THE HISTORY OF THE LIFE OF
Thomas Ellwood.
Or, an Account of his BIRTH, EDUCATION,
&c.
WITH Divers Observations on his Life and Manners when a Youth: And how he came to be Convinced of the
Truth
; with his many Sufferings and Services for the same. Also Several Other
Remarkable Passages
and
Occurrences.
Written by his own Hand.
To which is added, A
SUPPLEMENT By
J. W.
Heb. 11. 2.
By Faith the Elders obtained a good Report.
The Second Edition.
London:
Printed and Sold by the Assigns of
J. Sowle,
in
White Hart-Court
in
Gracious-Street,
1714.
THE PREFACE.
GAther up the Fragments that remain, that nothing be Lost,
John 6. 12. Was the direction of our
Saviour
to his
Disciples,
after he had fed the Multitude. Which may well and usefully be applied, to the Collecting and Preserving the Accounts of the
Lives
of
Good Men: Men
who in their Day, have been eminently useful in those Stations of Life, wherein
God,
by his good
Providence,
hath placed them. And this preserving, by
Publication,
is the rather to be done, when themselves do leave behind them, in Writing, an
Account
of their
Lives,
and of the
signal Mercies of God
to them therein: For from such
Accounts,
may best be gathered, by the
Reader,
the Man's
particular State, Exercise
and
Growth
in the
Work
of
Restoration,
out of the
Fall
and
Degeneracy:
And, in the Reading thereof, be not only excited to
Bless the Name of the Lord,
on his behalf; but also gain some direction from the
Path,
so fairly tract out, and ground of
Hope;
that by being
Faithful,
they may likewise attain to the same good
Experience.
There is not with me any doubt, but something of this kind may be the Lot of many, into whose Hands this
Treatise
may happen to come; for that they will herein meet with variety of
Exercises,
and the
Providences
of God therein, all related with great strength and plainness of Speech: Our
Deceased
Friend
Thomas Ellwood,
having been a Man whom God had endued with
singular Abilities,
both as a
Man,
and as a
Christian;
which is evident, not only from this short Account of his
Life,
which was written by himself, and by the
Supplement
added hereunto; but more largely from his many useful Labours and Services in the many Books which he writ in the Defence of
Truth,
and the
Friends
thereof: For which
Service
he was in a particular manner qualified, by
Spiritual Wisdom
and
Christian Obedience;
to which, in him, was added great strength and depth of
Judgment,
wherein he could discern the Spirits of others, and was very much the Master of his own, as did appear to such who knew him, not only by the soundness of his
Reasoning,
and the Seasonableness of his
Words;
but also by his great and exemplary
Modesty,
in that he was not hasty to
propose,
nor rudely tenacious to insist on what he had proposed; if any thing, though not well exprest, yet well intended, was offered by any one much Weaker; nay, though but by a
Babe
in
Christ.
His
Countenance
was Manly and Chearful; His
Deportment
Grave, yet Affable and Courteous, even to the meanest Person; His Conversation Innocent, Pleasant and Instructive, yet severe against any thing that was beyond the Liberty of
Truth.
These, with his other Qualifications of
Body
and
Mind,
did render him both very Acceptable and very Useful, as a
Friend,
as a
Neighbour,
and as a
Member
and
Elder
in the
Church of Christ;
and the more, for that his Time was chiefly Imployed in being Serviceable in one or other of these
Capacities.
I might here particularly mention the several
Labours
of our
Deceased Friend,
according to their respective Times, and the Nature of their several Subjects; but much of this being already done in the ensuing Pages, I chuse to remit the
Reader
thither; by which possibly he may be excited to the Perusal of them, and shall only say concerning them,
that the Judicious Reader will easily Observe, that his Method and Stile do denote him to have been a Scholar: And yet not farther so, than the Simplicity and Purity of the
Truth,
whereof he made Profession, would permit him.
I was with our Friend
Thomas Ellwood,
the greater part of his
Sickness:
In which he was also very frequently visited by our Friend
George Bowles,
who was his Neighbour; to whom therefore I refer, for the Account which he may give of his
Sickness
and
Dying Words.
As it was my good Lot to be well acquainted with him (though only in the latter Years of his Life) and know that he did neither use nor encourage the bestowing Elaborate
Encomiums
upon Persons Deceased: So neither shall I add further concerning him, than to say with the
Apostle
concerning the Faithful,
Heb. 11. 4.
That he was Righteous, God Testifying of his Gifts; and by it being Dead, yet Speaketh.
J. W.
London
the 12th
of the
2d
Month,
1714.
George Bowles
his
TESTIMONY
Concerning
Thomas Ellwood.
Dear Friends,
It is in my Heart briefly, on this Occasion, to commemorate the
tender Dealings
of the Lord with his People in this latter Age of the World, when it hath pleased him, in Love to poor lost Man, graciously to appear, by the breaking forth of his
Glorious Gospel Day.
And by the secret divine Reaches of the Hand of God, which hath been felt and seen in the Light of it, many have been drawn in their Spirits to seek after the Lord, and to enquire after the Knowledge of the Way of
Life
and
Salvation;
and blessed be his Holy Name, who was graciously pleased, by the Inshinings of this
Divine Light
in the Hearts of many, to expel the
Darkness
and rend the
Vail.
And then was the Arm of his mighty Power made bare, for the gathering many Thousands to the saving
Knowledge of Himself.
And in that Day was the Lord pleased according to his Promise, to
pour forth of his Spirit upon Sons and upon Daughters;
yea, upon Servants and upon Handmaids, and many were made to Prophesie; and being qualified by the Holy Spirit, which they received, and were baptized by it into his Name, became willing, and were freely given up in Obedience to the Lord, and in Bowels of tender Love to the Souls of Mankind, in his Power, to preach the Gospel of Life and Salvation to those to whom they were sent, and many were turned from
Darkness to Light, and from the Power of Satan unto God,
by their Ministry: Amongst whom our dear deceased Friend and Brother,
THOMAS ELLWOOD,
was one, whose Conscience was reached and awakened by the Powerful Ministry of dear
Edward Burrough,
as I have heard him relate (and as by the following Sheets will more plainly appear.) And of that Day and Time, and the worthy Instrument by whose Ministry he was Convinced, and turned unto God, and made sensible of the
Divine Principle
of
Life
and
Light
in his own Heart, have I heard him speak with great Regard; and also of the Sufferings which did attend him after he received the Truth in his Father's Family, for the Truth's sake: and how the Lord preserved him in that time, under the various Exercises, which he passed through for Truth's Testimony; which for Christ's sake he was Conscientiously Concerned to stand in, according to that Plainness and Simplicity which Truth then led, and still continues to lead the sincere Disciples of Christ into, by which they were distinguished from the World; and, for the sake thereof, they were despised of Men, and hated of the World. Such was the Plain Language of
Thou
to one, and refusing the
Hat-Honour;
For which, Dear
T. E.
suffered not a little in that Day, as, by the following Account of his Life more fully appears. And it were well if all, who come up in a Profession of the Blessed Truth in this Time, were Faithful in these, and in the other Branches of its Testimony. And let all consider, that the neglecting thereof, is, in a Degree, a making void the Sufferings of the Faithful (and strengthening the Hands of Evil Doers) who for the sake of their
Testimony, loved not their Lives to the Death;
but underwent cruel
Mockings, Buffetings, Stonings, Whippings, Stockings, Revilings, Imprisonments,
and
Spoiling of Goods;
Rejoycing in the Lord, that they were counted worthy to Suffer, either less or more, for his Name sake. In respect of which, this my dear
Friend
was a good Example, he being a Man of a steady
Mind,
and very patient in
Suffering,
as well as Faithful in his Testimony for
Truth,
and took joyfully the Spoiling of his
Goods,
wherein he was tryed but a few Years before his Death. He was often Concerned in Defence of Truth's Testimony, both against our Professed
Adversaries,
and also against the
Libertine Spirit
which appeared in some, Professing the same Truth with us, who Opposed themselves against that good Order and Discipline which the
Truth
led
Friends
into. All which will abundantly appear from the Books themselves, which are in Print, which he writ upon
Various Occasions,
and upon
Divers Subjects;
and let not his great Labour and Industry be Forgotten, in his writing those Two Historical Volumes, relating to the
Old
and
New Testament:
A Work truly Great, and is, and may be of great Use and Service. By all which his many Labours, it may be perceived by the wary and inlightned
Reader,
that the Lord had Endowed him with an excellent Gift, and Qualified him for the Service of Truth, his Church and People; in which he imployed the Talent which the bountiful Lord had given him, to the Honour of the great Giver, and to the Comfort and Edification of the Church of Christ: But more especially were his Services known to the
Brethren
in this County of
Bucks;
Most of which are fallen asleep, and but few remaining here, who knew him in his beginning, or his first Services for the Lord, his Church and People; amongst whom he was a Zealous Asserter of that excellent Discipline the Lord had opened in, and led his People to, for the preserving his Church as a Garden enclosed: for which cause how did many of those
Libertines
set themselves fiercely against him, and shot their Arrows at him; but the Lord Defended him, and covered his Head in the
Day of Battle, and his Bow abode in Strength, and his Bough spread over the Wall, and continued fresh and green:
But a Blast from the Lord came upon their Evil Work; And how have they melted away? And how is their Strength failed, and their Work brought to Naught? But the Blessing of the Lord is with his People, even with the Faithful, to this Day, whom he hath preserved as a peculiar Treasure to himself: Blessed be his Holy Name for evermore. And furthermore, it may be truly said of this our dear Friend, that as the Lord fitted him for his Service, so was he eminently serviceable in his Hand, in the Church of Christ; particularly in these Parts, of which there are many Living Witnesses, in this and the adjacent Counties, of his great Labour of Love, having served the Church Freely, with great Diligence and Faithfulness: The true sense of which,
ucheth me and others, with the deeper sense of the
reat Loss, the Church hath by his Removal; but
eing also sensible through the Lord's Goodness, that ur
Loss
is his
Eternal Gain,
I feel in my Heart
n humble Submission to the Will of him, who doth
hatsoever pleaseth him, both in Heaven and in Earth; and who shall say unto him,
What doest thou?
And it is the tender breathing of my Spirit to the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, that he would be graciously pleased, in Pity and Compassion to his poor People, to raise up, fit and furnish more faithful Servants for his Work and Service, and make them Zealous for his Name and Truth upon the Earth, that the place of this my Dear
Friend,
and other Faithful Servants of the Lord and his People, of late removed from amongst us in these Parts, may be supplied; and that the Spouse of Christ may, amidst all her Tribulations, Afflictions and sore Exercises, be made to Praise the Lord, and Bless his Holy Name, who taketh away one, and raiseth up another, and Blesseth his Children with his Goodness; according to his Promise made of Old, by the Holy Prophet,
Isa.
44.
ver.
3. saying,
I will pour my Spirit upon thy Seed, and my Blessing upon thine Off-spring.
And thus hath the Lord preserved
Zion
from Age to Age: And I doubt not, but am fully perswaded, that he will still Bless his People, and Preserve
Zion,
and Deliver her from all her Enemies.
And my Dear
Friends, Brethren,
and
Sisters,
although it be matter of Sorrow to us, to part with our Dear
Friends;
especially such as have been made Serviceable in their Day, and have faithfully served the Lord and his People in their Generation, as it may (I hope without just occasion of Offence to any) be said of dear
T. E.
that he was a Man who served the Lord in
Faithfulness,
and his People with
Chearfulness,
and his Neighbours with
Uprightness
and
Integrity:
And therefore both they and we have the greater Loss; Yet may we not sorrow unseasonably, as those which sorrow without Hope, but, believing that the Lord hath taken him to himself in Mercy (though it may be in Judgment, to some who were unworthy) let us all learn Resignation to his blessed Will, and say with Holy
Job, The Lord giveth and the Lord taketh away: Blessed be the Name of the Lord.
And dear Friends, I may farther signifie unto you, that it being my Lot to be with this our dear Friend (of whom I am speaking) almost every day of his last Ilness, I did observe in him, to my great Comfort and Satisfaction, a quiet composed Frame of Mind and Spirit, and Resignation to the Will of God. When I came first to him, which was soon after I heard of his being taken ill, which was the 24th day of the 2d Month, I found him very much disabled by the
Distemper,
which was thought to be a
Palsie,
that had seized him, especially on his right Side, so that he could not stand alone, nor help himself, but a little with his left Hand; and his Speech was also very much interrupted, insomuch that it was with great difficulty, for the most part, that he expressed himself so as to be Understood: Some time after I came to him, there being also other
iends
with him, we sate down together under a
ighty Exercise of Spirit, waiting upon the Lord
deep Silence, with our Eye to him, it pleased the
ord eminently to appear amongst us, and to fill our
earts with the refreshing Streams of his Divine
ove, and to open the Mouth of one of us in Prayer
nd Supplication; and the Lord was graciously Pleas
d abundantly to replenish our Spirits, to our mutu
Comfort, in a Living Sense of Divine Goodness;
nd this our
Dear Friend,
expressed himself in great
enderness and Brokenness of Spirit, on this wise,
am sensibly Comforted and Refreshed in this Visit.
And that Afternoon, he, fixing his Eyes upon me, with great Earnestness of Spirit, expressed, as well as he could at that time, a great Concern that was upon his Mind for
Truth,
and the
Friends
of it, in divers Particulars; especially, in Relation to our own
Monthly
and
Quarterly-Meetings,
the
Writings
of both which, had been under his Care for more than Fourty Years: After which, he was much eased in his Spirit, and so continued to the last, so far as I perceived; often saying, when asked how he did,
I am easie, I am quiet.
And he was often very tender in his Spirit, expressing his Resignation to the Will of God, whether in Life or Death, saying,
If the Lord hath no more Work for me to do, I am content and resigned to his Will; and my hearty Farewel to all my Brethren.
And at another time, nearer his End, he said to us present, in much Brokenness of Heart,
I am full of Joy and Peace, my Spirit is filled with Joy;
or to this Effect: for by reason that his Speech was so weakned, sever
things could not be so well collected, which he at time
spake, in a tender sense of the Lord's Goodness: th
sense of which deeply affected some of as who were with him. And my Heart is sorrowfully affected at this time, in a sense of the great Loss which the Church of Christ (in these Parts especially) hath by his Removal: But in this I am comforted, in a living sense of the Lord's Mercy and Goodness towards him, in carrying him through his Affliction in great Patience and Quietness; under which he was sweetly refreshed, by the Streams of Divine Love, and his Cup was often made to overflow: And we, who were present, being touched with a Sense thereof, were comforted therein, being in a Travail of Spirit for him, and did in our Measures truly sympathize with him under his Affliction. And I am fully satisfied, he laid down his Head in Peace with the Lord, and is gathered to his everlasting Rest. He departed this Life the 1
st
of the 3
d Month,
1713. about the 2d Hour in the Morning, in the 74th Year of his Age. He received the Truth in the Year 1659, and lived in Fellowship with the
Friends
of it about 53 Years. And I think it may be truly said of him, That as he
Lived
so he
Died,
the
Servant of the LORD
and
His People,
and hath left a sweet Savour behind him, and his
Memory
is blessed with the
Righteous
for ever,
Amen.
GEORGE BOWLES.
The
8
th Month,
1713.
A
TESTIMONY
from the
Monthly-Meeting
at
Hunger-Hill,
the Seventh Day of the Fourth
Month, 1713.
Concerning our Dear and Well-beloved
Friend
and
Brother
in the Truth,
Thomas Ellwood,
Deceased.
THAT the Dead which
Die in the Lord,
are Blessed of him, we have great Assurance of, from
John
the
Divine
his writing to the Seven
Churches,
Rev. 14. ver. 13. Where he tells them, that he
Heard a Voice from Heaven, saying, Write, Blessed are the Dead which die in the Lord, from henceforth: Yea, saith the Spirit, that they may Rest from their Labours; and their Works do follow them.
Of which Number, we have no Cause to doubt, but this our dear friend is one; who was eminently Serviceable in the Church of Christ. A Man to whom the Lord had given a large Capacity beyond many, and furnished him with an excellent Gift; whereby he was qualified for those Services in the Church, in the performance of which, he did shine as a
Star,
which received its Luster and Brightness from the Glorious
Sun
of
Righteousness.
He was Wise, but Humble; Condescending to the Weak, and ready to Help, where he saw and felt Sincerity; but Sharp to that which he apprehended to be Insincere and Deceitful; for which Cause, he was not acceptable to Hypocrites and Disorderly Walkers: Yet he was a Man of a very acceptable and agreeable Conversation, as well as Sober and Religious, both in the Church and in the World, being of a free and affable Temper and Disposition, far from Affectation; but of a Courteous Behaviour and Graceful Carriage to all, and very Serviceable to and amongst
Neighbours: He was very Near and Dear to many
us, who were most intimately Acquainted with him and his Memorial is sweet to us: His Services in o
Meetings,
and in the
Quarterly Meeting
for the County of
Bucks,
were very Great, and of many Years C
tinuance; in which he shewed great Diligence, be
of a ready Mind, willing to Serve the Church, according to that Ability which the Lord had given him; and his Heart and House was open to his
Friends,
and the
Monthly-Meeting
was kept there more than Forty Years, and remains there to this Day. Our Loss is great by his Removal: But in this we are satisfied, that it is his Everlasting Gain; being gathered, as we have good Cause to Believe, to his Eternal Rest. The knowledge we had of him, and the good Account which we have received of him, in the time of his last Ilness, by those who were most constantly with him, and of his quiet and peaceable Departure, doth sensibly Engage our Hearts to acquiesce in the Will of the Lord; and therein we have Peace and Comfort. He departed this Life, the First of the Third
Month,
1713, and was Honourably Buried in
Friends
Burying place at New
Jourdens,
in the Parish of
Giles Chalfont,
in the County of
Bucks,
the Fourth Day of the same Month.
Signed by the Appointment of the
Monthly-Meeting,
by us,
George Bowles,
William Grimsdall,
James Smith,
Daniel Wharley,
Daniel Roberts,
Abraham Barber,
Thomas Olliffe.
A
TESTIMONY
from the
Womens-Meeting,
Concerning
Thomas Ellwood.
A Concern is upon our Spirits, to write somewhat concerning our dear deceased
Friend
and
El
r, Thomas Ellwood,
who was highly Valued by
, for that Wisdom and Counsel were with him; and
ing of a free and affable Temper, ready to Assist
ose which stood in need thereof, encouraged many to
ply to him for Advice, under the divers Circum
nces, and various Exercises which this Uncertain
orld affords; which we have found to be for our
od, as we followed it. He was an early Comer to
eetings,
seldom hindred by
Weather
(though he Liv
Three Miles distant) when
Bodily Weakness
did
hinder, of late Years, being oft indisposed as to his
ealth. The
Monthly-Meeting
was held at his
ouse about Forty Years, and he always look'd very kind
d Courteous on
Friends,
when they came there, and
ok Care and Notice of the
Meanest,
who came in
ncerity.
He was Zealous for
Good Order,
and a
inst such, who, being in an
Apostatized Spirit, Op
sed it;
and may well be numbred amongst the
Wor
ies,
whose Names are upon Record for their
Valour;
is this our
Friend
worthy to be; who never turned his
ck on such who
Opposed
the
Truth;
but stood his
round,
as his
Printed Sheets
on such occasions do
w. As also his other Works of several kinds, do
nifest how great
Endowments
God had bestowed on
, (Yet we, who knew him in his Conversation, are Engaged to set forth how Kind and Condescending he was to the
Weakest Capacity,
and would help out when they wanted a
Word
) that Generations to come may learn how good it is to
forsake All,
and
follow Christ Jesus,
as this our
Friend
did, and the
Account
of his
Life,
following, shews; who not only
Gives Wisdom,
but
Teacheth Humility
also.
He was greatly respected by his Neighbours, for his Services amongst them; his Heart and Doors were open to the
Poor,
both
Sick
and
Lame,
who wanted
Help,
and had it freely, taking Care to provide things useful for such
Occasions,
(blest also with good
Success
) often saying,
He mattered not what Cost he was at, to do Good.
Such Lament their
Loss;
what then may we do, who miss him in an
Higher Station,
in his great Service in the
Church of Christ,
but even desire to be resigned to the
Will of the Lord?
who Preserved him through all his
Hardships,
to a
Dominion
over
False Brethren,
and is now out of their Reach, and of
Temptation
too; on whose Head, the
Blessing,
ask'd for
Joseph,
rests; who as a Fruitful
Bough
his
Branch
spreads over the
Wall
of
Opposition,
and
his Bow abode in Strength; the Hands of whose Arms were made Strong, by the help of the Mighty God of
Jacob, to whom be the
Glory
for what he hath wrought in our Day, whose own Works
Praise him
for Evermore. And the Tears of
Sorrow
that we shed, for the Loss of this our Deceased
Friend,
let them be remembred to bow our Spirits each of us, into a
Godly Care,
that we may com
up according to our several
Capacities,
to follow th
Lord
Faithfully,
in a
Godly Zeal
for his
Honour
and so come to lay down our Heads in
Joy
and
Peac
as this our
Friend
expressed he did.
This Eminent Servant of Christ, was Early Convin
ed of the Way of
Truth,
wherein he continued to th
finishing of his Days; for the sake of which, he soo
became a
Sufferer;
not only by
Imprisonment,
for
Worshipping God
in the Assemblies of his People, but also, from his
Father,
by whom he was made as an
Outcast,
for no other Cause, but for his Faithful
Testimony
in taking up the
Cross
to the
Worlds Behaviour
and
Language:
Whereupon he was Invited by his much valued Friend
Isaac Penington,
to his House; where he abode several Years, until he
Married.
He was a Blessing in, as well as a great Comfort and Help to that
Family;
and by his wise Conduct therein, gained much
Esteem,
not only from the
Elders,
but the
Youth,
whom he Instructed in
Learning;
and though most of them are by
Death
Removed, yet One still Remains, who from Certain and Experimental Knowledge, can Commemorate his
Worth;
being engaged thereto, from a Sense of the
Benefit
of his Good and Wholsom
Advice,
given at
Sundry Times,
and on
Divers Occasions.
Which Friendship continued firm to the Last.
His
Natural Capacity
was large, and his
Understanding,
in the
things of God,
very deep; which excellent Qualifications meeting in one, rendred him useful beyond many, to his
Country,
as well as very serviceable in the
Church;
by both which he is, and will be greatly missed. But he is gone to his Grave in a full Age, and
gathered as a shock of Corn in its Season, having done his Days Work Faithfully:
So that saying may be verified in him,
The END Crowns all.
His Sickness was sudden, which soon deprived him of the use of his
Limbs,
yet he retained the Faculties of his Inward and Outward
Senses
clear all along; and notwithstanding, at times, his Pains were Great; his Exemplary
Patience,
and Composed Resignation, was remarkably apparent to those that Visited and Attended him; so that their Sorrow in parting with so dear a Friend, was intermixed with Comfort in beholding the Heavenly Frame of Mind wherewith he was Adorned.
Thus after all his Labours, he entred into
Everlasting Rest,
and left many behind
Weeping,
though not without Hope, that they shall again meet at the
General Assembly of Saints,
where the redeemed shall sing
Praises
to their blessed
Redeemer,
whose Right it is to Reign for ever.
We have this farther to add, namely, That our Esteem of him was great, because of that real worth that was in him, through the Operation of the mighty Power of the Lord that separated him from the
Love
of the
World:
So that he chose (with
Moses
) rather to
suffer Affliction with the People of God, than to enjoy the Pleasures of Sin for a Season,
and it pleased the Lord to fit him with Wisdom and Counsel, so that he was made able to give Judgment in difficult Cases, wherein many of us have particularly received Benefit, and therefore have cause to lament the loss we have by his Removal. And Oh! say our Souls, That the Lord would raise up many more in his Room, to the Praise and Honour of the good
Husbandman.
And it is our Desire that we, who are yet behind, may be made able so to Steer our Course, through this troublesome World, that when our End comes, we may lay down our Heads in Peace with the Lord, and leave a good Savour behind us, as this our Friend hath done.
This is written in true Love and Respect, to the Memory of our Deceased
Friend,
as it pleased the Lord, to move upon our Hearts. And being read and approved in our
Womens-Meeting
at
Hungerhill,
the 4
th
of the 11th Month, 1713. was subscribed in behalf of the said Meeting by us,
MARY BAKER.
MARY WHARLEY.
MARY LARCUM.
Concerning our Dear Friend
Thomas Ellwood,
of
Hunger-Hill.
HE was much esteemed amongst good Men: Good Men, in their Day and Station upon the Earth, represent him, who made all things good in the beginning, who said,
Gen.
1. 3.
Let there be Light, and there was Light.
And also said,
ver.
26.
Let us make Man in our Image, after our Likeness.
Oh, high Favour!
So God created Man in his own Image, in the Image of God created he him; Male and Female created he them,
v. 27. and blessed them, and gave them Dominion under himself; for he was chief Commander then; and so he is witnessed to be now, where his Heavenly Image is come into again, and Men Live in it, as did this our
dear Friend,
who did good in his
Day
and
Generation: Counsel
was with him, to give to such as needed, and did apply to him: He was of a
Tender Spirit,
and had Dominion over
Passion,
over
Pride,
and over
Covetousness:
So he was Comfortable to, and in his
Family.
He was Amiable in the
Church of Christ,
and a
Doer of Good
amongst his
Neighbours.
And being an
Elder
amongst, and with the
Elders;
he hath not only obtained a
good Report,
but also the
Blessing
in the
Promised Seed,
which
bruises the Serpent's Head.
He was
Valiant
in suffering for his Testimony which he held in the
Truth;
and may not I say,
unwearied
in his
Labours,
for the setting forth the
Fame
and
Excellency
of it: Whereby we see what the
Truth
makes Men to be, who do come under the Conduct and Power of it; even as
fixed Stars
in the
firmament
of his
Divine Power;
who has caused the
Morning
of his
Heavenly
and
Glorious Gospel-Day to break forth;
and as with the
Day that springs from on High,
in
tender Mercy,
hath he
visited many
Souls.
And early did this our
Worthy deceased Friend
Embrace it, as it appears by his Testimony concerning that Eminent, and Blessed Messenger, and M
nister of the
Gospel, G. F.
And now, he having endured the Times of Proving
and the Days of Tribulation and Suffering; togethe
with the Perils and Slights, and Undervaluings of
Fal
Brethren;
against whose Ungodly Work, he was engaged to stand, as a noble Warrior, in the defence of and for the glorious Gospel of Christ: Not admiring Mens Persons, but the Work of the Gospel-Power. And altho' he was endowed with Parts and Accomplishment
above many, he was Humble and Grave; not Self-seeking, but esteeming the Power of Truth, tho' it did appear through mean Instruments. He was Honourable; and Honoured, for that he sought not his own Honour
but the Honour of Truth; not only by his Sufferings fo
it, and Labours in it; but also, in standing firmly against the loose Libertine Ones; who would have thrust in amongst the Lambs and Flock of Christ, i
an unclean adulterating Spirit, from the Life of the true Shepherd, and heavenly Husband, Christ Jesus. But to the tender Hearted, and sincere Minded, he was Strengthening and Comfortable. I knew him when
was but Young; and I can truly say, my Heart has often been affected, on his behalf, with Thankfulness to the Lord, who made him as a strong Pillar, in his spiritual House, with many more of his dear Servants and Children; who shall no more go out. His Memory is in my Heart esteemed, beyond what I can Write. Oh surely!
The Righteous shall be had in Everlasting Remembrance,
Psal. 112. 6.
And they that be Wise, shall shine as the brightness of the Firmament: And they that turn many to Righteousness, as the Stars for Ever and Ever,
Dan. 12. 3.
ELIZ. RICHARDSON.
Hunger Hill,
the
5
th of the
7
th Month,
1713.
Richard Vivers
his Testimony Concerning
Thomas Ellwood.
HE was a Man of great Wisdom and Understanding; and the Lord, the Giver of it, being pleased to visit him in his early Days, made choice of him▪ and by the Sanctification of his Holy Spirit, fitted, and prepared him for his
Work
and
Service,
whereunto he was called. And although he did not often appear as a
Minister;
Yet, in those Meetings set a-part for the Affairs of
Truth;
he often appeared in great
Wisdom,
having an extraordinary Talent given of the Lord for that
Work,
more than many other Brethren: And faithful he was in waiting for Instruction from God, to improve the same to
his Glory,
and the
Churches Advantage;
for nothing was more desirable to him, than to be imployed in the
Lord's Service:
So it pleased the
Almighty
to furnish him with
Understanding
and
Strength,
faithfully to do his Days work. And now he hath taken him to himself, where his Soul is at Rest; and although our Loss be his Gain, therein I with many more are greatly comforted, for I can truly say, I loved him, in the Truth, from the First of my acquaintance with him, and so it remained to the End of his Course, being near Fourty Years, since we knew each other: And when ever we conversed together, our Discourse was chiefly, concerning
Heavenly Things,
and the Affairs of the
Church,
and I always thought my Time well spent with him; although opportunity would not serve for so much of it as I desired, had it been the Will of God.
And this I can say, according to my Observation, He was a Man
True
to his
Friend,
and deliberate in the Choice of his
Acquaintance,
to whom he shewed real Love, and sincerity of Heart. And he was one of a steady and sound
Judgment,
as to the things of God; often desiring, that those who came amongst us, especially Children of Believing Parents, might not settle down only in a
Form
of
Godliness,
without the
Power
(at which Door, the
Apostacy
entred) but that they might be raised up to walk in that, wherein the
Saints
Fellowship doth stand, which is the
Light of our Lord Jesus Christ,
enlightening
every Man that cometh into the World:
And then the Ancient
Testimony of Truth
will be more and more raised up in their Hearts, and they being Preserved of the Lord in it, it will more be maintained in its several Branches, as in former Days. Blessed be the Name of the
Lord,
who hath a People in these latter Ages of the World, to whom he hath given
Power
to stand for his
Truth, whilst on Earth,
and to be
Tender
of the
Honour of his Name;
of the Number of whom, this our
Deceased Friend
and
Brother
was; who, although
Dead,
yet his Memory
Liveth,
and will be preserved amongst the
Righteous,
in
Generations yet to come.
RICHARD VIVERS.
Banbury
the 30
th
of the 11
th Month,
1714.
An
INDEX
of the Names of
Persons
and
Places,
and some particular Things.
A
AChelous,
p. 425
Aldridge William,
p. 342
— Robert,
ditto
Ancram,
Earl of, p. 251.
A. B.
of
Cant.
p. 289
Archdale Matth.
p. 138
Aris Rich.
p. 290, 291, 295, 296
Atkinson Francis,
p. 36
Augustine,
p. 152
Austin Rob.
p. 342
Ayrs William,
p. 328, 329, 330, 335
Abbington,
p. 459
Alesbury,
p. 132, 152, 239, 296
— Goal,
p. 120, 241, 247, 288, 341
Amersham,
p. 150, 238, 253, 288, 452, 463.
America,
p. 333, 405, 411, 442
Ash
in
Kent,
p. 444
B
Bache Humph.
p. 105
Bachelor William,
p. 342
Baldwin Rich.
p. 342
Belson,
— p. 102
Bennet Ambr.
p. 239
Birch Nath.
p. 241
Biss Thomas,
p. 248
Blome Rich.
p. 447, 449.
Bradly Rich.
p. 218
Broughton Hugh,
p. 447, 448
Bowyer
Sir
William,
p. 138
Brothers Andrew,
p. 342
Brown Rich.
p. 172, 175, 193, 220
Bugg Francis,
p. 363
Burrough Edw.
p. 50, 63, 72, 152, 215
Butterfield Abra.
452, 453, 455
Barnet,
p. 36
Bail-dock,
p. 180
Barbadoes,
p. 277
Barbican,
p. 314
Beconsfield,
p. 146, 289, 292
Berkshire,
p. 326, 459.
Berrie
(House) p. 252
Bledlow
(Town) p. 102
Bottrel
's (House) p. 248, 253
Brainford,
p. 290
Bridewell,
p. 166, 175, 177, 184, 192, 216
Bridgwater,
Earl of, p. 334
Bristol,
p. 247, 324, 359, 443.
Bucks
132, 289, 296, 452, 453.
Buckingham,
p. 341.
Buckinghamshire,
p. 45, 46, 217, 238, 281, 463
Bull-and-Mouth Meeting,
p. 159
Bury
(St.
Edmond
) p. 432
Banishment-Act,
p. 251
Baptists,
p. 176, 281, 287, 311, 312, 313, 321
C
Catch William.
p. 452, 453, 455
Clark,
Esq
p. 111, 124, 125, 127.
— Sir
John,
p. 111
Clark
Constable, p. 151
Cherry,
— p. 95
Child Timothy,
p. 342.
Christ (Jesus)
p. 436, 437, 442, 456
Clayton,
Sir
Thomas,
p. 240, 291, 294
Coale Benj.
p. 391, 393
Coole Benj.
p. 443, 444
Comber
(Priest) p. 346
Cowley Abra.
p. 461
Cradock Sam.
p. 458.
Crisp Thomas
p. 363.
Croese Gerard,
p. 414, 444
Curtis Tho.
p. 48, 71
— Ann (his Wife)
p. 71, 72
Causham Lodge,
p. 44
Chalfont,
p. 44, 93, 133, 145, 171, 248
Chesham,
p. 453
Chinner,
p. 46, 51, 159
Coleman-street,
p. 107
Cornwall,
p. 257
Crowell,
p. 34, 35, 39, 45, 132, 146, 155, 158, 234
Civil Wars,
p. 34, 44
Conventicle-Act,
p. 283
Catharine-Catharina,
what, p. 290
D
David K. of Israel,
p. 386, 461
Dell Thomas,
p. 239, 342
— John,
p. 289
— Anne,
p. 289
Demetrius,
p. 347, 349
Diotrephes,
p. 362, 402, 411
Dolbin John,
p. 342
Dove,
— p. 159
— Doctor,
Ibid
Drake Humph.
p. 452
Duke of York,
p. 263, 267
Datchet,
p. 44
Denham,
p. 138
Devonshire,
p. 257
Devonshire-House,
p. 325
Dorsetshire,
p. 257
Declaration from Breda,
p. 108
Divine Light,
p. 55,
&c.
E
Ellis Mary,
p. 259
— John,
p. 342
Ellwood Walter,
p. 34, 150
Ellwood Thomas,
Convinced, p. 48. taken up by the Watch 92. by a Party of Horse, p. 109. by the Watch, p. 146. at
Bull-and-Mouth
Meeting, p. 160. committed to Bridewell, 162. tried at the
Old-Baily,
178. committed to
Newgate,
p. 180. and to Bridewell again, p. 185 taken at a Burial, and committed to
Alesbury-Goal,
p. 241 and from a Meeting, p. 250 to the House of Correction,
ib.
on the Act of Banishment, 251 Married, 268. Answer'd the Priests about Tythes, 322, 344, and
W. Rogers,
327, 352, Questioned for his
Caution to Constables,
331,
&c.
Epistle to Friends, 367. Answers the Separates,
J. R. C. H.
p. 387,
J. H.
389.
L. K.
390.
J. R.
and
L. K.
392.
G. Keith,
398, 405, 408, 416. the
Snake,
425. the
Norfolk
-Priests, 432. A nameless Author, 450. subpoena'd into the
Exchequer,
452. sequestrated, 454. dies 464.
Erasmus,
p. 344.
Edward the
6
th,
p. 349.
Europe,
p. 412, 442
F
Faldo John,
p. 418, 426
Faulkland
Lord, p. 107
Fotherly Tho.
p. 328, 330, 335
Forster
(Counsellor) p. 295
Fox Geo.
254, 257, 258, 325, 397
— the Younger, p. 105
Farringdon,
p. 459
Fleet-street,
p. 161, 192
Fifth-Monarchy-Men,
p. 107, 112, 137, 138
Flattering Titles, p. 56
Free Grace, p. 49,
&c.
G
Galloway,
Marshall, p. 118
Gell,
Dr. p. 447
G— E—,
p. 453
Gigger John,
p. 263, 265, 267
Gray Walter,
p. 34
Greenaway Rich.
p. 133, 134, 135
Godwin Thomas,
p. 447
Goodyare Thomas,
p. 121.
Grimes,
call'd Mother, 149, 150
Grove John,
p. 277
Grove
(House) p. 48
Grange,
ditto p. 48, 247
Giles-Chalfont,
p. 246, 248, 289
Grays,
by
Henly,
p. 111
H
Hampson,
Sir
Dennis,
p. 341, 354
Harding
— p. 291
Harris Charles,
p. 387, 391
Headach
— p. 287
Henry
VIII. p. 349
Hersent Anne,
p. 247
Hicks Thomas,
p. 314, 315, 418, 426
Hitchcock,
Attourney, p. 298
Hog John,
p. 389
Howell,
Sir
John,
p. 179
Haddenham,
p. 101
Hadley,
by
Barnet,
p. 36
Hedgerly,
p. 248
Hertford,
p. 238
Hertfordshire,
p. 328, 453, 463
Hitchinden
-Parish, p. 289
High-wiccomb,
p. 52, 281, 294
Holton,
near
Alesbury,
p. 391
Holland,
p. 415
Hungerhill,
p. 463
Hull,
p. 389
Hat, p. 62, 76, 82, 90, 100
Hat-Honour, p. 83
I
James Richard,
p. 342
Jennings John,
p. 342
— Samuel,
p. 397
Jeroboam,
p. 378
Ives Jer.
p. 281, 316, 317
Julius Caesar,
p. 325
Jewen-street,
p. 156
Jourdans,
p. 289, 464
Ireland,
p. 44
Justice-Hall,
p. 215
Independants,
p. 135
K
Keith George,
p. 397, 404, 407, 409, 414, 419, 427, 429, 433, 440, 442
Key Leonard,
p. 391
King and Parliament, p. 34
— and Council, p. 345
King
Henry
the 8th, p. 164
— Charles,
p. 418
— James,
p. 342, 386
Knowles,
Esq
p. 111, 112
Kent,
p. 263, 271, 275, 276
L
Lacy Ralph
Informer, p. 289 291, 295, 296
Lamburn Sarah,
p. 242
Leaper Joshua,
p. 452, 454
Lilly William,
p. 219
Love John,
p. 444
Luff
(or
Love
)
John,
p. 254
Loe Thomas,
p. 107, 109, 113, 118, 120, 122
— His Wife, p. 118
Lancashire,
p. 218
Lincolns-Inn-Fields,
p. 35
Lincolnshire,
p. 321
London,
p. 35, 44, 50, 74, 86, 105, 132, 146, 154, 157, 234, 238, 253, 256, 263, 276, 294, 296, 310, 313, 359, 391, 392, 403, 415, 432, 456, 463, 464.
