Chapter XXXVIII: Appendix: to VOL. I (6)

If I should mention all the enormities of Armorer’s violent behaviour, this relation must needs be very large; and therefore I pass by the most cases, and touch but on some few. More than once it happened when the prisoners being brought to their trial, reproved Armorer because of his injustice, and put him in mind that once he must give an account for his bad deeds; he in a most impudent manner said, ‘you shall see at the day of judgment whose arse will be blackest, yours or mine.’ And when a prisoner told him, it was an uncivil thing for one called a justice to speak such words, he replied, ‘Why, sirrah, what incivility is it? Is not your nose your nose, and your arse your arse?’ Other absurdities the prisoners met with in the court, I pass by, as also how from time to time, they were treated when they refused the oath. From what hath been said already in more than one place concerning the like cases, one may easily guess how matters were transacted here, which sometimes was so grossly, that the spectators showed their dislike. When once the jury for want of good witnesses, could not agree to find the bill, Armorer rose off the bench, and appeared as a witness. But notwithstanding the jury, returning the second time, brought it in ignoramus. Upon which the other justice said to them, that sir William Armorer, an honourable gentleman, had taken his oath also. To which the jury returned, it was true, sir William Armorer was an honourable gentleman, but was a man subject to passion. And they continuing unwilling to bring in the prisoners guilty, the two justices Proctor and Armorer, (for there were then no more on the bench,) for all that would not discharge the prisoners, but sent them to jail again, as seditious persons; for Proctor had told the jury the day before, that if they did not bring in the prisoners guilty, they would make William Armorer and the clerk perjured persons.

Anne, the wife of Thomas Curtis, being called to the bar, and asked if she would take the oath, said, ‘I look on it as a very hard thing, that I should be required to take this oath, being under covert, and my husband being here a present sufferer, for the same thing; for there is no other woman in England, that I have heard of, under covert, that is required to take that oath, and kept in prison on that account.’ But Armorer full of passion, cried, ‘Hold your tongue, Nan, and turn your back.’ And so she, with another woman, that had also been required to take the oath, was sent back to jail, as dangerous and suspected persons. At length some justices procured her liberty; and this so displeased Armorer, that he did not rest before he had her in prison again: but others it seems so eagerly desired her liberty, that she was discharged a second time, though her husband’s goods and money were seized. How a prisoner who spoke something in his own defence, was threatened to be gagged, how girls were sent to the house of correction, and how Armorer coming in winter-time into the meeting, and having got a bucket of water into the room, he himself threw it with a nasty bowl in the faces of some young maidens, I cursorily skipt over. He seemed exceedingly offended with Anne Curtis, who being a witty woman, did not omit, when occasion was offered, to tell of his uncivil behaviour: and therefore he soon had her in jail again; and when it was proposed in the summer-time to discharge some of the prisoners, because of the extreme hot weather, provided they gave security, ‘No,’ said Armorer, ‘Mrs. Curtis shall not go out, though she would give security, but she shall lie in jail till she rot.’ But how wicked soever he was, yet he could not prevent, that all his exorbitant carriage against the Quakers was published in print.

But such behaviour was at that time no rare or uncommon thing; for since persecution was continually cloaked with a pretence of rebellion and sedition all over the country, such were found, who to their utmost power did persecute the Quakers, so called; as among others, one Henry Marshall, priest at Crosthwait in Westmoreland, who being also a prebendary, and having several benefices, yet how great soever his revenues were, kept poor people of that persuasion in prison for not paying tithes to him: and once he said very presumptuously from the pulpit, that not one Quaker should be left alive in England. But this temerity he did not out-live long: for as he was going half-undressed to his chamber to bed, he fell down stairs, as was concluded from the circumstances; for he was found lying on the floor, with his skull broken, wrestling with death, without being able to speak one word; and being taken up he died, leaving his wife and children in such a condition, that by reason of debts they fell into poverty.

