Chapter XLII: Appendix: to VOL. I (10)

‘I have been much importuned by some friends to George Fox, to
write to you. I am informed by them, that he is in a very weak
condition, and very much indisposed. What lawful favour you can
do for the benefit of the air, for his health, pray show him. I
suppose the next term they will make application to the king. I
am,

Sir, your loving friend,
HENRY PARKER.’

Evesham, the 8th of October, 1674.

This letter was sufficient warrant for the jailer to permit G. Fox to be brought from prison to the house of one of his friends. His wife was come to him before that time, and after having been with him about seventeen weeks, and no discharge like to be obtained for him, she went up to London, and being come to Whitehall, and meeting with the king there, she gave him an account of her husband’s long imprisonment, and how weak he was, and not without danger of his life. To which the king said, he could do nothing in it, but she must go to the chancellor. And so she went to the lord Finch, who was then chancellor; and having given him an account of the matter, she told him that the king had left it wholly to him; and if he did not show pity, and release her husband out of prison, she feared he would end his days there. But the chancellor said to her, that the king could not release him, otherwise than by a pardon. Now G. Fox could not resolve to be freed thus, as well knowing he had done no evil; and therefore he would rather have lain in prison all his days, than to be thus set at liberty; otherwise he needed not to have lain so long, since the king had been willing long before to have given him a pardon; and also had said to one Thomas More, that G. Fox needed not scruple being released by a pardon; for many a man, that was as innocent as a child, had had a pardon granted him. G. Fox unwilling to have a pardon, but desiring to have the validity of his indictment tried before the judges, the lord chancellor, who showed himself a discreet man, procured that an _habeas corpus_ was granted to bring G. Fox to London, once more to appear before the king’s bench. The _habeas corpus_ was with the first opportunity sent down by his wife to Worcester; but there they would not part with him at first, (being now recovered a little of his sickness,) under a pretence that he was premunired, and was not to go out in that manner. Thus it became necessary to send to London again; and another order was got and sent down, to bring up G. Fox before the king’s bench. Being still weak, he was carried up to London in a coach, the under-sheriff and the clerk of the peace accompanying him.

Being come down, he was brought before the four judges at the king’s bench, where counsellor Thomas Corbet pleaded his cause, and acquitted himself exceeding well; for he started a new plea, and told the judges, that by law they could not imprison any man upon a premunire. The judges then saying they must have time to look in their books, and to consult the statutes, the hearing was put off till the next day. And since it appeared that Corbet was in the right, they chose to let their plea fall, perhaps for fear of worse consequences. And thus they began to examine the errors of the indictment, which proved to be so many and so gross, that all the judges were of opinion, that the indictment was quashed and void, and that G. Fox ought to have his liberty. The same day several lords and other great men, had the oaths of allegiance and supremacy tendered to them in open court; and some of G. Fox’s adversaries moved the judges, that the oaths might be tendered to him again, saying, he was a dangerous man to be at liberty. But judge Matthew Hale, who was then lord chief justice of England, and really an excellent and pious man, as hath been hinted already here before, said, he had indeed heard some such reports of G. Fox, but he had also heard more good reports of him. This saying was serviceable; and Hale and the other judges ordered G. Fox to be freed by proclamation. Thus he was set at liberty in an honourable way, and his counsellor Corbet, who had pleaded for him, got great fame by it; for many other lawyers told him, he had brought that to light, which had not been known before. And after the trial, one of the judges said to him, ‘You have obtained a great deal of honour by your way of pleading G. Fox’s cause in court.’

The year was now come to an end. But before I go over to the next, I am to mention that the Baptists in England, losing from time to time some of their best members, wrote therefore very fiercely against the Quakers, endeavouring thereby to render them no Christians. But those writings were continually answered, and that with so many convincing reasons, that the Quakers got more adherents by it. The consequence of this was, that a public dispute was appointed to be held between the Baptists and the Quakers, in the meeting-house of the Baptists at London. For the Quakers, there spoke by turns, George Whitehead, Stephen Crisp, William Penn, and George Keith; and the opponents were Jeremy Ives, William Kiffin, Thomas Plant, Thomas Hicks, and Robert Ferguson, a Presbyterian, afterwards eminently known in Holland, by the fierce declaration drawn up by him in the name of the duke of Monmouth, when that unhappy prince went over to England with forces, to dispute the throne against king James.

Jeremy Ives was an eminent teacher among the Baptists, that had been in prison in London fourteen years before on a religious account, and chiefly because for conscience-sake he refused to take the oath.