M
Mason William,
p. 341
Mather C.
p. 441
Matthew, Mark, Luke
and
John,
p. 458
Merrick Anne,
p. 166
Mew,
Doctor, p. 286
Milton John,
p. 154, 216, 218, 246
Morton,
Judge, p. 243
— Justice, p. 286, 288
Moor Edward,
p. 342
— Rebecca,
Ibid.
Mucklow William,
p. 170
Maidenhead,
p. 92
Martins-le-grand,
p. 161
Meadle,
p. 102, 130
Merton
-Colledge, p. 37
N
Naylor James,
p. 48, 49, 50
Nebuchadnezzar,
p. 358
Nehemiah,
p. 365
Ness Christopher,
p. 448
Norton Silas,
his Wife, p. 118
Newgate,
p. 161, 180, 187, 188, 191, 215, 216, 220
Norfolk,
p. 432
New and Inward Law, p. 54
O
Ovy John,
133, 134, 136, 137, 143
Orange,
Prince of, p. 386, 460
Old Baily,
p. 161, 192,
Old Bridewell,
p. 162, 192
Oxford,
p. 35, 61, 67, 76, 106, 107, 115, 117, 123, 125, 286, 326
Oxford
-Castle, p. 108, 117, 122
Oxfordshire,
p. 34, 36, 108, 133, 139, 141, 145, 154
Oath of Allegiance, p. 178
Paget,
Doctor, p. 154, 155
P
Parker Alexander,
p. 258
— Doctor, p. 248
— Judith,
p. 248, 250
Paul
the Apostle, p. 459
Penn William,
p. 281, 313, 314, 330, 333, 388, 397, 428, 433, 435, 437, 442
— Gulielma Maria,
p. 329, 330, 332, 335
Penington,
Alderman, p. 35, 90
— Isaac,
his Son, p. 35, 44, 48, 51, 67, 70, 73, 89, 92, 120, 132, 134, 136, 138, 142, 152 153, 154, 217, 238, 242, 247 253, 260, 271, 276
— Mary,
his Wife, p. 89 144, 145, 171, 217, 226, 248, 260, 263, 271, 276
— Isaac,
their Son, p. 276
— John,
ditto p. 217, 452
— William,
p. 136, 138, 142, 171, 217, 225
Pennsylvania,
p. 329, 397, 412, 433
Pepys
— p. 147
Philips,
Parson, p. 289
— Tongue
and
Gibs,
Plotters, 191
Plant Thomas,
p. 316
Perrot Edward,
p. 238, 248
— John,
p. 254, 257
Pewsey Stephen,
p. 342
Potman Eliz.
his Mother, p. 34
Poulter John,
a Cheat, p. 288, 290
Peters-Chalfont,
p. 48, 247
Philpot-Lane,
p. 415
Party of Horse, p. 109, 137, 341
Plain Language, p. 57, 75, 85
Persecution,
p. 356. at
Jourdens,
289. wax'd hot, 327. at
Wooborn,
341. in
London
and
Bristol,
359
Praedestination,
p. 49
Presbyterians,
p. 334, 340
Pride,
p. 56
Priests,
p. 103.
Puritan Preachers,
p. 86
Q
Quakers,
p. 45, 48, 49, 51, 64, 67, 111, 126, 159, 235, 23
, 281, 284, 287, 289, 310, 313, 321, 354, 391, 410, 412, 415, 417, 419, 432, 435, 441
Quarter-Sessions,
p. 61, 341
Q. Elizabeth,
p. 349, 359
R
Rabshakeh, Sanballat
and
Tobiah,
p. 362, 364
Raunce John,
p. 52, 72, 79, 81, 158, 387, 391, 393, 407
— Frances,
his Wife, p. 79
Red-Head,
Informer, p. 288.
Reeve John,
p. 341
Rogers William,
p. 324, 352, 361, 363
Rosewell,
Major, 159, 161.
Russel William,
p. 289
Ryland
— his Wife, p. 118
Reading,
p. 44, 92, 390
Richmansworth,
p. 328, 329, 330, 335
Risborough,
p. 289
Rome,
p. 254
Republican-Governmennt, p. 37
Rie
-Plot, p. 334
S
Salter George,
p. 248, 342
Sansom Oliver,
p. 459
Saunders Thomas,
p. 102
— Damaris,
Ibid.
Selden John,
p. 346
Sewell William,
p. 450
Sexton Thomas,
p. 342
— William,
Ibid.
Shockling John,
Priest, p. 444
Smith John,
p. 342
Snake in the Grass,
p. 423, 425, 430, 444
Snow Robert,
p. 1
Springett
Lady, p. 35, 44
— Sir
William,
p. 35
— Gulielma Maria,
p. 35, 45, 71, 152, 226, 248, 257, 263, 268, 271
— Herbert,
p. 263, 268
Starkey,
Counsellor, p. 295
Steevens Jeremiah,
p. 72
Story John,
p. 323
Sulpitius Severus,
p. 449
Salisbury,
p. 289
Seven-Oaks,
p. 263
Somersetshire,
p. 257
Spittle-Fields,
p. 315
Stoken-Church,
p. 135
Suffolk,
p. 432
Sussex,
p. 263, 271, 275, 329, 332
Salutations, p. 57
T
Tanner William,
p. 342
Thornton Samuel,
p. 52
Titchborn
Sir
Benj.
p. 328, 335
Tournay William,
p. 359
Travers Ann,
p. 166, 170
Tremelius
and
Junius,
p. 447
Turner
Sir
William,
p. 184
Thame,
p. 34, 36, 107, 116, 125
— School,
p. 36, 37, 63
— Park,
p. 39
Taplow,
p. 341
Topsham,
p. 257
Tower-street,
p. 105
Tunbridge,
p. 263, 267
Turners-Hall,
415, 420, 425, 433
Toleration, p. 359
Tythes, p. 322, 344, 346, 347, 452, 453, 455, 459,
&c.
V
Venner Ralph,
p. 108
Vivers Anne,
p. 166
Uncovering the Head, 57, 58, 74
W
Watkins Morgan,
p. 238, 248, 249, 251, 253
Wells,
Clerk, p. 294
— Henry,
p. 241
— John,
p. 330
Wenman,
Lord. p. 39, 111
Wharley Daniel,
p. 218
— Mary,
his Wife,
Ibid.
Whately
—, p. 109
Whately,
Town, p. 125
White John,
p. 102
Whitehead John,
p. 132
— George,
p. 136, 139, 142, 145, 313, 361, 427, 431, 437
Wilkinson John,
p. 323
Woodhouse William,
p. 341, 342
Woolsey
Cardinal, p. 163
Wray,
— p, 172
Wyeth Joseph,
p. 433
Watford,
p, 328, 330
Watlington,
p. 40, 133
West-Country,
p. 323
West-Deerham,
p. 432
Weston,
by
Thame,
p. 111, 116, 127
West
of
England,
p. 257
Westminster,
p. 452
Westmorland,
p. 139
West-Wiccomb,
p. 281
Wheeler-street,
p. 315, 321
White
's Farm, p. 289
Whitehall,
p. 161, 163
Wiccomb,
p. 72, 77, 100, 135, 145, 158, 291, 387, 390, 393
Winsor,
p. 295
Wooborn,
p. 341, 354
Worminghurst,
p. 339
Will-Worship,
p. 60
Y
Yearly Meeting,
p. 397, 408, 412, 461, 463
Z
Zachery Tho.
p. 291, 292, 294, 297
PAPERS in this BOOK.
1. A Letter from
T. Loe,
p. 119
2. A Letter from
I. P.
121
3. A Looking-glass,
&c.
195
4. A Post-script, to
ditto
206
5. An Hymn to God, 212
6. An Elegy on
E. Burro.
221
7.
Est Vita caduca,
230
8. All is Vanity, 231
9. An Ode on
Vertue
233
10. Conformity prest and represt, 235
11. A Cry to the Lord 237
12. An
Aenigma,
or
Riddle
245
13. On his Imprisonment, 252
14. A Congratulation, 270
15. A Song of Praise, 273
16. To the holy One, 275
17. Solitary Thoughts,
&c.
278
18.
Gigantomachia,
a Poem 299
19. A Song of the Mereies of the Lord. 305
20. An Epitaph on
J. Ives.
318
21.
Collaudemus Dominum.
360
22. An Epistle to Friends 367
23. On perusal of
B. C
's
Answer to
G. K. 443
24. A Copy of Verses, 462
25. An Answer to
R. Snow
's Objections, (added) 1
26. An Account of Tythes. 17
THE HISTORY OF THE LIFE OF
Thomas Ellwood.
ALTHOUGH my Station, not being so Eminent either in the Church of Christ, or in the World, as others who have moved in higher Orbs, may not afford such considerable Remarks as theirs; yet, inasmuch as in the Course of my Travels through this Vale of Tears, I have passed through various, and some uncommon Exercises, which the Lord hath been graciously pleased to support me under, and conduct me
hrough; I hold it a matter excusable, at least,
f not commendable, to give the World some
ittle Account of my Life, that in, Recounting
he many Deliverances and Preservations, which the Lord hath vouchsafed to work for me, both I, by a grateful Acknowledgmen
thereof, and Return of Thanksgivings unt
him therefore, may, in some measure set forth hi
abundant Goodness to me; and others, whos
Lot it may be to tread the same Path, and fal
into the same, or like Exercises, may be encouraged to persevere in the way of Holines
and, with full assurance of Mind to trust in th
Lord, whatsoever Trials may befal them.
date
1639
To begin therefore with mine own Beginning. I was Born in the Year of our Lord 1639, about the Beginning of the
Eighth Mont
(so far as I have been able to inform my self
for the Parish
Register,
which relates to th
time (not of Birth, but) of
Baptism,
(as the
call it) is not to be relied on.
The Place of my Birth was a little Countr
Town, called
Crowell,
situate in the upper sid
of
Oxfordshire,
Three Miles East-ward fro
Thame
the nearest Market-Town.
My Father's Name was
Walter Ellwood;
an
my Mothers Maiden-Name was
Elizabeth P
man:
both well descended; but of declinin
Families. So that what my Father Possesse
(which was a pretty Estate in Lands, and mo
as I have heard in Monies) he received (as h
had done his Name
Walter
) from his Grandf
ther
Walter Gray;
whose Daughter, and onl
Child, was his Mother.
date
1641
In my very Infancy, when I was but abo
two Years Old, I was carried to
London.
F
the
Civil War,
between
King
and
Parliamen
breaking then forth; my Father (who favou
ed the Parliament-Side, though he took not Arms) not holding himself safe at his Country Habitation (which lay too near some Garisons of the King's) betook himself to
London,
that City then holding for the Parliament.
There was I bred up (though not without much Difficulty, the City Air not agreeing with my tender Constitution) and there continued, until
Oxford
was surrendred, and the War, in Appearance, ended.
In this time, my Parents contracted an Acquaintance, and intimate Friendship with the Lady
Springett;
who being then the Widow of Sir
William Springett
(who died in the Parliament Service) was afterwards the Wife of
Isaac Penington,
Eldest Son of Alderman
Penington
of
London.
And this Friendship devolving from the Parents to the Children, I became an early and Particular Play-fellow to her Daughter
Gulielma;
being admitted, as such, to ride with her in her little Coach, drawn by her Footman about
Lincoln's-Inn-Fields.
I mention this in this Place, because the Continuation of that Acquaintance and Friendship having been an Occasional Means of my being afterwards brought to the Knowledge of the Blessed TRUTH, I shall have frequent Cause, in the Course of the following Discourse, to make honourable Mention of that Family, to which I am under so many and great Obligations.
date
1646
Soon after the Surrender of
Oxford,
my Father returned to his Estate at
Crowell;
which by that time he might have need enough to look after, having spent (I suppose) the greatest Part of the Monies which had been left him by his Grandfather, in maintaining himsel
and his Family at an high Rate in
London.
My elder Brother (for I had one Brothe
and two Sisters, all elder than my self) was
while we lived in
London,
Boarded at a privat
School, in the House of one
Francis Atkinson,
a
a Place called
Hadley,
near
Barnet
in
Hertfordshire;
where he had made some good Proficiency in the
Latin
and
French
Tongues. But after we had left the City, and were resettled i
the Country; he was taken from that privat
School, and sent to the Free School at
Tham
in
Oxfordshire.
Thither also was I sent, as soon as my tender Age would permit: for I was indeed bu
young when I went, and yet seemed younge
than I was, by reason of my low and little Stature. For it was held, for some Years, a doubtful Point, whether I should not have proved a Dwarf. But after I was arrived to the Fifteenth Year of my Age (or thereabouts) I began to shoot up, and gave not over growing
till I had attained the middle Size and Statu
of Men.
At this School (which at that time was i
good Reputation) I profited apace; havin
then a natural Propensity to Learning: so tha
at the first reading over of my Lesson, I commonly made my self Master of it: And y
(which is strange to think of) few Boys in th
chool wore out more Birch than I. For tho'
was never (that I remember) whip't upon
he Score of not having my Lesson ready, or of not saying it well: yet being a little busie Boy, full os Spirit, of a working Head, and
ctive Hand, I could not easily conform my self to the grave and sober Rules, and (as I
hen thought) severe Orders of the School; but was often playing one waggish Prank or other among my Fellow-Scholars, which subjected me to Correction, so that I have come under the Discipline of the Rod twice in a Forenoon. Which yet brake no Bones.
Had I been continued at this School, and in due time preferred to an higher; I might in likelihood have been a Scholar: for I was observed to have a Genius apt to learn. But my Father having, so soon as the
Republican-Government
began to settle, accepted the Office of a Justice of the Peace (which was no way Beneficial, but meerly Honorary, and every way Expensive) and put himself into a Port, and Course of Living agreeable thereunto; and having also removed my Brother from
Thame
-School to
Merton
-Colledge in
Oxford,
and entred him there in the highest and most chargeable Condition, of a
Fellow-Commoner:
he found it needful to retrench his Expences elsewhere; the Hurt of which fell upon me. For he thereupon took me from School, to save the Charge of Maintaining me there: which was somewhat like plucking green Fruit from the Tree, and laying it by, before it was come to its due Ripeness; which will thenceforth shrink and wither, and lose that little Juice and Relish which it began to have.
Even so it fared with me. For being taken home when I was but young, and before I was well settled in my Studies, (though I had made a good Progress in the
Latin
Tongue, and was entred in the
Greek
) being left too much to my self, to ply, or play with my Books, or without them, as I pleased: I soon shook Hands with my Books by shaking my Books out of my Hands, and laying them, by degrees, quite aside; and addicted my self to such youthfu
Sports and Pleasures as the Place afforded, and my Condition could reach unto.
By this Means, in a little time, I began to lose that little Learning I had acquired at School; and by a continued disuse of my Books, became at length so utterly a Stranger to Learning, that I could not have read, far less have understood a Sentence in
Latin.
Which I was so sensible of, that I warily avoided reading to others, even in an
English
Book, lest, if I should meet with a
Latin
Word, I should shame my self, by mispronouncing it.
Thus I went on, taking my Swing in such vain Courses, as were accounted harmless Recreations; entertaining my Companions, and familiar Acquaintance, with pleasant Discourses in our Conversations, by the meer Force of Mother-Wit and Natural Parts, without the Help of School-Cultivation: and was accounted good Company too.
But I always sorted my self with Persons of
ngenuity, Temperance and Sobriety: for I
athed Scurrilities in Conversation, and had a
atural Aversion to Immoderate Drinking. So
at in the Time of my greatest Vanity, I was
reserved from Prophanness, and the grosser E
ils of the World: which render'd me accept
ble to Persons of the best Note in that Coun
ry then. I often waited on the Lord
Wenman,
t his House
Thame
-Park (about two Miles
rom
Crowell,
where I lived;) to whose Favour held my self intituled in a two-fold Respect:
oth as my Mother was nearly related to his Lady; and as he had been pleased to bestow his Name upon me, when he made large Promises
or me at the Font. He was a Person of great Honour and Virtue, and always gave me a kind Reception at his Table, how often soever I came. And I have cause to think, I should have received from this Lord some advantageous Preferment in this World, as soon as he had found me capable of it (though betwixt him and my Father there was not then so good an Understanding as might have been wish'd) had I not been, in a little time after, called into the Service of the best and highest Lord: and thereby lost the Favour of all my Friends, Relations and Acquaintance of this World. To the Account of which most happy Exchange I hasten, and therefore willingly pass over many Particularities of my youthful Life. Yet one Passage I am willing to mention, for the Effect it had upon me afterwards: which was thus:
date
1657
My Father being then in the Commission
the Peace, and going to a
Petty-Sessions
at
Wa
lington,
I waited on him thither. And whe
we came near the Town, the Coachman seeing a nearer and easier Way, than the commo
Road, through a Corn Field, and that it wa
wide enough for the Wheels to run, withou
endammaging the Corn, turned down there
Which being observed by an Husband-ma
who was at Plow not far off, he ran to us; an
stopping the Coach, poured forth a Mouthfu
of Complaints, in none of the best Language
for driving over the Corn. My Father mildly answered him, That if there was an Offenc
committed, he must rather impute it to hi
Servant, than himself; since he neither directed him to drive that Way, nor knew whic
way he drove. Yet added, that he was going to such an Inn at the Town; whither if h
came, he would make him full Satisfaction, fo
whatsoever Dammage he had sustained thereby. And so on we went, the Man venting his Discontent, as he went back, in angry Accents. At the Town, upon enquiry, we understood that it was a way often used, and without Dammage, being broad enough; but that it was not the common Road, which yet lay not far from it, and was also good enough: Wherefore my Father bid his Man drive Home that way.
It was late in the Evening when we returned, and very dark; and this quarrelsome Man, who had troubled himself and us in the Morning,
date
1657
having gotten another lusty Fellow, like
mself, to assist him, way-lay'd us in the
ight, expecting we would return the same
ay we came. But when they found we did
ot, but took the common Way, they, angry
at they were disappointed, and loth to lose
eir Purpose, (which was to put an Abuse up
us) coasted over to us in the dark, and lay
g hold on the Horses Bridles, stopt them from
oing on. My Father asking his Man, what
e Reason was that he went not on, was an
wered,
That there were two Men at the Horses
eads, who held them back, and would not suffer
em to go forward.
Whereupon my Father, o
ening the Boot, step't out, and I followed close
his Heels. Going up to the place where
e Men stood, he demanded of them the
eason of this Assault. They said,
We were
pon the Corn.
We knew, by the Routs, we
ere not on the Corn, but in the common way, nd told them so. But they told us,
They were esolved they would not let us go on any farther, but
ould make us go back again.
My Father endea
oured, by gentle Reasoning, to perswade them
forbear, and not run themselves farther into
he Danger of the Law, which they were run
oo far into already: but they rather derided
im for it. Seeing therefore fair Means would
ot work upon them, he spake more roughly
o them, charging them to deliver their Clubs
for each of them had a great Club in his Hand,
omewhat like those which are called
Quarter
taves.
) They thereupon, laughing, told him,
date
1657
They did not bring them thither for that En
Thereupon my Father, turning his Head to m
said,
Tom, Disarm them.
I stood ready at his Elbow, waiting only fo
the Word of Command. For being naturall
of a bold Spirit, full then of youthful Hea
and that too heightned by the Sence I had, no
only of the Abuse, but insolent Behaviour o
those rude Fellows; my Blood began to boy
and my Fingers itch'd (as the Saying is) to b
dealing with them. Wherefore, stepping boldly forward, to lay hold on the Staff of him tha
was nearest to me, I said,
Sirrah, Deliver you
Weapon.
He thereupon raised his Club (whic
was big enough to have knock't down an Ox
intending (no doubt) to have knock't me dow
with it; as probably he would have done, ha
I not, in the twinkling of an Eye, whip't o
my Rapier, and made a Pass upon him.
could not have failed running of him throug
up to the Hilt, had he stood his Ground: b
the suddain and unexpected Sight of my brigh
Blade, glistering in the dark Night, did so amaze, and terrifie the Man, that slipping asid
he avoided my Thrust; and letting his Sta
sink, betook himself to his Heels for Safety
which his Companion seeing, fled also. I fo
lowed the former as fast as I could: but
Tim
addidit Alas,
Fear gave him Wings, and mad
him swiftly fly: so that although I was accoun
ed very nimble, yet the farther we ran, th
more ground he gain'd on me; so that I coul
not overtake him: which made me think h
date
1657
k shelter under some Bush; which he knew
ere to find, though I did not. Mean while
e Coachman (who had sufficiently the outside
a Man) excus'd himself from intermedling,
der pretence that he durst not leave his
rses: and so left me to shift for my self.
d I was gone so far beyond my Knowledge,
t I understood not which way I was to go:
by Hollowing, and being Hollowed to a
in, I was directed where to find my Company.
We had easie Means to have found out who
se Men were (the principal of them having
en in the Day time at the Inn, and both
arrelled with the Coachman, and threatned
be even with him when he went back:) but
ce they came off no better in their Attempt,
y Father thought it better not to know them,
an to oblige himself to a Prosecutiou of them.
At that time, and for a good while after, I
d no regret upon my Mind, for what I had
ne, and designed to have done, in this Case;
t went on, in a sort of Bravery, resolving to
l, if I could, any Man, that should make
e like Attempt, or put any Affront upon us:
d for that reason, seldom went afterwards,
on those publick Services, without a loaded
stol in my Pocket. But when it pleased the
ord, in his infinite Goodness, to call me out
the Spirit and Ways of the World, and give
e the Knowledge of his saving Truth; where
y the Actions of my fore-past Life were set in
der before me: a sort of Horror seized on me,
hen I considered how near I had been to the
date
1657
staining of my Hands with Human Blood. A
whensoever afterwards I went that way, a
indeed as often since as the Matter has come i
to my remembrance, my Soul has blessed t
Lord for my Deliverance; and Thanksgivin
and Praises have arisen in my Heart (as no
at the relating of it, they do) to Him, w
preserved, and with-held me from sheddi
Man's Blood. Which is the Reason, for whi
I have given this Account of that Action, th
others may be warned by it.
date
1658
About this time my dear and Honoured M
(who was indeed a Woman of singular Wor
and Virtue) departed this Life; having a litt
before heard of the Death of her eldest Son: w
(falling under the Displeasure of my Fath
for refusing to resign his Interest in an Estat
which my Father sold, and thereupon desiri
that he might have Leave to Travel; in hop
that Time and Absence might work a Recon
liation) went into
Ireland,
with a Person po
erful there in those Times, by whose Means
was quickly preferred to a Place of Trust a
Profit, but lived not long to Enjoy it.
I mentioned before, that during my Father
Abode in
London,
in the time of the
Civil Wa
he contracted a Friendship with the Lady
Spri
gett,
then a Widow, and afterwards Marri
to
Isaac Penington,
Esq
To continue which
sometimes Visited them at their Country-Lodg
ings (as at
Datchet,
and at
Causham Lodge
nea
Reading.
) And having heard that they we
come to live upon their own Estate at
Chalfo
date
1659
Buckinghamshire
(about Fifteen Miles from
well
) he went one Day to Visit them there,
d to return at Night; taking me with him.
But very much surpized we were, when,
ing come thither, we first heard, then found,
ey were become
Quakers;
a People we had
Knowledge of, and a Name we had, till
en, scarce heard of.
So great a Change, from a free, debonair
d courtly sort of Behaviour (which we for
erly had found them in) to so strict a Gra
ty as they now received us with, did not a
tle amuse us, and disappoint our Expectation
f such a pleasant Visit, as we used to have, and
ad now promised our selves. Nor could my
ather have any Opportunity, by a private
onference with them, to understand the Ground or Occasion of this Change; there be
g some other Strangers with them (related to
saac Penington
) who came that Morning from
ondon
to Visit them also.
For my Part, I sought, and at length found Means to cast my self into the Company of the Daughter, whom I found gathering some Flowers in the Garden, attended by her Maid, who was also a
Quaker.
But when I addressed my self to her after my accustomed Manner, with Intention to engage her in some Discourse, which might introduce Conversation, on the Foot of our former Acquaintance: though she treated me with a Courteous Mein; yet, (as young as she was) the Gravity of her Look and Behaviour struck such an Awe upon me, that
date
1659
I found my self not so much Master of my s
as to pursue any further Converse with h
Wherefore asking Pardon for my Boldness,
having intruded my self into her private Wa
I withdrew, not without some Disorder (a
thought at least) of Mind.
We stay'd Dinner, which was very ha
some; and lacked nothing to recommend it
me, but the want of Mirth and pleasant D
course: which we could neither have w
them, nor, by reason of them, with one a
ther amongst our selves; the Weightiness t
was upon their Spirits and Countenances, kee
ing down the Lightness that would have be
up in us. We stay'd notwithstanding till t
rest of the Company took leave of them: a
then we also, doing the same, returned, n
greatly satisfied with our Journey, nor kno
ing what in particular to find fault with.
Yet this good Effect that Visit had upon m
Father, who was then in the Commission f
the Peace, that it disposed him to a more f
vourable Opinion of, and Carriage towards tho
People, when they came in his way; as not lo
after one of them did. For a young Man, wh
lived in
Buckinghamshire,
came on a
First Day
to the Church (so called) at a Town calle
Chinner
(a Mile from
Crowell
) having, it seem
a Pressure on his Mind to say something to th
Minister of that Parish. He being an Acquain
tance of mine, drew me sometimes to hea
him, as it did then. The young Man stood i
the Isle before the Pulpit, all the Time of th
date
1659
rmon; not speaking a Word till the Sermon
d Prayer after it was ended: and then spake
few Words to the Priest. Of which all that
could hear was, That
The Prayer of the Wicked
Abomination to the Lord;
and
that God heareth
t Sinners.
Somewhat more, I think, he did say (which
could not distinctly hear, for the Noise the
eople made) and more probably he would
ave said, had he not been Interrupted by the
fficers, who took him into Custody, and led
im out, in order to carry him before my Fa
er.
When I understood that, I hastened home,
at I might give my Father a fair Account of
e Matter, before they came. I told him the
oung Man behaved himself quietly and peace
bly; spake not a Word, till the Minister had
uite done his Service: and that what he then
ake was but short; and was delivered with
ut Passion, or ill Language. This I knew would furnish my Father with a fair Ground, whereon to discharge the Man, if he would.
And accordingly, when they came, and made
high Complaint against the Man (who said
ittle for himself;) my Father, having Examined the Officers, who brought him, what the Words that he spake were, (which they did not well agree in) and at what time he spake them, (which they all agreed to be after the Minister had done) and then whether he gave the Minister any reviling Language, or endeavoured to raise a Tumult among the People
date
1659
(which they could not charge him with:)
finding that he had broken the Law, he Cou
selled the young Man to be careful that he d
not make, or occasion any publick Disturbance
and so dismissed him. Which I was glad of.
Some time after this, my Father, having go
ten some further Account of the People calle
Quakers;
and being desirous to be informed co
cerning their Principles, made another Visit
Isaac Penington
and his Wife, at their Hou
called the
Grange
in
Peter
's-
Chalfont;
and to
both my Sisters and me with him.
It was in the
Tenth Month,
in the Year, 165
that we went thither; where we found a ve
kind Reception, and tarried some Days: o
Day, at least, the longer, for that, while w
were there, a Meeting was appointed, at
Place about a Mile from thence; to which w
were invited to go, and willingly went.
It was held in a Farm-House, called
T
Grove;
which, having formerly been a Ge
tleman's Seat, had a very large Hall, and th
well filled.
To this Meeting came
Edward Burrough,
b
sides other Preachers, as
Thomas Curtis
an
James Nailor:
but none spake there, at tha
Time, but
Edward Burrough.
Next to who
(as it were under him) it was my Lot to sit (o
a Stool by the Side of a long Table, on whic
he sate;) and I drank in his Words with D
sire: for they not only Answered my Understanding, but warmed my Heart with a certain
date
1659
Heat, which I had not till then felt from
he Ministry of any Man.
When the Meeting was ended, our Friends
ook us home with them again; and after Sup
er, the Evenings being long, the Servants of
he Family (who were
Quakers
) were called in,
nd we all sate down in Silence. But long we
ad not so sate, before
Edward Burrough
began
o speak among us. And although he spake
ot long, yet what he said did touch, as I sup
ose, my Father's (Religious) Copy-hold, as the
hrase is. And he, having been from his
outh a Professor (though not join'd in that which is call'd
Close Communion
with any one Sort;) and valuing himself upon the Knowledge
e esteemed himself to have, in the various Notions of each Profession: thought he had now a fair Opportunity to display his Knowledge; and thereupon began to make Objections against what had been delivered.
The Subject of the Discourse was,
The universal free Grace of God to all Mankind.
To which he opposed the
Calvinistical Tenet
of
Particular
and
Personal
Predestination.
In defence of which indefensible Notion, he found imself more at a Loss than he expected.
Edward Burrough
said not much to him upon it, though what he said was close and cogent. But
James Nailor
interposing, handled the Subject with so much Perspicuity, and clear Demonstration, that his Reasoning seemed to be irresistable; and so I supposemy Father found it, which made him willing to drop the Discourse.
date
1659
As for
Edward Burrough,
he was a Bri
young Man, of a ready Tongue, (and migh
have been, for ought I then knew, a Schola
which made me the less to admire his way o
Reasoning. But what drop't from
James Na
lor
had the greater Force upon me; because h
look'd but like a plain simple Country-Ma
having the Appearance of an Husbandman, o
a Shepherd.
As my Father was not able to maintain th
Argument on his Side: so neither did the
seem willing to drive it on to an Extremity o
their side. But treating him in a soft an
gentle Manner, did, after a while, let fall th
Discourse: and then we withdrew to our respective Chambers.
The next Morning we prepared to retur
Home (that is, my Father, my younger Siste
and my self: for my elder Sister was gone before, by the Stage Coach, to
London.
) An
when, having taken our Leaves of our Friend
we went forth; they, with
Edward Burroug
accompanying us to the Gate: he there directed his Speech, in a few Words to each of u
severally; according to the Sense he had o
our several Conditions. And when we were gone off, and they gone in again; they asking him what he thought of us: he answered them, (as they afterwards told me) to this Effect,
As for the Old Man, he is settled on his Lees; and the Young Woman is light and airy: but the Young Man is Reach't, and may do well, if he don't lose it.
And surely that which he said to me, or
date
1659
rather that Spirit in which he spake it, took such fast hold on me; that I felt Sadness and Trouble come over me, though I did not distinctly understand what I was troubled for. I knew not what I ayled, but I knew I ayled something more than ordinary: and my Heart was very heavy.
I found it was not so with my Father and Sister: for as I rode after the Coach, I could hear them talk pleasantly one to the other, but they could not discern how it was with me, because I, riding on Horsback, kept much out of Sight.
By that time we got home it was Night. And the next Day, being the first Day of the Week, I went in the Afternoon to hear the Minister of
Chinner;
and this was the last time I ever went to hear any of that Function. After the Sermon, I went with him to his House, and in a Freedom of Discourse (which, from a certain Intimacy that was between us, I commonly used with him) told him where I had been, what Company I had met with there, and what Observations I had made to my self thereupon. He seemed to understand as little of them, as I had done before: and civilly abstained from casting any unhandsome Reflections on them.
I had a Desire to go to another Meeting of the
Quakers;
and bid my Father's Man enquire, if there was any in the Country thereabouts. He thereupon told me, he had heard at
Isaac
date
1659
Penington
's, that there was to be a Meeting at
High-Wiccomb
on
Thursday
next.
Thither therefore I went, though it was Seven Miles from me. And that I might be rather thought to go out a Coursing, than to a Meeting; I let my Gray-Hound run by my Horse-side.
When I came there, and had set up my Horse at an Inn; I was at a Loss how to find the House where the Meeting was to be. I knew it not: and was ashamed to ask after it. Wherefore having order'd the Horstler to take Care of my Dog, I went into the Street, and stood at the Inn-Gate; musing with my self what Course to take. But I had not stood long, e're I saw an Horse-man riding along the Street; whom I remember'd I had seen before at
Isaac Penington
's: and he put up his Horse at the same Inn. Him therefore I resolved to follow, supposing he was going to the Meeting, as indeed he was.
Being come to the House (which proved to be
John Raunce
's) I saw the People sitting together, in an outer Room: wherefore I stept in, and sate down on the first void Seat, the End of a Bench just within the Door; having my Sword by my Side, and Black Cloaths on, which drew some Eyes upon me. It was not long e're one stood up and spake, whom I was afterwards well acquainted with (his Name was
Samuel Thornton;
) and what he spake was very suitable, and of good Service to me: for
date
1659
it reached Home, as if it had been directed to me.
As soon as ever the Meeting was ended, and the People began to rise, I, being next the Door, step't out quickly; and hastning to my Inn, took Horse immediately homewards: and (so far as I remember) my having been gone was not taken Notice of by my Father.
This latter Meeting was like the Clinching of a Nail; confirming, and fastening in my Mind, those good Principles, which had sunk into me at the former. My Understanding began to open, and I felt some Stirrings in my Breast, tending to the Work of a New Creation in me. The general Trouble, and Confusion of Mind, which had for some Days lain heavy upon me, and pressed me down, without a distinct Discovery of the particular Cause for which it came, began now to wear off; and some Glimmerings of Light began to break forth in me; which let me see my Inward State, and Condition towards God. The Light (which before had shone in my Darkness, and the Darkness could not comprehend it) began now to shine out of Darkness, and in some Measure discovered to me what it was, that had before clouded me, and brought that Sadness and Trouble upon me. And now I saw, that although I had been, in a great degree, preserved from the common Immoralities, and gross Pollutions of the World; yet the Spirit of the World had hitherto ruled in me, and led me into Pride, Flattery, Vanity and Superfluity;
date
1659
all which was Naught. I found there were many Plants growing in me, which were not of the
Heavenly Father's Planting:
and that all these (of whatever sort or kind they were, or how specious soever they might appear) must be plucked up.
Now was all my former Life ripped up, and my Sins, by Degrees, were set in order before me. And though they looked not with so black a Hue, and so deep a Dye, as those of the lewdest Sort of People did: Yet I found that all Sin (even that which had the fairest or finest shew, as well as that which was more course and foul) brought Guilt, and
with
and
for Guilt,
Condemnation on the Soul that sinned. This I felt: and was greatly bowed down under the Sense thereof.
Now also did I receive a New Law, (an
Inward Law
superadded to the
Outward
)
The Law of the Spirit of Life in Christ Jesus,
which wrought in me against all Evil, not only
in Deed,
and
in Word,
but even
in Thought
also: so that every thing was brought to Judgment, and Judgment passed upon all. So that I could not any longer go on, in my former Ways, and Course of Life: for when I did, Judgment took hold upon me for it.
Thus the Lord was graciously pleased to deal with me, in somewhat like manner as he had dealt with his People
Israel
of Old (when they had transgressed his Righteous LAW) whom, by his Prophet, he called back, required
to put away the Evil of their Doings:
date
1659
bidding them, First,
Cease to Do Evil;
Then,
Learn to Do Well:
before He would admit them to
Reason with Him;
and before he would impart to them the
Effects of His free Mercy,
Isa. 1. 16, 17.
I was now required, by this
Inward
and
Spiritual LAW (The Law of the Spirit of Life in Christ Jesus)
to
put away the Evil of my Doings;
and
to Cease to do Evil.
And what, in Particulars, the
Evil
was, which I was required to
to put away,
and
to cease from:
that Measure of the
Divine
LIGHT, which was now manifested in me, discovered to me: and what the Light made manifest to be
Evil,
Judgment passed upon.
So that here began to be a Way cast up, before me, for me to walk in: A direct and plain Way; so plain,
that a way-faring-Man,
how weak and simple soever (
though a Fool,
to the Wisdom, and in the Judgment of the World)
could not Err,
while he continued to walk in it: the Error
coming in
by his
going out of it.
And this Way, with respect to me, I saw was that Measure of
Divine Light,
which was manifested in me; by which the
Evil of my Doings,
which I was to put away, and to cease from, was discovered to me.
By this
Divine Light
then I saw, that though I had not the Evil of the
common Uncleanness,
bauchery, Prophanness,
and
Pollutions of the
rld
to
put away,
because I had, through the
at
Goodness of GOD,
and a
Civil Educa
,
been preserved out of those
grosser Evils:
date
1659
yet I had many other Evils to
put away,
and
cease from:
some of which were not, by t
World (
which lies in Wickedness,
1 Joh. 5. 1
accounted
Evils:
but by the
Light of Chr
were made manifest to me to be
Evils,
and,
such, condemned in me.
As particularly, Those
Fruits
and
Effects
PRIDE,
that discover themselves in the
nity
and
Superfluity
of APPAREL: which I ( far as my Ability would extend to) took, ala
too much Delight in. This
Evil of my Doi
I was required
to put away,
and
cease from:
a
Judgment lay upon me till I did so. Whe
fore, in Obedience to the
Inward Law
(whi
agreed with the
Outward,
1
Tim.
2. 9. 1
P
3. 3. 1
Tim.
6. 8.
Jam.
1. 21.) I took
from my Apparel those unnecessary Trimmin
of
Lace, Ribbands
and
useless Buttons,
whi
had no real Service: but were set on only
that, which was, by mistake, called
Orname
And I ceased to wear
Rings.
