
to Him, and not rest unduly on any man or human system. He spoils our
idols that we may worship only Him.
Every experienced pastor must have met with such cases. Until God
satisfies the soul the words of men are vain; when His hour has come,
the truth which brings light and peace is often one that has been
explained and urged before. George Fox had to learn that it is God's
work to enlighten, that there is still to be enjoyed a real guidance
of the Holy Spirit, resulting in the solution of difficulties and
mysteries, in a clear apprehension of the truth, and a soul-satisfying
sense of its power. And if the lesson was slowly and hardly learnt, it
resulted in a clearer insight into the truth, and more fitness to deal
with other tried souls.
At times during these days of trial the dark clouds broke, and for a
time the sun shone through. But until he learnt that Christ was to
be his Teacher and Comforter, it was but for a time. It was a short
respite to gather strength, a brief foreshadowing of the coming joy.
Hear his touching thanksgiving for the goodness that did not break
the bruised reed. "As I cannot declare the misery I was in, it was so
great and heavy upon me, so neither can I set forth the mercies of
God to me in my misery. Oh! the everlasting love of God to my soul
when I was in distress. When my torments and troubles were great, then
was His love exceeding great. Thou, Lord, makest the fruitful field a
wilderness, and a barren wilderness a fruitful field. Thou bringest
down and settest up. Thou killest and makest alive. All honour and
glory be to Thee, O Lord of Glory. The knowledge of Thee in the Spirit
is life." But the clouds finally passed away, and abiding sunshine
settled on him, when Christ revealed Himself to him as the Great
Physician, for whom he had been longing so earnestly. His troubles had
lasted three years, and, no doubt, had been aggravated by his morbid
fears and mistaken loneliness. But through life his nature was keenly
susceptible; for example, the sins of the nation at the Restoration
made him blind and seriously ill with grief, in spite of active work
and much society. No wonder then that his anguish wore him out at the
time when his soul was in the dark, and when that which appeared to him
alone worth living for seemed denied him. But now that he was weaned
from trusting in an arm of flesh, came the time of divine deliverance.
"When all my hopes in them (the dissenters) and in all men were gone,
so that I had nothing outwardly to help me, nor could I tell what to
do, then, O! then, I heard a voice which said, 'There is one, even
Jesus Christ, that can speak to thy condition,' and when I heard it my
heart did leap for joy. Then the Lord did let me see why there was none
upon the earth that could speak to my condition, namely, that I might
give him all the glory. For all are concluded in sin and shut up in
unbelief as I had been, that Jesus Christ might have the pre-eminence,
who enlightens and gives grace, faith, and power. Thus when God doth
work who shall let it? And this I knew experimentally. My desires after
the Lord grew stronger, and zeal in the pure knowledge of God and of
Christ alone, without the aid of any man, book, or writing. For though
I read the Scriptures that spake of Christ and of God, yet I knew Him
not but by revelation, as He who hath the key did open, and as the
Father of Life drew me to His Son by His Spirit."
This discovery was to Fox what the unfolding of the great doctrine of
justification by faith was to Luther. It was not only the commencement
of a new life, it was the theme of his life-long ministry, and the
special message which he was raised up to deliver to the world. In
neither case was there the revelation of a new truth, only an old truth
was to be emphasized, and to take its right place in the minds and
hearts of men.
To this grand truth, that Christ is still with us to guide us by His
Holy Spirit into all truth, Fox henceforth trusted to clear up all
doubts, and to unfold all truths, and to explain the Holy Scriptures.
So in our day has Mr. Moody set forth prayer as the all-sufficient
practical commentator on the Bible. Henceforth, Fox expected Divine
prompting to every service and Divine guidance in its performance,
and without these he would not move. He had already been convinced
of several points afterwards prominent in Quakerism, especially that
no place or building can properly be called "holy ground," and that
a University training was not a sufficient qualification for the
ministry. As to the last point, just as the modern Quaker apostle,
Stephen Grellet, said he could no more make a sermon than he could make
a world, so did Fox protest against a man-made minister. As he was
ever the enlightened and persistent advocate of sound education, this
contention must not be mistaken for a contempt of human learning in its
right place. It was but an emphatic assertion that the only availing
spiritual knowledge comes not through human teaching but through the
teaching of the Holy Spirit; and that, on the other hand, where He
calls a man to the office of the ministry, the absence of a scholastic
training was an utterly insufficient reason for interfering with the
call. The abundant blessing which attended the preaching of Fox, Bunyan
and other "unlearned and ignorant men," gave emphasis to this doctrine
in that age. To these views the other Quaker "testimonies" were
speedily added, and soon the whole scheme of doctrine was complete in
his mind.