Not long after he wrote a smart letter from the prison, to two of his society, (who having been imprisoned with him for the same cause, had taken the oath, thereby to obtain their liberty,) wherein he reproved them for their falling away, and signified that thus they had increased the burden of their faithful brethren, from the bearing of which they had withdrawn themselves. But what a changeable creature is man, if he doth not continue watchful, and keep close to the divine grace, continually laying hold thereon! For scarce five days passed, but this inconstant Jeremy grew weary of imprisonment, and took the oath also to get out of prison. Neither did he stop here; for it is plain that he was now departed from his profession. To temporize therefore, and to find out excuses for what he had done, he put forth a book in print, wherein he asserted the lawfulness of swearing. It was asked of him, whether he was that same Jeremy Ives, that once had been of such a tender conscience, that he durst not take an oath, and had afterwards publicly defended swearing as lawful? And he did not deny the fact, for it was notoriously known: but he went about to disguise the matter, and said, ‘I am that Jeremy who took the oath of allegiance, and wrote a book to prove that some oaths were lawful, though not all.’ Neither did he deny the fore-mentioned letter, for it was extant, and written as followeth:

‘_Brother Pitman and Brother Shewel_,

‘I am at this time surprised with a holy passion; and though
Jonah could not say concerning the gourd, that he did well to be
angry; yet, if my experience in the word of the Lord doth not
deceive, I can truly say, I do well to be angry with you; whom
I have had a godly jealously of all along, viz. That you would
be as easily persuaded to part with, as unwilling to suffer for,
your spiritual liberties. Oh my brethren! Where is your first
love? How unlike the Christians in former times are you? Whose
zeal was so hot for God, that their eyes prevented the morning,
that thereby they might prevent the rage of the adversary, who,
as it is now, commanded them no more to worship in the name of
the Lord.--I always did conclude, that those that would--quit
the cause of righteousness--would quit the ways of holiness, as
yesterday’s sad experience hath taught, to the perpetual joy
of your adversaries, and the saddening the hearts, and adding
afflictions to the bonds of the prisoners of the Lord. I do
therefore conjure you, as you will answer the great God another
day, to consider, that now is the time for you to look to your
ministry, and to the flock over which the Lord hath made you
overseers, that you may be able through grace to say, ‘You are
clear from the blood of all men;’ and observe, that God is now
come to prove you, to see whether you will keep his commandments
or not. Remember when that apostate’s case was debated, you had
no zeal nor indignation against him, but you smothered all with
this, ‘If it were in a matter of faith and worship that he had
fallen from, you would have been as one man against it.’ Well,
behold the Lord is come home to you; the matter now is purely for
worshipping God; now God is proving you to see whether you will
obey him or no: and did not yesterday’s work witness, that you
were willing to prefer the fear of a man, that must die, before
the fear of the great God; and the fear of them that can kill the
body, before the fear of the Lord, that can cast body and soul
into hell? I have no more to say but this, that your cowardly
temporizing and complying with the precepts of men, makes me
jealous, that your fear towards the Lord is taught by the
precepts of men. I would not be too censorious, but my grounds
are great; and my bonds are my crown; but your cowardly spirit is
my great cross. You little think what a scandal it is amongst us
to hear it affirmed that one of you should say, you had rather
have given fifty pounds than have sworn, and yet swear that you
swear willingly. Oh! for the Lord’s sake, do somewhat that may
roll away this reproach; which that you may, is the prayers of
your brother, who could be contented to write himself,

Your companion in tribulation,
JER. IVES.’

Jan. 14, 1660.

‘Brother Ward, my fellow-prisoner, desires to present his love to
you, and so do some others.’

Thus zealously Jer. Ives wrote to his fellow-teachers, who for human fear, and to avoid sufferings, had, against their profession, and the conviction of their consciences, taken the oath. But who could have imagined on sight of such letter, that he himself within so short a space of time, should have done that which he reproved so severely in others. Certainly in this case the saying of the prophet Jeremiah seems to be very applicable, “The heart is deceitful above all things, and desperately wicked; who can know it? Let therefore him who standeth, be cautious lest he fall.” Happy had this man been, if he had been so sensible of his transgressions as one Edward Chilton, who though by profession a Quaker, yet when it came to a trial, either to take the oath of allegiance, or to be premunired, he wavered and fainted; yet not so, that he fell away totally: for he became so penitent for the evil he had committed, that he found himself constrained to give proof thereof by a letter he wrote to his friends, who remained prisoners, because for conscience-sake they could not swear; whereas he, to be released from imprisonment, had taken the oath that was demanded of him. But of what a bitter relish this became to him, and what terror and horror he was seized with, the following letter will show:

‘_My dear Friends_,

‘I desire to lay before you this my condition in this my fall,
that my fall may be no cause for you to stumble, but that you
by it may be the more encouraged to stand; for I have yielded
to the betrayer, and so betrayed the innocent seed in me; for I
forsook the counsel of the Lord, and consulted with flesh and
blood, and so I fell into the snare of the world, and yielded to
the covenant; and so I rested satisfied in what I had done, for
some certain hours; but when the Lord in his power looked back
upon me, then I remembered what I had done; then I remembered
that I had denied truth, which once I had professed, though once
I thought I should have stood when others fell. So the terrors of
the Lord have taken hold on me, and I lie under the judgments of
the Lord.