About this time a certain popish author, who expressed his name no further than with the letters A. S. gave forth a book called, ‘The Reconciler of Religions; or, A Decider of all Controversies in matters of Faith.’ Josiah Coale, who was very zealous for religion, and well saw what this author aimed at, answered him by a book that appeared in print, with the title of, ‘The Whore unveiled; or The Mystery of the Deceit of the Church of Rome revealed.’ Now although the said A. S. chiefly struck at the Quakers as the worst of heretics, falsely perverting their doctrine, as importing, that the same spirit that reproved Judas of sin, did also induce him to desperation, and to hang himself; yet he omitted not to encounter the doctrine of other Protestant societies; and the Roman church he stated as the true church, from which they were unjustly departed, and to whom they must all return again: for the Roman, said he, was the true church, and not any other; she was the holy Catholic and apostolical church, that was infallible, and could not err, and had the power to work miracles. He also asserted, that she was one in matters of faith, that she was governed by one invisible head Christ, and by a visible head, the pope; and that therefore she was the true church. Now for as much as he held forth at large these and several other positions, so Josiah Coale did not omit to answer all these pretences distinctly and emphatically; for he was an undaunted and zealous disputant. Besides the superstition, idolatry, and cruel persecution of the Roman church, which had taken away the lives of many thousands of honest and pious people, supplied abundant matter to Josiah Coale, to show the papal errors, and clearly to prove her to be the false church. For though he did not deny that the true church was Catholic, or universal, yet he denied that the universality of the church of Rome was a sufficient argument to prove her to be the true church, ‘What church, (thus he queried,) is more universal than the great whore, the false church, who had a name written, Mystery Babylon the Great, the Mother of Harlots, and Abominations of the Earth? Who sits upon the waters, which are peoples, and multitudes, and nations, and tongues? And did not the whole world wonder after the beast that carried the whore? Did she not sit as queen over them all, with her fair profession, or golden cup in her hand, full of abominations, and filthiness of her fornication? And did not all the inhabitants of the earth, and the kings of the earth, drink of the wine of her fornication, and commit fornication with her? Mark how universal was this great whore, the false church; and how confident she was: for she said in her heart that she should see no sorrow; and she glorified herself, and reigned over the kings of the earth. Is not this the very state of the church of Rome at this day? Doth she not reign over the kings of the earth? And hath she not done so long, even for many ages? And how she hath exercised authority over kings, may appear from the case of the emperor Frederick, who was fain to hold the pope’s stirrup while he got on horseback. And did not the great whore, which John saw, drink the blood of the saints and martyrs of Jesus. Surely the histories of many generations past testify this. And was she not to have blood given her to drink? as may appear not obscurely from Rev. xvii. 6.’ At this rate Josiah Coale encountered the masked A. S. but in a more copious way; and thus he answered his assertions. To that, that the church of Rome should always remain to the end of the world, and that therefore she was infallible, J. Coale said, that the bare affirmation of A. S. was no proof, except he would produce that saying of the mother of harlots, ‘I sit as a queen, and am no widow, and shall see no sorrow.’ But indeed that would be a very pitiful argument to prove the church of Rome infallible, unless she was first proved to be the true church. And as J. Coale answered these and other objections at large, so he showed also the vanity of the boast of miracles, of which the church of Rome gloried; and he refuted all the falsities which that anonymous author had belched out against the Quakers, as a people that might be wronged without incurring any danger. But I omit to recite all J. Coale’s answers for brevity sake; yet may make mention of a poem which he wrote sometime before, when he was prisoner at Launceston, in Cornwall, to which the reader is referred, being to be found in Josiah Coale’s works, at page 111.

Thus zealously J. Coale wrote against popery; and yet such hath been the malice of many, that they represented the Quakers as favourers of the church of Rome, though on many occasions they had effectually shown the contrary. But their enemies endeavoured to brand them many ways; and they left no stone unturned to blacken them; to which sometimes false brethren gave occasion: for about this time there were yet many of the adherents of John Perrot, who often ill-treated, and spoke evil of those who did not approve their absurdities. This befel Richard Farnsworth, one of the first preachers among those called Quakers, though he was a man of a notable gift, and on his dying bed he gave evidences of a firm and steadfast trust in God; for it was not long before this time that he fell sick, and deceased at London. Among the many expressions which signified his good frame of mind, and the divine consolation he felt, were also these words, that were taken in writing from his mouth:

‘_Friends_,

‘God hath been mightily with me, and hath stood by me at this
time; and his power and presence hath accompanied me all along,
though some think that I am under a cloud for something. But God
hath appeared for the owning of our testimony, and hath broken in
upon me as a flood, and I am filled with his love more than I am
able to express; and God is really appeared for us,’ &c.

This he spoke but a short time before his departure; and exhorted his friends to faithfulness and steadfastness, and that nothing might be suffered to creep in of another nature than the truth they professed, to intermix therewith, saying, ‘No linsey-woolsey garment must be worn.’ Some more consolatory words he spoke, and his last testimony was as a seal unto all the former testimonies he had given for the Lord. And after having lain yet an hour or two, he slept in peace with the Lord, and left a good repute behind, with those who truly were acquainted with him, and knew how zealously he laboured in the ministry of the gospel for many years.

Now I return again to G. Fox, who was this year not only in Wales, but in several other places, without being imprisoned, though at Shrewsbury, where he had a great meeting, the officers being called together by the mayor, consulted what to do against him, since it was said, the great Quaker of England was come to town. But they could not agree among themselves, some being for imprisoning him, and others for letting him alone: and they being thus divided, he escaped their hands.

