Chapter IX: Front Matter (9)

This dispute being broke off for that time, was taken up again a week after by eight priests, in the presence of many people: and when they saw that G. Fox remained unshaken, they fawningly said, ‘What might he have been if it had not been for the Quakers!’ Afterwards the dispute was resumed in the steeple-house yard, where G. Fox showed, by abundance of Scriptures, that they who preach for wages were false prophets and hirelings; and that such who would not preach without wages or tithes, did not serve the Lord Jesus Christ, but their own bellies. This he treated on so largely, that a professor said, ‘George, what! wilt thou never have done?’ To this his answer was, that he should have done shortly. And when he broke off, one of the priests said, they would read the Scriptures he had quoted. ‘With all my heart;’ said he: then they began to read Jer. xxiii. and when they had read a verse or two, George said, ‘Take notice, people.’ But the priests cried, ‘Hold thy tongue, George.’ He then bid them read the whole chapter throughout; but they stopping, asked him a question: and he told them, that if the matter he charged them with was first granted, then he would answer their question: for his charge had been that they were false prophets, and false teachers, such as the true prophets, Christ and his apostles, cried against. ‘Nay,’ said a professor to that: but he said, ‘Yes; for you, leaving the matter, and going to another thing, seem to consent to the proof of the former charge.’ Now their question was, seeing those false prophets were adulterated, whether he did judge priest Stevens an adulterer. To this he answered, that he was adulterated from God in his practice, like those false prophets.

Then they broke up the meeting, and Stevens desired, that G. Fox, with his father and mother, might go aside with him, that he might speak to him in private. George, though his relations yielded to it, was very loth to do so; yet, that it might not be said he was disobedient to his parents, he went: but many of the people being willing to hear, drew close to them. Then Stevens said, if he was out of the way, George should pray for him; and if George was out of the way, he would pray for him: moreover, that he would give to George a form of words to pray by. To this G. Fox replied, ‘It seems thou dost not know, whether thou art in the right way or no; but I know that I am in the everlasting way, Christ Jesus, which thou art out of: and thou wouldst give me a form of words to pray by, and yet thou deniest the common prayer book to pray by, as well as I. If thou wouldst have me pray for thee by a form of words, is not this to deny the apostles’ doctrine and practice of praying by the Spirit as it gave words and utterance?’ Here, though some of the people fell a laughing, yet others, that were grave and sober, were convinced of the Truth, and the priests were greatly shaken: insomuch that George’s father, though he was a hearer and follower of the priest, was so well satisfied, that, striking his cane upon the ground, he said, ‘Truly I see, he that will but stand to the Truth, it will carry him out.’

G. Fox did not stay long at Drayton, but went to Leicester, and from thence to Whetstone, where a meeting was to be kept; but before it began, there came about seventeen troopers, of colonel Hacker’s regiment, who, taking him up, brought him to the said colonel, where there was also his major and captains. Here he entered into a long discourse with them, about the priests, and about meetings; for at this time there was a noise of a plot against Cromwell: and he spoke also much concerning the light of Christ, which enlighteneth every man that cometh into the world. The colonel hearing him speak thus, asked whether it was the light of Christ that made Judas betray his Master, and afterwards led him to hang himself? G. Fox told him, ‘No; that was the spirit of darkness which hated Christ and his light.’ Then the colonel said to George, he might go home, and keep at home, and not go abroad to meetings. But he told him, he was an innocent man, free from plots, and he denied all such works. Then the colonel’s son, Needham, said, ‘Father, this man hath reigned too long; it is time to have him cut off.’ G. Fox asked him for what? ‘What have I done, or whom have I wronged from a child; and who can accuse me of any evil?’ Then the colonel asked him, if he would go home, and stay there. To which G. Fox answered, that if he should promise him so, it would imply that he was guilty of something, to go home, and make his home a prison to himself; and if he went to meetings, they would say, he broke their order; but that he should go to meetings, as the Lord should order him; and that therefore he could not submit to their requirings: and having further added, that he and his friends were a peaceable people: the colonel said, ‘Well then, I will send you to-morrow morning by six o’clock, to my lord Protector, by captain Drury, one of his life-guard.’ The next morning, about the appointed time, he was delivered to captain Drury. Then G. Fox desired he would let him speak with the colonel, before he went; and so the captain brought him to the colonel’s bed-side, who again bade him go home and keep no more meetings. But G. Fox told him he could not submit to that; but must have his liberty to serve God, and go to meetings. ‘Then,’ said the colonel, ‘you must go before the Protector.’ Whereupon G. Fox kneeled on his bed-side, and prayed the Lord to forgive him: since, according to his judgment, he was as Pilate, though he would wash his hands; (for he was stirred up and set on by the priests,) and therefore George bade him, when the day of his misery and trial should come upon him, then to remember what he had said to him. Far was it now from Needham, who would have had G. Fox cut off, to think that one time this would befal his father, in an ignominious manner, at Tyburn. But what afterwards happened, when he was condemned as one of the judges of King Charles the First, will be related in its due place.