Again,
The giving of flattering Titles to Me
between whom and me there was not any R
lation, to which such Titles could be preten
ed to belong. This was an
Evil
I had be
much addicted to, and was accounted a read
Artist in: therefore this
Evil
also was I
quired to
put away,
and
cease from.
So th
thenceforward I durst not say,
Sir, Master, M
Lord, Madam
(or
My Dame
) or say,
Your Se
vant,
to any one to whom I did not stand i
the real Relation of a Servant; which I ha
never done to any.
date
1659
Again,
Respect of Persons,
in Uncovering the
ead,
and
Bowing
the
Knee,
or
Body
in
Saluta
ns,
was a Practice I had been much in the
se of. And this being one of the
Vain Customs
the World, introduced by the Spirit of the World, instead of the true
Honour,
which this
a false Representation of; and used in Deceit,
a Token of
Respect,
by Persons one to another,
ho bear no
real Respect
one to another. And
esides, This being a
Type,
and proper
Emblem
f that
Divine Honour
which all ought to pay
o
Almighty GOD,
and which all, of all sorts
who take upon them the
Christian Name
) ap
ear in, when they offer their Prayers to Him;
nd therefore should not be given to Men. I
ound this to be one of those
Evils,
which I had
een too long doing; therefore I was now re
uired to put it away, and cease from it.
Again,
The Corrupt and Unsound Form of Speak
g in the Plural Number to a Single Person (YOU
o One,
instead of
THOU;)
contrary to the
Pure, Plain,
and
Single Language of
TRUTH
(THOU
to
One,
and
YOU
to more than
One)
which had always been used, by
GOD
to
Men,
and
Men
to
GOD,
as well as one to ano
er, from the oldest Record of Time, till
Cor
pt Men,
for
Corrupt Ends,
in later and
Corrupt Times,
to
Flatter, Fawn,
and
work
upon the
Corrupt Nature
in
Men,
brought in that false and senseless Way of Speaking,
YOU
to
One;
which hath since corrupted the
Modern Languages,
and hath greatly debased the Spirits, and depraved the Manners of Men. This
date
1659
Evil Custom
I had been as forward in as others
and this I was now called out of, and require
to cease from.
These, and many more
Evil Customs,
whic
had sprang up in the Night of Darkness, an
general Apostacy from the TRUTH, and Tru
RELIGION; were now, by the Inshining o
this pure Ray of
Divine Light
in my Conscience
gradually Discovered to me, to be what I ough
to cease from, shun, and stand a Witness against
But so subtilly, and withal so powerfully
did the Enemy work upon the weak Part in me, as to perswade me, that, in these things, I ought to make a Difference between my Father and all other Men: And that therefore, though I did disuse these Tokens of Respect to others, yet I ought still to use them towards him, as he was my Father. And so far did this Wile of his prevail upon me, through a Fear, lest I should do amiss, in withdrawing any sort of Respect, or Honour from my Father, which was due unto him; that being thereby beguiled, I continued for a while to demean my self in the same manner towards him, with respect both to
Language
and
Gesture,
as I had always done before. And so long as I did so (standing
Bare
before him, and giving him the accustomed Language) he did not express (whatever he thought) any Dislike of me.
But as to my self, and the Work begun in me; I found it was not enough for me to
Cease to do Evil;
though that was a good and a great Step. I had another Lesson before me, which
date
1659
To learn to do well:
which I could by no
ns do, till I had given up, with full Purpose
Mind, to
Cease from doing Evil.
And when
d done that, the Enemy took Advantage of
Weakness, to mislead me again.
or whereas I ought to have waited in the
t, for Direction and Guidance into, and
e Way of
Well-Doing;
and not to have mo
till the
Divine Spirit
(a Manifestation of
ich the Lord hath been pleased to give unto
e, for me to profit with, or by:) the Enemy,
nsforming himself into the Appearance of an
gel of Light, offered himself, in that Ap
arance, to be my Guide and Leader into the
erformance of
Religious Exercises.
And I,
t then knowing the Wiles of Satan, and be
eager to be doing some acceptable Service to
; too readily yielded my self to the Con
of my Enemy, instead of my Friend.
He thereupon humouring the warmth, and
of my Spirit, put me upon Religious Per
mances,
in my own Will, in my own Time,
and
my own Strength;
which in themselves were
od, and would have been profitable unto me,
d acceptable unto the Lord; if they had been
ormed
in His Will, in His Time,
and in the
ity
which
He gives.
But being wrought in
Will of Man, and at the prompting of the
il One;
no wonder that it did me Hurt, in
d of Good.
Read abundantly in the BIBLE, and
ld set my self Tasks in Reading; injoying
self to Read so many Chapters, sometimes
date
1659
an whole Book, or long Epistle, at a tim
And I thought that time well spent, though
was not much the wiser for what I had Rea
reading it too cursorily, and without the tr
Guide, the
Holy Spirit,
which alone could op
the Understanding, and give the true Sense
what was Read.
I Prayed often, and drew out my Prayers
a great length: and appointed unto my self ce
tain set Times to Pray at, and a certain Nu
ber of Prayers to say in a Day; yet knew no
mean while, what true Prayer was. Whi
stands not in Words (though the Words whi
are uttered in the
Movings
of the
Holy Spirit
a
very available;) but in the breathing of th
Soul to the Heavenly Father, through the Ope
ation of the
Holy Spirit,
who maketh
Intercessi
sometimes in Words, and sometimes with Sig
and Groans only, which the Lord vouchsafes
hear, and Answer.
This
Will-Worship
(which all is, that is pe
formed in the Will of Man, and not in th
Movings of the
Holy Spirit
) was a great Hu
to me, and Hinderance of my Spiritual Growt
in the Way of Truth. But my Heavenly Father, who knew the Sincerity of my Soul t
Him, and the hearty Desire I had to Serve Him
had Compassion on me; and in due time wa
graciously pleased to
Illuminate
my Understanding farther, and to open in me an Eye to discer
the
False Spirit,
and its way of Working, fro
the
True:
and to reject the former, and cleav
to the latter.
date
1659
But though the Enemy had, by his Subtilty,
in'd such Advantages over me; yet I went on
twithstanding, and firmly persisted in my
odly Resolution, of ceasing from, and deny
g those things, which I was now Convinced
my Conscience were Evil. And on this Ac
unt a great Trial came quickly on me. For
e
General Quarter-Sessions
for the Peace com
g on, my Father (willing to excuse himself
m a dirty Journey) commanded me to get
betimes, and go to
Oxford,
and deliver in
e
Recognizances
he had taken; and bring him
Account what Justices were on the Bench,
d what principal Pleas were before 'em;
hich he knew I knew how to do, having often
tended him on those Services.
I (who knew how it stood with me better
an he did) felt a Weight come over me, as
n as he had spoke the Word. For I presently
y, it would bring a very great Exercise upon
. But having never resisted his Will, in any
ng that was lawful, (as this was) I attempt
not to make any Excuse; but, ordering an
rse to be ready for me early in the Morning,
ent to Bed, having great Struglings in my
east.
For the Enemy came in upon me, like a
od, and set many Difficulties before me,
elling them up to the highest Pitch, by repre
ting them as Mountains, which I should ne
be able to get over; And, alas! that
Faith
ich could remove such Mountains, and cast
date
1659
them into the Sea, was but very small, an
weak in me.
He cast into my Mind, not only how I shoul
behave my self in Court, and dispatch the B
siness I was sent about; but how I should d
mean my self towards my Acquaintance (
which I had many in that City) with whom
was wont to be Jolly: whereas now I coul
not put off my Hat, nor Bow, to any of the
nor give them their honorary Titles (as they a
called) nor use the corrupt Language of
You
any one of them; but must keep to the pla
and true Language of
Thou
and
Thee.
Much of this Nature revolved in my Min
thrown in by the Enemy to discourage, a
cast me down. And I had none to have r
course to, for Counsel or Help, but the Lor
alone. To whom therefore I poured forth m
Supplications, with earnest Cries and Breat
ings of Soul, that H E, in whom all Pow
was, would enable me to go through this gre
Exercise, and keep me faithful to Himself the
in. And after some time, he was pleased
compose my Mind to Stilness, and I went
rest.
Early next Morning, I got up, and fou
my Spirit pretty calm and quiet; yet not wit
out a Fear upon me, lest I should slip, and
fall the Testimony, which I had to bear. And
I rode, a frequent Cry ran through me to th
Lord, on this wise;
O my God, Preserve
faithful, whatever befals me! Suffer me not to
date
1659
drawn into Evil, how much Scorn and Contempt soever may be cast upon me!
Thus was my Spirit exercised on the way almost continually. And when I was come within a Mile or two of the City, whom should I meet upon the Way, coming from thence, but
Edward Burrough!
I rode in a
Mountier-Cap
(a Dress more used then, than now) and so did he: and because the Weather was exceeding sharp, we both had drawn our Caps down, to
helter our Faces from the Cold; and by that means neither of us knew the other, but passed
y without taking Notice one of the other, till
few Days after meeting again, and observing
ach others Dress, we recollected where we
ad so lately met. Then thought I with my
elf, O!
How glad should I have been of a Word
Encouragement and Counsel from him, when I
as under that weighty Exercise of Mind!
But the
ord saw it was not good for me: that my Re
ance might be wholly upon him; and not on Man.
When I had set up my Horse, I went directly
the Hall, where the Sessions were held;
here I had been but a very little while, before
Knot of my old Acquaintances espying me,
me to me. One of these was a Scholar in his
own; another a Surgeon of that City (both
y School-Fellows, and Fellow-Boarders at
ame-School:
) and the Third a Country Gentle
an, with whom I had long been very Familiar.
When they were come up to me, they all sa
ted me, after the usual manner, putting off
date
1659
their Hats and Bowing; and saying,
Your Humble Servant, Sir:
expecting, no doubt, the like from me. But when they saw me stand still, not moving my Cap, nor bowing my Knee in way of
Congee
to them; they were amazed, and looked first one upon another, then upon me, and then one upon another again, for a while, without a Word speaking.
At length the Surgeon, (a brisk young Man) who stood nearest to me, clapping his Hand, in a familiar way, upon my Shoulder, and smiling on me, said,
What!
TOM,
a Quaker!
T
which I readily, and cheerfully Answered,
Ye
A Quaker.
And as the Words passed out of m
Mouth, I felt Joy spring in my Heart: for
rejoyced, that I had not been drawn out b
them, into a Compliance with them; and tha
I had Strength and Boldness given me, to Co
fess my self to be one of that despised People.
They staid not long with me, nor said an
more (that I remember) to me: but lookin
somewhat confusedly one upon another, after
while took their Leave of me; going off in th
same ceremonious Manner, as they came on.
After they were gone, I walked a while about the Hall, and went up nearer to the Court to observe both what Justices were on th
Bench, and what Business they had before them
And I went in Fear (not of what they coul
or would have done to me, if they should ha
taken notice of me, but) lest I should be su
prized, and drawn unwarily into that, whi
I was to keep out of.
date
1659
It was not long before the Court adjourned, to go to Dinner: And that time I took to go to the
Clerk of the Peace,
at his House, whom I was well acquainted with. So soon as I came into the Room where he was, he came and met me; and saluted me after his manner: for he had a great Respect for my Father, and a kind Regard for me. And tho' he was at first somewhat startled at my Carriage and Language: yet he treated me very civilly, without any Reflection, or shew of Lightness. I delivered him the
Recognizances,
which my Father had sent; and having done the Business I came upon, withdrew: and went to my Inn, to refresh my self, and then to return home.
But when I was ready to take Horse, looking out into the Street, I saw two or three Justices, standing just in the Way where I was to ride. This brought a fresh Concern upon me. I knew, if they saw me, they would know me: And I concluded, if they knew me, they would stop me to enquire after my Father; and I doubted how I should come off with them.
This Doubting brought Weakness on me; and that Weakness led to Contrivance, how I might avoid this Trial. I knew the City prety well; and remembred there was a back Way, which, though somewhat about, would bring me out of Town, without passing by
ose Justices: Yet loth I was to go that Way. Wherefore I staid a pretty time, in hopes they would have parted Company, or removed to
ome other Place, out of my Way. But when
date
1659
I had waited till I was uneasie, for losing so much time; having entred into Reasonings with Flesh and Blood, the Weakness prevailed over me, and away I went the back Way: which brought Trouble and Grief upon my Spirit, for having shunned the Cross.
But the Lord looked on me with a tender Eye; and seeing my Heart was right to him, and that what I had done was meerly through Weakness, and Fear of Falling, and that I was sensible of my Failing therein, and sorry for it: he was graciously pleased to pass it by, and speak Peace to me again. So that, before I got home, as when I went in the Morning, my Heart was full of Breathing Prayer to the Lord, that he would vouchsafe to be with me, and uphold and carry me through that Days Exercise: So now at my Return in the Evening, my Heart was full of thankful Acknowledgments, and Praises unto Him, for his great Goodness and Favour to me, in having thus far preserved, and kept me from falling into any thing that might have brought Dishonour to his Holy Name, which I had now taken on me.
But notwithstanding that it was thus with me, and that I found Peace and Acceptance with the Lord in some good degree, according to my Obedience to the Convictions I had received, by his
Holy Spirit
in me: yet was not the Vail so done away, or fully rent, but that there still remained a Cloud upon my Understanding, with respect to my Carriage towards my Father. And that Notion, which the Enemy
date
1659
had brought into my Mind, That
I ought to put such a Difference between him all others, as that, on the Account of Paternal Relation, I should still deport my self towards him, both in Gesture and Language, as I had always heretofore done;
did yet prevail with me. So that when I came home, I went to my Father bare headed, as I used to do; and gave him a particular Account of the Business he had given me in Command, in such manner, that he, observing no alteration in my Carriage towards him, found no Cause to take Offence at me.
I had felt for sometime before, an earnest Desire of Mind to go again to
Isaac Penington
's. And I began to question whether, when my Father should come (as I concluded e're long he would) to understand I enclined to settle among the People called
Quakers,
he would permit me the Command of his Horses, as before. Wherefore, in the Morning when I went to
Oxford,
I gave Direction to a Servant of his, to go that Day to a Gentleman of my Acquaintance (who I knew had a Riding Nag to put off, either by Sale, or to be kept for his Work;) and desire him, in my Name, to send him to me; which he did, and I found him in the Stable, when I came home.
On this Nag I designed to ride next Day to
Isaac Penington
's: and in order thereunto, arose betimes and got my self ready for the Journey. But because I would pay all due Respects to my Father, and not go without his Consent, or Knowledge at the least, I sent one up to him
date
1659
(for he was not yet stirring) to acquaint him, that I had a Purpose to go to
Isaac Peuington
's; and desired to know if he pleased to Command me any Service to them. He sent me Word, He
would speak with me before I went; and would have me come up to him:
which I did; and stood by his Bed-Side.
Then in a mild and gentle Tone, he said,
I understand you have a Mind to go to Mr.
Penington
's.
I answered, I have so.
Why,
said he,
I wonder why you should. You were there, you know, but a few Days ago; and unless you had Business with them, don't you think it will look odly?
I said, I I thought not.
I doubt,
said he,
You'll tire them with your Company, and make them think they shall be troubled with you.
If, replyed I, I find any thing of that, I'll make the shorter Stay.
But,
said he,
can you propose any sort of Business with them, more than a meer Visit?
Yes, said I, I propose to my self not only to see them; but to have some Discourse with them.
Why,
said he (in a Tone a little Harsher)
I hope you don't encline to be of their Way.
Truly, answered I, I like them, and their Way, very well; so far as I yet understand it: and I am willing to Go to them, that I may understand it better.
Thereupon he began to reckon up a Bead-Roll of Faults against the
Quakers;
Telling me
They were a rude unmannerly People, that would not give Civil Respect or Honour to their Superiors; no not to Magistrates: That they held many dangerous Principles: That they were an immodest, shameless People; and that one of them strip't himself
date
1659
stark-naked, and went in that unseemly manner about the Streets, at Fairs, and on Market-days in great Towns.
To all the other Charges, I answered only, That perhaps they might be either misreported, or misunderstood, as the best of People had sometimes been. But to the last Charge, of
Going Naked,
a particular Answer, by way of Instance, was just then brought into my Mind, and put into my Mouth, which I had not thought of before: and that was the Example of
Isaiah,
who went
Naked,
among the People, for a long time, (
Isai.
20. 4.)
Aye,
said my Father,
but you must consider, that He was a Prophet of the Lord, and had an express Command from God to Go so.
Yes, Sir, replied I, I do consider that: but I consider also, that the
Jews
among whom he lived, did not own him for a Prophet, nor believe that he had such a Command from God. And, added I, how know we but that this
Quaker
may be a Prophet too, and might be commanded to do as he did, for some Reason which we understand not.
This put my Father to a stand; so that letting fall his Charges against the
Quakers,
he only said,
I would wish you not to go so soon; but take a little time to consider of it: you may Visit Mr.
Penington
hereafter.
Nay, Sir, replied I, Pray don't hinder my going now: for I have so strong a Desire to go, that I do not well know how to forbear. And as I spake those Words, I withdrew gently to the Chamber-Door; and then hastning down Stairs, went immediately
date
1659
to the Stable: where finding my Horse ready Bridled, I forthwith mounted, and went off; lest I should receive a Countermand.
This Discourse with my Father had cast me somewhat back in my Journey, and it being Fifteen long Miles thither, the Ways bad, and my Nag but small: it was in the Afternoon that I got thither. And understanding by the Servant that took my Horse, that there was then a Meeting in the House (as there was Weekly on that Day, which was the
Fourth Day
of the Week, though I, till then, understood it not) I hastened in; and knowing the Rooms, went directly to the
Little Parlour,
where I found a few Friends sitting together in Silence: and I sate down among them, well satisfied, though without Words.
When the Meeting was ended, and those of the Company, who were Strangers, withdrawn, I addressed my self to
Isaac Penington
and his Wife, who received me courteously: but not knowing what Exercise I had been in, and yet was under, nor having heard any thing of me, since I had been there before, in another Garb, were not forward at first to lay suddain Hands on me; which I observed, and did not dislike. But as they came to see a Change in me, not in Habit only, but in Gesture, Speech and Carriage, and which was more, in Countenance also: (for the Exercise I had passed through, and yet was under, had imprinted a visible Character of Gravity upon my Face;) they were exceeding kind, and tender towards me.
date
1659
There was then in the Family a Friend, whose Name was
Anne Curtis
(the Wife of
Thomas Curtis
of
Reading
) who was come upon a Visit to them, and particularly to see
Mary Penington
's Daughter
Guli:
who had been ill of the
Small Pox,
since I had been there before. Betwixt
Mary Penington
and this
Friend,
I observed some private Discourse, and Whisperings; and I had an Apprehension that it was upon something that concerned me. Wherefore I took the freedom to ask
Mary Penington,
If my coming thither had occasioned any Inconvenience in the Family? She asked me,
If I had had the Small Pox?
I told her no. She then told me,
Her Daughter had newly had them; and though she was well recovered of them, she had not as yet been down amongst them: but intended
have come down, and sate with them in the Par
our that Evening; yet would rather forbear, till
nother time, than Endanger me.
And that
that
as the matter they had been discoursing of.
I assu
ed her, that I had always been, and then,
ore especially, was free from any Apprehen
on of Danger in that respect: and therefore
treated, that her Daughter might come
own. And although they were somewhat
nwilling to yield to it, in regard of me; yet
y Importunity prevailed, and after Supper
e did come down, and sit with us: and tho'
e Marks of the Distemper were fresh upon
er; yet they made no Impression upon me;
aith
keeping out
Fear.
date
1659
We spent much of the Evening in Retiredness of Mind, our Spirits being weightily gathered inward: so that not much Discourse passed among us; neither they to me, nor I to them, offered any Occasion. Yet I had good Satisfaction in that Stilness; feeling my Spiri
drawn near to the Lord, and to them therein.
Before I went to Bed, they let me know
that there was to be a Meeting at
Wiccomb
nex
Day; and that some of the Family would g
to it. I was very glad of it: for I greatly d
sired to go to Meetings; and this fell very ap
ly, it being in my way home. Next Mornin
Isaac Penington
himself went, having
Anne Cu
tis
with him: and I accompanied them.
At
Wiccomb
we met with
Edward Burroug
who came from
Oxford
thither, that Day that
going thither, met him on the Way: and h
ving both our
Mountier-Caps
on, we recollecte
that we had met, and passed by each other
the Road unknown.
This was a Monthly Meeting, consisting
Friends
chiefly, who gathered to it from sever
Parts of the Country thereabouts: so that
was pretty large, and was held in a fair Roo
in
Jeremiah Steevens
's House; the Roo
where I had been at a Meeting before, in
Jo
Raunce
's House, being too little to receive us.
A very good Meeting was this, in its se
and to me.
Edward Burrough
's Ministry ca
forth among us in Life and Power; and t
Assembly was covered therewith. I also, a
cording to my small Capacity, had a Sha
date
1659
therein. For I felt some of that Divine Power, working my Spirit into a great Tenderness; and not only Confirming me in the Course I had already entred, and strengthning me to go on therein: but rending also the Vail somewhat further, and Clearing my Understanding in some other things, which I had not seen before. For the Lord was pleased to make his Discoveries to me by degrees; that the Sight of too great a Work, and too many Enemies to encounter with at once, might not discourage me, and make me faint.
When the Meeting was ended, the
Friends
of the Town, taking notice, that I was the Man that had been at their Meeting the Week before, whom they then did not know; some of them came, and spake lovingly to me, and would have had me staid with them: but
Edward Burrough
going home with
Isaac Penington.
he invited me to go back with him; which I willingly consented to. For the Love I had more particularly to
Edward Burrough,
through whose Ministry I had received the first awakning Stroke, drew me to desire his Company; and so away we rode together.
But I was somewhat disappointed of my Expectation: for I hoped he would have given me both Opportunity and Encouragement, to have opened my self to him, and to have poured forth my Complaints, Fears, Doubts and Questionings into his Bosom. But he, being sensible that I was truly reach'd; and that the
Witness
of GOD was raised, and the
Work
of GOD
date
1659
rightly begun in me: chose to leave me to the
Guidance of the good Spirit in my self
(the
Counsellor
that could resolve all Doubts) that I might not have any Dependence on Man. Wherefore, although he was naturally of an open, and free Temper and Carriage; and was afterwards always very familiar, and affectionately kind to me: yet at this time he kept himself somewhat reserved, and shewed only common Kindness to me.
Next Day we parted. He, for
London:
I home; under a very great Weight and Exercise upon my Spirit. For I now saw,
in
and
by
the farther
Openings
of the DIVINE LIGHT in me, that the Enemy, by his
false Reasonings,
had
beguiled
and
misled
me, with respect to my
Carriage towards my Father.
For I now clearly saw, That the
Honour
due to
Parents,
did not consist in
Uncovering the Head,
and
Bowing the Body
to them; but in a
ready Obedience to their Lawful Commands,
and in
Performing all needful Services unto them.
Wherefore, as I was greatly troubled for what I already had done, in that Case, though it was through Ignorance: So I plainly felt I could no longer continue therein, without drawing on my self the Guilt of
wilful Disobedience;
which I well knew would draw after it
Divine Displeasure
and
Judgment.
Hereupon the Enemy assaulted me afresh; setting before me the
Danger
I should run my self into, of provoking my Father to use Severity towards me: and perhaps to the casting
date
1659
e utterly off. But over this Temptation the
ord, whom I cried unto, supported me; and
ave me Faith to believe, that he would bear
e through whatever might befal me on that
ccount. Wherefore I resolved, in the Strength
hich he should give me, to be faithful to his
equirings,
whatever might come on it.
Thus labouring under various Exercises on
e Way, I at length got home; expecting I
ould have but a rough Reception from my
ather. But when I came home, I understood
y Father was from home. Wherefore I sate
own, by the Fire, in the Kitchin; keeping
y Mind retired to the Lord, with Breathings
Spirit to Him, that I might be preserved
om falling.
After some time I heard the Coach drive in,
hich put me into a little Fear, and a sort of
ivering came over me. But by that time he
as alighted and come in, I had pretty well
covered my self; and as soon as I saw him, I
ose up, and advanced a Step or two towards
im, with my Head covered, said,
Isaac Pen
gton
and his Wife remember their Loves to
ee.
He made a Stop to hear what I said, and ob
erving that I did not stand bare, and that I
sed the Word [
Thee
] to him; He, with a
ern Countenance, and Tone that spake high Displeasure, only said,
I shall talk with you, Sir,
nother time:
and so hastening from me, went
to the Parlour; and I saw him no more that Night.
date
1659
Though I foresaw there was a Storm arisi
the Apprehension of which was uneasie to m
yet the Peace which I felt in my own Brea
raised in me a Return of Thanksgivings to t
Lord, for his gracious supporting Hand; whi
had thus far carried me through this Exercis
with humble Cries in Spirit to Him, that
would vouchsafe to stand by me in it to t
End; and uphold me, that I might not fall.
My Spirit longed to be among
Friends,
a
to be at some Meeting with them on the
Fi
Day,
which now drew on; this being the
Six
Day
Night. Wherefore I purposed to go
Oxford
on the Morrow (which was the
Seven
Day
of the Week) having heard there was
Meeting there. Accordingly, having order
my Horse to be made ready betimes, I got u
in the Morning and made my self ready al
Yet before I would go, (that I might be as o
servant to my Father, as possibly I could) I d
sired my Sister to go up to him in his Chambe
and acquaint him, that I had a Mind to g
to
Oxford;
and desired to know if he pleased
Command me any Service there. He bid h
tell me,
He would not have me go, till he ha
spoken with me.
And getting up immediately
he hastened down to me, before he was quit
dressed.
As soon as he saw me standing with my Ha
on, his Passion transporting him, he fell upo
me with both his Fists; and having by tha
Means somewhat vented his Anger, he plucked off my Hat, and threw it away. Then stepping
date
1659
hastily out to the Stable, and seeing my
rrowed Nag stand ready Saddled and Bridled,
asked his Man
Whence that Horse came?
who
ling him he fetch't it from
Mr. —
such an
e's:
Then ride him presently back,
said my Fa
r,
and tell
Mr. —
I desire he will never
d my Son an Horse again, unless he brings a
te from me.
The poor Fellow, who loved me well, would
have made Excuses and Delays; but my
ther was positive in his Command: and so
gent, that he would not let him stay so much
to take his Breakfast (though he had Five
iles to ride;) nor would he himself stir from
e Stable, till he had seen the Man mounted,
d gone.
Then coming in, he went up into his Cham
r, to make himself more fully ready; think
g he had me safe enough, now my Horse was
e: for I took so much Delight in Riding,
t I seldom went on Foot.
But while he was dressing himself in his
amber, I (who understood what had been
e) changing my Boots for Shoos, took an
er Hat; and acquainting my Sister (who
ed me very well, and whom I could confide
whither I meant to go, went out privately,
d walked away to
Wiccomb,
having Seven
g Miles thither: which yet seem'd little and
e to me; from the Desire I had to be among
ends.
As thus I travelled all alone, under a Load
Grief, from the Sense I had of the Opposition,
date
1659
and Hardship I was to expect from
Father; the Enemy took Advantage to Assa
me again, casting a Doubt into my Mind,
W
ther I had done well, in thus coming away from
Father, without his Leave or Knowledge?
I was quiet and peaceable in my Spirit, b
fore this Question was darted into me; but a
ter that, Disturbance and Trouble seized up
me: so that I was at a stand what to do; wh
ther to go forward or backward.
Fear of offend
inclined me to go back; but
Desire of the Meet
and to be with
Friends,
pressed me to go forwa
I stood still a while, to consider and weig
as well as I could, the Matter. I was sensib
satisfied, that I had not left my Father with a
Intention of
Undutifulness,
or
Disrespect
to hi
but meerly in Obedience to that
Drawing
Spirit,
which I was perswaded was of t
LORD,
to join with
His People
in
Worshipp
Him:
and this made me easie.
But then the Enemy, to make me uneasie
gain, objected,
But how could that Drawing be
the LORD, which drew me to disobey my Fath
I considered thereupon the Extent of
Pat
nal Power;
which I found was not wholly A
bitrary
and
Unlimited:
but had Bounds set u
it. So that as in
Civil Matters,
it was restra
ed to
Things Lawful:
so in
Spiritual
and
Reli
ous Cases,
it had not a
compulsory Power
over
C
science:
which ought to be
Subject
to the
H
venly Father.
And therefore though
Obedie
to Parents,
be enjoyned to
Children;
yet it
with this Limitation, [IN THE LORD
date
1659
hildren, obey your Parents in the Lord: for this
right,
1 Pet. 6. 1.
This turned the Scale for going forward:
d so on I went. And yet I was not wholly
ee from some Fluctuations of Mind, from the
esettings of the Enemy. Wherefore, altho'
knew that
Outward Signs
did not properly be
g to the
Gospel Dispensation:
yet for my bet
r Assurance, I did, in Fear and great Humi
y, beseech the Lord, that He would be pleas
so far to condescend to the Weakness of his
rvant, as to give me a Sign, by which I
ight certainly know, whether my Way was
ght before Him, or not.
The Sign which I asked was,
That if I had
e wrong, in Coming as I did, I might be Reject
or but coldly received, at the Place I was Going
but if this mine Undertaking was right in his
ht, he would give me Favour with them I went
so that they should receive me with hearty Kind
s and Demonstrations of Love.
Accordingly,
en I came to
John Rance
's House (which, be
g so much a Stranger to all, I chose to go to,
ause I understood the Meeting was com
nly held there;) they received me with
re than ordinary Kindness; especially
Frances
nce
(
John Rance
's then Wife;) who was both
Grave and Motherly Woman, and had a
rty Love to Truth, and Tenderness towards
that, in Sincerity, sought after it. And this
kind Reception, confirming me in the Be
that my Undertaking was
Approved of by
LORD,
gave great Satisfaction and Ease
date
1659
to my Mind; and I was thankful to the Lord therefore.
Thus it fared with me there: but at Hom
it fared otherwise with my Father. He supposing I had betaken my self to my Chamber
when he took my Hat from me, made no Enquiry after me, till Evening came; and the
sitting by the Fire, and considering that th
Weather was very cold, he said to my Sister
who sate by him,
Go up to your Brother's Chamber, and call him down: it may be he will sit the
else, in a sullen Fit, till he has caught Cold. Alas Sir,
said she,
He is not in his Chamber, nor i
the House neither.
At that my Father startling said,
Why where is he then? I know not, S
said she.
where he is: but I know that, when
saw you had sent away his Horse, he put on Shoo
and went out on Foot; and I have not seen hi
since. And indeed, Sir,
added she,
I don't wo
der at his going away; considering how you use
him.
This put my Father into a great Frigh
doubting I was gone quite away: and so grea
a Passion of Grief seized on him, that he fo
bore not to Weep, and to cry out aloud (so tha
the Family heard him)
Oh! my Son! I shall never see him more! For he is of so bold and refolut
a Spirit, that he will run himself into Danger, an
so may be thrown into some Goal or other, wher
he may lie and die, before I can hear of hi
Then bidding her light him up to his Chamber, he went immediately to Bed; where h
lay Restless and Groaning, and often bemoaning himself and me, for the greatest Part o
the Night.
date
1659
Next Morning my Sister sent a Man (whom,
or his Love to me, shew knew she could
rust) to give me this Account: and though
y him she sent me also fresh Linnen for my
se, in case I should go farther, or stay out
nger; yet she desired me to come home as
on as I could.
This Account was very uneasie to me. I was
uch grieved that I had occasioned so much
rief to my Father. And I would have re
rned that Evening, after the Meeting; but
e Friends would not permit it: for the Meet
g would in likelihood end late, the Days be
g short; and the Way was long, and dirty.
nd besides,
John Rance
told me, that he had
mething on his Mind to speak to my Father;
d that, if I would stay till the next Day he
ould go down with me: hoping perhaps, that
ile my Father was under this Sorrow for
, he might work some good upon him.
ereupon, concluding to stay till the Morrow,
ismiss't the Man with the things he brought;
ding him tell my Sister, I intended (God
ling) to return home to Morrow: and
rging him not to let any Body else know,
t he had seen me, or where he had been.
Next Morning
John Rance
and I set out; and
en we were come to the End of the Town,
agreed, that he should go before, and knock
the great Gate; and I would come a little
er, and go in by the back Way. He did so;
when a Servant came to open the Gate, he
ing if the Justice were at home, she told
date
1659
him,
Yes:
and desiring him to come in, an
sit down in the Hall; went and acquainted h
Master, that there was one who desired to spea
with him. He, supposing it was one that ca
for Justice, went readily into the Hall to hi
But he was not a little surpized, when he fou
it was a
Quaker.
Yet not knowing on wh
account he came, he staid to hear his Busine
But when he found it was about me, he
somewhat sharply on him.
In this time I was come, by the back w
into the Kitchin; and hearing my Fathe
Voice so loud, I began to doubt things wroug
not well: but I was soon assured of that. B
my Father having quickly enough of a
Quak
Company, left
John Rance
in the Hall, a
came into the Kitchin; where he was m
surprized to find me.
The Sight of my Hat upon my Head m
him presently forget, that I was that Son
his, whom he had so lately lamented as
and his Passion of Grief turning into An
he could not contain himself: but running
on me, with both his Hands, first viole
snatch't off my Hat, and threw it away. T
giving me some Buffets on my Head, he
Sirrah, Get you up to your Chamber.
I forthwith went; he following me at
Heels, and now and then giving me a Whi
on the Ear: which (the way to my Cham
lying through the Hall, where
John Rance
he, poor Man, might see, and be sorry for
I doubt not but he was) but could not help
date
1659
This was sure an unaccountable thing, That
y Father should, but a Day before, express
high a Sorrow for me, as fearing he should
ever see me any more: and yet now, so soon
he did see me, should fly upon me with such
iolence, and that only because I did not put
f my Hat; which he knew I did not keep on,
Disrespect
to him, but upon a
Religious Prin
le.
But as this
Hat-Honour
(as it was ac
unted) was grown to be a great
Idol;
in those
es more especially: so the Lord was pleased
engage his Servants in a steady Testimony
ainst it; what suffering soever was brought
on them for it. And though some, who have
en called in the Lord's Vineyard at latter
urs, and since the Heat of that Day hath been
uch over; may be apt to account this Testimo
a
small thing
to suffer
so much
upon, as some
ve done, not only to
Beating,
but to
Fines,
d
long
and
hard Imprisonments;
yet they who,
those Times, were
faithfully
Exercised
in
and
der
it, durst not despise the
Day of small things;
knowing that he who should do so, would
t be thought worthy to be concerned in
her Testimonies.
I had now lost one of my Hats, and I had
t one more. That therefore I put on; but
not keep it long: for the next time my Fa
er saw it on my Head, he tore it violently
m me; and laid it up, with the other, I
ew not where. Wherefore I put on my
untier
-Cap, which was all I had left to wear
my Head; and it was but a very little while
date
1659
that I had that to wear: for as soon as my Father came where I was, I lost that also. And now I was forced to go bear-Headed, wher
ever I had Occasion to go, within Doors an
without.
This was in the
Eleventh Month
(called
Jan
ary
) and the Weather sharp; so that I, wh
had been bred up more tenderly, took so grea
a Cold in my Head, that my Face and Hea
were much swelled: and my Gums had o
them Boyls so sore, that I could neither Che
Meat, nor, without Difficulty, swallow Liquid
It held long, and I underwent much Pain, wit
out much Pity, except from my poor Siste
who did what she could to give me Ease: a
at length, by frequent Applications of Figs, a
stoned Raisins, toasted, and laid to the Boy
as hot as I could bear them, they ripened
for Lancing; and soon after sunk, then I h
Ease.
Now was I laid up, as a kind of Prison
for the rest of this Winter; having no mea
to go forth among
Friends:
nor they Liber
to come to me. Wherefore I spent the Ti
much in my Chamber, in Waiting on t
LORD, and in Reading; mostly in the
Bib
But whenever I had occasion to speak to
Father, though I had no Hat now to offe
him; yet my Language did as much: fo
durst not say [YOU] to him; but THOU,
THEE, as the Occasion required, and th
would he be sure to fall on me with his Fi
date
1659
At one of these times, I remember, when
e had beaten me in that Manner, he command
me (as he commonly did at such times) to
o to my Chamber; which I did, and he fol
wed me to the Bottom of the Stairs. Being
me thither, he gave me a Parting-Blow; and
a very angry Tone, said,
Sirrah, If ever I
ar you say
Thou
or
Thee
to me again, I'll strike
ur Teeth down your Throat.
I was greatly
ieved to hear him say so. And feeling a Word
e in my Heart unto him; I turned again,
d calmly said unto him. Would it not be
t, if God should serve thee so: when thou
est
Thou
or
Thee
to Him? Though his Hand
as up, I saw it sink, and his Countenance
, and he turned away, and left me standing
ere. But I notwithstanding went up into
y Chamber, and Cryed unto the Lord, ear
stly beseeching Him, that he would be pleas
to open my Father's Eyes, that he might see
hom he fought against, and for what: and
at He would turn his Heart.
After this I had a pretty time of Rest and
iet from these Disturbances: my Father not
ing any thing to me, nor giving me Occa
n to say any thing to him. But I was still
der a kind of Confinement; unless I would
ve run about the Country bare-headed, like
Mad-Man: which I did not see it was my
ace to do. For I found that, although to be
road, and at Liberty among my Friends,
ould have been more pleasant to me: yet
ome was at present my proper Place; a
date
1659
School, in which I was to learn with
Patience
to
Bear the Cross:
and I willingly submitted to it.
But after some time, a fresh Storm, more fierce and sharp than any before, arose, and fell upon me: the Occasion whereof was this My Father, having been (in his younger Years more especially while he lived in
London
)
constant Hearer of those who are called
Puritan-Preachers,
had stored up a pretty stock o
Scripture-Knowledge,
did sometimes (not constantly, nor very often) cause his Family t
come together, on a
First Day
in the Evening
and expound a Chapter to them, and Pray
His Family now, as well as his Estate, wa
lessen'd; for my Mother was dead, my Brother gone, and my elder Sister at
London:
an
having put off his
Husbandry,
he had put
with it most of his Servants; so that he ha
now but one Man, and one Maid-Servant.
so fell out, that on a
First Day
Night, he bi
my Sister (who sate with him in the Parlou
Call in the Servants to Prayer.