‘And now I feel the truth of the words that were spoken by
Christ, ‘that he that faileth in one tittle, is guilty of all;’
and now I feel the truth of that, ‘that it is better to forsake
wife and children, and all that a man hath, even life itself,
for Christ and the truth’s sake, than to break one tittle of the
law of God written in the heart.’ So I hope that, by mercy and
judgment, the Lord will redeem me to himself again. The Lord
may suffer some to fall, that the standing of them that stand
faithful may seem to be the more glorious, and for them to take
heed lest they fall.

‘Now I know and feel, that it is better to part with any thing of
this world, though it be as dear to one as the right hand, or the
eye, than to break our peace with God.

‘Pray for me; for my bonds are greater than yours.

EDWARD CHILTON.’

Windsor, the 22d of the 11th month,
1660.

It is remarkable, that this Chilton in the conclusion of his letter saith, that his bonds were greater than those of his friends, who neither feared a premunire, nor loss of their liberty, when they must pay so dear for it, as the taking of an oath. For when any one truly abides in the fear of God, he dares not, against the convictions of his conscience, transgress the Divine commandments, and seek evasions to avoid the stress thereof: for certainly God will not be mocked. Could our Saviour have spoken in more plain and express terms than he did, when he said, “Swear not at all?” And yet what cunning devices have been invented by those who boast of the name of Christians, to enervate the force of these express words. It is not a proper place here to refute their reasons; but yet I cannot think it unsuitable to show briefly how dangerous it is to act against the express commandments of sacred writ, and against the conviction of one’s conscience, thereby to avoid persecution: for not only the apostle James saith, “Whosoever shall offend in one point, he is guilty of all;” but our supreme lawgiver Christ himself saith, “Whosoever shall deny me before men, him will I also deny before my Father which is in heaven. And whosoever shall be ashamed of me, and of my words, of him also shall the Son of Man be ashamed, when he cometh in the glory of his Father, with the holy angels.” And to encourage us to faithfulness he hath also said, “Fear not them which kill the body, but are not able to kill the soul; but rather fear him which is able to destroy both soul and body in hell.” Which words indeed are so emphatical, that it ought not to displease any that I repeat them, as they have been left on record by the evangelist Luke, viz. thus, “I say unto you, my friends, be not afraid of them that kill the body, and after that have no more that they can do. But I will forewarn you whom ye shall fear: fear him, which after he hath killed, hath power to cast into hell: yea, I say unto you, fear him.” Can it be otherwise, but that such words must needs make a powerful impression on a real Christian? And the more when we consider, that nothing in the world can retrieve or restore a perishing soul, as may appear from these of our blessed Lord, “What is a man profited, if he shall gain the whole world, and lose his own soul? Or what shall a man give in exchange for his soul?” A clear proof that the whole world, and all that is contained therein, is not able to save one soul, or to afford any thing that can redeem it. If I here thought it requisite, a godly zeal at present would make me say more on this subject; but not to expatiate too far beyond the limits of this historical tract, I shall not pursue this digression any further, but return to my relation from whence I thus stepped aside.

To take up again then the broken thread of my discourse, I once more come to Jeremy Ives, who, to avoid persecution, had taken the oath contrary to his understanding; and it was Thomas Rudyard, mentioned here before, who objected this to him; and he feeling himself pinched by it, endeavoured to break the stress thereof by saying, that the reason why in a letter he had blamed a friend, was for his saying he had rather have given fifty pounds than have took the oath of allegiance, and yet swore he took it freely and willingly. But who sees not what a poor shift this was?

Now to come to the dispute; I already mentioned it was asserted, that the Quakers were no Christians; and to maintain this, Thomas Hicks said, ‘They that deny the Lord’s Christ, are no Christians: but the Quakers deny the Lord’s Christ,’ &c. To which W. Penn said, ‘I deny the minor, viz. that the Quakers deny the Lord’s Christ.’ And T. Hicks returned, ‘They that deny Christ to be a distinct person without them, deny the Lord’s Christ; but the Quakers deny Christ to be a distinct person without them: therefore,’ &c. W. Penn then desired that T. Hicks would explain what he meant by the term person. And T. Hicks answered, ‘I mean the man Christ Jesus.’ To which W. Penn replied, ‘Then I deny the minor, viz. that we deny the man Christ Jesus.’ To which Hicks returned, ‘I prove ye deny the man Christ Jesus. One of your own writers saith, that Christ was never seen with carnal eyes, nor heard with carnal ears,’ &c. To this J. Ives added, ‘He that denies that Christ was ever seen with carnal eyes, &c. denies the man Christ: but the Quakers deny that Christ was ever seen with carnal eyes,’ &c. George Keith then said, ‘I answer by distinguishing: Christ as God was never seen with carnal eyes; but as man he was seen with carnal eyes.’ To this J. Ives returned: ‘But he was Christ as he was man: how then was not Christ seen with carnal eyes?’ To this question G. Keith answered thus: ‘We are to consider that the terms or names Jesus Christ, are sometimes applied to him as God, and sometimes to him as man; yea, sometimes to the very body of Jesus: but the question is, whether do those names more properly, immediately, and originally belong to him as God, or as he was before he took the manhood upon him; or to the manhood? We affirm, those names are given to him most properly and eminently as God; and less properly, yet truly, as man; and least properly to his body, yea to his dead body.’ Then J. Ives asked, ‘Where do you read that the carcase was called the Christ?’ This irreverent expression so displeased many, that some cried out, ‘Where didst thou ever read that Christ’s dead body was called a carcase?’ From this disgust W. Penn said, ‘I beseech you for the Lord’s sake, that we may treat of these things as becomes Christians.’