Two points must here be insisted upon:--1st, neither George Fox nor any
of the early Friends, though their language is sometimes hazy, ever
claimed to be inspired. Says a recent authority, [Fielden Thorp, B. A.,
in the Friends' Quarterly Examiner for April, 1870,] "It has often been
a cause of satisfaction to us that nowhere in the authorised documents
of our society is the word (inspiration) applied to the ministry of
Friends." Secondly, notice that Fox was most careful to note how his
convictions corresponded with Holy Scripture. So he says, "When I
had openings they answered one another, and answered the Scriptures,
for I had great openings of the Scriptures."[2] Whilst, then, the
fallibility of the ministry is acknowledged, and the infallibility of
the Bible asserted, surely the doctrine of the Divine Guidance is not
perverted through insufficient safeguards. But we are not prepared
in all points to defend Fox's application of the doctrine. Possibly
he sometimes mistook the workings of his own mind for the promptings
of the Holy Spirit. Nor are his theology and his interpretations of
Scripture beyond criticism. His ideas on the Divine In-dwelling took
the form of the famous doctrine of the Seed or Light within. But though
the teaching and guidance of the Holy Spirit are taught by Friends as
distinctly as ever, it is questionable whether the doctrine of the
Light within _in the precise form in which Fox preached it, and Barclay
developed it theologically_, has obtained the general acceptance
of the Society. It certainly is not to be found in its authorised
publications, such as the official "Doctrine, Practice and Discipline."
It speaks well for the independence of thought in the society, that the
pet-child of its great leaders should be abandoned when it failed to
secure their conscientious assent.[3]
[2] The following passage from an American life of George Fox, coming
from a reliable Quaker source, corroborates this assertion. Speaking
of the early Friends the writer says:--"Their belief in a divine
communication between the soul of man and its Almighty Creator, through
the medium of the Holy Spirit, by which the Christian may be 'led
into all truth,' did not at all lessen their regard for the authority
of the Holy Scriptures _as the test of doctrines_. They constantly
professed their willingness that all their principles and practices
should be tried by them; and that whatsoever any, who pretended to
the guidance of the Spirit, either said or did which was contrary to
their testimony, ought to be rejected as a Satanic delusion; and also,
that 'what is not read therein nor may be proved thereby, is not to
be required of any man that it should be believed as an article of
faith.'" Page 357.
[3] The reader will not mistake this for an assertion that Friends
have surrendered the doctrine of the Divine guidance and indwelling.
For a fuller discussion of the question see the close of the sketch of
Barclay.
Since Macaulay so grossly caricatured Fox, it has been assumed that
Penn and Barclay added to Fox's ideas whatever was meritorious in
Quakerism. On the contrary, not only the theology of the society and
its polity, but also its philanthropy and its enlightened views on
religious liberty, must be ascribed to him as their chief exponent.
If the Quakers object to call him their Founder, it is only because
they wish to honour God, rather than the human instrument. They never
hesitate to give him his due, nor do they falsify their own teachings
by seeking to win favour for them by great names. There is no clearer
testimony than that of Penn, that Fox's services received full
recognition in the Society during his life-time. Indeed the position
accorded him moved the envy of some, in spite of his own meekness and
humble carriage.
Fox's personal spiritual experience may be regarded as the laying of
the foundation-stone of Quakerism. Now let us turn to the rearing
of the superstructure. Having learnt where to look for help and
enlightenment, his heart soon found rest. His bodily strength returned,
and his mind as well as his soul received a vast impulse. He seemed
to have a sympathetic insight not only into the hearts of men, but
also into the secrets of nature, so that at one time he questioned
whether he ought not to practice medicine. To the end of his life he
remained an ardent lover of nature and of science, so that his friend,
William Penn, calls him "a divine and naturalist too, and all of God
Almighty's making." But soon he settled down to his true life-work as
an itinerant preacher of the gospel. His patrimony was sufficient to
enable him to devote himself freely to the work. In his wanderings in
search of light, he had made the acquaintance of many anxious seekers
after truth. To these he naturally went in the joy and ardour of his
heart, to tell them what God had taught him; and many of them received
"the truth." His first convert was a woman, Elizabeth Hooton, who
also became the first lady preacher in the new Society, and after much
service died in the West Indies, whilst accompanying Fox and others on
a preaching tour. Soon we find him preaching in ordinary congregations,
and in the conferences common in that day, and gaining a name for
spiritual discernment.