Whether this was done as a Trial upon m
or no, I know not; but a Trial it proved
me: For they (loving me very well, and di
liking my Father's Carriage to me) made
haste to go in; but staid a second Summon
This so offended him, that when at length the
did go in, he, instead of Going to
Prayer,
E
amined them,
Why they came not in when th
were first Called:
and the Answer they gave hi
being such as rather heightned, than abate
date
1659
s Displeasure; he, with an angry Tone, said,
ll in that Fellow
(meaning me, who was left
one in the Kitchin)
for he is the Cause of all
is,
They, as they were backward to go in emselves; so were not forward to call me in, aring the Effect of my Father's Displeasure
ould fall upon me: as it soon did: for I,
earing what was said, and not staying for the
all, went in of my self. And as soon as I
as come in, my Father discharged his Dis
easure on me, in very sharp and bitter Ex
essions: which drew from me (in the Grief
f my Heart, to see him so transported with
assion) these few Words;
They that can Pray
ith such a Spirit, let 'em: for my part I cannot.
With that my Father flew upon me with both
is Fists; and not thinking that sufficient, step't
astily to the Place where his Cane stood: and
atching that up, laid me on (I thought) with
ll his Strength. And, I being bare-headed, I
hought his Blows must needs have broken my
cull, had I not laid mine Arm over my Head,
o defend it.
His Man, seeing this, and not able to con
ain himself, step't in between us; and laying
old on the Cane, by Strength of Hand held
t so fast, that though he attempted not to take
t away, yet he with-held my Father from striking with it: which did but enrage him the more. I disliked this in the Man; and bid him
et go the Cane, and be gone: which he immediately did, and turning to be gone, had a
date
1659
Blow on the Shoulders for his Pains; which ye
did not much hurt him.
But now my Sister, fearing lest my Fathe
should fall upon me again; besought him
forbear: adding,
Indeed, Sir, if you strike hi
any more, I will throw open the Casement, and C
Murther; for I am afraid you will kill my Brothe
This stop't his Hand; and after some Threa
ning Speeches, he commanded me to
Get to m
Chamber:
which I did; as I always did whe
ever he bid me.
Thither, soon after, my Sister followed m
to see my Arm, and dress it: for it was, indee
very much bruised and swelled, between th
Wrist and the Elbow; and in some places th
Skin was broken, and beaten off. But thoug
it was very sore; and I felt for some time mu
Pain in it: yet I had Peace and Quietness i
my Mind; being more grieved for my Fathe
than for my self, who I knew had hurt himsel
more than me.
This was (so far as I remember) the la
time, that ever my Father called his Family t
Prayer.
And this was also the last time, tha
he ever fell, so severely at least, upon me.
Soon after this my Elder Sister (who, in al
the time of these Exercises of mine, had bee
at
London
) returned home; much troubled t
find me a
Quaker,
a Name of Reproach an
great Contempt then: and she, being at
London,
h
d received, I suppose, the worst Character of them. Yet, though she disliked th
date
1659
People; her affectionate Regard to me, made her rather Pity, than Despise me: and the more, when she understood what hard Usage I had met with.
The rest of this Winter I spent in a lonesome solitary Life; having none to Converse with, none to unbosom my self unto, none to ask Counsel of, none to seek Relief from, but the LORD alone; who yet was more than All. And yet the Company and Society of Faithful and Judicious
Friends,
would (I thought) have been very welcome, as well as helpful to me in my Spiritual Travel: in which I thought I made but a slow Progress; my Soul breathing after further Attainments; The Sence of which drew from me the following Lines:
The Winter Tree
Resembles me,
Whose Sap lies in its Root:
The Spring draws nigh;
As it, so I
Shall bud, I hope, and shoot.
date
1660
At length it pleased the Lord to move
Isaac Penington
and his Wife to make a Visit to my Father, and see how it fared with me: And very welcome they were to me; whatever they were to him: to whom I doubt not but they would have been more welcome, had it not been for me.
They tarried with us all Night; and much Discourse they had with my Father, both about
date
1660
the Principle of TRUTH in general, and m
in particular: which I was not privy to. Bu
one thing, I remember, I afterwards heard of
which was this.
When my Father and we were at thei
House, some Months before,
Mary Penington
in some Discourse between them, had told hi
how hardly her Husband's Father (Alderma
Penington
) had dealt with him about his Hat
which my Father (little then thinking that i
would, and so soon too, be his own Case) di
very much Censure the Alderman for: wondring that so wise a Man as he was, shoul
take Notice of such a trivial Thing, as the
Putting off,
or
keeping on a Hat;
and he spare
not to blame him liberally for it.
This gave her a Handle, to take hold of him by. And having had an ancient Acquaintance with him; and he having always had an high Opinion of, and Respect for her: she, who was a Woman of great Wisdom, of ready Speech, and of a well-resolved Spirit, did pres
so close upon him, with this Home-Argument
that he was utterly to seek, and at a loss how to defend himself.
After Dinner next Day, when they were ready to take Coach to return home; she desired my Father that, since my Company was so little acceptable to him, he would give me leave to Go, and spend some time with them
where I should be sure to be welcome.
He was very unwilling I should go; and made many Objections against it: all which
date
1660
she Answered, and removed so clearly, that not finding what Excuse further to alledge; he, at length left it to me; and I soon turned the Scale for Going.
We were come to the Coach-side before this was concluded on, and I was ready to step in; when one of my Sisters privately put my Father in Mind, that I had never a Hat on. That somewhat startled him: for he did not think it fit I should go from home (and that so far, and to stay abroad) without a Hat. Wherefore he whi
p
red to her, to fetch me a Hat, and he entertained them with some Discourse in the mean time. But as soon as he saw the Hat coming, he would not stay till it came, lest I should put it on before him; but breaking off his Discourse abruptly, took his leave of them, and hastened in, before the Hat was brought to me.
I had not one Penny of Money about me; nor any, indeed, elsewhere. For my Father, so soon as he saw that I would be a
Quaker,
took from me both what Money I had, and every thing else of Value, or that would have made Money, as some Plate Buttons, Rings,
&c.
pretending that he would keep them for me, till I came to my self again, lest I, in the mean time should destroy them.
But as I had no Money; so, being among my Friends, I had no need of any, nor ever honed after it: though once upon a particular Occasion I had like to have wanted it. The Case was thus.
date
1660
I had been at
Reading,
and set out from thence on the First Day of the Week, in the Morning: intending to reach (as, in point of Time, I well might) to
Isaac Penington
's; where the Meeting was to be that Day: but when I came to
Maidenhead
(a thorough-fair Town on the Way) I was stop't by the Watch for Riding on that Day.
The Watchman, laying hold on the Bridle, told me,
I must go with him to the Constable
and accordingly I, making no Resistance, suffered him to lead my Horse to the Constable's Door. When we were come there, the Constable told me,
I must go before the Warden
(who was the Chief Officer of that Town) and bid the Watchman bring me on, himself walking before.
Being come to the Warden's Door, the Constable knock't, and desired to speak with Mr.
Warden.
He thereupon quickly coming to the Door, the Constable said,
Sir, I have brought a Man here to you, whom the Watch took riding through the Town.
The Warden was a budge old Man; and I looked somewhat big too: having a good Gelding under me, and a good Riding Coat on my Back; both which my Friend
Isaac Penington
had kindly accommodated me with for that Journey.
The Warden therefore taking me to be (as the Saying is)
Somebody;
put off his Hat, and made a low
Congee
to me: but when he saw that I sate still, and neither bowed to him, nor moved my Hat; he gave a start, and said
date
1660
o the Constable,
You said you had brought a Man,
ut he don't behave himself like a Man.
I sate still upon my Horse, and said not a Word; but kept my Mind retired to the Lord: waiting to see what this would come to.
The Warden then began to Examine me, Asking me
Whence I came?
and
Whither I was
oing?
I told him I came from
Reading,
and was going to
Chalfont.
He asked me
Why I did Travel on that Day?
I told him, I did not know
hat it would give any Offence barely to Ride,
r Walk on that Day; so long as I did not Car
y or Drive any Carriage, or Horses laden with Burthens.
Why,
said he,
if your Business was ur
ent, did you not take a Pass from the Mayor of
Reading? Because, replied I, I did not know,
or think I should have needed one.
Well,
said
e,
I will not talk with you now, because it is time
o Go to Church; but I will Examine you further
non:
And turning to the Constable,
Have him,
aid he,
to an Inn, and bring him before me after Dinner.
The Naming of an Inn put me in Mind, that
uch publick Houses were places of Expence;
nd I knew I had no Money to defray it. Wherefore I said to the Warden, Before thou
endest me to an Inn, which may occasion some Expence; I think it needful to acquaint thee, that I have no Money.
At that the Warden startled again; and turning quick upon me, said,
How! No Money! How can that be? You don't look like a Man that has no Money.
However I look, said I, I tell
date
1660
thee the Truth, that I have no Money: and
tell it to forewarn thee, that thou mayst no
bring any Charge upon the Town.
I wonder
said he,
what Art you have got, that you can Travel without Money: you can do more, I assure you
than I can.
I making no Answer, he went on, and said
Well, well! but if you have no Money, you have
good Horse under you; and we can Distrain hi
for the Charge.
But, said I, the Horse is no
mine.
No!
said he,
ut you have a good Coa
on your Back: and that, I hope, is your own:
No
said I, but it is not: for I borrowed both th
Horse and the Coat.
With that the Warden, holding up hi
Hands, and smiling, said,
Bless me! I neve
met with such a Man as you are before! What
were you set out by the Parish?
Then turning to the Constable, he said,
Have him to the Grayhound, and bid the People be civil to him.
Accordingly to the Grayhound I was led; my Horse set up, and I put into a large Room
and some Account, I suppose, given of me to the People of the House.
This was new Work to me; and what the Issue of it would be, I could not foresee: but being left there alone, I sate down, and retired in Spirit to the Lord (in whom alone my Strength and Safety was) and beg'd support of Him; even that he would be pleased to give me Wisdom, and Words to Answer the Warden, when I should come to be Examined again before him.
date
1660
After some time, having Pen, Ink and Paper about me, I set my self to write what I thought might be proper, if Occasion served, to give the Warden. And while I was writing, the Master of the House being come home from his Worship, sent the Tapster to me, to invite me to dine with him. I bid him tell his Master, that I had not any Money to pay for my Dinner. He sent the Man again to tell me,
I should be welcome to dine with him, though I had no Money.
I desired him to tell his Master, that I was very sensible of his Civility and Kindness, in so courteously inviting me to his Table; but I had not freedom to eat of his Meat, unless I could have paid for it. So he went on with his Dinner, and I with my Writing.
But before I had finished what was on my Mind to write, the Constable came again; bringing with him his Fellow-Constable. This was a brisk, genteel young Man, a Shopkeeper in the Town, whose Name was
Cherry.
They saluted me Civilly, and told me they were come to have me before the Warden. This put an End to my Writing; which I put into my Pocket, and went along with them.
Being come to the Warden's, He asked me again the same Questions he had asked me before: To which I gave him the like Answers. Then he told me the Penalty I had incurred: which, he said, was either to pay so much Money; or lye so many Hours in the Stocks: and asked me which I would chuse. I reply'd, I shall not chuse either. And said I, I have told
date
1660
thee already that I have no Money: though i
I had, I could not so far Acknowledge my sel
an Offender, as to pay any. But as to lying i
the Stocks, I am in thy Power, to do unto me
what it shall please the Lord to suffer thee.
When he heard that, he paused awhile; and then told me,
He considered that I was but a Young Man, and might not, perhaps, understand the danger I had brought my self into: and therefore he would not use the Severity of the Law upon me; but in hopes that I would be wiser hereafter, he would pass by this Offence, and discharge me.
Then putting on a Countenance of the greatest Gravity, he said to me;
But, young Man, I would have you know, That you have not only broken the Law of the Land! but the Law of God also: and therefore you ought to ask Him Forgiveness; for you have highly offended Him.
That, said I, I would most willingly do; if I were sensible that, in this Case, I had offended Him, by breaking any Law of His.
Why,
said he,
do you question that?
Yes, truly, said I: for I do not know that any Law of God doth forbid me to Ride on this Day.
No!
said he,
that's strange! Where, I wonder, were you Bred? You can read: Can't you?
Yes, said I, that I can.
Don't you read then,
said he,
the Commandment;
Remember the Sabbath Day, to keep it holy. Six Days shalt thou Labour, and do all thy Work: but the Seventh Day is the Sabbath of the Lord thy God; in it thou shalt not do any Work. Yes, replyed I, I have both read it often, and remember it very
date
1660
well. But that Command was given to the
Jews,
not to
Christians;
and this is not that Day: for that was the Seventh Day; but this
the First.
How!
said he,
Do you know the Days of the Week no better? you had need then
e better taught.
Here the younger Constable (whose Name was
Cherry
) interposing, said,
Mr.
Warden,
the Gentleman is in the right as to that: for this is the first Day of the Week; and not the Seventh.
This the old Warden took in
dudgeon;
and
oking severely on the Constable, said,
What!
you take upon you to teach me! I'll have you
now, I will not be taught by you. As you please
r that, Sir,
said the Constable;
but I am sure
u are mistaken in this Point: for
Saturday,
I
ow, is the
Seventh Day;
and you know Yesterday
as
Saturday.
This made the Warden hot and testy, and
ut him almost out of all Patience: so that I
ar'd it would have come to a downright Quar
el betwixt them: for both were confident, and
either would yield. And so earnestly were
ey engaged in the Contest, that there was no
oom for me to put in a Word between them.
At length the Old Man, having talk't him
lf out of Wind, stood still a while, as it were
take Breath; and then bethinking himself of
e, he turn'd to me, and said,
You are discharg
, and may take your Liberty to go about your Occa
ns.
But, said I, I desire my Horse may be
ischarged too, else I know not how to go.
y, Ay,
said he;
you shall have your Horse:
and
date
1660
turning to the other Constable, (who had no
offended him) he said,
Go, see that his Horse b
delivered to him.
Away thereupon went I, with that Constable; leaving the Old Warden, and the Young Constable to compose their Difference, as they could. Being come to the Inn, the Constable called for my Horse to be brought out. Which done, I immediately Mounted, and began to set forward. But the Hostler, not knowing the Condition of my Pocket, said modestly
me,
Sir, Don't you forget to pay for your Horse
standing?
No truly, said I, I don't forget it
but I have no Money to pay it with: and so
told the Warden before.
Well, hold you yo
Tongue,
said the Constable to the Hostler;
I
see you paid.
Then opening the Gate, they l
me out, the Constable wishing me a good Jou
ney: and through the Town I rode, withou
further Molestation; though it was as muc
Sabbath (I thought) when I went out, as i
was when I came in.
A secret Joy arose in me, as I rode on th
Way; for that I had been preserved from D
ing, or Saying any thing, which might gi
the Adversaries of TRUTH Advantage again
it, or the
Friends
of it: and Praises sprang i
my thankful Heart to the Lord, my Preserve
It added also not a little to my Joy, that
felt the Lord near unto me, by His Witness i
my Heart, to Check and Warn me; and m
Spirit was so far subjected to Him, as readily
date
1660
take Warning, and stop at His Check: An Instance of both that very Morning I had.
For as I rode between
Reading
and
Mainden
ead,
I saw lying in my way the Scabbard of an
anger; which, having lost its Hook, had slipt off, I suppose, and drop't from the Side of the Wearer: and it had in it a pair of Knives, whose Hafts being inlaid with Silver, seemed
o be of some Value. I alighted, and took it
p; and clapping it between my Thigh and
he Saddle, rode on a little way: but I quickly
ound it too heavy for me; and the Reprover
me soon began to Check. The Word arose
me,
What hast thou to do with that? Doth it
elong to thee?
I felt I had done amiss in Taking
: wherefore I turned back to the Place where
lay; and laid it down where I found it. And when afterwards I was stop't, and seized on at
Maidenhead;
I saw there was a Providence in
ot bringing it with me: which, if it should
ave been found (as it needs must) under my
oat, when I came to be Unhorsed, might
ave raised some evil Suspicion, or sinister
houghts concerning me.
The Stop I met with at
Maidenhead,
had
ent me so much time, that when I came to
aac Penington
's, the Meeting there was half
er: Which gave them Occasion, after Meet
g, to enquire of me, If any thing had befal
n me on the Way, which had caused me
come so late. Whereupon I related to them
hat Exercise I had met with, and how the
ord had helped me through it: Which when
date
1660
they had heard, they Rejoyced with me, and for my sake.
Great was the Love, and manifold the Kindnesses, which I received from these my worthy Friends
(Isaac
and
Mary Penington)
while I abode in their Family. They were indeed as affectionate Parents, and tender Nurses to me, in this time of my
Religious Childhood.
For besides their weighty and seasonable Counsels and Exemplary Conversations; they furnishe
me with Means to go to the other Meetings o
Friends in that Country, when the Meeting was not in their own House. And indeed, th
time I staid with them was so well spent, tha
it not only yielded great Satisfaction to m
Mind: but turned, in good Measure to my sp
ritual Advantage in the TRUTH.
But that I might not, on the one hand, bea
too hard upon my Friends; nor on the othe
hand, forget the House of Thraldom: after
had staid with them some Six or Seven Week
(from the Time called
Easter,
to the Tim
called
Whitsuntide
) I took my leave of the
, to depart home; intending to walk to
Wiccom
in one Day, and from thence home in another
That Day that I came Home I did not see my Father, nor until Noon the next Day; when I went into the Parlour, when he was, to take my usual Place at Dinner.
As soon as I came in, I observed, by my Father's Countenance, that my Hat was still an Offence to him: but when I was sitten down, and before I had eaten any thing, he made me
date
1660
nderstand it more fully, by saying to me (but
a milder Tone, than he had formerly used
speak to me in)
If you cannot content your self
come to Dinner without your Hive on your
ead
(so he called my Hat)
pray Rise, and go
ke your Dinner somewhere else.
Upon those Words I arose from the Table,
d leaving the Room, went into the Kitchin;
here I staid till the Servants went to Dinner,
d then sate down very contentedly with
em. Yet I suppose my Father might intend
at I should have gone into some other Room,
d there have eaten by my self. But I chose
ther to Eat with the Servants; and did so,
om thenceforward, so long as He and I lived
gether. And from this time he rather chose,
I thought, to avoid seeing me; than to re
w the Quarrel about my Hat.
My Sisters, mean while observing my Wa
ess in Words and Behaviour, and being sa
fied, I suppose, that I acted upon a
Principle
Religion
and
Conscience,
carried themselves
ry kindly to me; and did what they could to
itigate my Father's Displeasure against me.
that I now enjoyed much more quiet at
ome; and took more Liberty to go Abroad
mongst my Friends, than I had done (or could
) before. And having informed my self,
here any Meetings of
Friends
were holden,
ithin a reasonable Distance from me, I resort
d to them.
At first I went to a Town called
Haddenham
Buckinghamshire,
Five Miles from my Father's;
date
1660
where, at the House of one
Belson,
few (who were called
Quakers
) did meet som
times on a
First Day
of the Week: but I foun
little Satisfaction there. Afterwards, upon fu
ther Enquiry, I understood there was a settle
Meeting at a little Village called
Meadle
(abo
Four long Miles from me) in the House of o
John White
(which is continued there still
and to that thenceforward I constantly wen
while I abode in that Country, and was ab
Many a sore Days Travel have I had thith
and back again; being commonly, in the Wi
ter time (how fair soever the Weather was
ver head) wet up to the Ancles at least: y
through the Goodness of the Lord to me,
was preserved in Health.
A little Meeting also there was, on t
Fourth Day of the Week, at a Town call
Bledlow
(two Miles from me) in the House
one
Thomas Saunders,
who
Professed
the Trut
But his Wife, whose Name was
Damaris,
Possess
it (she being a Woman of great Since
ty, and lively Sense:) and to that Meeting a
I usually went.
But though I took this Liberty for the S
vice of GOD, that I might Worship Him
the Assemblies of his People; yet did I not
it upon other Occasions: but spent my Ti
on other Days, for the most part in my Cha
ber; in Retiredness of Mind, waiting on
LORD. And the LORD was graciously ple
ed to visit me, by his quickening
Spirit
a
Life;
so that I came to feel the
Operation of
date
1660
Power
in my Heart, working out that which was contrary to his Will, and giving me, in measure, Dominion over it.
And as my Spirit was kept in a due Subjecti
n to this
Divine Power,
I grew into a nearer Ac
uaintance with the LORD; and the LORD
ouchsafed to speak unto me, in the Inward of
y Soul, and to open my Understanding in his
ear, to receive
Counsel
from Him: so that I
ot only, at sometimes, heard his Voice, but
ould distinguish his Voice from the Voice of
he Enemy.
As thus I daily waited on the LORD, a weighty and unusual Exercise came upon me; which bowed my Spirit very low before the LORD. I had seen, in the
Light of the Lord,
he horrible Guilt of those deceitful
Priests,
f divers Sorts and Denominations, who made
Trade
of PREACHING; and for
filthy Lucre
ake
held the People
always Learning:
yet so
aught them, as that, by their
Teaching
and
Ministry,
they were never able
to come to the Knowledge
(much less to the Acknowledgment)
f the Truth:
For as they themselves hated the
Light,
because their own
Deeds were Evil:
so
y
Reviling, Reproaching,
and
Blaspheming
the TRUE LIGHT, (
wherewith every Man that
ometh into the World is Enlightned,
John 1. 9.)
hey begat in the People a Dis-esteem of the
Light;
and laboured (as much as in them lay)
o keep their Hearers in the
Darkness,
that they might not be turned to the
Light
in
themselves,
est by the
Light
they should discover the
Wickedness
date
1660
of these their
Deceitful Teachers;
and turn from them.
Against this Practice of these
false Teachers,
the
Zeal
of the LORD had flamed in my Breast sor some time: And now the Burthen of the Word of the LORD against them fell heavy upon me, with Command to proclaim His Controversie against them.
Fain would I have been excused from this Service, which I judged too heavy for me
Wherefore I besought the Lord to take this Weight from off me (who was, in every respect, but young;) and lay it upon some other of his Servants (of whom he had many) who were much more able and fit for it. But the Lord would not be intreated: but continued the Burden upon me, with greater weight
requiring
Obedience
from me, and promising to assist me therein. Whereupon I arose from my Bed, and in the Fear and Dread of the Lord, committed to Writing what He, in the Motion of his
Divine Spirit,
dictated to me to write. When I had done it, though the Sharpness of the Message therein delivered, was hard to my Nature to be the Publisher of: yet I found Acceptance with the Lord, in my Obedience to his Will, and his Peace filled my Heart. As soon as I could, I communicated to my Friends what I had written: and it was Printed in the Year 1660. in one Sheet of Paper, under the Title of
An Alarm to the
PRIESTS; or,
A Message from Heaven, to forewarn them, &c.
date
1660
Some time after the Publishing of this Paper,
aving Occasion to go to
London,
I went to visit
George Fox
the younger, who (with another
riend
) was then a Prisoner in a
Messenger
's
ands. I had never seen him, nor he me be
re; yet this Paper lying on the Table before
im, he (pointing to it) asked me,
If I was
e Person that writ it?
I told him, I was.
It's
uch
(said the other Friend)
that they bear it.
is
(replied he)
their Portion: and they must
ear it.
While I was then in
London,
I went to a
tle Meeting of Friends, which was then held
the House of one
Humphry Bache
a Gold
mith, at the Sign of the Snail in
Tower-street.
was then a very troublesome Time, not from
e Government, but from the Rabble of Boys
d rude People, who upon the Turn of the
imes (at the Return of the KING) took Li
erty to be very abusive.
When the Meeting ended, a pretty Number
these unruly Folk were got together at the
oor, ready to receive the Friends as they came
th, not only with evil Words, but with
ows; which I saw they bestowed freely on
me of them that were gone out before me,
d expected I should have my Share of, when
came amongst them. But quite contrary to
y Expectation, when I came out, they said
e to another,
Let him alone; Don't meddle
th him: he is no
Quaker
I'll warrant you.
This struck me, and was worse to me, than
they had laid their Fists on me, as they did
date
1660
on others. I was troubled to think what th
Matter was, or what these Rude People saw i
me, that made them not take me for a
Quake
And upon a close Examination of my self, wit
respect to my Habit and Deportment, I coul
not find any thing to place it on; but that
had then on my Head a large
Mountier-Cap
Black Velvet, the Skirt of which being turne
up in Folds, looked (it seems) somewhat abo
the then Common Garb of a
Quaker:
and th
put me out of Conceit with my Cap.
I came, at this time, to
London
from
Isa
Penington
's, and thither I went again, in
way Home: and while I staid there, among other Friends who came thither,
Thomas Loe
Oxford
was one. A faithful and diligent
bourer he was, in the Work of the Lord; a
an excellent Ministerial Gift he had. And
in my Zeal for Truth, being very desirous t
my Neighbours might have the Opporunity
hearing the Gospel, the glad Tidings of Salv
tion, livingly and powerfully preached amo
them; entred into Communication with h
about it: offering to procure some convenie
Place, in the Town where I lived, for a Me
ing to be held, and to invite my Neighbo
to it; if he could give me any Ground to
pect his Company at it. He told me he
not at his own Command, but at the Lord's;
he knew not how he might dispose of him:
wish'd me, if I found, when I was come home, t
the thing continued with Weight upon my Mi
and that I could get a fit Place for a Meeting
date
1660
would advertize him of it by a few Lines, directed to him in
Oxford
(whither he was then going) and he might then let me know how his Freedom stood in that Matter.
When therefore I was come home, and had treated with a Neighbour for a Place to have a Meeting in, I wrote to my Friend
Thomas Loe,
to acquaint him, that I had procured a Place for a Meeting, and would invite Company to it; if he would fix the Time, and give
e some Ground to hope, that he would be
t it.
This Letter I sent by a Neighbour to
Thame,
o be given to a Dyer of
Oxford,
who constant
y kept
Thame
-Market; with whom I was pretty well acquainted, having sometimes formerly used him, not only in his way of Trade,
ut to carry Letters between my Brother and
e, when he was a
Student
in that
University:
r which he was always paid; and had been
o careful in the Delivery, that our Letters had
lways gone safe, until now. But this time
Providence
so ordering, or at least for my Tryal, permitting it) this Letter of mine, in
tead of being delivered according to its Dire
tion, was seized, and carried (as I was told)
o the Lord
Faulkland,
who was then called
Lord-Lieutenant
of that County.
The Occasion of this Stopping of Letters at
hat time, was that mad Prank, of those in
atuated
Fifth-Monarchy-Men,
who from their Meeting-House in
Coleman-Street, London,
break
ng forth in Arms, (under the Command of
date
1660
their Chieftain
Venner
) made an Insurrection in the City; on Pretence of setting up th
Kingdom of Jesus;
who (it is said) they expected would come down from Heaven, to be thei
Leader. So little understood they the
Natur
of his Kingdom;
though he himself had declared it was not of this World.
The KING, a little before his Arrival in
England,
had, by his
Declaration
from
Breda
given Assurance of Liberty to
Tender Conscience
and that no Man should be disquieted, or called in Question for
Differences of Opinion
in Matters of
Religion,
who do not disturb the
Peace o
the Kingdom:
Upon this Assurance
Dissenters
o
all sorts relied, and held themselves secur
But now, by this Frantick Action of a few ho
brain'd Men, the King was, by some, holde
Discharged from this his ROYAL WORD an
PROMISE, in his foregoing
Declaration
publickly given. And hereupon Letters were intercepted and broken open; for Discovery o
suspected Plots, and Designs against the Government: and not only Dissenters Meetings, o
all sorts, without Distinction, were disturbed
but very many were Imprisoned, in most Parts throughout the Nation; and great Search the
was, in all Countries, for suspected Persons who, if not found at Meetings, were fetch'd in from their own Houses.
The
Lord Lieutenant
(so called) of
Oxfordshire
had on this Occasion taken
Thomas Loe,
and many other of our Friends, at a Meeting; and sen
them Prisoners to
Oxford
-Castle, just before my
date
1660
Letter was brought to his Hand, wherein I
ad invited
Thomas Loe
to a Meeting: and he,
utting the worst Construction upon it, as if I a poor Simple Lad) had intended a
Seditious
Meeting, in order to raise
Rebellion,
ordered
wo of the
Deputy Lieutenants,
who lived near
to me, to send a Party of Horse to fetch
e in.
Accordingly, while I (wholly ignorant of
hat had passed at
Oxford
) was in daily Ex
ctation of an agreeable Answer to my Letter;
me a Party of Horse one Morning to my Fa
er's Gate, and asked for me.
It so fell out, that my Father was at that
e from home (I think in
London
) whereup
he that Commanded the Party alighted, and
me in. My eldest Sister, hearing the Noise
Soldiers, came hastily up into my Chamber,
d told me there were Soldiers below, who
quired for me. I forthwith went down to
em; and found the Commander was a
Bar
of
Thame,
and one who had always been
Barber
till I was a
Quaker.
His Name was
ately:
a bold, brisk Fellow.
I asked him, what his Business was with me?
told me, I must go with him. I demand
to see his Warrant: He laid his Hand on his
ord, and said,
That was his Warrant.
I told
, Though that was not a legal Warrant;
I would not dispute it: but was ready to
r Injuries. He told me,
He could not help
he was commanded to bring me forthwith be
the Deputy Lieutenants:
and therefore desired
date
1660
me to order an Horse to be got ready, because he was in haste. I let him know, I had no Horse of my own; and would no
meddle with any of my Father's Horses, in hi
Absence especially: and that therefore, if h
would have me with him, he must carry me a
he could.
He thereupon taking my Sister aside, told he
he found I was resolute; and his Orders were pe
emptory: wherefore he desired that she woul
give Order for an Horse to be made ready fo
me; for otherwise he should be forced to mou
me behind a Trooper, which would be ver
unsuitable for me, and which he was very u
willing to do. She thereupon ordered an Hor
to be got ready, upon which, when I had take
Leave of my Sisters, I mounted, and went of
not knowing whither he intended to carry me.
He had Orders, it seems, to take some
thers also, in a Neighbouring Village; who
Names he had, but their Houses he did n
know. Wherefore, as we rode, he asked m
If I knew such and such Men (whom he na
ed) and where they lived: and when he unde
stood that I knew them, he desired me to she
him their Houses. No, said I, I scorn to
an Informer against my Neighbours, to bri
them into Trouble. He thereupon, riding
and fro, found, by Enquiry, most of their Ho
ses: but, as it happened, found none of the
at Home; at which I was glad.
date
1660
At length he brought me to the House of
e called Esquire
Clark
of
Weston
by
Thame;
ho being afterwards Knighted, was called
r
John Clark:
a jolly Man, too much addict
to Drinking in
soberer
Times; but was now
own more
Licensious
that way, as the Times
d now more favour
Debauchery.
He and I
d known one another for some Years; though
t very intimately: having met sometimes at
e Lord
Wenman
's Table.
This
Clark
was one of the Deputy-Lieute
nts, whom I was to be brought before. And
had gotten another thither, to joyn with him
tendering me the Oaths; whom I knew only
Name and Character: he was called Esquire
owls
of
Grays
by
Henly;
and reputed a Man
better Morals, than the other.
I was brought into the Hall, and kept there.
d as
Quakers
were not so common then, as
ey now are (and indeed even yet, the more
the pity, they are not common in that Part
the Country:) I was made a Spectacle, and
zing-stock to the Family; and by divers I
s diversly set upon. Some spake to me cour
ously, with Appearance of Compassion; O
ers ruggedly, with evident Tokens of Wrath
d Scorn. But though I gave them the Hear
g of what they said (which I could not well
id) yet I said little to them: but, keeping
y Mind as well retired as I could, I breathed
the Lord for Help and Strength from him,
bear me up, and carry me through this Try
that I might not sink under it, or be prevailed
date
1660
on by any Means, fair or foul, to d
any thing that might dishonour, or displease my GOD.
At length came forth the Justices themselve
(for so they were, as well as Lieutenants) an
after they had saluted me, they discoursed wit
me pretty familiarly: and though
Clark
woul
sometimes be a little jocular and waggis
(which was somewhat natural to him) ye
Knowls
treated me very civilly; not seeming
take any Offence at my not standing bare b
fore him. And when a young Priest (who,
I understood, was Chaplain in the Famil
took upon him pragmatically to reprove me
standing with my Hat on before the Mag
strates; and snatch'd my Cap from of
Head:
Knowls
in a pleasant Manner correct
him, telling him he mistook himself, in taki
a Cap for a Hat (for mine was a
Mountier
-Ca
and bid him give it me again; which
(though unwillingly) doing, I forthwith p
it on my Head again, and thenceforward no
meddled with me about it.
Then they began to Examine me, putti
divers Questions to me, relating to the pres
Disturbances in the Nation; occasioned by t
late foolish Insurrection, of those frantick
Fif
Monarchy-Men.
To all which I readily A
swered, according to the Simplicity of
Heart, and Innocency of my Hands: for I h
neither done, nor thought any Evil agai
the Government.
date
1660
But they endeavoured to affright me, with
reats of Danger; telling me (with
Innuen
s
) that for all my Pretence of Innocency,
ere was high Matter against me, which, if would stand out,
would be brought forth, and
at under my own Hand. I knew not what
ey meant by this: but I knew my Innocency,
d kept to it.
At length, when they saw I regarded not
eir Threats in general, they asked me,
If I
ew one
Thomas Loe,
and had written of late
him.
I then remembred my Letter, which
then I had not thought of, and thereupon
nkly told them, That I did both know
Tho
s Loe,
and had lately written to him: but
at as I knew I had written no Hurt: so I did
t fear any Danger from that Letter. They
ook their Heads, and said,
It was dangerous to
rite Letters to appoint Meetings in such trouble
e Times.
They added,
That by appointing a Meeting, and
eavouring to gather a Concourse of People toge
r, in such a Juncture especially as this was, I had
dered my self a dangerous Person. And there
e they could do no less, than Tender me the Oaths
Allegience
and
Supremacy:
which therefore
y required me to take.
I told them, If I could take any Oath at all,
would take the Oath of
Allegiance:
for I owed
legiance to the KING. But I durst not
ke any Oath, because my Lord and Master
SUS CHRIST, had commanded me not
Swear at all:
and if I brake his Command,
date
1660
I should thereby both dishonour and disple
him.
Hereupon they undertook to reason with m
and used many Words to perswade me, Th
that Command of Christ related only to common a
prophane Swearing, not to Swearing before a Ma
strate.
I heard them, and saw the Weakn
of their Arguings; but did not return the
any Answer: for I found my present Busin
was not to dispute, but to suffer; and that
was not safe for me (in this my weak and Ch
dish State especially) to enter into Reasoni
with sharp, quick, witty and learned Me
lest I might thereby hurt both the Cause
Truth (which I was to bear Witness to) a
my self: Therefore I chose rather to be a Fo
and let them triumph over me; than by
Weakness give them Advantage to triumph
ver the Truth. And my Spirit being close
exercised, in a deep travel towards the Lord,
earnestly begged of him, that he would
pleased to keep me faithful to the Testimo
he had committed to me; and not suffer me
be taken in any of the Snares, which the E
my laid for me. And, blessed be his h
Name, He heard my Cries, and preserved
out of them.
When the Justices saw they could not bo
me to their Wills, they told me they must se
me to Prison. I told them, I was contented
suffer whatsoever the Lord should suffer the
to inflict upon me. Whereupon they wit
drew into the Parlour, to consult together wh
date
1660
o do with me: leaving me mean while to be gazed on in the Hall.
After a pretty long Stay, they came forth to me again, with great shew of Kindness; telling me, They were
very unwilling to send me to Goal;
ut would be as favourable to me, as possibly they
ould: and that, if I would take the Oaths, they would pass by all the other Matter, which they had
gainst me.
I told them, I knew they could not
stly have any thing against me: for I had
either done, nor intended any thing, against
he Government, or against them. And as to
he Oaths, I assured them, that my refusing
hem was meerly Matter of Conscience to me:
nd that I durst not take any Oath whatsoever,
it were to save my Life.
When they heard this, they left me again;
nd went and signed a
Mittimus
to send me to
rison at
Oxford,
and charged one of the Troo
ers that brought me thither (who was one of
e newly raised
Militia-Troop
) to convey me
fe to
Oxford.
But before we departed, they
lled the Trooper aside, and gave him private
structions, what he should do with me;
hich I knew nothing of till I came thither;
t expected I should go directly to the Castle.
It was almost dark when we took Horse;
d we had about Nine or Ten Miles to ride,
e Weather thick and cold (for it was about
e beginning of the
Twelfth Month
) and I had
Boots; being snatch'd away from home on
suddain: which made me not care to ride
ry fast. And my Guard, who was a Tradesman
date
1660
in
Thame,
having Confidence in me, that I would not give him the slip, jogged on, without heeding how I followed him.
When I was gone about a Mile on the Way, I overtook my Father's Man; who (without my Knowledge) had followed me, at a distance, to
Weston;
and waited there, abroad in the Stables, till he understood, by some of the Servants, that I was to go to
Oxford;
and then ran before, resolving not to leave me, till he saw what they would do with me.
I would have had him return home; but he desired me not to send him back: but let him run on, till I came to
Oxford.
I considered that it was a Token of the Fellows affectionate Kindness to me; and that possibly I might send my Horse home by him: and thereupon, stopping my Horse, I bid him, if he would go on, Get up behind me. He modestly refused, telling me,
He could run, as fast as I rid.
But when I had told him, If he would not ride, he should not go forward; he, rather than leave me, leap'd up behind me, and on we went.