G. Keith then resuming the discourse, answered J. Ives’s question thus: ‘I prove that the dead body of Jesus was called Christ, from the words of Mary, “Where have ye laid him?” For she had just before called the body her Lord: likewise the angel said to her, “See the place where the Lord lay:” and that he was Jesus Christ before he took flesh, I prove from the saying of the apostle, “Who created all things by Jesus Christ.”’ Then T. Hicks said, ‘I will prove the Quakers to be no Christians:’ and J. Ives added, ‘They that say that Christ cannot be seen with carnal eyes, and was never visible to wicked men, do deny the Lord’s Christ; for he was seen with carnal eyes, and by wicked men.’ To this W. Penn said, ‘I distinguish upon the word seen; wicked men might see him in that bodily appearance, and yet not see him to be the Christ of God; they saw his manhood, but not his Christship: this I will prove from Christ’s words to Peter, when he confessed him to be Christ, the Son of the living God, viz. “Flesh and blood hath not revealed this unto thee, but my Father which is in heaven:” therefore Peter with a carnal eye could not have seen the Lord’s Christ, much less wicked men. My second proof is from the apostle’s words, “Whom none of the princes of this world knew; for had they known him, they would not have crucified him.”’ W. Penn enlarging a little more on this subject, said also, that seeing and knowing in Scriptures are sometimes equivalent. And G. Keith added, ‘Christ said, “He that hath seen me, hath seen the Father:” but no wicked man hath seen the Father, therefore no wicked man hath seen Christ, as such.’ Ives and his companions scoffed at this distinction: but the Quakers averred, that all who saw Jesus as the carpenter’s son, did not see him as the Christ of God. Then Ives asked, ‘Is the manhood a part of the Lord’s Christ?’ To which W. Penn returned, ‘Is this to prove the charge of our denying the Lord’s Christ? It seems we must be here to be catechised, and ye will not answer us one question, yet I shall answer J. Ives his question, if he will promise to answer mine.’

Ives then saying that he would answer it, W. Penn returned, ‘I here declare, that we do faithfully believe that holy manhood to be a member of the Christ of God:’ and directing his question to Ives, he said, ‘Was he the Christ of God before he was manifest in the flesh?’ ‘He was,’ answered Ives, ‘the Son of God.’ ‘But,’ replied W. Penn, ‘Was he the Lord’s Christ? I will prove him to have been the Lord’s Christ as well before as after: first from the apostle Paul’s words to the Corinthians, “That rock was Christ:” next from Jude, where some Greek copies have it thus, “That Jesus brought the people of Israel out of Egypt.”’ But to this Ives gave no answer, how often soever he was called upon for it. And this was no great wonder, since it was well known that there were such among the Baptists who favoured the Socinian principles. But Ives, that he might not appear altogether mute, came on again with a question, viz. ‘Do ye believe that Christ in his human nature is in heaven?’ This made G. Whitehead say to the auditory, ‘Ye have heard the charge against us, and the distinction that hath been made between seeing, and seeing of Christ, as namely between the spiritual saving sight of the Lord’s Christ, and the seeing of his outward man, person, or body. In this last sense it could never be intended that it was not visible to the outward eye; but it was the spiritual rock which all Israel drank of, and as he was before Abraham was, and as glorified with the Father before the world began; and as Christ himself said to Philip, “He that seeth me, seeth my Father also:” and only saints, or children of light, could truly say, “We have seen his glory as the only begotten of the Father, full of grace and truth.” In all which considerations, or senses of seeing, the Lord’s Christ was only seen spiritually, and not with carnal eyes.’ This Ives granted, that so it might be left: yet presently after, instead of proving the Quakers no Christians, he asked again, ‘Do ye believe or own that Christ is in heaven with his human nature?’ To which W. Penn answered, ‘We do believe the man Christ Jesus to be glorified in heaven.’ Which answer Ives refusing to accept, because it was not in the terms of his question, Penn asked, ‘What difference dost thou make between the manhood and human nature of Christ?’ ‘None,’ returned Ives, ‘if you mean candidly.’ To which Penn replied, ‘I do mean and speak candidly; we do believe that holy manhood to be in heavenly glory.’