As several eminent men among those called Quakers, were taken away by death, so others came in who filled their places; among these, and none of the least was Robert Barclay, son of colonel David Barclay, descended of the ancient and famous family of the Barclays, and of Katharine Gordon, from the house of the dukes of Gordon. This his son Robert being born at Edinburgh, in the year 1648, was educated in France and trained up in literature, having lived some years with his uncle at Paris, where the Papists were very active to bring him over to their religion. But though in that tender age he seemed a little to hearken to them, yet growing up in years, and so advancing in knowledge, he soon got a clear sight of their errors. During his stay in France, he not only became master of the French, but also of the Latin tongue; and after he had been instructed in the language of the learned, and other parts of human literature, he returned to Scotland; but during his absence, his father had received the doctrine of the Quakers, and showed by his pious behaviour, that he had not therein acted inconsiderately. Robert Barclay having attained the age of nineteen years, and being come to a good maturity of understanding, found so much satisfaction in the religion which his father made profession of, that he also embraced it, and openly showed before all the world, that the despised name of Quakers, could not hinder him from maintaining boldly that which he now apprehended to be truth. Nay, he grew so zealous and valiant in the doctrine he now professed, that he became a public promulgator of it; and often engaged in disputes with the scholars, not only verbally, but also by writing: for he was so skilful in school learning, that he was able to encounter the learned with their own weapons, and of such quick apprehension, as not to be inferior to the refined wits; his meekness also was eminent; and these qualifications were accompanied with so taking a carriage, as rendered him very acceptable to others. And though his natural abilities were great enough to have made him surpass others in human learning, and so to have become famous among men, yet he so little valued that knowledge, that he in no wise endeavoured to be distinguished on that account. But his chief aim was to advance in real godliness, as the conversation I had with him hath undoubtedly assured me: for I was well acquainted with him; as also with Roger Haydock of Lancashire, a learned and intelligent man, who about this time also came to enter into society with those called Quakers, whose doctrine his eldest brother John Haydock, had received before him. But it so happened, that Roger coming once to his father’s house, was by his mother put on to discourse with his brother John, in hopes that thereby he might have been drawn off from the way of the Quakers. But John gave such weighty reasons for what he asserted to be truth, that he quickly put Roger to silence, which so displeased his mother, who was inclined to the Presbyterian way, that she blamed him for not having held it out longer against his brother: but he told her, ‘It is truth, I dare not say against it.’ Being thus convinced, he also became a public professor of the doctrine of the Quakers, and in time a zealous preacher of it too. And he being a man of great parts, well read and full of matter, many times engaged in disputes with the priests, sometimes making use of his pen also to that end; for he was an unwearied labourer, and suffered the spoiling of his goods, and several imprisonments; and though he was attended with bodily weaknesses, yet he did not use to spare himself, but travelled much to visit the churches in England, Scotland, Ireland, Holland, &c. And he continued steadfast to the end of his days; not only for which, but also because of a special affection he bore me, his remembrance is dear to me still.

I must now make some mention again of Miles Halhead, several times named in this history, who this year coming into Devonshire, and being brought before the magistrates, it was asked him, what business he, (who dwelt in Westmoreland,) had in Devonshire? to which he answered, that he was come there to see his old friends, whom formerly, about ten years ago, he had acquaintance with. One of the magistrates asked him, what were the names of those friends he meant? To which he returned, ‘One Sir John Coplestone, who was then high sheriff of Devonshire; John Page, who was mayor of Plymouth; one justice Howel, who was then the judge of the sessions of Exeter, and one colonel Buffet, who was also a justice at that time.’ One of the magistrates then said to the others, ‘Truly, gentlemen, this man calls these men his friends, yet they have been his persecutors.’ Another of the magistrates then gave him an account, into what pitiful condition those men were fallen, and how they lost their estates; nay, Buffet had been committed to prison for high treason, and was escaped out of jail, and not to be seen in his own country. And further he said to Halhead, ‘Thus I have given you a true account of your old friends; if these men were your persecutors, you may be sure they will trouble you no more: for if they that trouble you and persecute you, have no better fortune than these men, I wish that neither I, nor any of my friends, may have any hand in persecuting of you.’ And thus these discreet magistrates suffered him to go his ways, without meddling with him.

Neither was persecution now generally so hot in England as it had been before, yet the Presbyterians and some others durst not keep public meetings, lest they should be fined; but at times when they have met for worship, they have had tobacco pipes, bread and cheese, and cold meat on the table, having agreed beforehand, that if the officers came in upon them, they should leave their preaching and praying, and fall to their meat. This made G. Fox say to one Pocock, whose wife was one of his friends, ‘Is not this a shame to you who persecuted and imprisoned us, and spoiled our goods, because we would not follow you, and be of your religion, and called us house-creepers?’ ‘Why,’ said Pocock, ‘we must be wise as serpents,’ To which G. Fox returned, ‘This is the serpent’s wisdom indeed. Who would ever have thought, that you Presbyterians and Independents, who persecuted and imprisoned others, for not following your religion, now should flinch away yourselves, and not stand to, and own your own religion.’