G. Fox then having left colonel Hacker, was carried prisoner by captain Drury to London; where the captain went to give the Protector an account of him; and coming again, he told G. Fox, the Protector did require, that he should promise, not to take up a carnal sword or weapon against him, or the government as it then was: and that he should write this in what words he saw good, and set his hand to it. G. Fox considering this, next morning writ a paper to the Protector, by the name of Oliver Cromwell, wherein he did in the presence of God declare, that he denied the wearing or drawing of a carnal sword, or any outward weapon, against him, or any man: and that he was sent of God to stand a witness against all violence, and against the works of darkness; and to turn people from darkness to the light, and to bring them from the occasion of war and fighting, to the peaceable gospel; and from being evil-doers, which the magistrates sword should be a terror to. Having writ this, he set his name to it, and gave it to captain Drury, who delivered it to Oliver Cromwell; and after some time returning to the Mermaid, near Charing-cross, where G. Fox was lodged, he carried him to Whitehall, and brought him before the Protector who was not yet dressed, it being pretty early in the morning. G. F. coming in, said, ‘Peace be in this house,’ and bid the Protector keep in the fear of God, that he might receive wisdom from him; that by it he might be ordered, and with it might order all things under his hands to God’s glory. He had also much discourse with him concerning religion, wherein Cromwell carried himself very moderately, but said that G. Fox and his friends quarrelled with the ministers, meaning his teachers. G. Fox told him, he did not quarrel with them; but they quarrelled with him and his friends. ‘But, (thus continued he,) if we own the prophets, Christ, and the apostles, we cannot uphold such teachers, prophets, and shepherds, as the prophets, Christ, and the apostles declared against; but we must declare against them by the same power and spirit.’ Moreover, he showed that the prophets, Christ, and the apostles preached freely, and declared against them that did not declare freely, but preached for filthy lucre, and divined for money, or preached for hire, being covetous and greedy, like the dumb dogs, that could never have enough: and that they that had the same spirit, which Christ, the prophets, and the apostles had, could not but declare against all such now, as they did then. He also said, that all Christendom, (so called,) had the Scriptures, but they wanted the power and spirit, which they had who gave them forth; and that was the reason they were not in fellowship with the Son, nor with the Father, nor with the Scriptures, nor one with another. Whilst he was thus speaking, Cromwell several times said, it was very good, and it was truth. G. Fox had many more words with him; but seeing people coming in, he drew a little back: and as he was turning, Cromwell catched him by the hand, and with tears in his eyes, said, ‘Come again to my house; for if thou and I were but an hour of a day together, we should be nearer one to another:’ adding, that he wished him no more ill than he did to his own soul. To this G. Fox returned, that if he did, he wronged his own soul; and bid him hearken to God’s voice, that he might stand in his counsel, and obey it; and if he did so, that would keep him from hardness of heart; but if he did not hear God’s voice, his heart would be hardened. This so reached the Protector, that he said it was true.

Then G. Fox went out; and captain Drury following, told him, that the lord Protector said he was at liberty, and might go whither he would: yet he was brought into a great hall, where the protector’s gentlemen were to dine; and he asked what they did bring him thither for? They told him it was by the Protector’s order, that he might dine with them. But George bid them tell the Protector he would not eat a bit of his bread, nor drink a sup of his drink. When Cromwell heard this, he said, ‘Now I see there is a people risen, and come up, that I cannot win either with gifts, honours, offices, or places; but all other sects and people I can.’ But it was told him again, that the Quakers had forsook their own, and were not like to look for such things from him.

It was very remarkable that captain Drury, who, while G. Fox was under his custody, would often scoff at him, because of the nickname of Quakers, which the Independents had first given to the professors of the light, afterwards came to him, and told him, that as he was lying on his bed to rest himself in the day time, a sudden trembling seized on him, that his joints knocked together, and his body shook so, that he could not rise from his bed; he was so shaken, that he had not strength enough left to rise. But he felt the power of the Lord was upon him, and he tumbled off his bed, and cried to the Lord, and said, he would never speak against the Quakers more, viz. such as trembled at the word of God.

The particular occurrences that befel G. Fox, when he was at liberty in London, I pass by. He had great meetings there, and the throngs of people were such, that he could hardly get to and from the meetings, because of the crowd. In the meanwhile the number of his friends increased exceedingly, and some belonging to Cromwell’s court were also convinced of the Truth preached by him. He wrote about that time several papers, one of which was against pride, gaudy apparel, and the world’s fashions.