But he was not willing I should have gone at all. He had a great Cudgel in his Hand, and a strong Arm to use it; and being a stout Fellow, he had a great Mind to Fight the Trooper, and Rescue me. Wherefore he desired me to turn my Horse, and and ride off. And if the Trooper offered to pursue, leave him to deal with him.
date
1660
I check'd him sharply for that, and charged him to be quiet, and not think hardly of the poor Trooper; who could do no other, nor less than he did: and who, though he had an ill Journey, in going with me, carried himself civilly to me. I told him also, that I had no need to fly; for I had done nothing that would bring Guilt, or Fear upon me: neither did I go with an ill Will: and this quieted the Man. So on we went; but were so far cast behind the Trooper, that we had lost both Sight and Hearing of him; and I was fain to mend my Pace, to get up to him again.
We came pretty late into
Oxford,
on the Seventh Day of the Week, which was the Market Day; and contrary to my Expectation (which was to have been carried to the Castle) my Trooper stop't in the
High-Street;
and calling at a Shop, asked for the Master of the House: who coming to the Door, he delivered to him the
Mittimus,
and with it a Letter from the Deputy-Lieutenants (or one of them;) which when he had read, he asked where the Prisoner was. Whereupon the Soldier, pointing to me, he desired me to alight and come in: which when I did, he received me civilly.
The Trooper, being discharged of his Prisoner, marched back: and my Father's Man, seeing me settled in better Quarters than he expected, mounted my Horse, and went off with him.
I did not presently understand the Quality of my Keeper: but I found him a genteel,
date
1660
courteous Man, by Trade a
Linnen-Draper:
and (as I afterwards understood) he was the
City-Marshall,
had a Command in the County Troop, and was a Person of good Repute in the Place; his Name was
— Galloway.
Whether I was committed to him, out of Regard to my Father; that I might not be thrust into a Common Goal: or out of a Politick Design, to keep me from the Conversation of my Friends, in hopes that I might be draw
to abandon this Profession, which I had but lately taken up; I do not know. But this I know, that (though I wanted no civil Treatment, nor kind Accommodations, where I was) yet, after once I understood, that many
Frien
were Prisoners in the Castle, and amongst the rest,
Thomas Loe:
I had much rather have been among them there, with all the Inconveniencies they underwent; than where I was, with the best Entertainment. But this was my present Lot: and therefore with this I endeavoured to be content.
It was quickly known in the City, that a
Quaker
was brought in Prisoner, and committed to the Marshall. Whereupon (the Men-
Friends
being generally Prisoners already in the Castle) some of the Women-
Friends
came to enquire after me and to visit me; as
Silas Norton
's Wife, and
Thomas Loe
's Wife (who were Sisters) and another Woman-
Friend,
who lived in the same Street where I was; whose Husband was not a
Quaker,
but kindly affected towards them: a
Baker
by Trade, and his Name (as I remember)
Ryland.
date
1660
By some of these an Account was soon given
the Friends, who were Prisoners in the Castle, of my being taken up, and brought Prisoner to the Marshall's. Whereupon it
eased the Lord, to move on the Heart of my
ear Friend
Thomas Loe,
to salute me with a
ery tender and affectionate Letter, in the fol
owing Terms.
My Beloved FRIEND,
IN the Truth, and Love of the Lord Jesus, by which Life and Salvation is revealed in the
aints, is my dear Love unto thee, and in much
enderness do I Salute thee. And dear Heart, a
ime of Tryal God hath permitted to come upon us,
try our Faith and Love to Him: and this will
ork for the good of them, that through Patience
dure to the End. And I believe GOD will be
orified through our Sufferings, and His Name will
exalted in the Patience, and Long-suffering of
s Chosen. When I heard that thou wast called
to this Tryal, with the Servants of the Most High,
give thy Testimony to the Truth of what we have
lieved; it came into my Heart to write unto thee,
nd to greet thee with the Embraces of the Power
f an Endless Life: where our Faith stands, and
nity is felt with the Saints for ever. Well, my
ear Friend, let us live in the pure Counsel of the Lord, and dwell in his Strength; which gives us Power, and Sufficiency to endure all things, for his Name's sake: and then our Crown and Reward will
date
1660
be with the Lord for ever; and the Blessings
his Heavenly Kingdom will be our Portion. O
dear Heart, let us give up all freely into the W
of God; that God may be glorified by us, and
comforted together in the Lord Jesus: which
the Desire of my Soul, who am
Thy dear and loving Friend in th
Eternal Truth, THOMAS LO
We are more than Fourty here, which suffer i
nocently, for the Testimony of a good Cons
ence; because we cannot Swear, and bre
Christ's Commands: And we are all well;
the Blessings, and Presence of God is with
Friends here Salute thee. Farewell.
The Power and the Wisdom of the Lord God
with thee,
Amen.
Greatly was my Spirit refreshed, and
Heart gladded, at the Reading of this Cons
lating Letter from my Friend: and my So
blessed the Lord for his Love, and tender Goo
ness to me, in moving his Servant to wri
thus unto me.
But I had Cause soon after to double, a
redouble my thankful Acknowledgment to t
Lord my God; who put it into the Heart
my dear Friend
Isaac Penington
also, to vi
me with some encouraging Lines, from
Alesbu
Goal, where he was then a Prisoner; and fro
whence (having heard that I was carried P
soner to
Oxford
) he thus saluted me.
date
1660
Dear THOMAS,
GREAT hath been the Lord's Goodness to thee, in Calling thee out of that Path of Vanity and Death, wherein thou wast running towards Destruction: to give thee a living Name, and an Inheritance of Life among his People: which certainly will be the End of thy Faith in Him, and Obedience to Him. And let it not be a light thing in thine Eyes, that He now accounteth thee worthy to suffer among his choice Lambs, that He might make thy Crown weightier, and thy Inheritance
he fuller. O that that Eye and Heart may be
ept open in thee, which knoweth the Value of these
hings! And that thou mayst be kept close to the Feeling of the Life, that thou mayst be fresh in thy Spirit in the midst of thy Sufferings, and mayst reap
he Benefit of them; finding that pared off thereby, which hindereth the Bubblings of the Everlasting Springs, and maketh unfit for the breaking forth,
nd Enjoyment of the pure Power! This is the
rief Salutation of my dear Love to thee, which
esireth thy Strength, and Settlement in the Power; nd the utter weakning of thee as to self. My dear Love is to thee, with dear
Thomas Goodyare,
nd the rest of Imprisoned Friends. I remain
Thine in the Truth, to which the Lord my God preserve me Single and Faithful.
I. P.
rom
Alesbury
-Goal,
14th, of 12th Mo. 1660.
date
1661
Though these Epistolary Visits in the Lov
os God, were very Comfortable, and Confirming to me; and my Heart was thankful to th
Lord for them: yet I honed after personal Conversation, with Friends; and it was hard,
thought, that there should be so many faithfu
Servants of God so near me: yet I should no
be permitted to come at them, to enjoy thei
Company, and reap both the Pleasure and Benefit of their sweet Society.
For although my Marshall-Keeper was ve
kind to me, and allowed me the Liberty of h
House; yet he was not willing I should b
seen abroad: the rather, perhaps, because h
understood I had been pretty well known i
that City. Yet once the Friendly
Baker
g
him to let me step over to his House; and onc
(and but once) I prevailed with him, to let m
visit my Friends in the Castle; but it was wit
these Conditions, That I should not go fort
till it was dark; That I would muffle my se
up in my Cloak; and that I would not sta
out late. All which I punctually observed.
When I came thither, though there we
many Friends Prisoners, I scarce knew one
them by Face, except
Thomas Loe;
whom
had once seen at
Isaac Penington
's: Nor did a
of them know me; though they had generall
heard, that such a Young Man as I was Co
vinced of the Truth, and come among Friend
Our Salutation to each other was very Grav
and Solemn; nor did we entertain one anothe
with much Talk, or with common Discourse
date
1661
ut most of the little Time I had with them was spent in a silent Retiredness of Spirit, waiting upon the Lord. Yet, before we part
d, we imparted one to another some of the Exercises we had gone through: and they
eming willing to understand the Ground, and Manner of my Commitment, I gave them a
rief Account thereof; letting
Thomas Loe
ore particularly know, that I had directed a
etter to him, which, having fallen into the
and of the Lord Lieutenant, was (so far as
could learn) the immediate Cause of my be
g taken up.
Having staid with them as long as my li
itted time would permit (which I thought
as but very short;) that I might keep Touch
ith my Keeper, and come home in due time,
took leave of my Friends there, and with
utual Embraces parting, returned to my (in
me sense more easie, but in others less easie)
rison; where, after this, I staid not long be
re I was brought back to my Father's House.
For after my Father was come home (who,
I observed before, was from home when I
as taken) he applied himself to those Justices
at had committed me; and (not having dis
liged them when he was in Office) easily
tained to have me sent home: which between
m and them was thus contrived.
There was about this time a general Muster,
nd Training of the
Militia
-Forces at
Oxford:
whither, on that Occasion, came the Lord-
ieutenant, and the Deputy-Lieutenants of the
date
1661
County; of which Number, they who Committed me were two.
When they had been a while together, and the Marshall with them; he stept suddainly in, and in haste told me,
I must get ready quickly to go out of Town;
and that
a Soldier would come by and by to go with me.
This said, he hastned to them again; not giving me any Intimation how I was to go, or whither.
I needed not much time to get ready in, but I was uneasie in thinking what the Friend
of the Town would think of this my suddai
and private Removal: and I feared, lest a
Report should be raised, that I had purchase
my Liberty by an Unfaithful Complian
Wherefore I was in care how to speak wi
some Friend about it; and that friendly Bake
whose Wife was a Friend, living on the oth
side of the Street, at a little Distance: I we
out at a back Door, intending to step over t
Way to their House; and return immediatel
It so fell out, that some of the Lieutenan
(of whom
Esq
Clark,
who Committed me, w
one) were standing in a Balcony at a gre
Inn or Tavern, just over th Place where I w
to go by: and he, spying me, called out to t
Soldiers (who stood thick below in the Stree
to stop me. They, being generally Gent
mens Servants, and many of them knowin
me, did civilly forbear to lay hold on me, b
calling modestly after me, said,
Stay, Sir, sta
pray come back.
I heard, but was not willin
to hear; therefore rather mended my Pa
date
1661
at I might have got within the Door. But
calling earnestly after me, and charging
em to stop me; some of them were fain to
, and laying hold on me, before I could o
the Door, brought me back to my Place
ain.
Being thus disappointed, I took a Pen and
k, and wrote a few Lines; which I sealed
, and gave to the Apprentice in the Shop
ho had carried himself handsomely to me)
d desired him to deliver it to that Friend
ho was their Neighbour) which he promised
do.
By that time I had done this, came the Sol
er, that was appointed to conduct me out of
wn. I knew the Man; for he lived within
Mile of me, being, through Poverty reduced
keep an Ale-House: but he had lived in bet
Fashion, having kept an Inn at
Thame;
d by that means knew how to behave him
f civilly, and did so to me.
He told me, he was ordered to wait on me
Whately;
and to tarry there at such an Inn,
Esq
Clark
came thither: who would then
ke me home with him, in his Coach. Ac
rdingly to
Whately
we walked (which is from
ford
some four or five Miles) and long we
d not been there, before
Clark,
and a great
mpany of rude Men came in.
He alighted, and stay'd a while to eat and
ink (though he came but from
Oxford,
) and
vited me to eat with him; but I (though I
d need enough) refused it; for indeed their
date
1661
Conversation was a Burthen to my Life; an
made me often think of, and pity good
Lot.
He seem'd, at that time, to be in a sort
mix't Temper, between Pleasantness and Sou
ness. He would sometimes Joke (which wa
natural to him) and cast out a jesting Flurt a
me: but he would rail maliciously against th
Quakers. If
(said he to me)
the King wou
authorize me to do it, I would not leave a
Quak
alive in
England,
except you. I would make
more,
added he,
to set my Pistol to their Ears, a
shoot them through the Head, than I would to
a Dog.
I told him, I was sorry he had so
an Opinion of the
Quakers:
but I was glad
had no Cause for it; and I hoped he would
of a better Mind.
I had in my Hand a little Walking-Sti
with a Head on it; which he commended, a
took out of my Hand to look on it: but I sa
his Invention was, to search it, whether it h
a Tuck in it; for he tryed to have drawn t
Head; but when he found it was fast, he
turned it to me.
He told me
I should ride with him to his Ho
in his Coach;
which was nothing pleasant
me: for I had rather have gone on Foot (
bad as the Ways were) that I might have bee
out of his Company. Wherefore I took no n
tice of any Kindness in the Offer: but onl
Answered, I was at his Disposal; not min
own.
But when we were ready to go, the Marsha
came to me, and told me,
If I pleased I shou
date
1661
ide his Horse; and he would go in the Coach with Mr.
Clark. I was glad of the Offer, and only
ld him, he should take out his Pistols then;
r I would not ride with them. He took
em out, and laid them in the Coach by him:
d away we went.
It was a very fine Beast that I was set on;
y much the best in the Company. But tho'
e was very tall, yet the Ways being very foul,
found it needful, as soon as I was out of
own, to alight, and take up the Stirrups.
ean while, they driving hard on, I was so
r behind, that being at length missed by the
ompany, a Soldier was sent back to look
er me.
As soon as I had fitted my Stirrups, and was
emounted, I gave the Rein to my Mare;
hich being Couragious and Nimble (and im
tient of Delay) made great Speed to recover
e Company. And in a Narrow Passage, the
ldier (who was my Barber, that had fetch'd
e from home) and I met upon so brisk a
allop; that we had enough to do, on either
de, to take up our Horses, and avoid a Brush. When we were come to
Weston,
where
Esq
ark
lived; he took the Marshall, and some
hers with him into the Parlour: but I was
ft in the Hall, to be exposed a second time,
r the Family to gaze on.
At length himself came out to me, leading
his Hand a beloved Daughter of his; a
oung Woman of about Eighteen Years of
ge: who wanted nothing to have made her
date
1661
Comely, but Gravity. An airy Piece she was
and very merry she made her self at m
When she had throughly viewed me, He, pu
ting her a little forward towards me, said,
Her
Tom,
will you Kiss her?
I was grieved and ashamed at this frothy Lightness; and I suppos
he perceived it: whereupon he drew neare
as if he would have whispered; and the
said,
Will you lie with her?
At which I, wi
a disdainful Look, turning away; he said,
think it would be better for you, than to be a Qu
ker:
and so little Consideration, and Rega
to Modesty had she, that she added,
I thi
so too.
This was all by Candle light. And wh
they had made themselves as much Sport wi
me as they would, the Marshall took his lea
of them: and mounting me on a Horse
Clark
's, had me Home to my Father's th
Night.
Next Morning, before the Marshall we
away, my Father and he consulted togeth
how to intangle me. I felt there were Snar
laid, but I did not know in what manner, or
what End; till the Marshall was ready to g
And then, coming where I was, to take
leave of me, he desired me to take notice,
Th
although he had brought me home to my Fathe
House again; yet I was not discharged from
Imprisonment, but was his Prisoner still: and t
he had committed me to the Care of my Father,
see me forth-coming, whenever I should be cal
for. And therefore he expected I should in all thi
date
1661
serve my Father's Orders: and not go at any time
m the House, without his Leave.
Now I plainly saw the Snare, and to what
d it was laid. And I asked him if this De
e was not contrived, to keep me from going
Meetings. He said,
I must not go to Meetings.
ereupon I desired him to take Notice, That
would not own my self a Prisoner to any Man,
ile I coninued here. That if he had Power
etain me Prisoner, he might take me back
in with him, if he would, and I should not
se to go with him. But I bid him assure
self, that while I was at home, I would
e my Liberty, both to go to Meetings, and
isit
Friends.
He smiled, and said,
If I would
esolute, he could not help it;
and so took his
e of me.
By this I perceived that the Plot was of my
er's laying, to have brought me under such
Engagement, as should have ty'd me from
g to Meetings: and thereupon I expected,
ould have a new Exercise from my Father.
was the constant manner of my Father, to
all the Keys of the Out-doors of his House
ich were Four, and those link't upon a
in) brought up into his Chamber every
ht, and fetch'd out from thence in the
ning: so that none could come in, or go
in the Night, without his Knowledge.
knowing this, suspected, that if I got not
before my Father came down, I should be
ed from going out at all that Day. Where
(the Passage from my Chamber, lying by
date
1661
his Chamber-Door;) I went down softly, without my Shoos, and as soon as the Maid had opened the Door, I went out (though too early) and walk'd towards the Meeting at
Meadle,
four long Miles off.
I expected to have been talked with about it, when I came home: but heard nothing of it; my Father resolving to watch me better next time.
This I was aware of; and therefore on the next
First Day
I got up early, went down softly, and hid my self in a Back-Room, before the Maid was stirring.
When she was up, she went into my Father's Chamber for the Keys: but he bid her leave them till he was up, and he would bring them down himself; which he did, and tarried in the Kitchin, through which he expected I would go.
The manner was, That when the commo
Doors were opened, the Keys were hung upo
a Pin in the Hall. While therefore my Fathe
staid in the Kitchin, expecting my Coming;
stepping gently out of the Room where I wa
reached the Keys, and opening another Doo
(not often used:) slipped out, and so got away
I thought I had gone off undiscovered. Bu
whether my Father saw me through a Window, or by what other means he knew of my going, I know not: but I had gone but a littl
Way, before I saw him coming after me.
The Sight of him put me to a stand in my Mind, whether I should go on, or stop. Ha
date
1661
been in any other Case than that of Going to
Meeting, I could not i
any wise have gone a
ep further. But I considered, that the intent
my Fathers endeavouring to stop me, was to
der me from obeying the Call of my heaven
Father; and to stop me from going to wor
ip him, in the Assembly of his People: upon
s I found it my Duty to go on; and observ
g, that my Father gained Ground upon me,
mewhat mended my Pace.
This he observing, mended his Pace also;
at length Ran. Whereupon I ran also;
a fair Course we had, through a large Mea
w of his, which lay behind his House and
of sight of the Town. He was not, I sup
e, then above Fifty Years of Age; and be
light of Body, and nimble of Foot, he held
to it for a while. But afterwards slacking
Pace to take Breath, and observing that I
gotten Ground of him; he turned back,
went home: and (as I afterwards under
d) telling my Sisters how I had served him,
said,
Nay, if he will take so much Pains to Go,
him Go, if he will.
And from that time for
rd he never attempted to stop me; but left
to my liberty, to Go when and whither I
uld: Yet kept me at the usual Distance, a
ing the Sight of me, as much as he could;
ot able to bear the Sight of my Hat on, nor
ing to contend with me again about it.
Nor was it long after this, before I was left,
only to my self; but in a manner by my
For the Time appointed for the Coronation
date
1661
of the KING (which was the 23d of
2d Month, called
April
) drawing on; my
ther, taking my two Sisters with him, went
to
London
sometime before: that they might
there in readiness, and put themselves in
Condition to see that so great a Solemni
leaving no body in the House, but my self a
a couple of Servants. And though this was
tended only for a Visit on that Occasion: ye
proved the Breaking of the Family: for he
stowed both his Daughters there in Marria
and took Lodgings for himself; so that aft
wards they never returned to settle at
Cr
Being now at Liberty, I walked over to
bury,
with some other Friends, to visit my
Friend
Isaac Penington;
who was still a Pris
there. With him I found dear
John Whit
and between Sixty and Seventy more; be
well-nigh all the Men-Friends, that were
in the County of
Bucks:
many of them
taken out of their Houses by Armed Men,
sent to Prison (as I had been) for refusing
Swear. Most of these were thrust into a
Room, behind the Goal, which had ancie
been a Malt-house; but was now so deca
that it was scarce fit for a Dog-house. A
open it lay, that the Prisoners might have g
out at pleasure. But these were purposely
there, in confidence that they would not
out: that there might be Room in the P
for others, of other Professions and Na
whom the Goaler did not trust there.
date
1661
While this Imprisonment lasted (which was
some Months) I went afterwards thither
etimes, to visit my suffering Brethren; and
ause it was a pretty long way (some eight
ine long Miles) too far to be walked forward
backward in one Day; I sometimes staid
ay or two there, and lay in the Malt-house
ong my Friends, with whom I delighted
e.
After this Imprisonment was over, I went
etimes to
Isaac Penington
's House at
Chal
,
to visit that Family, and the Friends there
uts. There was then a Meeting, for the
st part, twice a Week in his House; but one
st Day
in four, there was a more General
eting (which was thence called the
Monthly
eting
) to which resorted most of the
Friends
ther adjacent Meetings: and to that I usu
went; and sometimes made some stay
re.
Here I came acquainted with a Friend of
don,
whose Name was
Richard Greenaway,
Trade a
Taylor;
a very honest Man, and one
o had received a Gift for the Ministry.
He, having been formerly in other Profes
s of Religion, had then been acquainted
th one
John Ovy
of
Watlington
in
Oxfordshire
Man of some Note among the Professors
ere:) and understanding, upon Enquiry,
t I knew him; he had some Discourse with
about him. The Result whereof was, that
having an Intention then, shortly to visit
e Meetings of Friends in this County, and
date
1661
the adjoyning Parts of
Oxfordshire
and
Berksh
invited me to meet him (upon notice giv
and to bear him Company in that Journ
and in the way bring him to
John Ovy
's Ho
with whom I was well acquainted; wh
I did.
We were kindly received, the Man and
Wife being very glad to see both their
Friend
Richard Greenaway,
and me also; w
they had been very well acquainted with
merly, but had never seen me since I w
Quaker.
Here we tarried that Night, and in the
vening had a little Meeting there, with
few of
John Ovy
's People; amongst who
G.
declared the TRUTH: which they a
tively heard, and did not oppose, which at
time of Day, we reckoned was pretty w
For many were apt to Cavil.
This Visit gave
John Ovy
an Opportunity t
quire of me after
Isaac Penington;
whose Wri
(those which he had written before he
among Friends) he had Read, and had a
Esteem of: and he express'd a Desire to see
that he might have some Discourse with
if he knew how. Whereupon I told him,
if he would take the Pains to go to his Ho
I would bear him Company thither, intro
him, and Engage he should have a
Reception.
This pleas'd him much; and he embra
the Offer, I undertook to give him Noti
a suitable time: Which (after I had gone
date
1661
tle Journey with my Friend
Richard Greena
y,
and was retured) I did; making Choice
the
Monthly Meeting
to go to.
We met, by Appointment at
Stoken-Church,
ith our Staves in our Hands, like a couple of
lgrims, intending to walk on Foot: and ha
g taken some Refreshment and Rest at
Wic
mb,
went on cheerfully in the Afternoon, En
rtaining each other with Grave and Religi
s Discourse, (which made the Walk the ea
r) and so reached thither in good time, on
e
Seventh Day
of the Week.
I gave my Friends an Account who this Per
n was, whom I had brought to visit them,
d the Ground of his Visit. He had been a
ofessor of Religion, from his Childhood to
s old Age (for he was now both Gray-headed,
d Elderly:) and was a Teacher at this time
nd had long been so) amongst a People (whe
er
Independants
or
Baptists,
I do not well re
ember.) And so well thought of he was, for
s Zeal and Honesty, that in those late Pro
sing Times, he was thrust into the
Commission
the Peace,
and thereby lifted up upon the
ench; which neither became him, nor he it.
r he wanted indeed most of the Qualifica
ons, requisite for a
Justice of the Peace;
an
tate
to defray the Charge of the Office, and
bear him up, in a Course of Living above
ontempt; A competent Knowledge in the
aws; and a Presence of Mind, or Body, or
oth, to keep Offenders in some Awe; in all
hich he was deficient. For he was but a
Fellmonger
date
1661
by Trade, accustomed to ride upon
Pack of Skins; and had very little Estate:
little Knowledge in the Law; and of but
mean Presence, and Appearance to look
But as my Father, I suppose, was the mea
of getting him put into the Commission: so
I know, did what he could to countenance hi
in it, and help him through it at every tur
till that turn came (at the King's Retur
which turned them both out together.
My Friends received me in affectionate Ki
ness, and my Companion with courteous Ci
lity. The Evening was spent in common (
grave) Conversation: for it was not a prop
Season for Private Discourse; both as we we
somewhat weary with our Walk, and the
were other Companies of
Friends
come into
Family, to be at the Meeting next Day.
But in the Morning I took
John Ovy
into
private Walk, in a pleasant Grove near t
House; whither
Isaac Penington
came to
and there, in Discourse, both Answered all h
Questions, Objections and Doubts; and ope
ed to him the Principles of
TRUTH,
to
both Admiration and present Satisfactio
Which done, we went in, to take some Refreshment, before the Meeting began.
Of those
Friends
who were come over Nigh
in order to be at the Meeting, there was
Isaac
Brother,
William Penington,
a Merchant
London;
and
with him a
Friend
(whose Nam
I have forgotten) a
Grocer
of
Colchester
in
Essex
and there was also our Friend
George Whitehead
date
1661
whom I had not (that I remember) seen
efore.
The Nation had been in a Ferment, ever
ce that mad Action of the Frantick
Fifth-
onarchy-Men;
and was not yet settled: but
orms, like Thunder-Showers, flew here and
ere by Coast; so that we could not promise
r selves any Safety, or Quiet in our Meet
gs. And though they had escaped Disturb
ce for some little time before: yet so it fell
t, that a Party of Horse were appointed to
me, and break up the Meeting that Day;
ough we knew nothing of it, till we heard,
d saw them.
The Meeting was scarce fully gathered when
ey came. But we that were in the Family,
d many others were settled in it, in great
ace and Stilness; when on a suddain, the
ancing of the Horses gave Notice that
ght'ning was at hand.
We all sate still in our Places, except my
mpanion,
John Ovy,
who sate next to me.
t he being of a Profession that approved
Pe
's Advice to his Lord,
To save himself,
soon
k the Alarm: and with the Nimbleness of
Stripling, Cutting a Caper over the Form
at stood before him, ran quickly out at a pri
te Door (which he had before observed)
hich led through the Parlour into the Gardens,
d from thence into an Orchard: where he
d himself, in a Place so Obscure, and withal
convenient for his Intelligence by Observation
date
1661
of what passed; that no one of the Famil
could scarce have found a likelier.
By that time he was got into his Burrow
came the Soldiers in; being a Party of th
County Troop, commanded by
Matthew Ar
dale
of
Wiccomb.
He behaved himself civill
and said,
He was commanded to break up t
Meeting, and carry the Men before a Justice of t
Peace:
but he said
He would not take all;
an
thereupon began to pick and chuse, chiefly a
his Eye guided him, for I suppose he knew very few.
He took
Isaac Penington,
and his Brothe
George Whitehead,
and the Friend of
Colcheste
and me, with Three or Four more of t
Country, who belonged to that Meeting.
He was not fond of the Work, and th
made him take no more. But he must ta
some (he said) and bid us provide to go wi
him before Sir
William Boyer
of
Denham,
w
was a Justice of the Peace.
Isaac Penington
being but weakly, rode: but the rest of us wa
ed thither, it being about four Miles.
When we came there, the Justice carrie
himself civilly to us all; courteously to
Isa
Penington,
as being a Gentleman of his Neighbourhood: and there was nothing charged against us, but that we were met together without Word or Deed. Yet this being contrary t
a late Proclamation (given forth upon the risin
of the
Fifth-Monarchy-Men
) whereby all Disse
ter's Meetings were forbidden, the Justice coul
do no less than take Notice of us.
date
1661
Wherefore he Examined all of us (whom he did not personally know) asking our Names, and the places of our Respective Habitations. But when he had them, and considered from what distant Parts of the Nation we came; he was amazed. For
G. Whitehead
was of
Westmorland
in the North of
England;
The
Grocer
was of
Essex;
I was of
Oxfordshire;
and
W. Penington
was of
London.
Hereupon he told us,
That our Case look't Ill, and he was sorry for it: for how
(said he)
can it be imagined that so many could jump altogether at one Time and Place, from such remote Quarters and Parts of the Kingdom; if it was not by Combination and Appointment.
He was Answered, That we were so far from coming thither by Agreement, or Appointment; that none of us knew of the others Coming, and for the most of us, we had never seen one another before: and that therefore he might impute it to
Chance,
or, if he pleased, to
Providence.
He urged upon us,
That an Insurrection had been lately made by Armed Men, who pretended to be more Religious than others; that that Insurrect
on had been Plotted and Contrived in their Meeting-House, where they Assembled under Colour of Worshipping GOD; that in their Meeting-House they hid their Arms, and Armed themselves; and out of their Meeting-House issued forth in Arms, and killed many: so that the Government could not be safe, unless such Meetings were supprest.
date
1661
We reply'd, We hoped he would distinguish, and make a Difference between the
Guilty
and the
Innocent;
and between those who were Principled for
Fighting,
and those who were Principled
against it:
which we were, and had been always known to be so. That our Meetings were publick, our Doors standing open to all Comers, of all Ages, Sexes and Perswasions; Men, Women and Children, and those that were not of our Religion, as well as those that were: and that it was next to Madness, for People to Plot in such Meetings.
He told us,
We must find Sureties for our good Behaviour, and to Answer our Contempt of the King's Proclamation, at the next General Quarter-Sessions: or else he must Commit us.
We told him, that knowing our Innocency, and that we had not mis-behaved our selves, nor did meet in Contempt of the King's Authority; but purely in obedience to the LORD's Requirings, to Worship Him, which we held our selves in Duty bound to do; we could not consent to be bound, for that would imply Guilt, which we were free from.
Then,
said he,
I must commit you:
And ordered his Clerk to make a
Mittimus.
And divers
Mittimusses
were made, but none of them would hold: for still, when they came to be read, we found such Flaws in them, as made him through them aside, and write more.
He had his Eye often upon me: for I was a young Man, and had at that time a Black Suit on. At length he bid me follow him, and
date
1661
went into a private Room, and shut the Door upon me.
I knew not what he meant by this: but I cryed in Spirit to the Lord, that He would be pleased to be a Mouth and Wisdom to me, and keep me from being Entangled in any Snare.
He asked me many Questions, concerning my Birth, my Education, my Acquaintance in
Oxfordshire;
particularly what Men of Note I knew there. To all which I gave him brief, but plain and true Answers; naming several Families, of the best Rank, in that Part of the Country where I dwelt.
He asked me, How long I had been of this Way, and how I came to be of it: Which when I had given him some Account of; he began to perswade me to leave it, and return to the right Way (the
Church,
as he called it.) I desired him to spare his Pains in that respect, and forbear any Discourse of that kind: for that I was fully satisfied, the Way I was in was the right Way; and hoped the Lord would so preserve me in it, that nothing should be able to draw, or drive me out of it. He seemed not pleased with that; and thereupon went out to the rest of the Company; and I followed him; glad in my Heart, that I had escaped so well, and Praising God for my Deliverance.
When he had taken his Seat again, at the upper End of a fair Hall, he told us, he was not willing to take the utmost Rigour of the Law against us; but would be as favourable
date
1661
to us as he could. And therefore he would discharge, he said, Mr.
Penington
himself, becaus
he was but at Home in his own House. An
he would discharge Mr.
Penington
of
London
because he come but as a Relation, to visit hi
Brother. And he would discharge the
Groce
of
Colchester,
because he came to bear Mr.
Penington
of
London
Company; and to be acquainted with Mr.
Isaac Penington,
whom he ha
never seen before. And as for those others o
us, who were of this Country, he would discharge them, for the present at least, because they being his Neighbours, he could send for them when he would.
But as for you,
said he to
George Whitehead
and me,
I can see no Business you had there; and therefore I intend to hold you to it: either to Give Bayl, or Go to Jayl.
We told him we could not give Bayl,
Then,
said he,
You must go to Jayl;
and thereupon he began to write our
Mittimus:
which puzzled him again. For he had discharged so many, that he was at a Loss what to lay, as the Ground of our Commitment; whose Case differed nothing in Reality, from theirs whom he had discharged.
At length, having made divers Draughts (which still
G. W.
shewed him the Defects of) he seemed to be weary of us; and rising up said unto us,
I consider that it is grown late in the Day, so that the Officer cannot carry you to
Alesbury
to Night; and I suppose you will be willing to go back with Mr.
Penington:
therefore if you will promise to be forth-coming at his House
date
1661
to Morrow Morning, I will dismiss you for the present; and you shall hear from me again to morrow.
We told him, we did intend, if he did not otherwise dispose of us, to spend that Night with our Friend
Isaac Penington;
and would (if the LORD gave us leave) be there in the Morning, ready to Answer his Requirings. Whereupon he dismist us all, willing (as we thought) to be rid of us: for he seemed not to be of an ill Temper, nor desirous to put us to Trouble, if he could help it.
Back then we went to
Isaac Penington
's. But when we were come thither, O the Work we had with poor
John Ovy!
He was so dejected in Mind, so Covered with Shame and Confusion of Face; for his Cowardliness, that we had enough to do to pacifie him towards himself.
The Place he had found out to Shelter himself in, was so commodiously contrived, that undiscovered he could discern when the Soldiers went off with us, and understand when the Bussle was over, and the Coast clear. Whereupon he adventured to peep out of his Hole; and in a while drew near, by degrees, to the House again: and finding all things quiet and still, he adventured to step within the Doors, and found the Friends, who were left behind, peaceably fettled in the Meeting again.
The Sight of this smote him; and made him sit down among them. And after the Meeting was ended, and the
Friends
departed to their several Homes; addressing himself to
date
1661
Mary Penington
(as the Mistress of the House) he could not enough magnifie the Bravery and Courage of the Friends: nor sufficiently debase himself. He told her how long he had been a Professor, what Pains he had taken, what Hazards he had run, in his Youthful Days, to get to Meetings; how, when the Ways were forelaid, and Passages stop't, he Swam through Rivers to reach a Meeting:
And now,
sai
he,
that I am grown Old in the Profession of Religion, and have long been an Instructor and Encourager of others; that I should thus shamefully fall short my self; is matter of Shame and Sorrow to me.
Thus he bewailed himself to her. And when we came back, he renewed his Complaints of himself to us; with high Aggravations of his own Cowardice. Which gave Occasion to some of the Friends, tenderly to represent to him the Difference between
Profession
and
Possession, Form
and
Power.
He was glad,
he said,
on our Behalfs, that we came off so well, and escaped Imprisonment.
But when he understood that
G. Whitehead
and I were liable to an After-Reckoning next Morning; he was troubled: and wish't the Morning was come, and gone; that we might be gone with it.
We spent the Evening in grave Conversation, and in Religious Discourses; attributing the Deliverance me hitherto had to the LORD. And the next Morning when we were up, and had Eaten, we tarried some time to see what
date
1661
he Justice would do further with us; and to
ischarge our Engagement to him: the rest of
he Friends, who were before fully discharg
d, tarrying also with us, to see the Event.
And when we had staid so long, that on all
ands it was concluded we might safely go;
. W.
and I left a few Words in Writing (to
e sent to the Justice, if he sent after us) im
orting that we had tarried till such an Hour;
nd not hearing from him, did now hold our
lves free to depart: yet so, as that, if he
ould have Occasion to send for us again, upon
otice thereof, we would Return.
This done, we took our leave of the Family,
d one of another; they who were for
Lon
taking Horse; and I and my Companion,
ting forth on Foot for
Oxfordshire,
went to
ccomb;
where we made a short Stay, to
t and refresh our selves, and from thence
ched our Respective Homes that Night.
After I had spent some time at Home;
ere, as I had no Restraint, so (my Sisters be
g gone) I had now no Society: I walked up
Chalfont
again; and spent a few Days with
Friends there.
As soon as I came in, I was told, that my
ther had been there that Day to see
J. P.
d his Wife: but they being abroad at a
eeting, he returned to his Inn in the Town,
ere he intended to Lodge that Night. After
pper,
M. P.
told me she had a Mind to go
d see him at his Inn (the Woman of the
use being a Friend of ours:) and I went
date
1661
with her. He seem'd somewhat surprized to see me there, because he thought I had been at home at his House: but he took no notice of my Hat; at least shewed no Offence at it
for (as I afterwards understood) he had no
an Intention to sell his Estate, and thought h
should need my Concurrence therein; whic
made him now hold it necessary to admit m
again into some Degree of Favour. After w
had tarried some little time with him;
rising up to be gone, he waited on her hom
and having spent about an Hour with us
the Family, I waited on him back to his
On the way, he invited me to Come up
London,
to see my Sisters; the younger
whom was then newly Married: and direc
me where to find 'em; and also gave
Money to defray my Charges. According
I went; yet staid not long there: but retu
ed to my Friend
J. P
's, where I made a lit
Stay; and from thence went back to
Crowell.
When I was ready to set forth, my Frie
Isaac Penington,
was so kind to send a Serva
with a Brace of Geldings, to Carry me as
as I thought fit to ride, and to bring the Ho
back. I, intending to go no farther t
Day than to
Wiccomb,
rode no farther than
Beconsfield
Towns-End; having then but F
Miles to walk. But here a new Exercise
fel me; the manner of which was thus.
Before I had walked to the middle of
Town, I was stop't, and taken up by
Watch. I asked the Watchman, What A
thority
date
1661
he had to stop me, travelling peaceably on the High-Way. He told me he would shew me his Authority; and in order thereunto, had me into an House hard-by, where dwelt a
Scrivener,
whose Name was
Pepys.
To him he gave the Order which he had received from the Constables; which directed him to take up all Rogues, Vagabonds and sturdy Beggars. I asked him, For which of these he stopped me: but he could not Answer me.
I thereupon informed him, what a
Rogue
in Law is,
viz. One, who for some notorious Offence has burnt on the Shoulder:
and I told them, they might search me, if they pleased, and see if I was so branded. A
Vagabond,
I told them, was
One that had no Dwelling House, nor certain Place of Abode;
but I had, and was going to
: and I told them where it was. And for a
Beggar;
I bid them bring any one that could
y, I had
begged
or
asked Relief.