Though but a youth of 23 when he began to preach, there was a spiritual
power attending his ministry that was remarkable. Macaulay speaks
of his "chant" in preaching; many Welsh preachers now "chant" the
gospel with great effect, and the recitative in Mrs. Fry's ministry
was acknowledged to be wonderfully impressive. But it must not be
supposed that it was deliberately chosen, it is probable that he fell
into it unconsciously. The intensity of his emotion too added to the
impression; his large frame quivered and shook with his strong feeling.
Charles Lamb has given a vivid description of what he calls "The Foxian
orgasm:" probably the description would accurately apply to Fox. We can
judge from his Journal how keen and penetrating his appeals must have
been, and how exultant his praises and thanksgivings.
Then again he preached, not metaphysics, nor formal theology, but a
living, present Christ. He told his experience with pathos and power.
No wonder that people wept and laughed for joy, for they felt it was
true glad tidings that he brought. His word was literally "in power and
in the Holy Ghost, and in much assurance," and many received it as the
word of God to them. Soon his converts were numbered by hundreds. In
1647 he first began to preach publicly, and in that and the next year
several "meetings" were gathered.
Any one who passes along the East Lancashire Railway from Colne to
Burnley, must be struck by the towering grandeur of Pendle Hill; and
if he climbs it, he will be rewarded by a glorious panorama. Whilst
looking on this magnificent view, George Fox tells us he had a vision,
in which he saw that this region would be the home of thousands of
Quakers; and certainly nowhere did Quakerism find such a stronghold,
and receive such sturdy helpers and gifted preachers. Alas! the glory
has departed! Partly as the result of extensive emigration, many of the
meeting-houses then so full of devout worshippers are now empty, whilst
in some others a formal few, whom Fox would hardly acknowledge as his
followers, meet in cold silence sabbath by sabbath.
Fox did not long work single-handed; in a few years, especially from
this district on and about the Penine Range, a band of preachers
gathered round him whom Quakers still delight to honour. In 1654 he
tells us there were sixty preaching in all parts of England and Wales.
Some of his helpers had been ministers, like Francis Howgill and John
Audland. But it was not taken for granted that they would still preach,
unless there was the manifest call. Thus Thomas Lawson, a clergyman
at Ramside near Ulverston, a man of considerable learning, seems to
have relinquished preaching when he was converted by Fox. He was a
great botanist, and says Sewel, "one of the most skilful herbalists
in England," so he seems to have gained his livelihood by this skill
and by tuition. Yet the authoress of "The Fells of Swarthmoor Hall"
calls him a man of fervid eloquence, so that it was not lack of gifts
that kept him from preaching, but it must have been the persuasion
that he was not called to the work. So in our own day, that master of
eloquence, John Bright, though a man of strong religious feeling, never
preaches, in spite of the freedom which Quakerism allows.
Besides clergymen and other ministers, the converts included
magistrates, like Justice Hotham and Anthony Pearson, author of "The
Great Case of Tithes;" and officers in the army like Col. West and
Capt. Pursloe, besides gentlemen of substance and standing like I.
Pennington, and scholars like Samuel Fisher and Thomas Lawson just
mentioned. But among them all Fox stood chief, not only as the father
of the fathers among them, but also in his firm and clear grasp of
the truth, his entire devotion, his gifts of leadership, his many
labours and sufferings, and his God-given success. "I notice," says a
contemporary letter, "that in any company when George is present all
the rest are silent;" and a joint letter by Edward Burrough and Francis
Howgill says, "Oh but for one hour of his company! what a treasure it
would be to us!" Even those who had held similar views before they met
with him, often gained from him more clearness of view and fulness of
knowledge.