I do not find that about this time there was at London any persecution from the magistrates, but in other places there was: and it was in this year that Anne the wife of John Audland, coming into a steeple-house at Banbury, said, after the priest had ended, that those that were without the doctrine of Christ, though they said the Lord liveth, yet spoke falsely, according to Jer. v. 2. For this she was imprisoned as guilty of blasphemy, and two boys swore against her, that she had said that the Lord did not live. Thus false accusations prevailed, and at this rate persecution was cloaked.

The year drew now to an end, and Cromwell concluded a peace with the United Netherlands; to get things the more clear at home, it seems he endeavoured to remove troubles abroad. And there being a rumour spread of a plot as hath been hinted already, to be the more assured of the parliament, he caused a guard to be set upon the door of the house, to keep out those members that refused to sign a paper, whereby they promised to be faithful to the lord Protector, and to make no alteration in the government, so as it was settled, on a single person, and a parliament. But several of the members would not sign this paper, saying, that it was a violation of the privileges of the parliament, and a depriving them of their liberty; and therefore they were kept out; but others who subscribed the said paper were admitted. Yet this assembly not acting to the satisfaction of Cromwell, he dissolved them after a session of five months. The young king Charles, who lived in exile, had left France, and was come to Cologne on the Rhine, where he stayed for some time.

But I return to London, where we left G. Fox. He was in that city continually at work, discharging his duty every where, both with mouth and pen, suffering no time to be lost. There being commissioners appointed for the trying of ministers, he writ a paper to them, wherein he advised them, to see whether they were not such whom the prophets, Christ, and the apostles disapproved; and who would admire men’s persons because of advantage, &c. He staid at London till the year 1655; and after having cleared himself, he went to Bedfordshire, and came to the house of John Crook, a justice of peace, where there was a great meeting, and many were convinced of the Truth he declared, of which number John Crook also was one; but for this he was soon turned out from being a justice.

Whilst G. Fox was in Bedfordshire, there was also Alexander Parker, one of the early ministers among those called Quakers. But leaving them there, I now intend to speak of William Caton, who, as it hath been said already, was one of the family of judge Fell. When he was but about fourteen years of age, his father procured leave for him to dwell in the said family; and his behaviour was so pleasing, that he was allowed the judge’s son, as a companion night and day; he ate as he did, and went with him a hunting, shooting, and fishing, partaking of the same pleasure with him in every thing, and living in ease and plenty; so that he had cause of joy, that Providence had cast his lot into such a noted family; for not only judge Fell, but also his wife Margaret, and their daughters, were well qualified. W. Caton conversing with such choice company, grew up in piety, and was very zealous in performing his private devotions, staying often in the bed-chamber, till the judge’s son, his bed-fellow, was gone down, so that he might the more freely pour out his heart before God in prayer. Having attained to the age of fifteen years, he was very diligent, when he had been at a lecture, to write down the chief heads thereof; for such of the family as could make repetitions of sermons, and paraphrase thereupon, were held in esteem. But William Caton found that what he reaped thereby, could not satisfy the hunger and thirst of his immortal soul.

After he and the judge’s son had for some time learned Latin together in the family, where there was a priest that instructed them, they were removed to a school at Hawkshead: but here he found company which he disliked more than that in the judge’s family.

It was in the year 1652, about Midsummer, that G. Fox, (as hath been said in its proper place,) first came to the house of judge Fell at Swarthmore. His non-conformity to the ordinary salutations, W. Caton not a little wondered at; but yet it did not hinder him from giving due attention to the doctrine G. Fox preached, which in substance was, to give heed to the light, which Christ Jesus had enlightened us withal, and which shining in our hearts, convinceth us of sin and evil. This so reached W. Caton, that in due time he began to be subject to this inward convincement, by which he came to be much restrained in his carriage, and could not allow himself so great liberty as he was wont to do; for though he was no ways extravagant, yet now he saw that a true Christian must be weaned from all vanity; and that the common diversions of youth displeased God. This he clearly perceived, for the witness of God had awakened and reproved him of that which was contrary to true gravity, and sobriety of mind. He had not yet left the school: but, though he was pretty much advanced in his learning, the making of Latin verses became a burden to him, because he could not give his thoughts that liberty for invention as others did; neither could he well any longer give to the master of the school the compliment of the hat, as he was used to do: this I had from his own mouth. One may easily guess that hereby he was brought into a strait; but Margaret Fell, seeing that he longed to be freed from the school, caused him to stay at home, where he was employed by her in writing, and teaching her children. And when he was about seventeen years of age, he became more and more strengthened in the spiritual warfare, and his heart was often filled with joy, because of the mercy and loving kindness of the Lord to him.