Now since it began to grow dark, the Baptists desired to leave off, and to resume the matter at another time; as was done also: but the parties did not agree for all that; for though the Baptists continued to assert that the Quakers were no Christians, yet these had abundance of reasons to maintain the contrary; and this they did so effectually, that those of the other party, under a pretence of the meeting-place being overcharged with people, and that the gallery gave way, broke up the meeting, without a final conclusion.

Prosecution in this year was not very sharp at London, but for all that, active in other places, so that I do not want matter to make a relation of it; but to shun prolixity, I will mention but one case.

One Robert Tilles, in Buckingham, sick of a consumption, and believing his death to be nigh at hand, desired some of his friends to visit him. At this invitation some came to his house, yet not above the number of fourteen persons; and two informers went and acquainted a justice of the peace thereof, who recorded this small assembly as a seditious meeting, and fined the sick man twenty pounds for this pretended transgression; and so his goods were seized, and six cows taken from him. And one Robert Smith, being overheard by the informers to have spoken five or six words, was fined also twenty pounds as a preacher; which fine was afterwards extorted from some others then present.

The peace between England and Holland was concluded this year, at the instance of Spain, but the war between Holland and France continued still.

1675.

I now pass over to the year 1675. About the beginning whereof G. Fox came to London, whilst the parliament was sitting, who advised the king to the suppressing of the growth of popery; but in the meanwhile the Quakers bore the chiefest shock; for their religious meetings were styled seditious conventicles.

After G. Fox had been at the yearly-meeting of his friends at London, he left the city, and went to Lancaster, and from thence to Swarthmore, where having a dwelling-place of his own, he staid about two years to rest himself: having contracted distempers by hardships and imprisonments, which had much weakened his body. Being there, he understood that four young students at Aberdeen were convinced at a dispute held by Robert Barclay and George Keith, with some of the scholars of that university. And being visited by some of the neighbourhood, among others came also to him colonel Kirby, his old persecutor, who now carried himself very lovingly, and bid him welcome into the country. Yet notwithstanding this appearance of kindness, sometime afterwards he ordered the constables of Ulverstone to tell G. Fox, that they must have no more meetings at Swarthmore, for if they had, they were commanded by him to break them up; and they were to come the next Sunday after. But this threatening did not make G. F. afraid; for he, with his friends, had a meeting on that First day of the week, and none came to disturb them. During his abode at home, when he did not travel to and fro in the country, as he used to do, to edify his friends by his ministry, he supplied this with his pen, and exhorted them by writing, where he could not do it by word of mouth: besides he wrote other serviceable treatises, for he was a diligent man.

In the meanwhile persecution for the worship of God did not cease altogether: the act against seditious conventicles gave opportunity to the malicious to disturb the religious meetings of the Quakers, who never met in a clandestine manner, but always publicly: and on this account fines were extorted from them; to which may be added, that oftentimes they were still very ill treated, and most grievously abused, as among the rest at Long Clawston in Leicestershire, where some women were dragged by the neck along the street; and among these a widow, the skin of whose neck was rubbed off by this rudeness; and an ancient woman, above seventy, was violently cast down to the ground. Some of the men were dragged by the hair, and others by their legs, besides the many blows given them: and some were trodden upon till the blood gushed out of their mouth and nose. Yet all this they bore patiently, without making any resistance; whereby it happened sometimes that some who had not the gift of preaching, reached others by their patient suffering; showing by their meek behaviour, that their works did agree with their Christian profession: and though many were robbed of all they had, even clothes and beds not excepted, yet they continued steadfast without fainting; though often it was called a meeting when some were come together, not properly to perform religious worship, as hath been related already.

At Kirby Muckloe, where some were come to the house of John Penford, to provide for their poor, the priest of the parish, called John Dixon, informed against them by letter to Wenlock Stanly of Branston, who sent three of his servants to take inspection of the said meeting; and though these looking into the book, in which the charitable distributions were entered, found that this meeting had been only to consider of the necessities of the poor, yet several were fined, and Penford himself twenty pounds for his house, and ten pounds for the preacher, when there was never any one there; but they having heard him speak, this was counted sufficient to make him pass for a preacher. Now though he and Richard Woodland appealed for justice, yet the court positively denied their appeal, unless they would first take the oath of allegiance. This was the old snare, so that the hearing of the matter was denied, and treble damage given against them.

At Lewes in Sussex, the priest, William Snat, became himself an informer, and went several times to the Quakers’ meeting there; and from thence to the justice Henry Shully, to whom he declared on oath, in whose house the meeting had been, and who had preached; and this was so gross, that once he gave a false information with respect to the house; but the gain proceeding from this work, how abominable soever, did shine so alluringly, that his kinsman, James Clark, entered upon this informer’s office: which any one could easily do, without making suit for it.