G. Fox travelled this year through England, and visited his friends in their meetings. But I pass by his occurrences.

This year also came forth the perpetual edict, so called, in Holland, made as the title recites, for the maintenance of liberty, and for preservation of the unity, and the common quiet of the country of Holland and West-Friesland. By this edict, the chief command of the military forces of the states, and the stadtholdership, (or deputy-ship,) were separated. This was on purpose to prevent the prince of Orange’s becoming too potent, for hereupon followed the suppression of the stadtholdership. But how strong soever this law was made, and confirmed by oaths, yet afterwards it was broken by the instigation of the rabble, as will be seen in its due time. This year also a peace was concluded between England and Holland, not long after the Dutch had burnt some of the king’s ships in the Thames.

THE NINTH BOOK. 1668-1676.

1668.

In the beginning of the year 1668, William Penn, son of admiral sir William Penn, began to show himself openly an adherer to, and an asserter of the doctrine of those called Quakers. He had been trained up in the university of Oxford, and he was afterwards by his father sent into France, where for some time he lived, (as himself once told me,) with the famous preacher, Moyses Amyraut. After a considerable stay in that kingdom, being returned and come into Ireland, he once went to a meeting of those called Quakers, which being disturbed, he, though finely clothed as a young gentleman, and wearing a great perriwig, was with others carried from thence to prison, where by his fellow prisoners, he was more confirmed in that doctrine which he already apprehended to be truth. But when it come to be known that he was the son of Admiral Penn, he was soon released. This change did not a little grieve his father, who intended to have trained him up for the court; but now saw his eldest son in the early part, being about the twenty-second year of his age, entered into the society of the despised Quakers. Several means were used, nay even his necessaries were withheld from him, to draw him off, if possible, and bring him to other resolutions. But all devices and wiles proved in vain: for he continued steadfast, and conversed much with Josiah Coale, who likewise in his young years came over to the Quakers.

This summer Stephen Crisp was prisoner at Ipswich, where the number of friends was considerably increased by his ministry. I, with some other friends of Holland, visited him there in prison, and we found him in a cheerful condition, as well contented as if he had been at liberty: for he suffered for the ministry of the gospel, and continued to preach in prison when his friends came to visit him.

The journey which G. Fox made this year through England and Wales I pass by. The latter part of the summer he returned to London, where with great satisfaction I heard him preach several times before a numerous auditory: for about that time, the meetings of dissenters were not disturbed at London, but all was so quiet, that the Quakers, so called, were suffered to build a large meeting place in Gracechurch-street, where the first time a meeting was kept, I was present, and saw G. Fox, and heard him preach there, besides some others.

Whilst he was at London, he gave a visit to esquire Marsh, who now was a justice of the peace in Middlesex, and it so happened that he was at dinner when G. Fox came to his house, which so pleased him, that he kindly invited him to sit down with him to dinner, but G. Fox courteously excused himself. There were at that time several great persons at table with justice Marsh, who said to one of them, (a Papist,) ‘Here is a Quaker you have not seen before.’ From this the said Papist took occasion to ask G. Fox, whether he did own the christening of children? To which G. Fox answered, there was no Scripture for any such practice. ‘What!’ said he, ‘not for christening children?’ ‘Nay,’ replied G. Fox, ‘the one baptism by the one Spirit into one body, we own; but to throw a little water on a child’s face, and to call that baptizing and christening it, there is no Scripture for that.’ Then the Roman Catholic asked him, whether he did not own the Catholic Faith? ‘Yes,’ said G. Fox, but he added, that neither the pope nor the Papists were in that Catholic Faith; since the true faith worked by love, and purified the heart; and if they were in that faith which gives victory, by which they might have access to God, they would not talk to the people of a purgatory after death; neither would they ever use prisons, racks, or fines, to force others to their religion; because that was not the practice of the apostles and primitive Christians; but it was the practice of the faithless Jews and heathens, to use such forcing means. ‘But,’ continued G. Fox, ‘seeing thou art a great and leading man among the Papists, and sayest, there is no salvation but in your church, I desire to know of thee, what it is that bringeth salvation in your church,’ To this the Roman Catholic answered, ‘A good life:’ ‘And nothing else?’ said G. Fox. ‘Yes,’ replied the other, ‘good works.’ ‘Is this your doctrine and principle,’ said G. Fox. ‘Yes,’ said he. Then G. Fox replied, ‘Neither thou nor the pope, nor any of the Papists know, what it is that brings salvation.’ Then the Roman Catholic asked him, what brings salvation into your church? G. Fox answered, ‘That which brought salvation to the church in the apostles’ days, namely, the grace of God, which the Scripture says brings salvation, and hath appeared to all men; and teaches us to deny ungodliness, and worldly lusts, and to live godly, righteously, and soberly in this present world. By this it appears, it is not the good works, nor the good life, that brings the salvation, but the grace.’ ‘What!’ said the Roman Catholic, ‘doth this grace, that brings salvation, appear unto all men?’ ‘Yes,’ said G. Fox. ‘I deny that,’ returned the other. ‘All that deny that,’ replied G. Fox, ‘are sect-makers, and are not in the universal faith, grace, and truth, which the apostles were in.’ Then the Roman Catholic began to speak about the mother-church, which gave occasion to much discourse, and G. Fox asserted, that if any outward place had claim to be the mother-church, above all other churches, that Jerusalem had much more right to it than Rome. But in conclusion he said, that there was no other mother-church but Jerusalem, which is above, and is free, and which is the mother of us all, as saith the apostle. Upon this subject G. Fox did so paraphrase, that esquire Marsh said at length to the Roman Catholic, ‘O you do not know this man. If he would but come to church now and then, he would be a brave man.’