Thus advancing in godliness, he was frequently moved to go to the places of public worship, and also to markets, to warn people to repentance; but then beating and buffeting was his share, and because of his youth he was despised by many; yet he fainted not: and esteeming it his duty now to labour in the ministry of the gospel, he desired to be discharged of his service. Judge Fell was very unwilling to part with him; but Margaret his wife, though she could not well give him up before, yet believing that the Lord required his service, not only freely resigned him, but also prevailed with her husband to let him go: for he did not desire his liberty to serve other men, but to enter into the service of the Lord, and to proclaim the everlasting gospel. About the end of the year 1654, being eighteen years of age, he took his leave of that family, which was not done without mutual shedding of tears at parting.

He then went to visit his friends in Lancashire, Yorkshire, Derbyshire, and Warwickshire; from thence to Norwich, and so to Wellingborough, in Northamptonshire; where he found an opportunity to declare the Truth of God in the steeple-house. After that he travelled to Cambridge, visiting his friends there; and then returned to Norwich, where he visited his friends in prison, and had great meetings in that city. Then he went to London, where he was very kindly received by those of the household of faith; and on a First-day of the week was at two steeple-houses, at one of which he had large liberty to speak, being indeed persuasive in speech; and in the afternoon, at a meeting of dissenters from the public worship, he had liberty to publish Truth without opposition, or contradiction from any; and many were added to the faith: for at that time there were twelve ministering brethren, most of them come out of the North of England, among whom was John Stubbs, already mentioned, with whom he travelled into Kent: and coming to Dover, where they were altogether strangers, not knowing any body in the town, they took their lodging at an inn. J. Stubbs went on the first day of the week to a meeting of the Baptists, and W. Caton to the steeple-house, where he had but little liberty; but in the yard he had more opportunity to clear his conscience to the people. In the afternoon he went up to the castle, where the Independents performed their worship. Shortly after, he and J. Stubbs went into the Baptists’ meeting, unto which much people resorted, and many began to be affected with their testimony, and adhered to it. This made such a stir, that they were hauled before the magistrates, who examined them, and ordered that none should entertain them on a certain penalty; whereupon they were turned out of their lodging. But one Luke Howard, a shoemaker, who had already heard W. Caton at London, and afterwards at Dover, in the steeple-house yard, though he little regarded him at London, but said to his companion, ‘I know more than he can tell me, or more than either I or he is able to live up to;’ yet now he became so affected with W. Caton’s testimony, that he invited him and J. Stubbs to his house, where he entertained them; and not long after they had a meeting there; and he heard the testimony of his guests with no less satisfaction, than Agrippa of old, did the speech of the apostle Paul, when he said to him, ‘Almost thou persuadest me to be a Christian:’ For Luke Howard was not yet come so far that he could resolve to conform himself with the Quakers, so called: but yet, such was his love to them, that when the mayor of the town sent four constables to his house, with an order to deliver them up, that so they might be carried out of the town, he refused to do so, relying on his right as a freeman of the corporation; and the doors being shut, kept the constables out of his house, and told them from the shop window, that the mayor had no lawful authority to have these men hauled out of his house, and sent out of town, there being no hue and cry come after them. They staid yet some days in his house, and he became so strengthened by their ministry, that he joined with them in profession, and also gave up his house to be a meeting-place for their friends.

Then W. Caton and J. Stubbs departed the town, and went to Folkstone, and from thence to Hithe, in both which places they found opportunity to preach the Truth. After some stay, they went to Romney, and so to Lydd. Here it was, that Samuel Fisher, both by their ministry, and by that of Ambrose Rigge, and Thomas Robinson, (who now were also gone forth in the service of the gospel,) was convinced, and brought over to their society.

He was trained up to literature, and had studied diligently in the University; and though but young then, yet was of a pious conversation, and disliked many ceremonies and customs usual in the schools. When he had finished his course there, he was ordained a priest of the church; and a certain great man took him to be his chaplain; and afterwards he got a living at Lydd, worth about two hundred pounds a year. But after having been thus employed some time, he came to see that infant baptism was an human institution, and to preach for wages unlawful. To this may be added, that Luke Howard, some time before he knew the Quakers, so called, not being satisfied concerning the singing of David’s psalms at the public worship, so troubled his master that he had been apprentice with, that he got Samuel Fisher, as a learned minister, to come and discourse with him, and to try to convince him: and S. Fisher talking with him, L. Howard told him, that God was a Spirit, and must be worshipped in Spirit and Truth, of all those that would worship him acceptably. And also, that it was contrary to Truth, for a proud man to sing, “he was not puft in mind, he had no scornful eye, and he did not exercise himself in things that were too high;” when he lived in pride, wherein God beheld him afar off. And further, that it was very unbecoming such an one to sing, “Rivers of tears run down mine eyes, because other men keep not thy laws,” when he never knew a true sorrow and repentance for his own sins. This reason of Howard’s against the customary singing in their worship, had so much influence upon S. Fisher, that from that time he was stopped from any more giving David’s conditions to the people to sing; and becoming in time more and more uneasy to go on in acting what was burdensome to his conscience, he resolved to desist from his ministry, and so went to the bishop, and delivered up the commission that he had received from him to preach: and casting himself upon God’s providence, he took a farm, and turned grazier, by which means he maintained his wife and children much better to his content than before.