In Norfolk, the rage of the persecutors was such, that some having been bereaved of all, were obliged, even in winter time, (as amongst the rest, Joseph Harrison, with his wife and children,) to lie on straw; and yet they, unwearied, did not leave frequenting their religious meeting; nay, even the dead were not suffered to rest, for outrageous barbarity came to that pitch, that Mary, the wife of Francis Larder, being dead and buried, was, by order of one Thomas Bretland, dug up again, whereby the coffin was broken, which they tied together, and carrying it away, exposed the corpse in the market-place. Thus this deceased woman was no more suffered to lie quiet in her grave, than in her sick bed, where the day before her death, she had been threatened by order of one Christopher Bedinfield, to have her bed taken from under her while living. Now the reason of thus taking up the corpse was, that though her husband was one of those called Quakers, yet she not being properly a member of that society, it was taken ill that she had been buried in a plain way, without paying to the priest his pretended due, for the ordinary service over the dead.

In Somersetshire thirty-two persons were fined for having been at a burial. The like happened in the county of Derby, where Samuel Roe, (his wife being deceased,) was fined twenty pounds, because his friends met in his house to conduct the corpse to the grave. Of this the priest, John Wilson, was informer to the justice of peace, John Loe; and out of the house of the said Samuel Roe, was taken the value of thirty pounds; so that the share of the informer was no less than ten pounds; since according to law, his due was a third of the spoil. I could here relate several instances of great adversities, and sad mischiefs that befel cruel persecutors; but not to expatiate too far, I have silently passed by many remarkable cases.

Yet, in general terms I may say, that many of the persecutors, both justices, informers, and others, came to a miserable end: some being by sudden, or unnatural death, and others by lingering sicknesses, or distempers, or by foul and stinking diseases, taken out of this life; whilst some, who by spoil had scraped much together, fell to great poverty and beggary; whose names I could set down, and mention also time and place; and among these some rapacious ecclesiastics, who came to a sad end; but I studiously omit particularizing such instances, to avoid the appearance of grudging and envy. Some of those that had been so active in spoil, signified themselves the terrible remorse of conscience they felt, because of their having persecuted the Quakers; insomuch, that they roared out their gnawing grief, mixed with despair, under the grievous pains they suffered in their body. And it was judged by many a very remarkable case, that one Christopher Glin, priest at Burford, who had acted with a very indiscreet zeal against the Quakers, having about the year 1663, read his text in the pulpit, and then intending to read his sermon, was on a sudden struck with blindness, and continued blind till he died. But none of the persecutors seemed to take notice, or to regard such instances; for they let their rage loose against the Quakers; who, for all that continued in patience, though they did not think it unlawful to give notice of the grievous oppression their friends suffered, to those that were in authority; lest they might have excused themselves as ignorant of these violent proceedings. Therefore it was not omitted to publish in public print, many of those crying instances that have been related here, and to present them to the king and parliament, with humble addresses to that purpose. But all this found but small entrance. King Charles it seems was not to be the man that should take off this yoke of oppression; this work was reserved for others. His brother James that succeeded him, made a beginning thereof, with what intention Heaven knows; and William III. that excellent prince, brought it to perfection as far as it was in his power.

This year deceased at sea William Bayly, coming from the West Indies, in the ship called the Samuel, of London, in the latitude of 46 degrees and 36 minutes: he had been a teacher among the Baptists, and had read much in the books of Jacob Behmen, but could not find thereby true satisfaction to his soul. And being afterwards entered into society with the Quakers, so called, he became a zealous preacher among them. When in this his last voyage he was grown sick, and felt death approaching, he bid John Clark, master of the said vessel, remember him to his dear wife and little ones, and also to G. Fox, G. Whitehead and others; and being filled with joy, began to sing, saying, ‘The creating word of the Lord endures for ever.’ He took several that were about him by the hand, and exhorted them to fear the Lord, and not to fear death: ‘Death,’ said he, ‘is nothing in itself; for the sting of death is sin. Tell the Friends at London, that would have been glad to have seen my face, I go to my Father and their Father, to my God and their God. Remember my love to my dear wife; she will be a sorrowful widow: but let her not mourn too much, for it is well with me.’ And having spoken something concerning his outward business to the master, he said in regard to his wife and children, ‘I have left them no portions, but my endeavour hath been to make God their father. Shall I lay down my head upon the waters? Well, God is the God of the whole universe; and though my body sink, I shall swim atop of the waters.’ Then taking his leave of the company, he said, ‘I see not one of you, but I wish you all well.’ And one asking, how it was with him? he answered, ‘I am perfectly well.’ After having spoken many more sensible words, about four in the morning he departed quietly, as if he had fallen asleep. His wife Mary, the same that had formerly been at Adrianople, and spoken with the emperor of the Turks, gave an excellent testimony in writing concerning him; and J. Crook, in a preface to W. Bayly’s works, said of him, (the truth of which I know by my own experience,) ‘As he was bold and zealous in his preaching, being willing to improve his time, as if he had known it was not to be long amongst us; so was he as valiant in suffering for his testimony, when called thereunto. Methinks I see how once I saw him stand at the bar to plead his innocent cause, like holy Stephen, in the senate-house, when the threats of his persecutors resembled the showers of stones, falling upon that blessed martyr, crying out with a hideous noise, ‘take him away, jailer,’ &c. and yet all this while he changed not his countenance, except by the additional ornaments of some innocent smiles. Sometimes by cruel persecutors he hath been thrown down, and dragged upon the ground by the hair of his head, and his mouth and jaws endeavoured to be rent and broke asunder, so that the ground whereon he lay was smeared with his blood: yet, as if this butchering had not been enough to make him a fit sacrifice for the shambles of their cruelty, a heavy gross bodied persecutor stamped upon his breast with his feet, endeavouring to beat the breath out of his body: and when this persecutor had done his pleasure, he commanded the jailer to take him away, and put him in some nasty hole for his entertainment and cure. And had not the God of Israel been his physician there, he had been taken from us long before this.’ Thus far John Crook.