This stop't the Fellow's Mouth; yet he would not let me go: but (being both weak
eaded, and strong-willed) he left me there
ith the
Scrivener,
and went out to seek the
onstable; and having found him, brought
im thither. He was a young Man, by
Trade
Tanner;
somewhat better Mannered than
is Wardsman: but not of much better Judg
ent.
He took me with him to his House. And
aving settled me there, went out; to take Ad
ice (as I supposed) what to do with me:
aving no Body in the House, to Guard me,
date
1661
but his Wife; who had a young Child in her Arms.
She enquired of me, upon what Account I was taken up; and seeming to have some Pity for me, endeavoured to perswade me not to stay; but to go my way: offering to shew me a back way from their House, which would bring me into the Road again beyond the Town; so that none of the Town should se
me, or know what was become of me. But
told her, I could not do so.
Then having sate a while in a muze, she asked me,
If there was not a place of Scripture wh
said,
Peter was at a Tanner's House. I to
her there was such a Scripture; and direct
her where to find it.
After some time, she laid her Child to sle
in the Cradle; and step't out on a suddai
but came not in again in a pretty while.
I was uneasie that I was left alone in t
House; searing lest, if any thing should be m
sing, I might be suspected to have taken
yet I durst not go out to stand in the Stree
lest it should be thought I intended to slip
way.
But besides that, I soon found Work to i
ploy my self in; for the Child quickly waki
fell to Crying; and I was fain to Rock
Cradle in my own Defence; that I might
be annoyed with a Noise, to me not more
pleasant than unusual. At length the Wom
came in again; and finding me Nursing
date
1661
Child, gave me many Thanks: and seemed well pleased with my Company.
When Night came on, the Constable him
lf came in again, and told me,
Some of the
hief of the Town were met together, to Consider
hat was fit to do with me; and that I must go with
m to them.
I went, and he brought me to a
ttle nasty Hut, which they called a
Town
ouse
(adjoining to their Market-House) in
hich dwelt a poor old Woman, whom they
lled
Mother Grime:
where also the Watch used
turns, to come in, and warm themselves in
e Night.
When I came in among them, they looked
ome of them) somewhat sourly on me; and
k'd me some impertinent Questions: to which
gave them suitable Answers.
Then they consulted one with another, how
ey should dispose of me that Night, till they
uld have me before some
Justice of Peace,
to
Examined. Some proposed,
That I should be
d to some Inn, or other publick House; and a
ard set on me there.
He that started this was
obably an Inn-keeper, and consulted his own
terest. Others objected against this,
That it
uld bring a Charge on the Town.
To avoid
ich, they were for having the Watch take
arge of me; and keep me walking about
e Streets with them till Morning. Most
ices seemed to go this way; till a Third
shed them to consider,
Whether they could an
er the doing of that, and the Law would bear
m out in it:
And this put them to a stand.
date
1661
I heard all their Debates; but let them alone and kept my Mind to the LORD.
While they thus bandied the Matter to and fro, one of the Company asked the rest,
If any of them knew who this young Man was, and whither he was going?
Whereupon the Constable (to whom I had given both my Name, and the Name of the Town where I dwelt) told them my Name was
Ellwood,
and that I lived at a Town called
Crowell
in
Oxfordshire.
Old Mother
Grime,
sitting by and hearin
this, clap'd her Hand on her Knee, and cry'
out,
I know Mr.
Ellwood
of
Crowell
very we
For when I was a Maid I lived with his Gran
ther there, when he was a Young Man.
A
thereupon she gave them such an Account of
Father, as made them look more regardful
on me: and so Mother
Grime's
Testimo
turned the Scale; and took me off fr
walking the Rounds with the Watch t
Night.
The Constable hereupon bid them take
further Care; I should lie at his House t
Night: and accordingly took me home wi
him; where I had as good Accommodation
the House did afford. Before I went to Be
he told me,
That there was to be a Visitation,
Spiritual Court
(as he called it)
holden next D
at
Amersham,
about four Miles from
Beconsfie
and that
I was to be carried thither.
This was a new Thing to me, and it broug
a fresh Exercise upon my Mind. But be
given up, in the Will of God, to suffer w
date
1661
e should permit to be laid on me; I endea
ured to keep my Mind quiet and still.
In the Morning, as soon as I was up, my Spi
was Exercised towards the Lord, in strong
ies to Him; that He would stand by me,
d preserve me: and not suffer me to be taken
the Snare of the Wicked. While I was thus
ying to the LORD, the other Constable
e; and I was called down.
This was a budge Fellow; and talked high.
was a
Shoo-maker
by Trade; and his Name
s
Clark.
He threat'ned me with the
Spiri
l
Court. But when he saw I did not re
rd it, he stop't; and left the Matter to his
rtner; who pretended more Kindness for
e, and therefore went about to perswade
rk,
to let me go out at the Back Door; so
away.
The Plot, I suppose, was so laid, that
Clark
uld seem averse; but at length yeild, which
did: but would have me take it for a Fa
r. But I was so far from taking it so, that
would not take it at all: but told them plain
That as I came in at the Fore-Door; so I
uld go out at the Fore Door. When there
e they saw they could not bow me to their
ll, they brought me out at the Fore Door,
o the Street, and wished me a good Journey.
t before I went, calling sor the Woman of
e House, I paid her for my Supper and Lodg
g for I had now getten a little Money in my
cket again.
date
1661
After this, I got home (as I thought) very well: but I had not been long at home, before an Ilness seized on me; which proved to be the
Small-Pox.
Of which so soon as
Friends
had Notice, I had a Nurse sent me; and in a while,
Isaac Penington,
and his Wife's Daughter,
G
lielma Maria Springett
(to whom I had been Play-Fellow in our Infancy) came to visit me, bringing with them our dear Friend
Edward Burrough,
by whose Ministry I was called
the Knowledge of the Truth.
It pleased the Lord to deal favourably wi
me in this Ilness, both Inwardly and Outwa
ly. For his Supporting Presence was with m
which kept my Spirit near unto him: a
though the Distemper was strong upon m
yet I was preserved through it, and my Coutenance was not much altered by it, But aft
I was got up again, and while I kept
Chamber; wanting some Employment,
Entertainment sake, to spend the Time wit
and there being at hand a pretty good Libra
of Books (amongst which were the Works
Augustine,
and others of those Ancient Write
who were by many called the
Fathers;
) I betook my self to Reading. And these Books being Printed in the old Black-Letter, with Abbreviations of the Words, difficult to be re
I spent too much time therein: and thereb
much impaired my Sight, which was n
strong before, and was now weaker than usu
by reason of the Ilness I had so newly ha
date
1661
which proved an Injury to me afterwards; for which reason I here mention it.
After I was well enough to go abroad, with
espect to my own Health, and the Safety of
thers; I went up (in the beginning of the
welfth Month,
1661.) to my Friend
Isaac Pen
gton
's at
Chalfont,
and abode there sometime:
r the Airing my self more fully; that I might
e more fit for Conversation.
date
1662
I mentioned before, that when I was a Boy,
had made some good Progress in Learning;
d lost it all again before I came to be a Man:
or was I rightly sensible of my Loss there
, until I came amongst the
Quakers.
But
en I both saw my Loss, and lamented it;
d applied my self with utmost Diligence, at
l leisure Times to recover it: so false I found
at Charge to be, which in those Times was
st, as a Reproach upon the
Quakers,
That
ey despised and decried all Humane Learning;
ecause they denied it to be essentially necessary
a
Gospel-Ministry,
which was one of the Con
oversies of those Times.
But though I toiled hard, and spared no
ains, to regain what once I had been Master
f; yet I found it a Matter of so great Diffi
ulty, that I was ready to say as the Noble
Eu
uch
to
Philip
in another Case;
How can I, un
ess I had some Man to guide me?
This I had formerly complained of to my
special Friend
Isaac Penington;
but now more
arnestly: which put him upon Considering,
date
1662
and Contriving a Means for my Assistance.
He had an intimate Acquaintance with Dr.
Paget,
a Physician of Note in
London;
and he with
John Milton,
a Gentleman of great Note for Learning, throughout the Learned World for the accurate Pieces he had Written, on various Subjects and Occasions.
This Person, having filled a publick Statio
in the former Times; lived now a private an
retired Life in
London:
and having wholly l
his Sight, kept always a Man to read to hi
which usually was the Son of some Gentlem
of his Acquaintance, whom, in Kindness,
took to improve in his Learning.
Thus, by the Mediation of my Friend
Isa Penington
with Dr.
Paget,
and of Dr.
Pag
with
John Milton,
was I admitted to come
him; not as a Servant to him (which at t
time he needed not) nor to be in the Ho
with him; but only to have the Liberty
Coming to his House, at certain Hours, wh
I would, and to read to him what Books
should appoint me; which was all the Favo
I desired.
But this being a Matter, which would
quire some time to bring it about: I, in
mean while returned to my Father's House
Oxfordshire.
I had before received Direction, by Lett
from my Eldest Sister (written by my Fathe
Command) to put off what Cattle he had
about his House, and to Discharge his Serva
date
1662
ich I had done at the time called
Michaelmas
fore. So that all that Winter, when I was
Home, I lived like an
Hermit
all alone;
ing a pretty large House, and no Body in
but my self, a Nights especially: but an el
rly Woman (whose Father had been an old
rvant to the Family) came every Morning,
d made my Bed; and did what else I had
asion for her to do; till I fell Ill of the
all Pox,
and then I had her with me, and
Nurse. But now, understanding by Letter
m my Sister, that my Father did not intend
return to settle there; I made off those Pro
ions which were in the House (that they
ght not be spoiled when I was gone:) and
cause they were what I should have spent, if
ad tarried there, I took the Money made of
em to my self, for my support at
London,
if
e Project succeeded for my Going thither.
This done, I committed the Care of the
use to a Tenant of my Father's, who lived
the Town; and taking my leave of
Crowell,
nt up to my sure Friend
Isaac Penington
a
in. Where understanding that the Media
n used for my Admittance to
John Milton,
d succeeded so well, that I might come when
would; I hastned to
London:
and in the first
ace went to wait upon him.
He received me courteously; as well for the
ke of Dr.
Paget,
who introduced me: as of
aac Penington,
who recommended me; to
oth whom he bore a good Respect. And
ving enquired divers things of me, with respect
date
1662
to my former Progression in Learning; h
dismist me, to provide my self of such Accomodations, as might be most suitable to my futur
Studies.
I went therefore and took my self a Lodging
as near to his House (which was then in
Jewe
Street
) as conveniently as I could: and fro
thenceforward went every Day in the Afternoon (except on the first Days of the Wee
and sitting by him in his Dining-Room, re
to him in such Books in the
Latin Tongue,
as
pleased to hear me read.
At my first sitting to read to him, observi
that I used the
English Pronounciation,
he t
me,
If I would have the Benefit of the Lat
Tongue (not only to read and understand
Latin
A
thors, but) to Converse with Foreigners, either
broad or at home, I must learn the Foreign Pr
nounciation.
To this I consenting, he instru
ed me how to sound the Vowels; so differe
from the common Pronounciation used by t
English
(who speak
Anglice
their
Latin
) th
(with some few other Variations in soundi
some Consonants, in particular Cases; as
C.
before
E.
or
I.
like
Ch. Sc.
before
I.
like
Sh.
&c. the
Latin
thus spoken, seemed as different from that which was delivered as the
English
generally speak it, as if it were another Language.
I had before, during my retired Life at my Father's, by unwearied Diligence and Industry so far recovered the Rules of
Grammar
(in which I had once been very ready) that I could both read a
Latin
Author, and after a sort hammer
date
1662
out his Meaning. But this Change of
nounciation proved a New Difficulty to
. It was now harder to me to read, than
was before to understand when read. But
— Labor omnia vincit
Improbus. —
Incessant Pains,
The End obtains.
And so did I. Which made my Reading the
re acceptable to my Master. He, on the o
r hand, perceiving with what earnest De
I pursued Learning; gave me not only all
Encouragement, but all the Help he could.
, having a curious Ear, he understood by
Tone, when I understood what I read, and
en I did not: and accordingly would stop
Examine me, and open the most difficult
sages to me.
Thus went I on, for about Six Weeks time,
ding to him in the Afternoons, and Exerci
g my self, with my own Books, in my Cham
, in the Forenoons: I was sensible of an
provement.
But, alas! I had fixed my Studies in a wrong
ce.
London
and I could never agree for
alth: my Lungs (as I suppose) were too
der to bear the Sulphurous Air of that City.
that I soon began to droop; and in less than
o Months time, I was fain to leave both my
dies and the City; and return into the Country
date
1662
to preserve Life: and much ado I had
get thither.
I chose to go down to
Wiccomb;
and to
Jo
Rance
's House there: both as he was a Phy
cian; and his Wife an honest, hearty, discre
and grave Matron; whom I had a very goo
Esteem of, and who (I knew) had a good R
gard for me.
There I lay ill a considerable time, and
that degree of Weakness, that scarce any, w
saw me, expected my Life. But the Lord w
both gracious to me in my Ilness; and w
pleased to raise me up again, that I might ser
Him in my Generation.
As soon as I had recovered so much Streng
as to be fit to Travel; I obtained of my
ther (who was then at his House in
Crowel
dispose of some things he had there, and w
in my Ilness had come to see me) so much M
ney as would clear all Charges in the Hou
for both Physick, Food and Attendance: a
having fully discharged all, I took leave of m
Friends in that Family, and in the Town; a
returned to my Studies at
London.
I was very kindly received by my Maste
who had conceived so good an Opinion of m
that my Conversation (I found) was acceptab
to him: and he seem'd heartily glad of my Recovery and Return; and into our old Metho
of Study we fell again, I Reading to him, an
he Explaining to me, as Occasion required.
But, as if Learning had been a forbidde
Fruit to me, scarce was I well settled in my
date
1662
Work, before I met with another Diversion, which turned me quite out of my Work.
For a suddain Storm arising, from I know
ot what Surmise of a Plot, and thereby Dan
er to the Government; and the Meetings of
issenters (such I mean as could be found, which
erhaps were not many besides the
Quakers
) were broken up throughout the City: and the
risons mostly filled with our Friends.
I was that Morning (which was the 26th
ay of the 8th Month, 1662.) at the Meeting
the
Bull-and-Mouth
by
Aldersgate;
when on
suddain, a Party of Soldiers (of the Trained
ands of the City) rushed in, with Noise and
lamour: being led by one who was called
Major Rosewell;
an
Apothecary
(if I misremem
er not) and at that time under the ill Name
f a
Papist.
As soon as he was come within the Room,
aving a File or two of Musketteers at his
eels; he commanded his Men to present their Muskets at us: which they did; with Intent I suppose) to strike a Terror into the People. Then he made a Proclamation that all, who were not
Quakers
might depart if they would.
It so happened, that a Young Man, an Ap
rentice in
London,
whose Name was
— Dove
(the Son of Dr.
Dove
of
Chinner,
near
Crowell,
in
Oxfordshire
) came that Day in Curiosity, to see the Meeting: and Coming early, and finding me there (whom he knew) came and sate down by me.
date
1662
As soon as he heard the Noise of Soldiers, he was much startled; and asked me softly,
I would not shift for my Self, and try to get out.
I told him, No; I was in my place; and was willing to suffer, if it was my Lot. When he heard the Notice given, that
they who were not
Quakers
might depart;
he solicited me again to be gone. I told him, I could not do so: for that would be to renounce my Profession; which I would by no means do. But as for him, who was not one of us, he might do as he pleased. Whereupon, wishing me well, he turned away, and with Cap in Hand, went out. And truly I was glad he was gone: for his Master was a rigid
Presbyterian,
who (in all likelihood) would have led him a wretched Life, had he been taken and Imprisoned among the
Quakers.
The Soldiers came so early, that the Meeting was not fully gathered when they came; and when the mixt Company were gone out, we were so few, and sate so thin in that large Room, that they might take a clear view of us all, and single us out, as they pleased.
He that Commanded the Party, gave us first a general Charge to come out of the Room. But we, who came thither at God's Requirings, to Worship Him (like that good Man of Old, who said,
We ought to obey God, rather than Men,
Acts 5. 29.) stirred not; but kept out Places. Whereupon he sent some of his Soldiers among us, with Command to Drag, or Drive us out; which they did, roughly enough.
date
1662
When we came out into the Street, we were
ceived there, by other Soldiers, who with
eir Pikes, holden length-ways from one ano
er, encompassed us round, as Sheep in a
und: and there we stood a pretty time,
ile they were picking up more, to add to
r Number.
In this Work none seemed so eager and ac
e, as their Leader, Major
Rosewell.
Which
bserving, stept boldly to him, as he was
sing by me; and asked him, If he intended
Massacre:
for of that, in those times, there
s a great Apprehension and Talk. The sud
nness of the Question, from such a young
n especially, somewhat startled him: but
ollecting himself, he answered,
No; but I
end to have you all hanged by the wholsome Laws
the Land.
When he had gotten as many as he could, or
ught fit (which were in Number
Thirty
;
whereof Two were catch'd up in the
eet, who had not been at the Meeting) he
ered the Pikes to be opened before us: and
ing the Word to March, went himself at the
ad of us; the Soldiers with their Pikes ma
g a Lane to keep us from scattering.
He led us up
Martins;
and so turned down
Newgate;
where I expected he would have
ged us. But to my Disappointment, he
nt on through
Newgate;
and turning through
Old-Baily,
brought us into
Fleet-Street.
I
s then wholly at a Loss, to conjecture whi
r he would lead us; unless it were to
Whitehall
date
1662
(for I knew nothing then of
Old-Bridwell;
but on a suddain he gave a short Turn, a
brought us before the Gate of that Priso
where knocking, the Wicket was forthwi
opened, and the Master, with his Porter, r
dy to receive us.
One of those two, who were picked up
the Street, being near me, and telling me
Case; I stept to the Major, and told him, Th
this Man was not at the Meeting, but was
ken up in the Street: and shew'd him
hard, and unjust a thing it would be to
him into Prison.
I had not pleased him before, in the Questi
I had put to him about a Massacre; and t
I suppose, made this Solicitation less accepta
to him from me, than it might have been fr
some other. For looking sternly on me,
said,
Who are you! that take so much upon
Seeing you are so busie, you shall be the first
that shall go into Bridewell:
and taking me
the Shoulders, he thrust me in.
As soon as I was in, the
Porter,
pointing w
his Finger, directed me to a fair Pair of Sta
on the further side of a large Court; and
me
Go up those Stairs, and go on till I could go
farther.
Accordingly I went up the Stairs; the
Flight whereof brought me to a fair Chap
on my left hand: which I could look i
through the Iron-Grates; but could not h
gone into if I would.
date
1662
I knew that was not a Place for me. Where
e following my Direction, and the
winding the Stairs, I went up a Story higher; which
ought me into a Room, which I soon perceiv
to be a
Court-Room
or Place of
Judicature.
ter I had stood a while there, and taken a
ew of it; observing a Door on the further
e, I went to it, and opened it, with inten
to go in: but I quickly drew back; being
ost affrighted at the Dismalness of the Place.
r besides that the Walls quite round were laid
over from Top to Bottom, in Black; there
d in the middle of it a great Whipping-Post,
ich was all the furniture it had.
In one of these two Rooms Judgment was
en, and in the other it was executed, on
se ill People: who for their Lewdness were
t to this Prison; and there sentenced to be
hip'd. Which was so contrived that the urt might not only hear, but see (if they
ased) their Sentence Executed.
A Sight so unexpected, and withal so unpleas
, gave me no Encouragement, either to rest;
ndeed to enter at all there: till looking ear
tly, I spy'd on the opposite side a Door;
ich giving me Hopes of a further Progress, I
entured to step hastily to it, and opened it.
This let me into one of the fairest Rooms,
t (so far as I remember) I was ever in; and
wonder: for though it was now put to this
an Use, it had, for many Ages past, been
Royal Seat, or Palace of the Kings of
Eng
d;
until Cardinal
Woolsey
Built
Whitehall,
date
1662
and offered it as a
Peace-Offering
to King
HE
RY
the
Eighth;
who until that time had ke
his Court in this House, and had this (as t
People in the House reported) for his Dini
Room, by which Name it then went.
This Room in length (for I lived long
nough in it to have time to measure it)
Threescore Foot:
and had Breadth proporti
able to it. In it, on the Front-Side, were v
large Bay-Windows, in which stood a la
Table. It had other very large Tables
with Benches round: and at that time the F
was covered with Rushes, against some So
Festival, which (I heard) it was bespoken.
Here was my
Nil ultra:
and here I fou
might set up my Pillar: for although there
a Door out of it, to a Back-Pair of Stairs w
led to it; yet that was kept locked. So
finding I had now followed my Keeper's
rection to the utmost Point; beyond whi
could not go: I sate down, and considered
rhetorical Saying,
That the Way to Heave
by the Gate of Hell;
the Black Room, thr
which I passed into this, bearing some Re
blance to the latter, as
This
comparatively,
by way of Allusion, might in some sor
thought to bear to the former.
But I was quickly put out of these Thou
by the Flocking in of the other
Friends,
Fellow-Prisoners; amongst whom yet,
all were come together, there was but
whom I knew so much as by Face; and
him I had no Acquaintance. For I having
date
1662
a little while in the City, and in that time
t close to my Studies; I was, by that Means,
wn to very few.
oon after we were all gotten together, came
the Master of the House after us, and de
ded our Names: which we might reason
have refused to give; till we had been
lly convened before some Civil Magistrate,
had Power to Examine us, and demand
Names. But we, who were neither
Guil
nor
Wilful,
simply gave him our Names;
ch he took down in Writing.
was (as I hinted before) a general Storm
ch fell that Day; but it lighted most, and
t heavy, upon our Meetings; so that most
ur Men-Friends were made Prisoners, and
Prisons generally filled. And great Work
the Women, to run about from Prison to
on, to find their Husbands, their Fathers,
r Brothers, or their Servants; for accord
y as they had disposed themselves to several
etings; so were they dispersed to several
ons. And no less Care and Pains had they,
n they had found them; to furnish them
Provisions, and other necessary Accom
lations.
But an excellent Order, even in those early
ys, was practised among the
Friends
of that
y; by which there were certain
Friends,
of
er Sex, appointed to have the Oversight of
Prisons in every Quarter; and to take Care
ll Friends, the
Poor
especially, that should
Committed thither.
date
1662
This Prison of
Bridewell
was under the C
of two honest, grave, discreet and mothe
Women; whose Names were
Anne Mer
(afterwards
Vivers
) and
Anne Travers:
b
Widows.
They, so soon as they understood, that t
were
Friends
brought into that Prison,
vided some hot Victuals, Meat and Broth,
the Weather was cold;) and ordering their
vants to bring it them, with Bread, Cheese
Beer, came themselves also with it: and ha
placed it on a Table, gave notice to us,
T
was provided for all those, that had not othe
provide for them; or were not able to prov
themselves.
And there wanted not among
competent Number of such Guests.
As for my part, though I had lived as
gally as possibly I could, that I might draw
the Thread of my little Stock to the ut
length: yet had I, by this time, reduced
Ten Pence;
which was all the Money I h
bout me, or any where else at my Comman
This was but a small Estate, to enter
an Imprisonment with: yet was I not
discouraged at it; nor had I a murm
Thought. I had known what it was (
rately) to
Abound:
and if I should now
to suffer
Want,
I knew I ought to be co
and through the Grace of GOD I was s
had lived by Providence before (when
long time, I had no Money at all:) and
always found the LORD a good Provide
made no doubt therefore that He, who se
date
1662
vens to feed
Elijah,
and who cloaths the Lil
, would find some means to sustain me,
th needful Food and Raiment: and I had
rn'd by Experience the Truth of that Say
g,
Natura paucis contenta;
i. e. Nature is cont with few things, or a little.
Although the Sight and Smell of
hot Food,
s sufficiently enticing to my
empty Stomach
r I had Eaten little that Morning, and was
gry:) yet considering the Terms of the In
ation, I questioned whether I was included
t; and after some Reasonings, at length con
ed, That while I had
Ten Pence
in my
cket, I should be but an injurious Intruder to
t Mess, which was provided for such as,
haps, had not
Two Pence
in theirs.
Being come to this Resolution, I withdrew
far from the Table as I could; and sate
wn in a quiet Retirement of Mind, till the
past was over, which was not long: for
re were Hands enough at it, to make light
rk of it.
When Evening came, the Porter came up
Back-Stairs, and opening the Door, told us,
we desired to have any thing that was to be had
the House, he would bring it us: for there was
the House a
Chandler
's-Shop; at which Beer,
ead, Butter, Cheese, Eggs and Bacon might be
d for Money.
Upon which many went to
, and spake for what of these things, they
d a Mind to; giving him Money to pay for
em.
date
1662
Among the rest went I, and (intending
spin out my
Ten Pence,
as far as I could) desired him to bring me a Penny Loaf only
When he returned, we all resorted to him,
receive our several Provisions; which he de
vered: and when he came to me, he told m
He could not get a Penny Loaf; but he had broug
me two Half-Penny Loaves.
This suited me better: wherefore returni
to my Place again, I sate down, and Eat
one of my Loaves; reserving the other for
next Day.
This was to me both Dinner and Suppe
And so well satisfied I was with it, that I
willingly then have gone to Bed; if I had h
one to go to: but that was not to be expect
there; nor had any one any Bedding broug
in that Night.
Some of the Company had been so considerate, as to send for a Pound of Candles; th
we might not sit all Night in the dark: and h
ving lighted divers of them, and placed the
in several Parts of that large Room; we kep
walking to keep us warm.
After I had warmed my self pretty throug
ly, and the Evening was pretty sar spent;
bethought my self of a Lodging; and castin
mine Eye on the Table, which stood in t
Bay-Window; the Frame whereof look't,
thought, somewhat like a Beadstead. When
fore willing to make sure of that, I gathered
a good Armful of the Rushes, wherewith t
Floor was covered; and spreading them und
date
1662
at Table, crep't in upon them in my Cloaths:
d keeping on my Hat, laid my Head upon
e End of the Tables Frame, instead of a
lster.
My Example was followed by the rest, who
thering up Rushes, as I had done, made
emselves Beds in other Parts of the Room:
d so to rest we went.
I, having a quiet, easie Mind, was soon a
ep; and slept till about the middle of the
ght. And then waking, finding my Legs
d Feet very cold, I crep't out of my Cabin,
d began to walk about apace.
This waked, and raised all the rest; who find
g themselves cold as well as I, got up and
lked about with me, till we had pretty well
rmed our selves: and then we all lay down
ain, and rested till Morning.
Next Day, all they who had Families, or be
g'd to Families, had Bedding brought in, of
e Sort or other; which they disposed at the
ds, and Sides of the Room, leaving the Mid
void to walk in.
But I, who had no Body to look after me,
t to my Rushy-Pallet under the Table, for
r Nights together, in which time I did not
t off my Cloths: yet, through the merciful
odness of GOD unto me, I rested and slept
ll, and enjoyed Health, without taking
ld.
In this time divers of our Company, through
e Solicitations of some of their Relations, or
quaintance, to Sir
Richard Brown
(who was
date
1662
at that time a great Master of
Mis-rule
in the City, and over
Bridewell
more especially) were released: And among these, one
William Mucklow,
who lay in an Hammack. He, having observed that I only was unprovided of Lodging came very courteously to me, and kindly offered me the Use of his Hammack, while I should continue a Prisoner.
This was a Providential Accommodation
me; which I received thankfully, both fro
the LORD, and from him: and from thenc
forth I thought I lay as well as ever I had do
in my Life.
Amongst those that remained, there were several Young Men, who cast themselves into
Club; and laying down every one an equ
Proportion of Money, put it into the Hand
our Friend
Anne Travers:
desiring her to lay
out for them in Provisions, and send them in
very Day a Mess of hot Meat; and they kin
ly invited me to come into their Club wi
them. These saw my Person, and judged
me by that; but they saw not my Purse; n
understood the Lightness of my Pocket. B
I, who alone understood my own Conditio
knew I must sit down with lower Commo
Wherefore not giving them the true Reaso
I as fairly as I could excused my self from e
tring, at present into their Mess; and we
on, as before, to eat by my self, and that ve
sparingly, as my Stock would bear. A
before my
Ten Pence
was quite spent, Prov
dence,
date
1662
on whom I relied, sent me in a fresh Supply.
For
William Penington
(a Brother of
Isaac Pen
ngton
's) a Friend and Merchant in
London
(at whose House, before I came to live in the Ci
y, I was wont to Lodge) having been at his Brothers that Day upon a Visit, escaped this Storm; and so was at Liberty: And under
tanding when he came back, what had been
one, bethought himself of me; and upon En
uiry hearing where I was, came in Love to
ee me.
He, in Discourse, amongst other things, asked me,
How it was with me as to Money?
and
how well I was furnished?
I told him, I could not boast of much: and yet I could not say I had none (Though what I then had was indeed next to none.) Whereupon he put
Twenty Shillings
into my Hand; and desired me to accept of that for the present. I saw a Divine Hand in thus opening his Heart and Hand in this manner to me. And though I would willingly have been excused from taking so much, and would have returned one half of it: yet he pressing it all upon me, I received it with a thankful Acknowledgment, as a Token of Love from the Lord, and from him.
On the
Seventh Day
he went down again (as he usually did) to his Brother's House at
Chalfont:
and in Discourse gave them an Account of my Imprisonment. Whereupon, at his Return, on the
Second Day
of the Week following, my affectionate Friend
Mary Penington
sent me,
date
1662
by him,
Fourty Shillings;
which he soon after brought me: out of which I would have repaid him the
Twenty Shillings
he had so kindly furnished me with; but he would not admit it, telling me,
I might have Occasion for that, and more, before I got my Liberty.
Not many Days after this, I received
Twenty Shillings
from my Father; who being then at his House in
Oxfordshire,
and, by Letter from my Sister, understanding that I was a Prisoner in
Bridewell,
sent this Money to me, for my Support there; and withal a Letter to my Sister, for her to deliver to one called Mr.
W
(who lived near
Bridewell,
and was a Servant to Sir
Richard Brown,
in some Wharf of his, requesting him to interceed with his Master (who was one of the Governors of
Bridewell
for my Deliverance. But that Letter coming to my Hands, I supprest it; and have it y
by me.
Now was my Pocket from the lowest Ebb
risen to a full Tide. I was at the Brink o
Want, next Door to nothing; yet my Confidence did not fail, nor my Faith stagger: an
now on a suddain I had plentiful Supplies, shower upon shower, so that I abounded, yet wa
not lifted up; but in Humility could say,
Thi
is the
LORD's
Doing.
And, without defrauding any of the Instruments, of the Acknowledgments due unto them; mine Eye looked over and beyond them, to the LORD, who
saw was the Author thereof, and prime Agen
therein; and with a thankful Heart I returned
date
1662
Thanksgivings and Praises to him. And this
reat Goodness of the Lord to me, I thus Re
ord, to the End that all, into whose Hands
is may come, may be Encouraged to Trust
the Lord; whose Mercy is over all his Works,
d who is indeed a God near at hand, to help
the needful time.
Now I durst venture my self into the Club,
which I had been invited; and accordingly
aving by this Time gained an Acquaintance with them) took an Opportunity to cast my self
mong them: and thenceforward, so long as we continued Prisoners there together, I was
e of their Mess.
And now the chief thing I wanted, was
Im
loyment;
which scarce any wanted, but my
elf: for the rest of my Company were gene
ally Tradesmen, of such Trades as could set
hemselves on work. Of these divers were
Taylors,
some Masters, some Journey-men; and with these I most inclined to settle. But be
ause I was too much a Novice in their Art, to
e trusted with their Work: lest I should spoil
he Garment: I got Work from an
Hosier
in
Cheap-side:
which was to make
Night-Waist coats,
of
Red
and
Yellow Flannel,
for Women and Children. And with this I entred my self among
he
Taylors,
sitting Cross-leg'd as they did; and
o spent those Leisure-Hours, with Innocency and Pleasure, which want of Business would have made tedious. And indeed, that was, in a manner, the only Advantage I had by it: for my Master (though a very wealthy Man, and
date
1662
one who professed not only Friendship, but particular Kindness to me) dealt, I thought, but hardly with me. For (though he knew not what I had to subsist by) he never offered me a Penny for my Work, till I had done Working for him; and went (after I was released) to give him a Visit; and then he would not Reckon with me neither,
because
(as he smilingly said)
he would not let me so far into his Trade, as to acquaint me with the Prises of the Work; but would be sure to give me enough.
And thereupon he gave me one Crown Piece, and no more; tho' I had wrought long for him, and made him many Dozens of
Wastcoats,
and bought the Thread my self: which, I thought. was very poor Pay. But, as Providence had ordered it. I wanted the Work, more than the Wages: and therefore took what he gave me, without Complaining.
About this time (while we were Prisoners in our fair Chamber) a Friend was brought and put in among us; who had been sent thither by
Richard Brown
to beat Hemp: whose Case was thus.
He was a very poor Man, who lived by Mending
Shoos;
and on a
Seventh Day
Night late, a Car-Man (or some other such labouring Man) brought him a pair of Shoos to mend, desiring him to mend them that Night, that he might have them in the Morning, for he had no other to wear. The poor Man sate up at work upon them till after Mid-night; and then finding he could not finish them; he went
date
1662
o bed; intending to do the rest in the Morning.
Accordingly he got up betimes; and though
e wrought as privately as he could in his Chamber, that he might avoid giving Offence
o any: yet could he not do it so privately, but
hat an ill-natur'd Neighbour perceived it, who went and informed against him for working on the
Sunday.
Whereupon he was had before
Richard Brown;
who Committed him to
Bride
ell
for a certain time, to be kept to hard Labour, in Beating Hemp: which is Labour hard enough.
It so fell out, that at the same time were Committed thither (for what Cause I do not now remember) two lusty Young Men who were called
Baptists,
to be kept also at the same Labour.
The Friend was a poor little Man, of a low Condition, and mean Appearance: Whereas
hese two Baptists were topping Blades, that
ooked high, and spake big. They scorned to
eat Hemp; and made a
Pish
at the Whipping-Post: but when they had once felt the Smart of it, they soon cried
Peccavi;
and submitting to the Punishment, set their tender Hands to the Beetles.
The Friend, on the other hand, acting upon a Principle, as knowing he had done no Evil, for which he should undergo that Punishment, refused to work; and for refusing was cruelly Whipt; which he bore with wonderful Constancy, and Resolution of Mind.
date
1662
The manner of Whipping there is, To stri
the Party to the Skin, from the Waste upwards
and having fastned him to the Whipping-Post (so that he can neither resist, nor shun the Strokes) to lash the naked Body, with long, but slender Twigs of Holly, which will bend almost like Thongs, and lap round the Body
and these having little Knots upon them, tear the Skin and Flesh, and give extream Pain.
With these Rods they tormented the Friend most barbarously; and the more, for that, having mastered the Two braving,
Baptists,
they disdained to be mastered by this poor
Quaker.
Yet were they fain at last to yeild, when they saw their utmost Severity could not make him yield. And then, not willing to be troubled longer with him, they turned him up among us
When we had enquired of him, how it was with him; and he had given us a brief Account of both his Cause and Usage: it came in my Mind, that I had in my Box (which I had sent for from my Lodging, to keep some few Books, and other Necessaries in) a little Gallypot with
Lucatellu
's-
Balsam
in it.
Wherefore, causing a good Fire to be made and setting the Friend, within a Blanket, befor
the Fire; we stripped him to the Waste (as
he had been too be Whipt again:) and foun
his Skin so Cut, and Torn with the knott
Holly-Rods, both Back, Side, Arm and Breast
that it was a dismal Sight to look upon. The
melting some of the Balsam, I with a Feathe
anointed all the Sores; and putting a softe
date
1662
oth between his Skin and his Shirt, help
him on with his Cloaths again. This
essing gave him much Ease; and I continu
it till he was well. And because he was a
ry poor Man, we took him into our Mess;
triving that there should always be enough
him, as well as for our selves. Thus he
ed with us, until the time, he was commit
d for, was Expired; and then he was Re
sed.
But we were still continued Prisoners, by an
bitrary Power, not being Committed by the
vil Authority, nor having seen the Face of
y Civil Magistrate, from the Day we were
ust in here by Soldiers (which was the 26th
ay of the Eighth Month) to the 19th of the
nth Month following.
On that Day we were had to the
Sessions
at
e
Old Baily.
But not being called there, we
ere brought back to
Bridewell,
and continued
ere to the 29th of the same Month, and then
e were carried to the Sessions again.
I expected I should have been called the first,
cause my Name was first taken down: but
proved otherwise, so that I was one of the
t that was called; which gave me the Ad
ntage of hearing the Pleas of the other
risoners, and discovering the Temper of the
ourt.
The Prisoners complained of the
Illegality
of
eir Imprisonment, and desired to know
what
y had lain so long in Prison for.
The Court
garded nothing of that; and did not stick to
date
1662
tell them so. For said the
Recorder
to them
If you think you have been wrongfully Impris
you have your Remedy at Law; and may take
if you think it worth your while. The Court
(sa
he)
may send for any Man out of the Street, a
tender him the Oath: So we take no Notice
you came hither; but finding you here, we te
you the Oath of
Allegiance:
which if you ref
to take, we shall commit you, and at length P
munire you.
Accordingly, as every one Refu
it, he was set aside, and another called.
By this I saw it was in vain for me, to
upon False Imprisonment, or ask the Cause
my Commitment; though I had before
nished my self with some Authorities, and M
ims of Law, on that Subject, to have plead
if room had been given; and I had the B
(out of which I took them) in my Bosom;
the Weather being cold, I wore a Gown, g
about the middle, and had put the Book wi
in it. But I now resolved to wave all th
and insist upon another Plea; which just th
came into my Mind.
As soon therefore as I was called, I ste
nimbly to the Bar, and stood up upon the St
ping (that I might the better both hear and
heard) and laying my Hands upon the B
stood ready, expecting what they would
to me.
I suppose they took me for a confident you
Man: for they looked very earnestly upon
and we faced each other, without Words,
a while. At length the
Recorder
(who was
d
date
1662
Sir
John Howel
) asked me,
If I would take
e Oath of
Allegiance.