Departing thus from the Episcopalian church, he went over to the Baptists, and became a zealous teacher among them. It was about this time, that W. Caton, and J. Stubbs came to Lydd, whom S. Fisher received into his house, remembering that Scripture exhortation, “Be not forgetful to entertain strangers, for many thereby have entertained angels unawares.” W. Caton went to the meeting of the Independents, and Stubbs to that of the Baptists, where Fisher then preached; and J. Stubbs having got opportunity to speak, declared Truth so plainly, that S. Fisher being very much affected with it, began to paraphrase upon it, with excellency of speech. W. Caton and J. Stubbs departing this place, went to another town in this county, but not long after returning to Lydd, they found S. Fisher in fellowship with themselves; for it happened that this fellow-teacher, George Hammond, in his sermon so violently inveighed against those called Quakers, that S. Fisher could not be satisfied, until he stood up in the said meeting, and bore a public testimony against the revilings of Hammond: saying to him, ‘Dear brother, you are very dear and near to me, but the Truth is nearer and dearer: it is the everlasting Truth and gospel which they hold forth.’ And speaking more words to that effect, he openly defended the doctrine of the reviled Quakers. This so vexed Hammond, that falling into a greater rage, he said, ‘Our brother Fisher is also bewitched.’ But Fisher rendered not reviling for reviling, but continued with patience in the faith. This was he who afterwards writ a book, called Rusticus ad Academicos, wherein he often encountered the priests with their own weapons; for he was very dexterous at that, and so well versed in the ancient poets, that he now and then with their words, gave home blows to his adversaries, allowing himself sometimes the freedom of the prophet Elijah against the prophets of Baal. He writ also a paper in Hebrew to the Jews, in which language he was well skilled. But before I say more of him, I return to W. Caton and J. Stubbs. They went from Lydd to Ashford, Tenterden, Cranbrook, and Staplehurst, where they found an open and tender hearted people, who embraced their doctrine, and some would have given them money, nay, even have forced it upon them, yet they would not take any: but as they freely had received, so they freely gave: telling people it was not theirs, but them, which they sought. Thence they travelled to Maidstone, where J. Stubbs went to the public place of worship, and W. Caton to the meeting of the Independents. J. Stubbs was taken at the steeple-house, and W. Caton, the day following from his inn, and were both sent to the house of correction, where they were searched, and their money, inkhorns, and bibles, &c. taken from them. Afterwards they were stripped, and their necks and arms put in the stocks, and in that condition were desperately whipped. A hard encounter indeed, especially for such a young man as W. Caton was; but they were supported by an invisible hand. Afterwards means were used to compel them to work; and it was told them, he that would not work should not eat. But they were not free to consent thereto, because they esteemed this demand unjust, not being guilty of the breach of any law. Thus they were kept without victuals for some days, only a little water once a day was allowed them. In the meanwhile, the malefactors that were there, would have given them of their bread; yea, the women of the house being moved with compassion, would have given them something privately; but they were not free to accept of either. Now the report of this cruelty being spread in the town, many began to be offended at it; so that an officer was sent to make restitution of some of their things, which had been taken from them, and then they bought victuals with their own money. Not long after, they were parted, and with officers conveyed out of the town, one at the one end of it, and the other at the other.

At length W. Caton came to London, where he found his companion, J. Stubbs; but being there, it came upon them to return to the town from whence they came, which was no small trial to them; but yet they resigned, and gave up to what they believed to be the will of the Lord. Now Providence so ordered it, that none meddled with them, though they, to be more fully seen, went on a First-day of the week to the steeple-house. They went also to Canterbury, where, at the meetings of the Baptists and Independents, they had pretty good liberty to declare the Truth amongst them; and some, being convinced, received their testimony. They were likewise at Sandwich, where W. Caton had some service among the Dutch people at their steeple-house.

It was now nigh Midsummer, when he felt a motion to go over to Calais, in France. For that end he went to Dover, and so to Calais, where coming to their high place of worship, his spirit was very much grieved and burdened, with the great idolatry in vogue there; for he saw how some were worshipping before their dumb idols, and he could not well ease his spirit for want of the language. Having some time walked about in the town, he came to be known to some of the chief of the city, who desiring to speak with him, some of them came down in person to the quay, to look for him; and understanding he was aboard, he was called ashore, and conveyed to a large house, where several of the great ones were come to see and hear him: so that he had a very good opportunity to declare the Truth among them, there being a Scotch lord who interpreted for him. And after he had cleared his conscience, they suffered him to depart quietly.