The manner of conducting the Quaker "meetings for worship," was the
result of practical conviction rather than of theory. They thought that
for Christians to meet together in order to go through a stated form of
service, was at once to cramp the outpouring of the heart to God, and
to interfere with the Holy Spirit in his direction of the utterances
of Christ's ministers. When they met in silence, each could speak to
God what was in his heart, and each could hear in his spirit "what God
the Lord would speak;" and if any one was "moved" to declare any truth,
the way was clear. Thus Christ was owned practically as a present Lord,
and the Holy Spirit trusted as a real and practical guide. They read
in their New Testaments that when the saints met together, all the
gifted might prophesy one by one as anything was revealed to them; and
that each might contribute to the service his psalm of thanksgiving,
or hymn of adoration, or edifying doctrine. It seemed to them that
in the "apostacy" of the churches not only the rights of private
Christians, but the claims of the Holy Spirit had been interfered
with by the "one-man ministry." And probably none of them, whatever
his gift of discernment, imagined in those days of burning zeal and
abundant labours, that the time would come when their simple system
would prove a rigid bond, which would leave half their meetings without
ministry of any kind. Encouragement of a true ministry is as needful as
discouragement of the spurious.
Very early in the history of the Society, the distinguishing views of
Friends on the Sacraments were clearly enunciated. In 1656, Fox sent
out a manifesto clearly stating his views, especially on the Lord's
Supper. He thought the outward rites were simply adaptations of Jewish
customs, temporary condescensions to the weakness of the converts
from Judaism until the destruction of Jerusalem, and even during that
period, optional, not obligatory. If the early Christians kept up the
old custom of sipping the wine and breaking the bread, then they must
do it in remembrance of Christ's death, and not of the deliverance from
the bondage of Egypt. But he believed the outward rite Jewish in its
style, and foreign to the pure spirituality of Christianity. So also
with regard to Baptism.[4]
[4] The other leading "testimonies" of Friends were against all war,
and against oaths, even in a court of justice.
There were two kinds of service which the devoted leader rendered to
Christian truth--he preached it with zeal and unction, and he suffered
for its sake. His sufferings were unquestionably often the result of
his own unwisdom. Many Friends themselves now lament his want of a
conciliatory spirit. He could not put himself in the place of others,
so as to see how they viewed himself, his conduct and his claims.
Thus he was constantly led to impute dishonest and impure motives to
others if they did not agree with him. All but his own unpaid ministers
were "priests" and "hirelings" and so on. But nothing can justify the
treatment he received, often through the connivance, sometimes from the
instigation, of clergymen and magistrates. Whitefield's hootings and
peltings were nothing, in comparison with Fox's stonings, and brutal
beatings, and horrible imprisonments. As Marsden says, "He rebuked sin
with the authority of a prophet, and he met with a prophet's reward."
We must remember in extenuation of his admitted faults that he aimed
to be a reformer, appealing afresh to first principles in conduct, and
seeking to arouse others to feel their force. He purposely set himself
against mere conventionalism, especially when it fostered pride or
cloaked some rottenness in society. When persecuted, he never resorted
to flattery or depended on wheedling, but appealed to conscience and to
the humane or Christian feelings which ought to have been in the breast
of the persecutor.
He proved to the full the power of passive endurance. Smitten on the
one cheek, he literally turned the other. He believed that a large
share of his work for the Master was in the testimony of suffering,
and he was more anxious to be obedient than to avoid what seemed to
him the pains and penalties of obedience. He would not walk out of
prison unless he could do it not only honourably, but conscientiously,
satisfied that he was not flinching from his appointed testimony.
He truly gloried in afflictions for Christ's sake. While refusing
to honour an unchristian statute by keeping it, he bore patiently
and unresistingly the legal penalties, unshaken in his loyalty to
the government and unsoured in his disposition towards mankind. But
further, Fox clearly saw that endurance was sure to end in victory,
and he inspired his friends with the same conviction. "The more they
imprison me," he writes triumphantly, "the more the truth spreads." In
the same spirit said William Penn at a later date, "I will weary out
their malice. Neither great nor good things were ever attained without
loss and hardship. The man that would reap and not labour must perish
in disappointment." No wonder that men grew weary of punishing those
who endured in this spirit. No wonder that the lofty conscientiousness
of the Quakers was felt to be the salt which had a large share in
counteracting the corruption of the Stuart reigns, and in preserving
our civil and religious liberties. Says Orme in his Life of Baxter,
"The heroic and persevering conduct of the Quakers in withstanding the
interferences of government with the rights of conscience, by which
they finally secured those peculiar privileges they so richly deserve
to enjoy, entitles them to the veneration of all the friends of civil
and religious liberty." And again he says, "Had there been more of
the same determined spirit among others which the Friends displayed,
the sufferings of all parties would sooner have come to an end. The
government must have given way, as the spirit of the country would have
been effectually roused. The conduct of the Quakers was infinitely to
their honour."