To which I answered, I conceive this Court
ath not Power to tender that Oath to me, in
e Condition wherein I stand.
This so unexpected Plea seemed to startle
em, so that they looked one upon another;
d said somewhat low one to another,
What!
h he demur to the Jurisdiction of the Court?
nd thereupon the
Recorder
asked me,
Do you
demur to the Jurisdiction of the Court?
Not
bsolutely, answered I, but Conditionally;
th respect to my present Condition, and the
ircumstances I am now under.
Why, what is your present Condition?
said the
corder.
A Prisoner, replied I.
And what is
t,
said he,
to your taking, or not taking the
th?
Enough (said I, as I conceive) to exempt
e from the Tender thereof; while I am un
r this Condition.
Pray, what is your Reason
that?
said he. This, said I; That, if I
htly understand the Words of the Statute, I
required to say
That I do take this Oath free
and without Constraint:
which I cannot say,
cause I am not a Free Man, but in Bonds, and
der Constraint. Wherefore I conceive that,
you would tender that Oath to me, ye ought
t to set me free from my present Imprison
ent.
But,
said the Recorder,
will you take the Oath
you be set free?
Thou shalt see that, said I,
en I am set free. Therefore set me free first,
d then ask the Question.
date
1662
But,
said he again,
you know your own M
sure, and can tell now what you would do, if you we
at Liberty.
Yes, replied I, that I can: but
don't hold my self obliged to tell it, until I at at Liberty. Therefore set me at Liberty, a
ye shall soon hear it.
Thus we fenced a good while, till I was bo
weary of such Trifling; and doubted also,
some of the Standers by should suspect, I wo
take it; if I was set at Liberty. Wherei
when the
Recorder
put it upon me again,
him plainly, No; though I thought they ou
not to tender it me, till I had been set at
berty: yet if I was set at Liberty, I could
take that, nor any other Oath, because
Lord and Master, CHRIST JESUS, had
presly Commanded his Disciples
Not to S
at all.
As his Command was enough to me: so
Confession of mine was enough to them.
T
him away,
said they; and away I was tak
and thrust into the Bail-Dock to my oth
Friends, who had been called before me. A
as soon as the rest of our Company were call
and had refused to
Swear,
we were all Co
mitted to
Newgate:
and thrust into the Co
mon Side.
When we came there, we found that Side
the Prison very full of Friends, who were P
soners there before (as indeed were, at that ti
all the other Parts of that Prison, and most of t
other Prisons about the Town) and our Addi
on caused a great Throng on that Side. No
withstanding
date
1662
which, we were kindly welcomed
our Friends, whom we found there; and
ertained by them, as well as their Condition
ould admit, until we could get in our own
commodations, and provide for our selves.
We had the Liberty of the Hall (which is on
e first story over the Gate, and which, in the
y time, is common to all the Prisoners on that
de, Felons as well as others, to walk in, and
Beg out of:) and we had also the Liberty of
e other Rooms over that Hall, to walk or
rk in, a Days. But in the Night we all
dged in one Room, which was large and
nd, having in the Middle of it a great Pillar
f Oaken Timber; which bore up the Chap
that is over it.
To this Pillar we fastned our Hammacks at
one End, and to the opposite Wall on the o
er End, quite round the Room, and in three
grees, or three Stories high, one over the o
r: so that they who lay in the Upper and
ddle Row of Hammacks, were obliged to
to Bed first, because they were to Climb up
the Higher, by getting into the Lower. And
er the Lower Rank of Hammacks, by the
ll-sides were laid Beds upon the Floor; in
ich the Sick, and such weak Persons as could
t get into the Hammacks, lay. And indeed,
ough the Room was large, and pretty airy:
t the Breath and Steam that came from so
ny Bodies, of different Ages, Conditions
d Constitutions, pack't up so close together,
s enough to cause Sickness amongst us; and
date
1662
I believe did so. For there were many Sick; and some very weak: though we were not long there, yet in that time one of our Fellow Prisoners, who lay in one of those Pallet-Beds, died.
This caused some Bustle in the House. For the Body of the Deceased, being laid out, and put into a Coffin, was carried down, and set in the Room called the
Lodge;
that the
Coroner
might enquire into the Cause and Manner of his Death. And the manner of their doing it, is thus. As soon as the
Coroner
is come, the
Turnkeys
run out into the Street under the Gate; and seize upon every Man that passes by, till they have got enough to make up the
Coroner's Inquest.
And so resolute these rude Fellows are, that if any Man resist, or dispute it with them; they drag him in by main Force, not regarding what Condition he is of. Nay, I have been told, the will not stick to stop a Coach, and pluck the Men out of it.
It so happened, that at this time they lighted on an Ancient Man, a grave Citizen, who was trudging through the Gate in great Haste; and him they laid hold on, telling him
He must come in, and serve upon the Coroner's Inquest.
He pleaded hard, beg'd and besought them to let him go; assuring them
He was going on very urgent Business, and that the stopping him would be greatly to his Prejudice.
But they were deaf to all Intreaties; and hurried him in, the poor Man Chaffing without Remedy.
When they had got their Complement, and were shut in together, the rest of them said to
date
1662
this Ancient Man,
Come Father, you are the oldest Man among us: You shall be our Foreman.
And when the
Coroner
had Sworn them on the Jury, the Coffin was uncovered, that they might ;ook upon the Body. But the Old Man, disturbed in his Mind at the Interruption they had given him; was grown somewhat fretful upon it: said to them,
To what purpose do you shew us a dead Body here! You would not have us think, sure, that this Man died in this Room? How then shall we be able to judge how this Man came by his Death, unless we see the Place wherein he died, and wherein he hath been kept Prisoner before he died? How know we, but that the Incommodiousness of the Place wherein he was kept, may have occasioned his Death? Therefore shew us
(said he)
the place wherein this Man died.
This much displeased the Keepers; and they began to banter the Old Man, thinking to have beaten him off it. But he stood up titely to them:
Come, come,
said he,
Though you have made a Fool of me, in bringing me in hither; ye shall not find a Child of me, now I am here. Mistake not your selves: I understand my Place, and your Duty; and I require you to Conduct me, and my Brethren, to the Place where this Man died: Refuse it at your Peril.
They now wished they had let the Old Man go about his Business, rather than by troubling him, have brought this Trouble on themselves. But when they saw he persisted in his Resolution, and was peremptory, the
Coroner
told them,
They must go shew him the Place.
date
1662
It was in the Evening when they began this Work; and by this time it was grown Bed-time with us: so that we had taken down our Hammacks (which in the Day were hung up by the Walls) and had made them ready to go into; and were undressing our selves in Readiness to go into them. When on a suddain we heard a great Noise of Tongues, and of Tramplings of Feet, coming up towards us. And by and by One of the
Turnkeys,
opening our Door, said,
Hold, hold, Don't undress your selves, here's the Coroner's Inquest coming to see you.
As soon as they were come to the Door (for within the Door there was scarce room for them to come) the Foreman, who led them, lifting up his Hand, said,
Lord bless me, what a Sight is here! I did not think there had been so much Cruelty in the Hearts of
Englishmen,
to use
Englishmen
in this manner! We need not now question
(said he to the rest of the Jury)
how this Man came by his Death: We may rather wonder that they are not all dead: for this Place is enough to breed an Infection among them. Well,
added he,
If it please God to lengthen my Life till to Morrow, I will find means to let the
KING
know how his Subjects are dealt with.
Whether he did so, or no; I cannot tell; but I am apt to think that he applied himself to the Mayor, or the Sheriffs of
London.
For the next Day, one of the Sheriffs (called Sir
William Turner,
a
Wollen-Draper
in
Paul's-Yard
) came to the Press-Yard; and having ordered the Porter of
Bridewell
to attend him there; sent up a
date
1662
Turnkey
amongst us, to bid all the
Bridewell
Prisoners come down to him: for they knew us not; but we knew our own Company.
Being come before him, in the Press-Yard, he looked kindly on us, and spake courteously to us.
Gentlemen,
said he,
I understand the Prison is very full; and I am sorry for it. I wish it were in my Power to release you, and the rest of your Friends that are in it. But since I cannot do that, I am willing to do what I can for you. And therefore I am come hither to enquire how it is; and I would have all you, who came from
Bridewell,
return thither again; which will be a better Accommodation to you: and your Removal will give the more room to those that are left behind; and here is the Porter of
Bridewell,
your Old Keeper, to attend you thither.
We duly acknowledged the Favour of the Sheriff, to us and our Friends above, in this Removal of us; which would give them more Room, and us a better Air. But before we parted from him, I spake particularly to him, on another Occasion: which was this.
When we came into
Newgate,
we found a shabby Fellow there, among the
Friends;
who (upon Inquiry) we understood had thrust himself among our Friends, when they were taken at a Meeting, on purpose to be sent to Prison with them; in hopes to be maintained by them. They knew nothing of him, till they found him shut in with them in the Prison: and then took no Notice of him, as not knowing how or why he came thither. But he soon gave
date
1662
them cause to take Notice of him: for whereever he saw any Victuals brought forth fo
them to Eat; he would be sure to thrust in with Knife in hand, and make himself his own Carver, And so impudent was he, that if he saw the Provision was short; whoever wanted
he would be sure to take enough.
Thus lived this lazy Drone upon the Labours of the Industrious Bees; to his high Content, and their no small Trouble: to whom his Company was as Offensive, as his Ravening was Oppressive: nor could they get any Relief, by their complaining of him to the Keepers.
This Fellow, hearing the Notice which was given, for the
Bridewell
-Men to go down, in order to be removed to
Bridewell
again; and hoping (no Doubt) that fresh Quarters would produce fresh Commons, and that he should fare better with us, than where he was: thrust himself amongst us; and went down into the Press Yard with us. Which I knew not of, till I saw him standing there, with his Hat on; and looking as demurely as he could, that the Sheriff might take him for a
Quaker:
at Sight of which, my Spirit was much stirred.
Wherefore, as soon as the Sheriff had done speaking to us, and we had made our Acknowledgment of his Kindness; I stept a little nearer to him, and pointing to that Fellow, said, That Man is not only none of our Company, for he is no
Quaker:
but is an idle dissolute Fellow, who hath thrust himself in among our Friends, to be sent to Prison with them, that he might
date
1662
live upon them: therefore I desire we may not be troubled with him at
Bridewell.
At this the Sheriff smiled; and calling the Fellow forth, said to him,
How came you to be in Prison?
I was taken at a Meeting, said he,
But what Business had you there?
said the Sheriff. I went to hear, said he.
Aye, you went upon a
rse Design, it seems,
replied the Sheriff;
but I'
disappoint you,
said he:
for I'll change your Company; and send you to them that are like your self.
Then calling for the
Turnkey,
he said,
Take this Fellow, and put him among the Felons; and be sure let him not trouble the Quakers any more.
Hitherto this Fellow had stood with his Hat on, as willing to have passed (if he could) for a
Quaker;
but as soon as he heard this Doom passed on him, off went his Hat: and to bowing and scraping he fell, with
Good your Worship have pity upon me, and set me at Liberty. No, no,
said the Sheriff,
I will not so far disappoint you: since you had a Mind to be in Prison, in Prison you shall be for me.
Then bidding, the Turnkey take him away; he had him up, and put him among the Felons: and so Friends had a good Deliverance from him.
The Sheriff then bidding us Farewel, the Porter of
Bridewell
came to us, and told us,
We know our Way to
Bridewell
without him; and he could trust us: therefore he would not stay nor go with us; but left us to take our own time; so we were in before Bed-time.
Then went we up again to our Friends in
Newgate;
and gave them an Account of what
date
1662
had passed: and having taken a solemn Leav
of them; we made up our Packs to be gone
But before I pass from
Newgate,
I think it no
amiss, to give the Reader some little Accoun
of what I Observed while I was there.
The common Side of
Newgate
is generally accounted, as it really is, the Worst part of that Prison; not so much from the Place, as the People: it being usually stocked with the veriest Rogues, and meanest sort of Felons, and Pick-Pockets; who not being able to pay Chamber-Rent on the Master's Side, are thrust in there. And if they come in Bad, to be sure they do not go out better: for here they have an Opportunity to instruct one another in their Art; and impart each to other what Improvements they have made therein.
The Common Hall (which is the first Room over the Gate) is a good Place to walk in, when the Prisoners are out of it (saving the danger of catching some Cattle, which they may have left in it:) and there I used to walk in a Morning, before they were let up; and sometimes in the Day time, when they have been there.
They all carried themselves respectfully towards me; which I imputed chiefly to this, That when any of our Women-Friends came there to Visit the Prisoners, if they had not Relations of their own there, to take care of them: I, (as being a young Man, and more at leisure than most others, for I could not play the
Taylor
there) was forward to go down with them to
date
1662
the Grate, and see them safe out. And sometimes they have left Money in my Hands for the Felons (who at such times were very importunate Beggars:) which I forthwith distributed among them in Bread; which was to be had in the Place. But so troublesome an Office it was, that I thought one had as good have had a Pack of hungry Hounds about one, as these when they knew there was a Dole to be given. Yet this, I think, made them a little the more observant to me; for they would dispose themselves to one side of the Room, that they might make way for me to walk on the other. And when I walked there, I had usually a Book in my Hand; on which I had mine Eye: which made them think I did not heed what they said. By this Means, mine Ear being attentive to them, I heard them relate one to another many of their Roguish Pranks.
One Day, as I was thus walking to and fro beside them, I heard them recounting one to another what feats they had done at
Pocket-picking
and
Shop-lifting.
Whereupon, turning short upon them, I asked them, Which of you all will undertake to pick my Pocket? They were not very forward to Answer; but viewed me round. I wore a long Gown, which was lap't over before, and tied about the Middle; and had no Pocket-Holes in it. When they had a while considered it, and I (having taken another Turn) was come up again to them, One of them said,
Why, Master, If you will Promise not to Prosecute us, we will show you a Piece
date
1662
of our Skill.
Nay, hold there, said I, I won
so far encourage you in Evil, as to promise no
to prosecute: and away I turned again; having mine Eye on my Book; but mine Ear
to them. And in a while I heard them contriving how they would have done it.
I,
said one of them,
would give him the Budge; and before he can recover himself, you
(said he to another of them)
having your Penknife ready, should
his Gown; and then
(said he)
let
Honeypot
alone for the diving Part.
This
Honeypot
was a little Boy (then in Prison with them for Picking a Pocket) who, by his Stature, did not seem to be above Ten, or a Dozen Years old: but for his Dexterity at
Pocket-picking,
was held to be one of the top of the Trade. As for the
Budg
I had had it given me often in the Street; but understood not the Meaning of it till now; and now I found it was a Jostle, enough to throw one almost upon his Nose.
I have sometimes occasionally been in the Hall in an Evening; and have seen the Whores let in unto them (which I take to be a common Practice:) Nasty Sluts indeed they were; and in that respect the more suitable. And as I have passed by them, I have heard the Rogues and they making their Bargains, which and which of them should Company together that Night. Which abominable Wickedness must be imputed to the Dishonesty of the
Turnkeys;
who, for vile Gain to themselves, not only suffer, but further this Leudness.
date
1661
These are some of the common Evils, which make the Common Side of
Newgate,
in measure a Type of
HELL
upon
EARTH.
But there was, at that time, something of another Nature, more Particular and Accidental, which was very Offensive to me.
When we came first into
Newgate,
there lay in a little By-place like a Closet, near the Room where we were Lodged) the Quartered Bodies of three Men; who had been Executed some Days before, for a real or pretended Plot: which was the Ground, or at least Pretext, for that Storm in the City, which had caused this Imprisonment. The Names of these three Men were
Philips, Tongue
and
Gibs:
and the Reason why their Quarters lay so long there was, The Relations were all that while Petitioning to have leave to bury them: which at length with much ado was obtained for the Quarters; but not for the Heads, which were Ordered to be set up in some Parts of the City.
I saw the Heads, when they were brought
p to be Boyled. The Hangman fetch'd them
n a dirty Dust Basket, out of some By-Place;
nd setting them down amongst the Felons, he
nd they made Sport with them. They took
hem by the Hair, Flouting, Jeering and Laugh
ng at them: and then giving them some ill Names, box'd them on the Ears and Cheeks. Which done, the Hangman put them into his Kettle, and parboyl'd them with
Bay-Salt
and
Cummin-Seed:
that to keep them from Putrefaction, and this to keep off the Fowls from
date
1662
seizing on them. The whole Sight (as we
that of the Bloody Quarters first, as this of th
Heads afterwards) was both frightful an loathsom; and begat an Abhorrence in my Nature. Which as it had rendered my Confinement there by much the more uneasie: so
made our Removal from thence to
Bridewell
even in that respect, the more welcome. Whither we now go.
For having (as I hinted before) made up our Packs, and taken our Leave of our
Friends,
whom we were to leave behind; we took our Bundles on our Shoulders, and walked, Two and Two a Breast, through the
Old Baily
into
Fleet-Street,
and so to
Old Bridewell.
And it being about the middle of the Afternoon, and the Streets pretty full of People; both the Shopkeepers at their Doors, and Passengers in the Way, would stop us, and ask us what we were, and whither we were going. And when we had told them we were Prisoners, going from one Prison to another (from
Newgate
to
Bridewell
)
What,
said they,
without a Keeper!
No
said we, for our Word, which we have given
is our Keeper. Some thereupon would advis
us not to go to Prison, but to go home. Bu
we told them, we could not do so: we coul
suffer for our Testimony; but could not fl
from it. I do not remember we had any Abus
offered us: but were generally pitied by th
People.
When we were come to
Bridewell;
we wer
not put up into the great Room in which we ha
date
1662
en before; but into a low Room in another
ir Court, which had a Pump in the Middle
it. And here we were not shut up as be
re: but had the Liberty of the Court to walk
and of the Pump to wash or drink at. And
deed, we might easily have gone quite away
we would, there was a Passage through the
urt into the Street) but we were true and
ady Prisoners; and looked upon this Liberty,
sing from their Confidence in us, to be a
nd of
Paroll
upon us; so that both Conscience
d Honour stood now engaged for our true
prisonment.
Adjoyning to this Room, wherein we were,
as such another; both newly fitted up for
ork-Houses,
and accordingly furnished with
ry great Blocks, for Beating Hemp upon,
d a lusty Whipping-Post there was in each.
d it was said, That
Richard Brown
had Or
red those Blocks to be provided, for the
Qua
s
to Work on; resolving to try his Strength
ith us in that Case: but if that was his Pur
se, it was over-ruled; for we never had any Work Offered us, nor were we treated after the Manner of those, that are to be so Used. Yet we set our selves to Work on them; for, being
ery large, they served the
Taylors
for Shop
ards, and others wrought upon them, as
ey had Occasion: and they served us very well for Tables to eat on.
We had also besides this Room, the Use of
ur former Chamber above, to go into when we thought fit: and thither sometimes I withdrew,
date
1662
when I found a Desire for Retiremen
and Privacy, or had something on my Mind t
write, which could not so well be done in Company. And indeed, about this time my Spiri
was more than ordinarily Exercised; though on very different Subjects. For, on the one hand, the Sense of the Exceeding LOVE and GOODNESS of the
LORD
to me in his Gracious and Tender Dealings with me did deeply affect my Heart; and caused me to break forth in a
SONG
of THANKSGIVING and PRAISE to Him: And, on the other hand, a Sense of the
Prophaneness
Debaucheries, Cruelties,
and other
horr
Impieties
of the AGE, fell heavy on me and lay as a pressing Weight upon my Spirit. And this drew from me a close
Exp
bration;
which my mournful Muse vented i
the following Lines: to which I gave for a Title,
date
1662
Speculum SECULI:
OR, A LOOKING-GLASS FOR THE TIMES.
hich began with this
Expostulatory Preface.
WHY should my Modest
MUSE
forbidden be
To speak of that which but too many see?
y should she, by Conniving, seem t' uphold
s Wickedness; and thereby make them bold
l to persist in't? Why should she be shy
call them
Beasts,
who want
Humanity?
y should she any longer Silence keep,
d lie secure, as one that's fast asleep?
how indeed can it expected be,
t she should hold her Tongue, and daily see
se
wicked
and
enormous Crimes
committed,
ich she, in Modesty, has pretermitted?
date
1662
Which but to name would with their Filth defile
Chast Ears, and cast a Blemish on her Stile.
Yet, of so many, she cannot forbear
To mention some, which here detected are.
LOUD were the Cries, which long h
pierc'd mine Ear:
Foul the Reports, which I did daily hear.
Unheard
of,
new-invented Crimes
were brough
By
Fame
unto my
Knowledge;
which I thoug
Too foul and loathsome to have found a place
In any Heart, though ne'er so
void
of Grace.
This made me take a more observant View,
Whether Report spake what of Men is true.
But as the celebrated Southern QUEEN,
When she the Court of
Solomon
had seen;
And had, with more than usual Diligence,
Observ'd his Splendor and Magnificence;
Consider'd well his Pomp, his Port, his State,
The great Retinue that on him did wait:
As one with Admiration fill'd (no doubt
Not able longer to contain) burst out
Into such Words as these;
Thrice happy
KIN
(Whose Fame throughout the Universe doth ri
date
1662
ough of thine Acts I thought Report too bold,
t now I see one half hath not been told.
st so did I (though in another kind)
ter I had intently fix'd my Mind
on Mens Actions; and had duly weigh'd
ot only what they
did,
but what they
said
while I stood (like one that's struck with Thunder)
l'd with Astonishment, and silent Wonder.
t length my Heart, swelling with
Indignation,
ented it self in such an
Exclamation.
O Hellish Doings! O Infernal Crew!
f whom, who says the worst he can, says true.
Herd of Lustful
Satyrs, Monsters, Brutes!
For such a Name to such a Nature sutes:)
What Ink is black enough to write! What Pen
it to delineate such Beasts; not Men!
Words are too shallow to express the
Rage,
The
Fury, Madness
of this
Frantick AGE.
Numbers fall short to reckon up the
Crimes,
Which are the
Recreations
of these Times.
Was
Sodom
ever Guilty of a Sin,
Which
England
is not now involved in?
date
1662
By
Custom, Drunkenness
so common's grown
That most Men count it a
small Sin,
or
none.
Ranting
and
Roaring
they affirm to be
The true Characters of
Gentility.
Swearing
and
Cursing
is so much in Fashion,
That 'tis esteem'd a Badge of
Reputation.
What
dreadful Oaths!
What
direful Execrati
On others! On themselves what
Imprecations
They tumble out, like roaring Claps of
Thund
As if they meant to rend the Clouds a sunder!
Mockers
do so abound in ev'ry Place,
That rare it is to meet a sober Face.
Ambition, Boasting, Vanity
and
Pride
(With Numbers numberless of Sins beside)
Are grown, thro' Use, so common, that
Men c
Them
Peccadillo's;
small, or none at all.
But, Oh! the
Luxury,
and
great Excess
Which by this wanton Age is us'd in
Dress!
What pains do Men and Women take, alas!
To make themselves for arrand
Bedlam
's pass!
The
Fool's py'd Coat,
which all Wise Men dete
Is grown a Garment now in great Request.
More
Colours
in one Wastcoat now they wear,
Than in the
Rain-bow
ever did appear;
date
1662
As if they were ambitious to put on
All Colours that they cast their Eyes upon:
Thereby outstripping the
Chamaelion
quite,
Which cannot change it self to Red or White.
Each Man, like
Proteus
his Shape doth change,
To whatsoever seemeth new or strange:
And he that in a modest Garb is Drest,
s made the Laughing-stock of all the rest.
For are they with their Baubles satisfied:
But
Sex-Distinctions
too are laid aside.
The Women wear the
Trowsies
and the
Vest:
While Men in
Muffs, Fans, Peticoats
are drest.
ome Women (Oh, the Shame!) like ramping Rigs,
ide flaunting in their Powder'd
Perriwigs:
Astride they sit (and not ashamed neither)
Drest up like Men, in
Jacket, Cap
and
Feather.
All things to
Lust
and
Wantonness
are fitted:
Nothing that tends to Vanity omitted.
To give a Touch on every
Antick Fashion
Which hath been worn of late within this Nation,
Might fill a
Volume,
which would tire, no doubt,
The READER's
Patience,
if not wear it out.
date
1662
Come now, ye
ranting Gallants
of the Times
Who nothing have to boast of, but your
Crimes
Ye
Satan's Hectors,
who disdain to Swear
An Oath beneath
God damn me if he dare.
Blasphemous Wretches!
whose
Impieties,
With rude Assaults, have storm'd the very
Skie
And dar'd the
God of Heaven,
a dreadful Strok
Shall yo receive, by which ye shall be broke:
And in the fiery Lake those Torments find,
Which for such
Desperado
's are assign'd.
And ye, who take so great delight to Curs
As that you think your selves a deal the worse
Unless unto the highest Strain ye swell,
And wish the
Devil
make you Bed in Hell:
This know, the long provoked God is come,
From whom ye must receive that dreadful Doom
Depart, ye Cursed, and for ever dwell,
Where Beds of Torment are prepar'd, in Hell.
'Twas wonderful to see in what a Trice,
This Zealous Nation was o'er-run with
Vice.
As when the boyling Gulf, with furious Gales
Puff't up, o'erslows its Banks, and drowns th
Vales;
date
1662
And when again it Ebbs, it leaves (we find)
A loathsom Scum, and noisom Stink behind
So great was, in a Word, the Wickedness
Of that black Day; such the uncurb'd Excess;
As if the Fatal Hour had then been come,
For the Deliv'ry of Hells pregnant Womb;
And that the Devil had a Patent got,
To vend whatever Merchandize he brought:
Or that
Pandora
's Box (which POETS feign
Did all
Calamities
in it contain)
Had then been newly op'ned; and from thence
Had flutter'd out this raging Pestilence:
Which since, the common Body hath o'erspread
With such a Lep'rous Scab from Foot to Head;
That 'tis a lamentable Sight to see,
How each Sex, old and young, debauched be.
A sort of Men have over-run this Nation,
Who are a Burthen to the whole Creation:
Men
shall I call them, or the
Viper's Brood?
Lovers
of Evil:
Haters
of all Good.
These, swell'd with Envy, in a great Despight
To
Christ,
with
Fist of Wickedness
do smite
(Not their own
Fellow-Servants;
for they are
The
Devil's Slaves,
by him bor'd thro' the Ear:
date
1662
But)
God's Ambassadors,
whom he hath sent
To warn them of their Sins, and cry,
Repent;
Or to denounce his
Judgments
against those,
That set themselves his
Message
to oppose.
These Persecute the Innocent, and say,
When they are gone, 'twill be a merry Day.
These grind the Poor; The Needy these Oppres
Widows devour; Tread on the Fatherless.
Far from themselves they put the Evil Day;
Remove impending Judgments far away:
And yet in vain they strive t'escape the Stroke
Of that just God whom boldly they provoke.
For they afflict his People; slay his Sheep:
Beat those whom he appointed hath to keep
And feed his tender Lambs; rend, tear, devour
Suppress God's Worship to their utmost Pow'r.
A Cursed Generation, who are bent
To spare the
Wicked;
slay the
Innocent:
Whose Blood doth Cry, whose Blood doth Cry aloud,
As loud as
Abel
's, pierceth thro' the Cloud;
Presents it self before the Judgment-Seat,
And Justice doth of the just Judge intreat,
date
1662
That speedy Vengence he will take on all,
Who Persecute his
Saints,
and them Enthrall.
Nor is He deaf; its Cry with him prevails:
And He hath promised (who never fails
In the Performance) that he will arise,
And put a Period to their Cruelties:
And that he will, with more than winged Speed,
Send Comfort to his poor afflicted Seed;
Which under
Pharaoh
's
heavy Yoke
hath groan'd,
And in
Captivity
it self bemoan'd.
O Bloody Sin of
Persecution!
'Tis thou that pluckest Judgments down upon
The Heads of
Kings, Princes, Plebeians,
All
That Act thee, and by thee the
Saints
enthral.
This is
that Sin, that Sin
which Cries aloud;
Louder than all the rest,
The Guilt of Blood:
Which is the strongest Cord the Devil hath
To draw down on Mankind
God's heavy Wrath.
Weeping I sigh, and sighing weep to see
The Rod, which God prepared hath for thee,
O
England,
who dost evilly intreat
His
Messengers;
and dost his
Prophets
beat.
Ah,
England,
Ah, poor
England,
I bewail
Thy sad Estate: O that I might prevail
date
1662
In my Desires for thee! Then shouldst thou be
As full of Joy, as now of Misery.
For then should Plenty in thy Fields be found,
And all thy
Garners
should with Grain abound:
Then Peace, long-lasting Peace should in thee dwell;
For God would all thine Enemies repel:
And he himself would take delight in thee;
So Thou the Glory of the World would'st be.
But, ah, alass! small Hope I have to see
Such happy Symptoms of good Health in thee,
No, No, sad Isle, my Reason it doth tell me,
That all the Crosses, which have yet befel thee,
Are but an Earnest of that dreadful Day,
Wherein God will upon thy Head repay
Wrath, Fury, Vengeance and Destruction;
The just Reward of Persecution.
The due Consideration of thy State,
And thine (I fear) inevitable Fate,
Doth move my Heart with
Pity
and
Compassion
And leads me to this short
Expostulation.
Who to the Eye gave Sight? what shall not he
The Cruel Sufferings of his People see?
date
1662
And shall not he that formed hath the Ear,
The mournful Groans of his
dear Children
hear?
Are Men so stupid grown, they think GOD's Blind?
Or that he doth not heed? or cannot find
A way, to ease the Suff'rings of his Seed?
Whose Cry unto him is,
Father, with speed
Arise, arise; Rend thou the Clouds, Descend:
Avenge us of our Enemies, Defend
Us from their Cruelties; and let them see
Thy Care of us, exceeds our Love to Thee.
Nor are these Sighs in vain: for he indeed
Is rising, yea is ris'n, our Cause to plead
In
Righteousness;
and henceforth us who kicks,
Shall know
'tis hard to kick against the Pricks.
Be warned then ye
Rulers,
and let all
Of whatsoever Rank, both great and small,
Tremble before the Lord; and cease to Rage
Against our God's peculiar Heritage.
For, of a Truth, his long-provoked Hand
Is stretched out, in Judgment, o'er this Land;
And ye must feel it: for he hath decreed,
To vindicate his long oppressed Seed.
date
1662
And in his Fury, he will Vengeance take
In our Behalfs, who suffer for his sake.
Then shall ye know, That he, who sits on high,
Regards us as the Apple of his Eye.
To this, occasionally I subjoined a POSTSCRIPT, thus.
SINCE what precedes was written, I have found
An Accusation form'd, but without Ground,
Against me, That
with uncontrouled Pen,
I too severely lash the Faults of Men:
And take upon me, in Satyrick Rhimes,
To pass a rigid Censure on the Times.
This drew me on to add another Line,
To shew them that the Fault's their own, not mine.
No Crime can justly to my charge be laid:
Unless it be a Crime,
That Truth be said.
Nor can, without Injustice, any blame
My Muse, for Echoing the Common Fame.
If any should Object,
That wise Men hold,
That Truth at all times ought not to be told.
date
1662
Nor that
whatever comes into ones Head
Should straight, because 'tis true, be published.
I readily assent, because I know
Pearls before Swine we are forbid to through.
Some Truths, I grant, may better be conceal'd,
Than if they out of Season were reveal'd.
Yet would I not that any, through Mistake,
Should of my Words a Misconstruction make.
Than that should happen, I had rather be
Tax't by the Reader for
Prolixity.
Thus then, in brief, would I be understood.
If what I know, concerns my Brother's good,
For him to know: Ought I not then unfold
It to him, rather than from him with-hold
A Benefit? So on the other side,
It is, I think, too plain to be deny'd,
That if I see what certainly doth tend
To the Hurt of my Neighbour, or my Friend;
I am oblig'd, by
Christian Charity,
To give them warning of the danger nigh:
To shew them, that they stand upon the brink
Of certain Ruin; and if then they sink,
date
1662
By wilful Running on, I shall be free
From Guilt, their Blood on their own Heads will be.
'Tis plain I think; yet if ye can't believe it
Without a Scripture-Proof, lo, here
Levit.
19. 17.
Ezek.
33
I give it.
This is the very Case; which, if well weigh'd,
Will fully justifie what I have said.
I saw Men Running to a Precipice,
At Foot of which was such a vast Abyss
As could have swallow'd Nations; so immense
That 'twas impossible to climb out thence.
For if a Man, we see, but chance to pitch.
O'er Head and Ears, into some miry Ditch;
How quickly is he smothered, unless
Some Friendly Hand assist in that distress!
And if, with strugling, out at length he get▪
Yet how besmear'd is he with Dirt, and wet!
But into this deep Pit who falls, in vain
Expects an Hand, to help him out again.
No, 'tis of Grace that Men forewarned are,
And, e'er their Feet are taken,
shew'd the Snare.
And warned they must be. For so was I
While roving in their Paths of
Vanity:
date
1662
oil'd and bewild'red in a dismal Night
f thick
Egyptian
Darkness, from the Light.
om whence the Lord hath, by his Love, me drawn,
nd in my Heart hath caus'd his Day to dawn,
is glorious Day, his never-setting Sun
Rise, and darkness to Expel begun.
is Love, as it arises, warms my Heart,
d fills it with Desires to impart
others of its Goodness; that none may
want of good Direction, miss their Way.
Know therefore thou, who hitherto hast spent
y Time in
Vanity,
and wholly bent
y utmost Strength, thy Lusts to satisfie,
d surfeit, with Delights, thy wanton Eye;
e Lord hath in thy
Conscience
plac'd a
Light,
teach thee how to guide thy Steps aright.
is checks when into Evil thou hast run:
d gives thee warning, e'er thou hast begun.
st thou not heard, when in thy full Career,
mething within thee say,
What do I here?
d when thy Mind is cool, another Day,
th it not sometimes cause thee thus to say;
date
1662
O that I had not run into Excess!
O that I had not done this Wickedness!
My Conscience tells me that I have done ill,
In yielding to my own corrupted Will:
And though no Eye did see me, yet my Heart
I feel is full of Torment, Pain and Smart.
Were it to do again, I'd have more Care,
And not run wilfully into the Snare.
Consider what that is, which thus doth raise
A Trouble in thee for thy Evil Ways.
And what that is, which many times doth grieve thee;
And often makes thee Cry out,
God forgive me.
When thus it checks thee next, strait call to Mind,
That Word, Thine Ear shall hear a Voice behind
Thee, saying
Hither turn; this is the way,
When to the Right, or Left, thou go'st astray.
And having heard, Obedience forthwith give
To its Reproof:
Hear, and thy Soul shall live.
For were Men subject to
Christ's Light within,
It certainly would lead Men out of Sin,
date
1662
d, thro'
Believing,
bring them into Heav'n:
r that's the End, for which by him 'tis giv'n.
Thus have I faithfully discharg'd a Part,
hich long lay as a weight upon my Heart:
gardless of what Danger may ensue,
r seasonably speaking what is true.
d if ungrateful Men shall ill requite
y signal Love, with Enmity and Spight:
t them know, That my undaunted Pen
rns the contracted Brows of angry Men.
par'd I am to suffer with Content,
e worst that canc'red Malice can invent:
ich is no more than to my Lord befel,
Suffer
Evil things for
Doing
well.
Bona agere, & Mala pati, Regium est.
suffer Evil, for Well-doing, brings
e Sufferer to share Renown with Kings.
After I had, in the foregoing POEM, some
at eased my Spirit of that; which, for some
e, had lain as a Load upon me: I breathed
th the following
HYMN
to God, in Ac
owledgment of his great Goodness to me,
fession of my grateful Love to Him; and
plication to Him, for the Continuance of
date
1662
his Kindness to me, in Preserving me from t
Snares of the Enemy, and keeping me faith
unto Himself.
THEE, thee alone, O God, I fear
In thee do I confide:
Thy Presence is to me more dear
Than all things else beside.
Thy Vertue, Power, Life and Light,
Which in my Heart do shine;
Above all things are my delight:
O make them always mine!
Thy matchless Love constrains my Life,
Thy Life constrains my Love,
To be to thee as chast a Wife,
As is the Turtle-Dove
To her elect, espoused Mate,
Whom she will not forsake:
Nor can be brought to violate
The Bond she once did make.
Just so my Soul doth cleave to thee,
As to her only Head;
With whom she longs conjoin'd to be
In Bond of Marriage-Bed.
date
1662
But, ah, alas! her little Fort
Is compassed about
Her Foes about her thick resort,
Within, and eke without.
How numerous are they now grown!
How wicked their Intent!
let thy mighty Power be shown,
Their Mischief to prevent!
They make Assaults on ev'ry side,
But thou stand'st in the Gap:
Their Batt'ring-Rams make Breaches wide▪
But still thou mak'st them up.
ometimes they ufe alluring Wiles,
To draw into their Pow'r:
nd sometimes weep, like
Crocodiles;
But all is to devour.
Thus they beset my feeble Heart
With Fraud, Deceit and Guile:
lluring her from thee to start,
And thy pure Rest defile.
ut oh! the Breathing and the Moan,
The Sighings of the Seed;
he Groanings of the Grieved One,
Do Sorrows in me breed.
date
1662
And that Immortal, Holy Birth,
The Off-spring of thy Breath,
(To whom thy Love brings Life and Mirth
As doth thy Absence, Death:)
That Babe, that Seed, that panting Child
Which cannot thee forsake,
In fear to be again beguil'd,
Doth Supplication make;
O suffer not thy Chosen One,
Who puts her Trust in thee,
And hath made thee her Choice alone,
Ensnar'd again to be.
Bridewell, London:
1662.