After some other discourse together, G. Fox, got an opportunity to go aside with the said Marsh into another room, and to desire that he who had much of the management of affairs, would prevent the persecution of his friends as much as possibly he could. Marsh showed himself not averse to this, but said, he was in a strait how to act between the Quakers and some other dissenters. ‘For,’ said he, ‘you say ye cannot swear, and the Independents, Baptists, and Fifth-monarchy people, say also, they cannot swear.’ To this G. Fox said, ‘I will show thee how to distinguish: the members of those societies thou speakest of, do swear in some cases, but we cannot swear in any case. If any one should steal their cows or horses, and thou shouldest ask them whether they would swear they were theirs? Many of them would readily do it. But if thou triest our friends, they cannot swear for their own goods. Therefore when thou puttest the oath of allegiance to any of them, ask them whether they can swear in any other case; as for their cow or horse? Which if they be really of us, they cannot do, though they can hear witness to the truth.’ Then G. Fox gave him a relation of a trial in Berkshire, viz. ‘A thief having stolen two beasts from one of those called Quakers, was imprisoned; but somebody having informed the judge, that the man that prosecuted was a Quaker, and he, (the judge,) perceiving that he would not swear, would not hear what the man could say, but tendered him the oath of allegiance and supremacy, which the said Quaker refusing, the judge premunired him, and let the thief go free.’

Esquire Marsh having heard this relation, said that judge was a wicked man. And by what G. Fox had told him, he sufficiently perceived how he might distinguish between the Quakers and other people. True it is, the Baptists in those days made some profession of the unlawfulness of swearing, but when they came to be tried on that account, they soon desisted from that part of their profession, as will be shown more at large in the sequel. But they and the Independents, &c. were very loth to take the oath of allegiance, because of a grudge they had to the government; and this was well known to those that were at the helm. But the innocent Quakers were continually exposed to the malice of their persecutors, and bore the hardest shock of the laws made against dissenters. But now justice Marsh did not omit to free the Quakers from persecution as much as was in his power; for he kept several from being premunired in those parts where he was a justice. And when sometimes he could not avoid sending those that were brought before him to prison, he sent some only for a few hours, or for a night. And even this was such hard work to him, that at length he told the king, he had sent some of the Quakers to prison contrary to his conscience, and that he could not do so any more. He also advised the king to give liberty of conscience: and he was so serviceable to stop the violence of persecution, that about this time little was heard about disturbing of meetings.

About the forepart of this year, if I mistake not, there happened a case at Edmondsbury, which I cannot well pass by in silence, viz. A certain young woman being delivered of a bastard child, destroyed it, and was therefore committed to prison: whilst she was in jail, it is said William Bennit, a prisoner for conscience-sake, came to her, and in discourse asked her, whether during the course of her life, she had not many times transgressed against her conscience? And whether she had not often thereupon felt secret checks and inward reproofs, and been troubled in her mind because of the evil committed; and this he did in such a convincing way, that she not only assented to what he laid before her, but his discourse so reached her heart, that she came clearly to see, that if she had not been so stubborn and disobedient to those inward reproofs, in all probability she would not have come to such a miserable fall as now she had: for man not desiring the knowledge of God’s ways, and departing from him, is left helpless, and cannot keep himself from evil, though it may be such as formerly he would have abhorred in the highest degree, and have said with Hazael, ‘What, is thy servant a dog, that he should do this great thing?’ W. Bennit thus opening matters to her, did by his wholesome admonition so work upon her mind, that she who never had conversed with the Quakers, and was altogether ignorant of their doctrine, now came to apprehend that it was the grace of God that brings salvation, which she so often had withstood; and that this grace had not yet quite forsaken her, but now made her sensible of the greatness of her transgression. This consideration wrought so powerfully, that from a most grievous sinner, she became a true penitent, and with hearty sorrow she cried to the Lord, that it might please him not to hide his countenance. And continuing in this state of humiliation, and sincere repentance, and persevering in supplication, she felt in time some ease; and giving heed to the exhortations of the said Bennit, she attained at length to a sure hope of forgiveness by the precious blood of the immaculate Lamb, who died for the sins of the world.