Meanwhile Fox abounded in labours, sparing no exertions to make known
the truth and to plead for righteousness. He sought a purer life
as much as a purer faith. He went into public houses to plead for
temperance, and into fairs to plead for uprightness and honesty, and
into courts to plead for justice, as well as into churches to plead for
spiritual religion. We must not forget that in those fermenting times
it was no uncommon thing for questions and remarks to be thrown at the
preacher during divine service, and it was considered quite in order
for any one to address the people after the clergyman had finished his
sermon. Thus when Fox was speaking in the Ulverston Church, Justice
Sawrey cried, "Take him away," but Margaret Fell interposed, "Let him
alone; why may not he speak _as well as any other_?" So that these
interruptions were not considered so strange and disorderly then as
they seem to us now. But public feeling was against the man and against
the truths he preached, and to that public feeling he could not and
would not yield. He could not take off his hat before the great, for
that was an honour which he reserved for God alone. He felt bound to
protest against all flattering titles and speeches, which, though the
world counts them harmless civilities, seemed to his sober spirit and
delicate conscience such as should neither be given nor received by
the followers of the lowly Nazarene. His "thee and thou," and plain
speaking, and sober dress, and keen rebukes, brought on him a perfect
storm of anger and abuse. He felt that he stood in the forefront of the
battle against worldliness, and bore the brunt of it; and he was meekly
thankful for such an honourable post.
His first imprisonment was at Nottingham, for interrupting divine
service; but he had his triumph, the very Sheriff was converted, and
compelled by his new-found zeal to go forth into the market-place, and
take up the imprisoned preacher's work. His second term soon followed
at Derby, on a charge of blasphemy. He believed in the doctrine of
perfection, and told those who opposed him that they pleaded for sin.
The Derby Magistrates asked him if he was sanctified, and he answered,
"Yes." "Then they asked me if I had no sin? I answered 'Christ my
Saviour has taken away my sin and in Him there is no sin.' They asked
how we knew that Christ did abide in us? I said, 'By His Spirit that
he has given us.' They temptingly asked if any of us were Christ? I
answered, 'Nay, we were nothing, Christ is all.'" Yet they found him
guilty of blasphemy, confounding him with the fanatical, antinomian
Ranters. But if he taught perfection, Oh! how he lived! Let those that
reject his teaching excel, or at least equal, his living. In Derby, his
jailer was converted, to strengthen and comfort him in his sufferings.
Whilst in prison his busy pen poured forth many letters of advice to
Friends, and "testimonies" against all forms of iniquity, including war
and capital punishment.
Before he was 27, Fox had passed through more varied experience than
many have in a long life-time. Honour and revilings, converts and
imprisonments, love for the gospel's sake and cruel beatings by the
mob, nearly ending in death--these had already been his portion. But
his work was now bearing much fruit. In one twelve-months, 1650-1,
he gained such staunch helpers as Richard Farnsworth, James Nayler,
William Dewsbury, Justice Hotham, and Captain Purslow. Soon afterwards
the Fells of Swarthmoor were led to Christ by his preaching and became
the most devoted of adherents. Soon his followers could be numbered by
thousands. It was not the strength of his arguments that gained them;
the age was overdone with reasoning. Fox mocked their syllogisms with
grim humour. There was a wonderful spiritual power about him. He spoke
naturally, with simple, direct earnestness, and overwhelming vehemence,
right to the conscience of the hearers. He made people both listen
and understand him, and feel the power of the truth in a way which
many did not like. He was a wonderful evangelist. What his cultured
convert, Isaac Pennington, the Rutherford of Quakerism, said of Friends
generally, is applicable to him. They might offend his taste and move
him to contempt by their intellectual poverty, but they compelled him
to respect their spiritual power and their deep acquaintance with the
things of God.