Soon after he returned for England, and found his companion, J. Stubbs, at Dover; and it being upon him to go for Holland, W. Caton was made free to accompany him. With this intent, they went together to Yarmouth, but could not find passage there for Holland, and so they passed further to the North; and coming to Swarthmore, W. Caton found his friends very glad to see him, especially Margaret Fell, who had been as a nursing mother to him. After some stay there, having been abundantly refreshed, they went to Shields, where they heard of a ship bound for Flanders; but having little inclination to go thither, came soon after to Yarmouth, where they found a ship intended for Flushing, in Zealand. With this vessel they went over, and arrived safely at the said town: and on the First-day of the week, they went to the congregation of the English and Scotch, where many wondered at them because of their non-conformity; and after they began to speak, there arose a great stir, so that they were soon hurried out. The same day they went to Midddleburg, whither being come, before the afternoon’s worship was ended, one of them began to speak after the priest had done: but he stopped him presently, thinking at first they were such as came thither begging; but perceiving the contrary, he and others were the more violent. After that, he sent for them to his house, and reasoned awhile with them; but he being of a lofty mind, they found but a slight entertainment there. After a short stay in town, they embarked themselves for Rotterdam, in Holland, where being come, when they had been some few days in the city, they got a meeting at an English merchant’s house: but he that interpreted for them, not rendering their words truly, it seemed not to satisfy the hearers. After some time they returned to Zealand, and from thence again to England, where being arrived, W. Caton journeyed to Swarthmore, and was received there with joy; and having some drawings to Scotland, he went to Bishoprick, where he found his companion J. Stubbs again, with whom he travelled towards Scotland. It was about the beginning of the month called December, when they came to Berwick upon Tweed, where W. Caton went into the great public assembly; and when the priest had done, stepped upon a seat, and beginning to speak, none seemed to make such haste to get away, as the priest: in the meanwhile W. Caton spoke with great boldness, and had pretty good liberty to declare the Truth. But when he had done, he was taken hold of, and brought before the magistrates, who ordered that he should be turned out of the town; which was done. J. Stubbs was that day in a meeting of the Baptists, and had some service there. Not long after, W. Caton, who wandering up and down, could not well get any lodging for his money, returned, and came into the town again, the guard suffering him very freely to pass.

Then they both travelled to Edinburgh, in Scotland, where they found things somewhat out of order, through the unfaithfulness of some that were convinced of the Truth; but their ministry was so effectual among them, that they were brought into better order again: and so they edified the church according to their ability, the meeting being kept at the house of William Osborn, who had been a lieutenant-colonel, and afterwards become a zealous minister among the flock there. While W. Caton was there, he went once to the chief steeple-house, where, after the priest had done, he spoke to the people; but, the multitude combining, he was not suffered to say much, but was carried out; and coming into the street, there was a guard of soldiers, who conducted him with drawn swords to the places where he desired to be. He was about that time also with general Monk, who behaved himself moderately, and heard him. J. Stubbs now returning to England, W. Caton went to Stirling, where, being carried to the governor, he was at first high, but when W. Caton, who was a man of meek behaviour, had spoke a little to him, he became cool and sedate. He then went to the English chaplain’s house, who was kind to him. From Edinburgh he went to Glasgow, where, going into the great cathedral, after the service was done, he had some liberty to speak to the multitude in the yard, the rude people being kept under by the English soldiers, who were moderate, so that he had very good service there. He also went to Douglas, where his service was no less, both in the steeple-house and elsewhere: so that having cleared himself in Scotland, he returned to England, and came again to Swarthmore, where he was received as formerly in very great love.

1655.

Leaving him there, I turn again to G. Fox, whom we left in Bedfordshire. From thence he went by London to Kent, and came to Romney, not long after W. Caton and J. Stubbs had been there. Here he had a very large meeting, whither Samuel Fisher also came, and there was a great convincement that day, so that many were turned to the light of Christ: and after the meeting S. Fisher’s wife said, ‘Now we may discern betwixt flesh and spirit, and distinguish spiritual teaching from fleshly.’

From hence G. Fox went to Dover and Canterbury, and further into Sussex, and so to Reading, where they had a great meeting, and many were convinced that day. There came also George Bishop, of Bristol, who, being a captain, then wore a sword, though in time, he entirely left it off.