Of this she gave manifest proofs at her trial before judge Matthew Hale, who having heard how penitent she was, would fain have spared her, having on purpose caused to be inserted in the indictment, that she had committed the fact wilfully and designedly. But she being asked according to the form, ‘Guilty or not guilty?’ Readily answered, ‘Guilty.’ This astonished the judge, who purposely had got the words wilfully and designedly inserted in the indictment, that from thence she might find occasion to deny the charge, and so to quash the indictment; and therefore he told her, that she seemed not duly to consider what she said; since it could not well be believed that such a one as she, who it may be inconsiderately had roughly handled her child, should have killed it wilfully and designedly. Here the judge opened a back door for her to avoid the penalty of death. But now the fear of God had got so much room in her heart, that no tampering would do; no fig leaves could serve her for a cover; for she knew now that this would have been adding sin to sin, and to cover herself with a covering, but not of God’s Spirit; and therefore she plainly signified to the court, that indeed she had committed the mischievous fact intendedly, thereby to hide her shame; and that she having sinned thus grievously, and being affected now with true repentance, she could by no means excuse herself, but was willing to undergo the punishment the law required; and therefore she could not but acknowledge herself guilty, since otherwise how could she expect forgiveness from the Lord? This undisguised and free confession, being spoken with a serious countenance, did so affect the judge, that tears trickling down his face, he sorrowfully said, ‘Woman, such a case as this I never met with before; perhaps you, who are but young, and speak so piously, as being struck to the heart with repentance, might yet do much good in the world: but now you force me, that _ex officio_ I must pronounce sentence of death against you, since you will admit of no excuse.’ Standing to what she had said, the judge pronounced sentence of death. And when afterward she came to the place of execution, she made a pathetical speech to the people, exhorting the spectators, especially those that were young, ‘To have the fear of God before their eyes, to give heed to his secret reproofs for evil, and so not to grieve and resist the good spirit of the Lord; which she herself not having timely minded, it had made her run on in evil, and thus proceeding from wickedness to wickedness, it had brought her to this dismal exit. But since she firmly trusted to God’s infinite mercy, nay surely believed her sins, though of a bloody dye, to be washed off by the pure blood of Christ, she could contentedly depart this life.’ Thus she preached at the gallows the doctrine of the Quakers, so called, and gave heart-melting proofs that her immortal soul was to enter into paradise, as well as anciently that of the thief on the cross. I have been credibly informed by a person who had it from the mouths of such as were present at the execution, that in her request to God she prayed, that it might please him to give a visible sign, that she was received into his favour. And that though it was then a cloudy day, yet immediately after she was turned off, the clouds broke a little, and the sun for a few moments shined upon her face, and presently after ceased shining, and the sky continued overcast. She thus in a serious frame of mind, suffered death, which her crime justly deserved.

This year at London died Thomas Loe, a man of an excellent gift, who zealously had laboured in the ministry of the gospel in Ireland, and by his preaching had brought many over into the society of his friends, and among others also William Penn, to whom on his death-bed he spoke thus, ‘Bear thy cross, and stand faithful to God; then he will give thee an everlasting crown of glory, that shall not be taken from thee. There is no other way which shall prosper than that which the holy men of old have walked in. God hath brought immortality to light, and life immortal is felt. Glory, glory to him, for he is worthy of it. His love overcomes my heart, nay, my cup runs over: glory be to his name for ever.’ No wonder that this speech of one that was at the point of entering into eternity, confirmed William Penn exceedingly in that doctrine, which he had now embraced as truth. At another time Thomas Loe said to his friends that stood at his bed-side, ‘Be not troubled, the love of God overcomes my heart.’ And to George Whitehead and others he said, ‘The Lord is good to me; this day he hath covered me with his glory. I am weak, but am refreshed to see you. The Lord is good to me.’ Another friend asking him how it was with him, he answered, ‘I am near leaving you, I think: but am as well in my spirit as I can desire: I bless the Lord: I never saw more of the glory of God than I have done this day.’ And when it was thought he was departing, he began to sing praises to the Lord, saying, ‘Glory, glory to thee for ever!’ Which did not a little affect the standers by, thus to hear a dying man sing. And in this glorious state he departed this life the 5th of October.