1676.

At the beginning of this year, 1676, died at London, Matthew Hide, who had made it his business, during the space of about twenty years, publicly to contradict the Quakers in their meetings, and to disturb them in their worship of God, thinking from a blind zeal, that he did God an acceptable piece of service, by zealously opposing what he judged to be heresy. Now how much soever this man was bent against them, yet he showed this moderation, that in his gainsaying he did not behave himself furiously, but appeared to be well meaning, although he erred exceedingly, and often hindered the preaching of ministers among the Quakers; which induced W. Penn sometimes to pray to God very earnestly for him, and to tell him in the presence of many auditors, that God would plead with him by his righteous judgments; and that the time would come he should be forced to confess to the sufficiency of that light he then opposed, and to acknowledge that God was with those called Quakers.

This same Hide being by sickness brought to the brink of death, desired that G. Whitehead, and some of his friends, might be sent for: and to one Cotton Oade, who asked him, if he had any thing to say to clear himself, concerning his having so often opposed the friends called Quakers, in their declarations and prayers, he said, that he was sorry for what he had done: for, added he, they are the people of God. G. Whitehead, then, though it was late in the evening, being come to him, with some others, said, ‘I am come in love and tenderness to see thee.’ To which Hide returned, ‘I am glad to see you.’ And Whitehead again, ‘If thou hast any thing on thy conscience to speak, I would have thee to clear thy conscience.’ To this Hide replied, ‘What I have to say, I speak in the presence of God: as Paul was a persecutor of the people of the Lord, so have I been a persecutor of you, his people, as the world is who persecute the children of God.’ More he spoke, but being very weak, his words could not well be understood. Then G. Whitehead resumed, ‘Thy understanding being darkened when darkness was over thee, thou hast gainsaid the truth and people of the Lord; and I knew that that light which thou opposedst, would rise up in judgment against thee. I have often with others, laboured with thee to bring thee to a right understanding.’ To which Hide said, ‘This I declare in the presence of God, and of you here, I have done evil in persecuting you who are the children of God, and I am sorry for it: the Lord Jesus Christ show mercy unto me, and the Lord increase your number, and be with you.’ After some pause G. Whitehead said to him, ‘I would have thee, if thou art able to speak, to ease thy conscience as fully as thou canst. My soul is affected to hear thee thus confess thy evil, as the Lord hath given thee a sense of it. In repentance there is mercy and forgiveness; in confessing and forsaking sin, there is mercy to be found with the Lord, who in the midst of judgment remembers mercy, that he may be feared.’ Hide being in great anguish, and striving for breath, said, a little after, ‘I have done evil in opposing you in your prayers; the Lord be merciful unto me; and as I have been an instrument to turn many from God, the Lord raise up many instruments to turn many to him.’ G. Whitehead resumed, ‘I desire thou mayest find mercy and forgiveness at the hand of the Lord. How is it with thy soul? Dost not thou find some ease?’ ‘I hope I do,’ answered Hide, ‘and if the Lord should lengthen my days, I should be willing to hear a testimony for you, as publicly as I have appeared against you.’ His wife then said, ‘It is enough; what can be desired more?’ ‘If,’ queried Whitehead, ‘the Lord should not lengthen out thy days, dost thou desire what thou sayest should be signified to others?’ ‘Yes,’ answered Hide, ‘I do, you may; I have said as much as I can say.’ After some silence, he being much straitened for breath, Whitehead said, ‘If this company be wearisome unto thee, we may withdraw.’ To which he returned, ‘you may use your freedom.’ G. Whitehead then taking leave of him, said, ‘I shall leave thee to the Lord, desiring he may show mercy and forgiveness unto thee, as I hope he will.’ Upon which Hide replied, ‘The Lord be with your spirits.’