G. Fox, going from hence, passed up to London, where, leaving him for some time, we will go and behold the life and occurrences of James Parnel, who was born at Retford, in Nottinghamshire, and trained up in the schools of literature. He laboured very early in the ministry of the gospel, having been convinced by G. Fox, when not quite sixteen years of age, and then embraced the Truth; though for that reason despised and rejected by his relations. He was, (though of low stature,) endued with great ability, and did not fear, wherever he came, to call people to repentance. Being imprisoned at Cambridge for his zealous testimony, and afterward turned out of town like a vagabond, he soon came back and disputed with the scholars of the university; but met with rude and bad entertainment from them. In the beginning of this year he came into Essex, being then about eighteen years of age, and preached the gospel in several parts of that county, as Felsted, Stebbing, Witham, Coggeshall, Halsted, and other places, and many received the word by his ministry. About the middle of the summer he came to Colchester, and there preached the gospel on a First day of the week in a steeple-house, after the sermon; then in a great meeting appointed on purpose; and after that disputed with the town-lecturer, and another priest, in the French school, all in one day; so that many were convinced of the Truth preached by him; and among these also Stephen Crisp, of whom more will be said hereafter. J. Parnel spent that week in the said town, preaching, exhorting, and disputing, to the convincing of many; though others were enraged, insomuch, that his godly zeal was often rewarded with blows; as once coming out of Nicholas’ steeple-house, he was struck by one with a great staff, who said, ‘There, take that for Christ’s sake.’ To which he meekly answered, ‘Friend, I do receive it for Jesus Christ’s sake.’ Many other grievous affronts he bore, without showing any heat or anger; so that he was a real pattern of patience and meekness.

Having laboured in the gospel about ten days in Colchester, he went to Coggeshall, where a fast was proclaimed, to be held upon the 12th of the month called July, to pray against the errors of the people called Quakers. J. Parnel being come thither, went into the steeple-house, where he stood still, till the priest was coming out of the pulpit. Now since this priest Sammes, who was an Independent, had cried out fiercely against the Quakers, as deceivers, J. Parnel esteemed it his duty to say something to that; and the first words he spoke were, ‘This is the order of the true church, that all may speak one by one; and if any thing be revealed to him that stands by, let the first hold his peace.’ Then he spoke on behalf of those called Quakers: but the priest, interrupting, asked what he would object against him? To which J. Parnel answered, in that he reviled the people called Quakers, and said they were built upon a sandy foundation, and so called them Shakers. ‘But,’ said he, ‘I will prove their foundation not to be sandy, and thee to be a false prophet.’ After some more words spoken by him, some accused him, that he owned no church: to which he said it was false. Then it was asked him what church he owned? And he answered, the church in God. Then priest Willis stood up, and said, he spoke nothing but nonsense. Parnel bade him name one word which he had spoken that was nonsense. At which Willis said, ‘To say the church in God.’ Then Parnel took out his bible, and read 1 Thes. i. 1. where the apostle writes to the church, which is in God the Father. The priest now was at a loss, and Parnell told him, that he blasphemed in saying the church in God was nonsense. Then priest Stellum stood up, and accused Parnel with lies and slanders, and not suffering him to clear himself from those accusations, he got up into the pulpit, and began to pray; but Parnel not taking off his hat, the magistrates called to him to put it off. To which he returned, ‘Order the priest to put off his cap;’ and further said, before he should be subject to their wills, he would rather pass out of the meeting place; and so he went out.

Not long after, justice Dionysius Wakering followed him, and struck him with his hand upon his back, saying he arrested him in the name of the lord protector. Parnel, not knowing him to be a magistrate, asked him where his writ was. Wakering said he had one; but showed none. Then Parnel was hurried into an house, and some of his friends engaged, that he should be forthcoming when their worship was done. And accordingly he appeared where four justices and six or seven priests were met together. Then justice Wakering pulled his hat off his head, and threw it away; and they questioned him concerning many things; all which he answered, with many frivolous questions asked to ensnare him. At last he was committed to the common jail at Colchester, where none of his friends were permitted to come to him. The time of the sessions at Chelmsford being come, he, with several felons and murderers was fastened to a chain, and thus led about eighteen miles through the country, remaining chained both night and day.