Now since persecution was at a stand this year at London, those of other persuasions sometimes bitterly inveighed from the pulpit against the Quakers, and would challenge them also to a dispute. William Burnet and Jeremy Ives, eminent Baptist teachers, had encountered George Whitehead this summer at Chertsey, and Horn, in Surry, about the resurrection, and Christ’s body in heaven, endeavouring to blacken the Quakers in respect of those points, because they kept to Scripture words, from which the others departing, advanced very gross absurdities.

One Thomas Vincent, a Presbyterian teacher, was much disturbed because some of his auditory were gone over to the society of the Quakers; and to render them odious, he and his fellow teachers accused them of erroneous doctrine concerning the Trinity; and this was chiefly because they did not approve of such expressions as were not to be found in the holy Scriptures, as that of Three persons. On this subject a dispute was held in the Presbyterian meeting-house at London, between the said Vincent on one side, and George Whitehead on the other. That which Vincent and his brethren advanced first, was an accusation, that the Quakers held damnable doctrine. George Whitehead denying this, would have given the people an information of the principles of his friends; but Vincent instead thereof, stated this question, ‘Do you own one Godhead, subsisting in three distinct and separate persons?’ Whitehead and those with him denying this as an unscriptural doctrine, Vincent framed this syllogism.

‘There are Three that hear record in heaven, the Father, the Word, and the Holy Ghost: and these three are one.

‘These are either three manifestations, three operations, three substances, or three somethings else besides subsistences.

‘But they are not three manifestations, three operations, three substances, nor three any things else besides subsistences.

Ergo, ‘Three subsistences.’

G. Whitehead rejected these terms, as not to be found in Scripture, not deducible from the 1 John, v. 7, the place Vincent instanced. And therefore he desired an explanation of those terms, insomuch as God did not use to wrap up his truths in heathenish metaphysics, but in plain language. But whatever was said, no better explanation could be obtained, than person, or the mode of a substance. G. Whitehead and William Penn, who also was there, alleged several places from Scripture, proving God’s complete unity: and they queried how God was to be understood, if in an abstracted sense from his substance? But instead of answering the question, they concluded it a point more fit for admiration than disputation. Then W. Penn denied the minor proposition of Vincent’s syllogism; ‘For,’ said he, ‘no one substance can have three distinct subsistences, and preserve its own unity: for every subsistence will have its own substance; so that three distinct subsistences, or manners of beings, will require three distinct substances or beings: consequently three Gods: for if the infinite godhead subsists in three separate manners or forms, then is not any one of them a perfect and complete subsistence without the other two: so parts, and something finite is in God; or if infinite, then three distinct infinite subsistences; and what is this, but to assert three Gods, since none is infinite but God? On the contrary, there being an inseparability betwixt the substance and its subsistence, the unity of substance will not admit a Trinity of incommunicable or distinct subsistences.’

After several words on both sides, G. Whitehead, to bring this strange doctrine nearer to the capacity of the people, comparing their three persons to three apostles, said, he did not understand, how Paul, Peter, and John could be three persons and one apostle. At which one Maddocks, one of Vincent’s assistants, framed this odd syllogism; ‘He that scornfully and reproachfully compares our doctrine of the blessed Trinity of Father, Son, and Spirit, one in essence, but three in persons, to three finite men, as Paul, Peter, and John, is a blasphemer. But you, G. Whitehead, have done so. Ergo.’ A rash conclusion; but how firm, let the judicious reader determine. I have no mind to enter further into this quarrel, since the parties on both sides went away unsatisfied: for Vincent had not been able to prove the doctrine of the Quakers damnable, as he had asserted. But his passion had transported him, as well as when he said from the pulpit to those of his society, that he had as lief they should go to a bawdy-house, as to frequent the Quakers’ meetings, because of their erroneous and damnable doctrines. And pointing to the window he further said, ‘If there should stand a cup of poison, I would rather drink it, than suck in their damnable doctrines.’ But this untimely zeal did not profit him; for it gave occasion to some of his hearers to inquire into the doctrines of the Quakers; and thus some came to be convinced of the truth thereof.

Now since the aforesaid dispute made a great noise at London, William Penn published a book with this title, The Sandy Foundation Shaken, in which he explained the points controverted, and defended his positions with good reason and the Holy Scriptures. But yet this book, which he himself spread, caused such a stir, that it was evil spoken of, and not long after he was committed to the Tower, and some thought it was not without his father’s being acquainted with it, perhaps to prevent a worse treatment.