All this was spoken to G. Whitehead and his friends, in the presence of Hide’s wife, and some others of his acquaintance, about two hours before his death: and thus he gave manifest proofs of a sincere repentance; for Elizabeth his wife, having perceived him to be much troubled in his mind, had asked him, if he would speak with some of the Quakers? and he smiting his hand on his breast, said, ‘With all my soul.’ After G. Whitehead and his friends were gone, it being the seventh day of the week, he desired several times that he might live till morning, and might hear on that day, viz. the first day of the week, a testimony for the truth, he had on that day so often opposed; yet he signified that he had found some ease to his spirit. He also exhorted his wife, who conversed much with people that were great in the world, to use the plain language of the Quakers. And after some more words to this purpose, spoken by him, with good understanding, he stretched himself out, and died very quietly. An evident token of God’s unspeakable mercy, who wills not the death of a sinner, but that he should repent and live; and who entirely knowing the real disposition of man’s heart, forgives sin by mere grace, without any merit in man, but for his own sake, as he hath said himself, “I am he that blotteth out thy transgressions for mine own sake, and will not remember thy sins.” The truth of which saying very plainly appeared in the converted thief on the cross, though his impenitent fellow-sufferer hardened his heart against it.

In this year, while G. Fox was at Swarthmore, died William Lampitt, the priest of Ulverstone, who formerly had been a great friend to Margaret, now the wife of G. Fox, but grew so envious against the friends she was in society with, that he said in the year 1652, he would wage his life upon it, that the Quakers would all vanish and come to nought within half a year. But on his death-bed he said to one of his hearers, who came to visit him, ‘I have been a preacher a long time, and thought I had lived well; but I did not think it had been so hard a thing to die.’

At Norwich now great spoil was made upon the Quakers, for their religious assemblies. Erasmus Cooper coming once into the house of Anthony Alexander, said to his wife, who was big with child, he came to seize all she had. ‘All,’ said she, ‘and that for seven pounds fine, that is hard.’ But he slighting what she said, replied, he would not leave her a bed to lie on. And then began to break the doors with a pick-axe; he and his companions behaving themselves so desperately, that it drew tears from some of the neighbours who beheld it; and the warranted spoilers forced Alexander’s man to help them; which made Alexander say, that it was a most unreasonable thing, to require a servant to assist in the taking his master’s goods: for which the warden, Robert Clerk, snarled at him, saying, ‘They are our goods.’ To the house of Samuel Duncon, the aforesaid officers came also, and with them the informer, Charles Tennison, and the hangman. Here they staid several days and nights, and kept Samuel’s wife, who was big with child, as a prisoner in her own house, not suffering her to speak with any, so much as at the door, nor any to come to her. And after they had broken open all the locked doors, they took away to the value of about forty-three pounds in goods; and so insolent the informers were, that one did not stick to say, ‘I will make the mayor wait upon me as often as I will, at my pleasure.’ Nay, this wicked crew was become so powerful, that none durst oppose them, for fear of falling into disgrace with the court: since they were encouraged by such as were in high stations, and probably at the instance of the Papists, or popishly affected. The constable, William Poole, coming this summer into a meeting at Norwich, with an informer, who made him come, and hearing efficacious preaching there, cried with tears in his eyes, ‘What shall I do! I know the power of God is among you:’ and told the informer, that if there were a curse hung over any people upon the earth, it was over the informers. And Tennison the informer, who had assisted in taking away Samuel Duncon’s goods, being afterwards committed to prison for debt, confessed he never prospered since he took in hand that work; and said if he were at liberty, he would never meddle with it more.

In Nottinghamshire also great spoil and havoc was made, to which the justice Robert Thoroton, was greatly instrumental; for at Sutton he gave forth a warrant to seize the goods of two persons, one of which was a woman, who having in a meeting spoken five or six words, which, according to the testimony of some officers that were present, were not at all like preaching, was however informed against as a preacher, and so by the said Thoroton fined twenty pounds; and she being unable to pay, the one half of the fine was charged upon her, and the other half upon John Fulwood. At another time Thoroton gave order to seize the goods of William Day, a miller, because he having been at a meeting at Sutton, in the street, the fine of a pretended preacher, that was unable, was charged upon him; though Day proved, and the officers who kept the friends out of their meeting place, declared also, that those words, which were called preaching, were no more than an answer to what another had spoken. But for all that, Thoroton, to protect, and to gratify the informer, said, ‘Though but one word were spoken, it is sufficient.’ A poor woman at South Collingham, who was already bereaved of almost all that she possessed, and since by her friends provided with a bed and other necessaries, was also deprived of this little, because she continued to frequent meetings. Matthew Hartly, a poor man, who lived by spinning of wool, was likewise, for frequenting the meeting there, bereaved of what he had; and so it was with many others, whose names and surnames I could mention, if I had a mind to enlarge. And if their friends had not taken care of them, and other impoverished families, who had lost all by spoil, many might have perished.