Being brought into the court before judge Hills, the jailer took off his hat and cast it upon the floor. Then the clerk read his indictment, and asked him if he was guilty; to which he said, that he denied all guilt; and he called for his accusers. The judge said he might see them; and that he ought to say guilty, or not guilty. On which Parnel told him, he was not guilty. Then a jury of twelve men was called, whose foreman was a drunkard; priest Willis was also called, who swore against him, and so did two justices; one of their men swearing that they would speak nothing against him but the truth. The accusations were, that in a riotous manner he did enter into the parish church at Great Coggeshall; that he there did stand up, and told the minister he blasphemed, and spoke falsely, using many other reproachful words against him: and he could not give a good account where he was last settled, or of his life and conversation, appearing to be an idle person. He was also accused with contempt of the magistracy, and of the ministry. To this he answered, that he no ways in a riotous manner entered the steeple-house, but came thither quietly, and alone: for being followed by several boys that would have come in after him, he bade them go in before, rather than to go in disorderly, whereby to occasion any disturbance. That he had said to priest Willis, he blasphemed, by saying the church in God was nonsense, he denied not; but did not own himself to be a vagabond and idle person. And he did not think it indecent to call an unjust judge, unrighteous; a persecutor, persecutor; and a deceiver, deceiver. Thus Parnel pleaded his cause. Yet the judge said to the jury, that if they did not find him guilty, the sin would lie upon their heads; thus condemning the prisoner before the jury had considered the case. Then J. Parnel began to speak, to inform them concerning his cause, but the judge would not suffer him, though one of the jury desired it. After consultation, the jury had nothing to lay to his charge, but a paper in which he had answered the mittimus, though he had already owned this paper to be his writing. But in that they were at a loss, because in the indictment he was accused of a riot: yet the judge and the clerk strove to draw some words from the foreman, which the other jurymen did not consent to, and he himself was unwilling to answer fully to their questions. Then J. Parnel was made to withdraw; and being called in again, the judge fined him to the value of about forty pounds, for contempt of the magistracy and ministry; for he said the lord protector had charged him to punish such persons as should contemn either magistracy or ministry. Thereupon J. Parnel was carried back again to the prison, being an old ruinous castle, built as it is reported, in the time of the ancient Romans: here he was to be kept until the fine should be paid: and the jailer was commanded, not to let any giddy-headed people, (by which denomination they meant his friends,) come at him.

The jailer was willing enough to comply with this order, suffering none to come to him, but such as abused him; and his wife, who was a wicked shrew, did not only set her man to beat him, but several times herself laid violent hands upon him, and swore she would have his blood: she also set other prisoners to take away the victuals brought to him by his friends; and would not let him have a trundle bed, which they would have brought him to lie on, so that he was forced to lie on the cold and damp stones. Afterwards he was put into the hole in the wall, a room much like a baker’s oven; for the walls of that building, which is indeed a direful nest, are of an excessive thickness, as I have seen myself, having been in the hole where this pious young man ended his days, as will be said by and by. Being confined in the said hole, which was, as I remember, about twelve feet high from the ground, and the ladder too short by six feet; he must climb up and down by a rope on a broken wall, which he was forced to do to fetch his victuals, or for other necessities: for though his friends would have given him a cord and a basket to draw up his victuals in, yet such was the malice of his keepers, that they would not suffer it.

Continuing in this moist hole, his limbs grew benumbed; and thus it once happened, that as he was climbing up the ladder, with his victuals in one hand, and come to the top thereof, catching at the rope with his other, he missed the same, and fell down upon the stones, whereby he was exceedingly wounded in his head, and his body so bruised, that he was taken up for dead. Then they put him into a hole underneath the other; for there were two rows of such vaulted holes in the wall. This hole was called the oven, and so little, that some baker’s ovens were bigger, though not so high. Here, (the door being shut,) was scarcely any air, there being no window or hole. And after he was a little recovered from his fall, they would not suffer him to take the air, though he was almost spent for want of breath: and though some of his friends, viz. William Talcot and Edward Grant, did offer their bond of forty pounds to the justice Henry Barrington, and another, whose name was Thomas Shortland, to lie body for body, that Parnel might but have his liberty to come to W. Talcot’s house, and return, when recovered; yet this was denied; nay so immoveable were they set against him, that when it was desired that he might only walk a little sometimes in the yard, they would not grant it by any means: and once the door of the hole being open, and he coming forth, and walking in a narrow yard between two high walls, so incensed the jailer, that he locked up the hole, and shut him out in the yard all night, being in the coldest time of the winter. This hard imprisonment did so weaken him, that after ten or eleven months he fell sick and died. At his departure there were with him Thomas Shortland, and Ann Langley: and it was one of these, that came often to him, who long after brought me into this hole where he died.

Several things which are related here, I had from the mouth of eye-witnesses, who lived in that town. When death approached, he said, ‘Here I die innocently.’ A little after he was heard to say, ‘Now I must go:’ and turning his head to Thomas, he said, ‘This death must I die; Thomas, I have seen great things: don’t hold me, but let me go.’ Then he said again, ‘Will you hold me?’ To which Ann answered, ‘No, dear heart, we will not hold thee.’ He had often said that one hour’s sleep would cure him of all: and the last words he was heard to say, were, ‘Now I go;’ and then stretched out himself, and slept about an hour, and breathed his last. Thus this valiant soldier of the Lamb conquered through sufferings: and so great was the malice and envy of his persecutors, that to cover their guilt and shame, they spread among the people, that by immoderate fasting, and afterwards with too greedy eating, he had shortened his days. But this was a wicked lie; for though it be true that he had no appetite to eat some days before he fell sick, yet when he began to eat again, he took nothing but a little milk, as was declared by credible witnesses. During his imprisonment he writ several edifying epistles to his friends.