This was at the latter end of the year, about which time Josiah Coale fell into a sickness, which took him off the stage of this life; he had languished long, and yet did not at all spare his voice, but was used both in preaching and praying so to raise it, that he spent his natural strength exceedingly, though he was yet as in a flourishing age; nay, it was his life and joy to declare the gospel, and to proclaim the word of God, for which he had an excellent ability: and when he spoke to the ungodly world, an awful gravity appeared in his countenance, and his words were like a hammer and a sharp sword. But though he was a son of thunder, yet his agreeable speech flowed from his mouth like a pleasant stream, to the consolation and comfort of pious souls. Oh! how pathetically have I heard him pray, when he, as transported and ravished, humbly beseeched God, that it might please him to reach to the hard-hearted, to support the godly, and to preserve them steadfast: nay, with what a charming and melodious voice did he sound forth the praises of the Most High in his public prayers! but his work was now done, he had finished his course, and a time of rest from his labours was come. Although he grew weak, yet his manly spirit and great courage bore him up for some time; but his disease, which seemed to be a kind of consumption, at length so increased, that he was fain to keep within doors for several weeks; then mending a little, he went abroad again, and came into a meeting in London, where I beheld his countenance much unlike what it used to be, for it clearly manifested his bodily indisposition: nevertheless he preached with a godly zeal, and his salutary exhortations flowed like a stream from his lips, which seemed to be touched with a coal from the altar of heaven, whilst he was preaching the gospel to the edification of his hearers. Now he began to lift up his voice again to that degree, that judging from thence, one would have supposed him to have been pretty well restored: but the ground of his distemper not being taken away, he was soon necessitated to keep at home again; and his natural strength wasted away so fast, and he so declined, that his death began to be expected, which not very long after fell out accordingly. A little before he died, G. Fox being come to see him, asked him, whether any thing lay upon him to write to the friends in England? But he signified that he had nothing to write, only desired that his love might be remembered to them, and desired G. Fox to pray to God, that he might have an easy passage, for he felt his end approaching. He having complied with his desire, and seeing him begin to be heavy, bid him go and lie on the bed: which J. Coale did; but finding this, as it seems, more uneasy, with the help of his friends he rose again, and sat on the side of the bed; and his friends sitting about him, he felt himself so lively and powerfully raised, that he spoke to them after this manner:

‘Well, friends, be faithful to God, and have a single eye to his
glory; and seek nothing for self, or your own glory; and if any
thing of that arise, judge it down by the power of the Lord God,
that so ye may be clear in his sight, and answer his witness in
all people; then will ye have the reward of life. For my part, I
have walked in faithfulness with the Lord; and I have thus far
finished my testimony, and have peace with the Lord: his majesty
is with me, and his crown of life is upon me. So mind my love to
all friends.’ Then he ceased speaking; and a little time after he
said to Stephen Crisp, ‘Dear heart, keep low in the holy seed of
God, and that will be thy crown for ever.’ After a short pause,
he said, ‘a minister of Christ, must walk as he walked.’

A little afterwards fainting, and being stayed by his friends, he departed in their arms, without the least sigh or groan, but as one falling into a sweet sleep; and being filled with heavenly consolations, he passed from this mortal life, to that which is immortal, having attained the age of thirty-five years and two months, and preached the gospel about twelve years. He had travelled much in the West Indies, sustained great hardships, and laboured in the ministry at his own charge, being freely given up to spend his substance in the service of the Lord. And though he went through many persecutions, imprisonments, and other adversities, yet he was not afraid of danger, but always valiant; and continued in an unmarried state, that so he might more freely labour in the heavenly harvest, and many were converted by his ministry. He lived to see the desire of his heart accomplished; for when first he was raised up to true goodliness, being under the sense of his former transgressions, he cried to the Lord for deliverance, and said with David, ‘If thou, O God, wilt help me thoroughly, then will I teach transgressors thy ways, and sinners shall be converted unto thee.’ He had been long in a mournful state, though naturally of a cheerful temper; and having himself passed through a path of sorrow, he was the more able to comfort the mourners of Zion. The church was very sensible of this great loss; and I have reason to think his corpse was attended to the grave by more than a thousand of his friends, among whom I was then one; and his burying being very public and well known, drew the eyes of many spectators towards it. Let none think it strange, that I have here expatiated somewhat largely, seeing he was indeed dear to me, and I have his kind usage yet in fresh remembrance; for the piety of my mother, whom he had seen in England, caused him to give me marks of the esteem he bore to her memory: and his excellent endowments so affected me, that I was eager to go to that meeting where I heard he was likely to be; nay, I imagined I saw something in him so extraordinary valuable, that I bore a very reverent respect to him, and the more, because difference of age deprived me of a familiar conversation with him.

1669.