Then again the new Society was a real brotherhood. The members stood
shoulder to shoulder as fellow servants of the one Master. Their only
emulation was which should do most and suffer most cheerfully. Their
great question was "Lord, what wilt Thou have me to do? Where wilt
Thou have me to go?" The Jesuit was ready to go at an hour's notice
wherever the Pope sent him. The Quaker was as ready in his obedience
to the voice within. Not only Great Britain, but Italy, Turkey, Syria,
and Egypt heard the truth before 1662. John Stubbs, "a remarkable
Oriental scholar," and Henry Fell, who was also "well versed in Arabic
and Hebrew," set out for the land of Prester John, but were stopped
by the English Consul at Alexandria. Their leader was chief simply
through gifts and devotedness. So strongly were Friends attached to
him that when he was in Launceston gaol, one of them went to Cromwell
and offered to lie in prison in his stead; which made the Protector
turn to those around him and ask, "Which of you would do as much for
me if I were in the same condition?" And Fox showed himself worthy of
such devotion by always seeking the post of danger and the most arduous
work. Urgent he might be, for he was tremendously in earnest, but to
speak as Hepworth Dixon does of his "imperious instincts" simply shows
ignorance of the man.
For centuries no such zealous and noble-spirited evangelism had been
seen. No wonder that it won its way. Many who had been rich, like Isaac
Pennington, were content to become poor by fines and distraints for
"the truth's sake." Most nobly did they help each other. If they did
not insist on community of goods as a theory, they carried out the
spirit of it in practice.
There are two marked stages in Fox's work; first the Evangelistic
Stage, and then the Organising Stage, which was, of course, overlapt by
the other. Let us trace the salient points in his evangelistic work.
In 1654 he was brought before Cromwell, and made a good impression on
that keen judge of men. His sincerity stood testing, his zeal for God
was manifestly genuine, and the grand, though not faultless Protector,
learnt heartily to respect him. As he was turning to leave him,
Cromwell caught him by the hand and said, "Come again to my house, for
if thou and I were but an hour of a day together, we should be nearer
one to the other." Next year he visited him again, to lay before him
the ill-treatment to which Friends were subjected.
The meetings now gathered, wherever "the man in leather breeches"
went were immense. At one in Bristol, he tells us, 10,000 people were
present, and often 2000 or 3000 are mentioned as collecting to hear
him. The energetic evangelist often had periods of grudged but not
useless interruption of his labours by imprisonment. Indeed, as Mr. W.
E. Forster says, he "would have been qualified to draw up a report of
the state of the gaols of the Island, so universal and experimental
was his acquaintance with them." But his imprisonments did not make
him cease from labour. He wrote innumerable letters and tracts, and he
preached the gospel to those that came to see him with such effect,
that one of Cromwell's Chaplains said they could not do him a greater
service for spreading his principles in Cornwall, than to imprison him
in Launceston gaol.
In 1656 occurred the sad episode of James Nayler's fall. He had been
one of the most popular of the Quaker preachers, and had enjoyed the
warm friendship of Fox and other leaders. But extravagant praise turned
his head so far that he listened to blasphemous songs and invocations
addressed to him by excited women, allowed them to kneel before him,
and even to welcome him to Bristol with a horrible parody of our Lord's
triumphal entry into Jerusalem. These miserable proceedings he did not
like, but he excused them as honors done, not to him, but to Christ his
Lord. The way in which Fox and other Friends acted in this matter was
most praiseworthy. Many of the enthusiasts who misled Nayler were not
truly Friends at all, and yet the Society was credited with fanaticism
on account of their proceedings. Their enemies exulted in a clear case
against them, and the religious world seemed justified in regarding
them with suspicion. But in spite of all this, the Friends clung to the
deluded man, and tried every means to open his eyes. George Fox visited
him in Exeter gaol, and used every power of reason and persuasion,
and at last finding he could do nothing with him, sadly gave him to
understand that their friendship was at an end, and that Friends could
no longer regard him as one of them. Yet still they visited him, and
tried hard to gain the Protector and Parliament to their humane view of
the right way of dealing with the case, and they had their reward. The
cloud that obscured his mental vision passed away, and he deeply and
truly repented of his sad error. He published a full recantation, took
upon himself the whole blame, absolving the Society from all share; and
endeavoured in every way to undo the mischief he had done. But whilst
their love and gentleness had thus conquered, the barbarous spirit of
the age had vindicated orthodoxy, by passing and executing the horrible
sentence of branding and tongue boring. And it is sad to think, that
the man who endured this torture was already a repentant man, won by
love, not by severity, to confess and renounce his sin. The Quakers at
once received him into full confidence and esteem, and helped him, in
truly Christian fashion, to bear the results of his fall. Thus early in
their history, in the midst of an age of much persecution and bigotry,
were established those habits of loving Christian discipline, which
have so nobly distinguished the Society ever since. But the reclaimed
wanderer was not long allowed to continue his resumed preaching. In the
summer of 1660 he was taken ill, and died in his 44th year.