In this sort did I spend some leisure Ho
during my Confinement in
Bridewell;
especi
after our return from
Newgate
thither; w
we had more Liberty, and more Opportu
and Room for Retirement and Thought. as the Poet said,
Carmina Scribentes Secessum & Otia quaer
They who would write in Mea
Retire, where they may Stilness have, and
date
1662
And this Priviledge we enjoyed, by the Indulgence of our Keeper, whose Heart God disposed
o Favour us. So that both the Master and his
orter were very civil, and kind to us; and
ad been so indeed all along. For when we were shut up before, the Porter would readily
t some of us go home in an Evening, and stay
t Home till next Morning, which was a great Conveniency to Men of Trade and Business: which I being free from, forbore asking for my
elf; that I might not hinder others.
This he observed, and asked me when I
eant to ask to go out. I told him, I had not
uch Occasion, nor Desire; yet at sometime or
ther, perhaps, I might have: but when I had,
would ask him but once; and if he then de
ed me, I would ask him no more.
After we were come back from
Newgate,
I
ad a Desire to go thither again, to visit my
riends
who were Prisoners there; more espe
ially my dear Friend (and Father in
Christ
)
dward Burrough,
who was then a Prisoner,
ith many
Friends
more, in that Part of
New
ate,
which was then called
Justice-Hall.
Whereupon the Porter coming in my way, I
sked him to let me go out for an Hour or two,
o see some
Friends
of mine that Evening.
He to enhanse the Kindness, made it a matter
f some Difficulty; and would have me stay
ll another Night. I told him, I would be at
Word with him: for as I had told him before,
hat if he denied me, I would ask him no
ore; so he should find I would keep to it.
date
1662
He was no sooner gone out of my Sight, bu
I espied his Master crossing the Court. Wherefore stepping to him, I asked him, If he was willing to let me go out for a little while, to see some Friends of mine that Evening.
Yes,
said he,
very willing;
and thereupon away walked I to
Newgate;
where having spent the Evening among
Friends,
I returned in good time.
Under this easie Restraint we lay, till the Court sate at the
Old-Baily
again: And then, whether it was that the Heat of the Storm was somewhat abated, or by what other means Providence wrought it, I know not; we were called to the Bar, and without further Question, discharged.
Whereupon we returned to
Bridewell
again, and having raised some Monies among us, and therewith gratified both the Master and his Porter, for their Kindness to us; we spent sometime in a solemn Meeting, to return our thankful Acknowledgement to the LORD, both for His Preservation of us in Prison, and Deliverance of us out of it: and then taking a solemn Farewel of each other, we departed with Bag and Baggage. And I took care to return my Hammack to the Owner; with due Acknowledgement of his great Kindness, in lending it me.
Being now at Liberty, I visited more generally my Friends that were still in Prison; and more particularly my Friend and Benefactor,
William Penington,
at his House: and then went to wait upon my Master
Milton.
With whom
date
1662
yet I could not propose to enter upon my intermitted Studies, until I had been in
Buckinghamshire,
to visit my worthy Friends
Isaac Penington,
and his Virtuous Wife; with other Friends in that Country.
Thither therefore I betook my self, and the Weather being Frosty, and the Ways, by that means, clean and good; I walked it thorow in a Day: and was received by my Friends there, with such Demonstration of hearty Kindness, as made my Journey very easie to me.
I had spent in my Imprisonment that Twenty Shillings, which I had received of
William Penington;
and Twenty of the Fourty, which had been sent me from
Mary Penington,
and had the Remainder then about me. That therefore I now returned to her, with due Acknowledgement of her Husband's and her great Care of me, and Liberality to me, in the time of my Need. She would have had me kept it. But I beg'd her to accept it from me again; since it was the Redundancy of their Kindness, and the other Part had answered the Occasion, for which it was sent: and my Importunity prevailed.
I intended only a Visit hither, not a Continuance: and therefore purposed, after I had staid a few Days, to return to my Lodging, and former Course in
London:
but Providence ordered it otherwise.
Isaac Penington
had at that time two Sons and one Daughter (all then very young) of whom the Eldest Son
(John Penington)
and the
date
1662
Daughter
(Mary,
the Wife of
Daniel Wharley)
are yet living at the writing of this. And being himself both Skilful and Curious in
Pronounciation;
he was very desirous to have them well grounded in the
Rudiments of the English Tongue:
to which End he had sent for a Man out of
Lancashire
(whom, upon enquiry, he had heard of) who was undoubtedly the most accurate
English Teacher,
that ever I met with, or have heard of. His Name was
Richard Bradley.
But as he pretended no higher than the
English Tongue;
and had led them, by
Grammar Rules,
to the highest Improvement they were capable of in that: he had then taken his Leave of them, and was gone up to
London,
to Teach an
English School
of
Friends
Children there.
This put my Friend to a fresh Straight. He had sought for a New Teacher, to instruct his Children in the
Latin Tongue,
as the Old had done in the
English:
but had not yet found one. Wherefore one Evening as we sate together by the Fire in his Bed-Chamber (which, for want of Health, he kept) He asked me (his Wife being by)
If I would be so kind to him, as to stay a while with him, till he could hear of such a Man as he aimed at; and in the mean time enter his Children in the Rudiments of the
Latin Tongue.
This Question was not more unexpected, than surprizing to me; and the more, because it seemed directly to thwart my former Purpose, and Undertaking, of endeavouring to improve my self by following my Studies with my Master
Milton:
which this would give at
date
1662
least a present Divertion from; and for how long I could not foresee.
But the Sense I had of the manifold Obligations I lay under to these worthy Friends of mine, shut out all Reasonings; and disposed my Mind to an absolute Resignation to their Desire; that I might testifie my Gratitude, by a Willingness to do them any friendly Service, that I could be capable of.
And though I questioned my Ability to carry on that Work, to its due Height and Proportion; yet as that was not proposed, but an Initiation only, by
Accidence
into
Grammar:
I consented to the Proposal, as a present Expedient (till a more qualified Person should be found;) without further Treaty, or mention of Terms between us, than that of mutual Friendship. And to render this Digression from my own Studies the less uneasie to my Mind, I recollected (and often thought of) that Rule in
Lilly,
Qui docet indoctos, licet indoctissimus esset,
Ipse brevi reliquis doctior esse queat.
He that th' Unlearn'd doth teach, may quickly be
More Learn'd than they, though most Unlearned He.
With this Consideration I undertook this Province; and left it not until I Married: which was not till the Year 1669, near Seven
date
1662
Years from the time I came thither. In which time, having the Use of my Friends Books, as well as of mine own, I spent my leasure Hours much in Reading; not without some improvement to my self in my private Studies: which (with the good Success of my Labours bestowed on the Children, and the Agreeableness of Conversation, which I found in the Family;) rendered my Undertaking more Satisfactory, and my Stay there more easie to me.
But, alas! not many Days (not to say Weeks) had I been there; e're we were almost overwhelmed with Sorrow, for the unexpected Loss of
Edward Burrough,
who was justly very dear to us all.
This not only Good, but Great-good Man, by a long and close Confinement in
Newgate,
through the Cruel Malice, and Malicious Cruelty of
Richard Brown,
was taken away by hasty Death, to the unutterable Grief of very many, and unspeakable Loss to the CHURCH of CHRIST in general.
The particular Obligation I had to him as the immediate Instrument of my Convincement; and high Affection for him, resulting therefrom, did so deeply affect my Mind; that it was some pretty time, before my Passion could prevail, to express it self in Words: so true I found that of the
Tragoedian,
Curae leves loqunntur,
Ingentes Stupent.
date
1662
Light Griefs break forth, and easily get vent,
Great Ones are, thro' Amazement, closely pent.
At length my MUSE, not bearing to be any longer mute, brake forth in the following
ACROSTICK;
which she called
A Pathetick
ELEGY
on the Death of that dear, and faithful Servant of GOD,
EDWARD BURROUGH.
Who died the
14
th of the
12
th Month,
1662.
And thus she Introduceth it.
HOW long shall Grief lie smother'd! Ah, how long
Shall Sorrow's Signet seal my silent Tongue!
How long shall Sighs me suffocate! And make
My Lips to quiver, and my Heart to ake!
How long shall I, with Pain, suppress my Cries!
And seek for Holes to wipe my wat'ry Eyes!
Why may not I, by Sorrow thus opprest,
Pour forth my Grief into another's Breast!
date
1662
If that be true which once was said by one,
That
Ille dolet vere, qui sine Teste dolet.
He mourns truly, who doth Mourn alone:
Then may I truly say, My Grief is true
Since it hath yet been known to very few.
Nor is it now mine Aim to make it known
To those, to whom these Verses may be shown:
But to Asswage my Sorrow-swollen Heart,
Which Silence caus'd to taste so deep of Smart.
This is my End, that so I may prevent
The Vessel's Bursting, by a timely vent.
— Quis talia fando
Temperet à Lacrymis! —
Who can forbear, when such things spoke he hears,
His Grave to Water with a Flood of Tears.
E
cho ye Woods: Resound ye hallow Places.
L
et Tears and Paleness cover all Mens Faces.
L
et Groans like Claps of Thunder, pierce the Air▪
W
hile I the Cause of my just Grief declare.
O
that mine Eyes could, like the Streams of
Nile,
O
'erflow their watry Banks: and thou, mean while,
D
rink in my trick'ling Tears, O thirsty Ground;
S
o might'st thou henceforth fruitfuller be found.
date
1662
L
ament, my Soul, Lament; thy Loss is deep:
A
nd all that
Sion
love sit down and weep.
M
ourn, O ye Virgins: And let Sorrow be
E
ach Damsel's Dowry: And (alas, for me!)
N
'er let my Sobs and Sighings have an End,
T
ill I again embrace m' ascended Friend;
A
nd till I feel the Virtue of his Life
T
o Consolate me, and Repress my Grief:
I
nfuse into my Heart the Oyl of Gladness
O
nce more, and by its strength remove that Sadness
N
ow pressing down my Spirit, and Restore
F
ully that Joy I had in him before.
O
f whom a Word I fain would stammer forth;
R
ather to ease my Heart, than shew his Worth:
H
is Worth, my Grief, which words too shallow are
I
n Demonstration fully to declare
S
ighs, Sobs, my best Interpreters now are.
E nvy
be gone. Black
Momus
quit the place.
N
'er more,
Zoilus,
shew thy wrinkled Face.
date
1662
D
raw near, ye bleeding Hearts, whose Sorrows are
E
qual with mine; in him ye had like Share.
A
dd all your Losses up, and ye shall see
R
emainder will be nought but
Woe is me.
E
ndeared Lambs, ye that have the
white Stone.
D
o know full well his Name,
It is your own.
E
ternitiz'd be that right-worthy Name.
D
eath hath but kill'd his
Body,
not his
Fame:
W
hich in its Brightness shall for ever dwell;
A
nd, like a Box of Ointment, sweetly smell.
R
ighteousness was his Robe; bright Majesty
D
ecked his Brow: His Look was Heavenly.
B
old was he in his Master's Quarrel, and
U
ndaunted; Faithful to his Lord's Command.
R
equiting Good for Ill: Directing all
R
ight in the Way that leads out of the Fall.
O
pen and free to ev'ry thirsty Lamb:
U
nspotted, pure, clean, holy; without Blame.
G
lory, Light, Splendor, Lustre was his Crown.
H
appy his Change to him: The Loss our own.
date
1662
Unica post Cineres Virtus veneranda beatos
Efficit. —
Virtue alone (which Rev'rence ought to have)
Doth make Men happy, e'en beyond the Grave.
While I had thus been breathing forth my Grief,
hopes thereby to get me some Relief;
heard, methought, his Voice say,
Cease to Mourn:
Live. And though the Vail of Flesh once worn,
now stript off, dissolv'd and laid aside,
Spirit's with thee; and shall so abide.
is satisfy'd me: Down I threw my Quill:
illing to be resign'd to GOD's pure Will.
date
1663
Having discharged this Duty to the Memory
my deceased Friend, I went on in my new
vince, Instructing my little Pupils in the
diments of the
Latin Tongue;
to the mutual
tisfaction of both their Parents and my self. As
n as I had gotten a little Money in my Poc
t (which, as a
Premium
without Compact I
eived from them) I took the first Opportu
y to return to my Friend
William Penington
Money which he had so kindly furnished
with in my need, at the time of my Imprisonment
date
1663
in
Bridewell;
with a due Acknowledgement of my Obligation to him for it. He was not at all forward to receive it: so that I was fain to press it upon him.
While thus I remained in this Family, various Suspicions arose in the Minds of some concerning me, with respect to
Mary Penington
's fair Daughter
Guli.
For she having now arrived to a Marriageable Age; and being in all respects a very desirable Woman (whether regard was had to her outward Person, whic
wanted nothing to render her compleatly Comely: or to the Endowments of her Mind, whic
were every way Extraordinary, and highly Obliging; or to her outward Fortune, whic
was fair (and which with some hath not th
last, nor the least place in Consideration:) sh
was openly, and secretly sought, and solicite
by many; and some of them almost of ever
Rank and Condition; Good and Bad, Ric
and Poor, Friend and Foe. To whom, in the
respective turns (till he at length came,
whom she was reserved) she carried her se
with so much Evenness of Temper, such cou
teous Freedom, guarded with the strictest Modesty: that as it gave Encouragement,
ground of Hopes to none; so neither did it a
minister any matter of Offence, or just Cau
of Complaint to any.
But such as were thus either engaged
themselves, or desirous to make themselves Advocates for others, could not, I observed,
look upon me with an Eye of Jealousie a
date
1663
Fear; that I would improve the Opportunities I had, by frequent and familiar Conversation with her, to my own Advantage, in working my self into her good Opinion and Favour, to
he Ruin of their Pretences.
According therefore to the several Kinds and Degrees of their Fears of me, they suggested
her Parents their ill Surmises against me.
Some stuck not to question the Sincerity of
y Intentions, in Coming at first among the
uakers;
urging, with a
why may it not be so?
hat the Desire and Hopes of obtaining, by that
eans, so fair a Fortune, might be the prime and
ief Inducement to me, to thrust my self amongst
at People.
But this Surmise could find no
ace, with those worthy Friends of mine (her
ther in Law, and her Mother) who, besides
e clear Sense, and sound Judgment they had
themselves, knew very well upon what
erms I came among them, how straight and
rd the Passage was to me, how contrary to
worldly Interest (which lay fair another
ay) how much I had suffered from my Fa
er for it, and how regardless I had been of
tempting, or seeking any thing of that Na
re, in these three or four Years that I had
en amongst them.
Some others, measuring me by the Propen
y of their own Inclinations, concluded I
uld Steal her, run away with her, and Mar
her. Which they thought I might be the
re easily induced to do, from the advanta
us Opportunities I frequently had, of riding
date
1663
and walking abroad with her, by Night as well as by Day, without any other Company than her Maid. For so great indeed was the Confidence that her Mother had in me; that she thought her Daughter safe, if I was with her, even from the Plots and Designs that others had upon her. And so Honourable were the Thoughts she entertained concerning me, as would not suffer her to admit a Suspicion, that I could be capable of so much Baseness, as to betray the Trust she, with so great Freedom, reposed in me.
I was not Ignorant of the various Fears which filled the jealous Heads of some concerning me, neither was I so stupid, nor so divested of all Humanity, as not to be sensible of the real and innate Worth, and Vertue, which adorned that excellent Dame; and attracted the Eye and Hearts of so many, with the greatest Importunity to seek and solicit her: Nor was I
devoid of Natural Heat, as not to feel som
Sparklings of Desire, as well as others. But th
Force of TRUTH, and Sense of Honour, su
prest whatever would have risen beyond th
Bounds of fair and vertuous Friendship. Fo
easily foresaw, that if I should have attempte
any thing, in a dishonourable way, by For
or Fraud, upon her; I should have thereb
bought a Wound upon mine own Soul, a fo
Scandal upon my Religious Profession, and
infamous Stain upon mine Honour: either
which was far more dear unto me than my Li
Wherefore having observed how some othe
date
1663
had befool'd themselves, by misconstruing her common Kindness, (expressed in an innocent, open, free and familiar Conversation, springing from the abundant Affability, Courtesy and Sweetness of her natural Temper) to be the Effect of a singular Regard and peculiar Affection to them: I resolved to shun the Rock, on which I had seen so many run and split; and remembring that Saying of the POET,
Foelix quem faciunt aliena Pericular cautum.
— Happy's He,
Whom others Dangers wary make to be.
I governed my self, in a free, yet respect
ul Carriage towards her, that I thereby both
reserved a fair Reputation with my Friends,
nd Enjoyed as much of her Favour and Kind
ess, in a virtuous and firm Friendship, as was fit for her to shew, or for me to seek.
Thus leading a quiet and contented Life, I
ad Leisure sometimes to write a Copy of Ver
s, on one Occasion or another, as the
Poetick Vein
naturally opened, without taking Pains to
olish them. Such was this which follows;
ccasioned by the suddain Death of some lusty People in their full Strength.
date
1663
Est VITA caduca.
AS is the fragrant Flower in the Field,
Which in the Spring a pleasant Smell doth yield,
And lovely Sight; but soon is withered:
So's MAN; to Day alive, to Morrow dead.
And as the Silver-dew-bespangled Grass,
Which in the Morn bedecks its Mothers Face:
But e're the scorching Summer's past, looks brown;
Or by the Syth is suddainly cut down.
Just such is Man, who vaunts himself to day,
Decking himself in all his best Array:
But in the midst of all his Bravery,
Death rounds him in the Ear,
Friend, thou must Dye.
Or like a Shadow in a Sunny Day,
Which in a Moment vanisheth away;
Or like a Smile, or Spark; such is the Span
Of Life, allow'd this
Microcosm,
MAN.
date
1663
Cease then vain Man to boast: for this is true,
Thy brightest Glory's as the Morning Dew;
Which disappears when first the rising Sun
Displays his Beams above the Horizon.
As the Consideration of the
Uncertainty of HUMANE LIFE
drew the foregoing Lines from me: so the Sense I had of the
FOLLY of MANKIND,
in mis-spending the little Time allow'd them, in Evil Ways, and vain Sports; led me more particularly to trace the several Courses, wherein the Generallity of Men run, unprofitably at best, if not to their Hurt and Ruin. Which I introduced with that Axiom of the
Preacher, Eccles.
1. 2.
ALL IS VANITY.
See here the State of MAN as in a Glass:
And how the Fashion of this World doth pass.
SOME in a
Tavern
spend the longest Day:
While others
Hawk
and
Hunt
the Time away.
Here one his
Mistress Courts;
Another
Dances:
A Third incites to
Lust
by wanton
Glances.
date
1663
This wastes the Day in
Dressing;
Th'other seeks
To set fresh colours on her with'red
Cheeks:
That, when the Sun delines, some
dapper Spark
May take her to
Spring-Garden,
or the
Park.
Plays
some frequent, and
Balls:
Others their Prime
Consume at
Dice;
Some
Bowl
away their
Time,
With
Cards
some wholly captivated are:
From
Tables
others scarce an Hour can spare.
One to soft
Musick
mancipates his Ear:
At
Shovel-board
another spends the Year.
The
Pall-Mall
this accounts the only Sport:
That keeps a
Racket
in the
Tennis-Court.
Some strain their very Eyes and Throats with
Singing.
While others strip their Hands and Backs at
Ringing.
Another sort with greedy Eyes are waiting
Either at
Cockpit,
or some great
Bull-baiting.
This dotes on
Running-Horses:
T'other Fool
Is never well, but in the
Fencing-School.
Wrestling
and
Football, Ninepins, Prison-base,
Among the rural Clowns find each a place▪
date
1663
Nay
Joan
unwash'd will leave her Milking-Pail,
To
Dance
at
May-Pole,
or a
Whitsun-Ale.
Thus wallow most in
Sensual Delight,
As if their Day should never have a Night:
Till
Nature
's pale-fac'd
Serjeant
them surprize:
And as the Tree then falls, just so it lies.
Now look at home, thou who these Lines dost Read;
See which of all these Paths thy self dost tread:
And e're it be too late that Path forsake,
Which, follow'd, will thee Miserable make.
After I had thus enumerated some of the many Vanities, in which the Generality of Men, mis-spent their Time, I sang the following
ODE
in Praise of VERTUE.
WEALTH, Beauty, Pleasures, Honours, all adieu:
I value
Vertue
far, far more than you.
Y'are all but Toys
For Girls and Boys
To play withal; at best deceitful Joys.
She lives for ever: ye are transitory.
Her Honour is unstained: but your Glory
date
1663
Is meer Deceit;
A painted Bait,
Hung out for such as sit at Folly's Gate.
True Peace, Content and Joy on her attend:
You (on the contrary) your Forces bend
To blear Mens Eyes,
With Fopperies;
Which Fools Embrace, but Wiser Men Despise
date
1664
About this time my Father, resolving to se
his
Estate,
and having reserved for his own us
such parts of his Houshold-Goods, as he though
fit; not willing to take upon himself the Tro
ble of selling the Rest, gave them unto me
Whereupon I went down to
Crowel,
and ha
ing before given Notice there, and thereabou
that I intended a Publick Sale of them, I So
them; and thereby put some Money into my Pocket. Yet I Sold such things only as I judged Useful; leaving the
Pictures
and
Armour
(of which there was some store there) unsold.
Not long after this, my Father sent for me to come to him at
London
about some Business; which, when I came there, I understood was, to joyn with him in the Sale of his Estate: Which the Purchaser required for his own Satisfaction and Safety; I being then the next Heir to it in Law. And although I might probably have made some Advantageous Terms for my self by standing off; yet when I was satisfied by
date
1664
Counsel, that there was no Entail upon it, or Right of Reversion to me; but that he might
awfully dispose of it, as he pleased; I readily
yned with him in the Sale, without asking,
r having the least Gratuity, or Compensation;
o, not so much as the Fee I had given to Coun
l, to secure me from any Danger in doing it.
date
1665
There having been, some time before this, a
ery severe Law made against the
Quakers
by Name; and more particularly, Prohibiting our Meetings under the sharpest Penalties, of
Five
ounds
for the first Offence so called,
Ten Pounds
r the Second, and
Banishment
for the Third;
nder pain of
Felony
for Escaping, or Returning without
License.
Which Law, was looked up
n to have been procured by the
Bishops,
in or
er to bring us to a Conformity to their way of
Worship:
I wrote a few Lines in way of
Dialogue
etween a
Bishop
and a
Quaker,
which I called,
CONFORMITY
Prest and Represt.
B.
WHAT! You are one of them that do deny
To yield Obedience by Conformity.
Q.
Nay: We desire Conformable to be.
B.
But unto what? Q.
The Image of the Son.
Rom.
8. 19.
B.
What's that to us! We'll have Conformity
Unto our Form. Q.
Then we shall ne'er have done.
date
1665
For, if your fickle Minds should alter, w
Should be to seek a New Conformity.
Thus who to Day Conform to
Prelacy,
To Morrow may Conform to
Popery.
But take this for an Answer,
Bishop,
we
Cannot Conform either to Them, or Thee
For while to
Truth
your Forms are opposite,
Whoe'er Conforms thereto doth not aright
B.
We'll make such Knaves as you Conform, or lie
Confin'd in Prisons till ye Rot, and Die.
Q.
Well, gentle
Bishop,
I may live to see,
For all thy Threats, a Check to Cruelty;
And thee, Rewarded, with thy envious Crew,
According as unto your Works is due:
But, in the mean time, I, for my Defence,
Betake me to my Fortress, PATIENCE:
No sooner was this Cruel Law made, but it was put in Execution with great Severity. The sense whereof, working strongly on my Spirit, made me Cry earnestly to the Lord; that he would Arise, and set up his Righteous Judgment in the Earth, for the Deliverance of his People from all their Enemies, both Inward and Outward: And in these Terms I uttered it
date
1665
AWake, awake, O Arm o'th' Lord awake;
Thy Sword up take:
Cast what would thine forgetful of thee make,
Into the Lake.
Awake, I Pray, O mighty
Jah,
awake;
Make all the World before thy Presence quake:
Not only Earth, but Heaven also shake.
Arise, arise, O
Jacob
's God, arise;
And hear the Cries
Of ev'ry Soul, which in Distress now lies,
And to thee Flies.
Arise, I Pray, O
Israel
's Hope arise;
Set free thy Seed, Opprest by Enemies.
Why should they over it still Tyrannize!
Make Speed, make Speed, O
Israel
's Help, make Speed;
In time of Need:
For Evil Men have Wickedly decreed
Against thy Seed.
Make Speed, I Pray, O mighty God, make Speed;
Let all thy
Lambs
from Savage
Wolves
be freed,
That fearless on thy Mountain they may Feed.
Ride on, Ride on, thou Valiant Man of Might,
And put to Flight
date
1665
Those Sons of
Belial,
who do Despight
To the Upright.
Ride on, I say, Thou Champion; and Smitc
Thine and thy Peoples En'mies with such Might,
That none may dare 'gainst thee, or thine, to Fight.
Although the Storm, raised by the Act fo
Banishment,
fell with the greatest Weight an
Force upon some other Parts (as at
London
Hertford,
&c.) Yet we were not, in
Buckinghamshire,
wholly exempted therefrom, for a part of that Shower reached us also.
For a
Friend
of
Amersham
(whose Name was
Edward Perot,
or
Parret
) departing this Life and Notice being given, that his Body would be Buried there on such a Day (which was the First Day of the Fifth Month, 1665.) the
Friends
of the adjacent parts of the Country resorted pretty generally to the Burial: So that there was a fair Appearance of
Friends
and
Neighbours,
the Deceased having been well beloved by both.
After we had spent some time together in the House (
Morgan Watkins,
who at that time happen'd to be at
Isaac Penington
's, being with us) the Body was taken up, and born on
Friends
Shoulders along the Street, in order to be Carried to the Burying-Ground; which was at the
date
1665
Towns End: being part of an
Orchard
belong
ng to the Deceased; which he in his Life time,
ad appointed for that Service.
It so happened, that one
Ambrose Benett,
a
arister
at Law, and a
Justice
of the Peace for
hat County, Riding through the Town that Morning in his way to
Alesbury,
was by some
-disposed Person or other, Informed, that
here was a
Quaker
to be Buried there that Day;
nd that most of the
Quakers
in the Country were come thither to the Burial.
Upon this he set up his Horses, and staid;
nd when we (not knowing any thing of his Design against us) went Innocently forward, to
erform our Christian Duty, for the Interrment
f our
Friend,
He rushed out of his Inn upon
s, with the Constables, and a Rabble of Rude
ellows, whom he had gathered together; and
aving his drawn Sword in his Hand, Struck
ne of the Foremost of the Bearers with it, Commanding them to set down the Coffin. But the
Friend
who was so stricken (whose Name was
Thomas Dell
) being more concerned
or the safety of the Dead Body, than his own,
est it should fall from his Shoulder, and any In
ecency thereupon follow; held the Coffin fast: Which the
Justice
observing, and being enraged
at his Word (how unjust soever) was not
rthwith Obeyed, set his Hand to the Coffin,
d with a forcible Thrust threw it off from the
earers Shoulders, so that it fell to the Ground
the midst of the Street, and there we were
rced to leave it.
date
1665
For immediately thereupon, the
Justice
giving Command for the Apprehending us, the Constables with the Rabble fell on us, and drew some, and drove others into the Inn; giving thereby an Opportunity to the rest to walk away.
Of those that were thus taken, I was one And being, with many more, put into a Room under a Guard; we were kept there till another Justice (called Sir
Thomas Clayton,
whom Justice
Benett
had sent for to joyn with him in Committing us) was come. And then, being called forth severally before them, they picked out Ten of us, and Committed us to
Alesbury
Goal, for what neither we nor they knew: For we were not Convicted of having either done or said any thing, which the Law could take hold of: For they took us up in the open Street (the King's High-way) not doing any Unlawful Act; but peaceably Carrying and Accompanying the Corps of our Deceased
Friend,
to Bury it. Which they would not suffer us to do; but caused the Body to lie in the open Street, and in the Cart-way; so that all the Travellers that passed by (whether
Horse-Men, Coaches, Carts,
or
Waggons
) were fain to break out of the Way, to go by it, that they might not drive over it, until it was almost Night. And then, having caused a Grave to be made in the
Unconsecrated
part (as it is accounted) of that which is called the
Church-Yard,
they forcibly took the Body from the Widow (whose Right and Property it was) and Buried it there.
date
1665
When the
Justices
had delivered us Prisoners to the
Constable,
it being then late in the Day, which was the Seventh Day of the Week; He (not willing to go so far as
Alesbury
(Nine long Miles) with us that Night, nor to put the Town to the Charge of keeping us there that Night, and the first Day and Night following) Dismist us upon our
Parole
to come to him again
t a set Hour on the Second Day Morning: Whereupon we all went home to our respective Habitations; and coming to him punctually
ccording to Promise, were by him (without Guard) Conducted to the Prison.
The Goaler (whose Name was
Nathaniel
irch
) had not long before behaved himself ve
y Wickedly, with great Rudeness and Cruel
y, to some of our
Friends
of the lower side of
he County; whom he (Combining with the Clerk of the Peace, whose Name was
Henry Wells
) had contrived to get into his Goal, and
fter they were legally Discharged in Court,
etained them in Prison, using great Violence,
nd shutting them up close in the Common Goal
mong the Felons, because they would not give
im his Unrighteous Demand of
Fees;
which
hey were the more straightned in, from his Treacherous Dealing with them. And they
aving, through Suffering, maintained their
reedom, and obtained their Liberty. We were the more concerned to keep, what they
ad so hardly gained; and therefore resolved
ot to make any Contract or Terms for either
date
1665
Chamber-Rent
or
Fees,
but to Demand a
Fre
Prison; which we did.
When we came in, the Goaler was Ridde
out, to Wait on the Judges (who came in tha
Day to begin the Assize;) and his Wife wa
somewhat at a Loss how to deal with us: Bu
being a cunning Woman, she treated us wit
great Appearance of Courtesy, offering us th
Choice of all her Rooms; and when we asked
upon what Terms, she still refer'd us to he
Husband, telling us, she did not doubt but tha
he would be very Reasonable, and Civil to u
Thus she endeavoured to have drawn us to tak
Possession of some of lier Chambers at a venture, and trust to her Husbands kind Usag
But we, who at the Cost of our
Friends,
had
Proof of his Kindness, were too wary to b
drawn in by the fair Words of a Woman: an
therefore told her, we would not settle an
where till her Husband came Home; and the
would have a Free Prison, wheresoever he put u
Accordingly, Walking all together into th
Court of the Prison, in which was a Well o
very good Water; and having before hand sen
to a
Friend
in the Town (a Widow Woma
whose Name was
Sarah Lambarn
) to bring u
some
Bread
and
Cheese,
we sate down upon th
Ground, round about the Well; and when w
had Eaten, we Drank of the Water out of th
Well.
Our great Concern was for our Friend
Isa
Penington,
because of the Tenderness of h
date
1665
Constitution: But he was so lively in his Spirit,
nd so cheerfully given up to Suffer, that he ra
her encouraged us, than needed any Encou
agement from us.
In this Posture the Goaler, when he came
me, found us; and having before he came to
, consulted his Wife, and by her understood
what Terms we stood: When he came to
, he hid his Teeth, and putting on a shew of
indness, seemed much troubled that we should
there abroad, especially his old Friend, Mr.
enington;
and thereupon invited us to come in,
d take what Rooms in his House we pleased;
e asked, upon what Terms; letting him know
ithal, that we determined to have a Free Prison. He, like the
Sun
and
Wind
in the
Fable,
that ove which of them should take from the Tra
ler his
Cloak;
having (like the
Wind
) tried
gh, boisterous, violent Means to our
Friends
fore, but in vain: resolved now to imitate
e
Sun,
and shine as pleasantly as he could up
us. Wherefore he told us, we should
make
Terms our selves, and be as free as we desired:
we thought fit, when we were Released to give
any thing, he would thank us for it; and if
, he would Demand nothing.
Upon these Terms we went in, and disposed
r selves; some in the
Dwelling-House,
others
the
Malt-House,
where they chose to be.
During the Assize, we were brought before
dge
Morton
(a Sowre Angry Man) who very
ely Reviled us, but would not hear either us
date
1665
or the Cause; but referred the matter to t
Two Justices who had Committed us.
They, when the Assize was ended, sent for
to be brought before them at their Inn; and Fi
ed us (as I remember)
Six Shillings Eight Pen
a piece; which we not consenting to Pay, th
Committed us to Prison again for one Mon
from that time, on the Act for
Banishment.
When we had lain there that Month, I (wi
another) went to the Goaler, to Demand o
Liberty: Which he readily granted; telling
The Door should be opened, when we pleased to go.
This Answer of his I reported to the rest
my
Friends
there, and thereupon we raised
mong us a small Sum of Money, which th
put into my Hand, for the Goaler: Whereup
I (taking another with me) went to the Goa
with the Money in my Hand; and remindi
him of the Terms upon which we accepted t
use of his Rooms, I told him, That althou
we could not pay
Chamber-Rent
or
Fees:
Yet
asmuch as he had now been Civil to us,
were willing to acknowledge it by a small T
ken; and thereupon gave him the Money.
putting it into his Pocket, said,
I thank you
your Friends for it: and to let you see I take it
Gift, not a Debt, I will not look on it, to see
much it is.
The Prison Door being then set open for
we went out, and departed to our respecti
Homes.
But before I left the Prison, considering
Day with my self the different Kinds of Lib
date
1665
and Confinement, Freedom and Bondage,
ook my Pen, and wrote the following
Aenig
,
or
Riddle.
LOE here a Riddle to the Wise,
In which a Mystery there lies:
Read it therefore with that Eye,
Which can discern a Mystery.
The RIDDLE.
ome Men are Free, while they in Prison Lie:
thers, who ne'r saw Prison, Captives Die.
CAUTION.
He that can receive it, may;
He that cannot, Let him stay:
And not be hasty, but suspend
His Judgment, till he sees the End.
SOLUTION.
He only's free indeed, that's free from Sin:
And he is fastest bound, that's bound therein.
CONCLUSION.
This is the Liberty I chiefly Prize:
The other, without this, I can despise.
date
1665
Some little time before I went to
Alesbur
Prison, I was desired by my quondam Maste
Milton
to take an House for him, in the Neig
bourhood where I dwelt, that he might go ou
of the City, for the Safety of himself and hi
Family, the
Pestilence
then growing hot in
Lo
don.
I took a pretty Box for him in
Giles-Cha
font,
a Mile from me; of which I gave hi
notice: and intended to have waited on hi
and seen him well settled in it; but was pr
vented by that Imprisonment.
But now being released, and returned Hom
I soon made a Visit to him, to welcome him i
to the Country.
After some common Discourses had passed between us, he called for a Manuscript of his
which being brought he delivered to me, bi
ding me take it home with me, and read it a
my Leisure. and when I had so done, return i
to him, with my Judgment thereupon.
When I came home, and had set my self t
read it, I found it was that Excellent POEM
which he entituled
PARADISE LOST
After I had, with the best Attention, read i
through, I made him another Visit, and returned him his Book, with due Acknowledgement of the Favour he had done me, in Communicating it to me. He asked me how I liked it, and what I thought of it; which I modestly but freely told him: and after some further Discourse about it, I pleasantly said to him, Thou hast said much here of
Paradise Lost;
but what hast thou to say of
Paradise Found?
He made
date
1665
me no Answer, but sate some time in a Muse:
hen brake off that Discourse, and fell upon a
other Subject.
After the Sickness was over, and the City well cleansed and become safely habitable again,
e returned thither. And when afterwards I went to wait on him there (which I seldom fail
d of doing, whenever my Occasions drew me
o
London
) he shewed me his Second POEM,
alled
PARADISE REGAINED;
nd in a pleasant Tone said to me,
This is owing
o you: for you put it into my Head, by the Question
ou put to me at
Chalfont;
which before I had not
hought of.
But from this Digression I return
o the Family I then lived in.
We had not been long at home (about a Month, perhaps) before
Isaac Penington
was taken out of his House in an Arbitrary manner; by Military Force, and carried Prisoner to
Ales
ury
Goal again: where he lay Three Quarters of a Year, with great Hazard of his Life; it being the
Sickness
Year; and the Plague being not only in the Town, but in the Goal.
Mean while his Wife and Family were turned out of his House (called the
Grange
at
Peter's-Chalfont
) by them who had seized upon his Estate. And the Family being by that means broken up, some went one way, others another.
Mary Penington
her self (with her younger Children) went down to her Husband at
Alesbury. Guli
(with her Maid) went to
Bristol,
to see her former Maid
(Anne Hersent)
who was Married to a Merchant of that City,
date
1665
whose Name was
Thomas Biss,
I went to
Alesbury,
with the Children; but not finding the Place agreeable to my Health, I soon left it, and returning to
Chalfont,
took a Lodging, and was dieted in the House of a Friendly Man; and after some time, went to
Bristol,
to Conduct
Guli
home.
Mean while
Mary Penington
took Lodgings in a Farm-House (called
Bottrels
) in the Parish of
Giles-Chalfont;
where, when we returned from
Bristol,
we found her.
We had been there but a very little time, before I was sent to Prison again, upon this Occasion. There was, in those times, a Meeting once a Month, at the House of
George Salter
a Friend of
Hedgerly;
to which we sometimes went: and
Morgan Watkins
being with us, He and I, with
Guli
and her Maid, and one
Judith Parker
(Wife of Dr.
Parker,
one of the Colledge of
Physicians
at
London
) with a Maiden Daughter of theirs (neither of whom were
Quakers,
but as Acquaintance of
Mary Penington
were with her on a Visit) walked over to that Meeting, it being about the Middle of the First Month, and the Weather good.
This Place was about a Mile from the House of
Ambrose Benett,
the Justice, who the Summer before had sent me and some other Friends to
Alesbury
Prison, from the Burial of
Edward Parret
of
Amersham:
And he (by what Means I know not) getting Notice, not only of the Meeting, but (as was supposed) of our being there, came himself to it: and as he came,
date
1665
atched up a Stackwood-stick, big enough to
ave knock't any Man down, and brought it with him, hidden under his Cloak.
Being come to the House, he stood for a while without the Door, and out of Sight; listning
o hear what was said: for
Morgan
was then speaking in the Meeting. But certainly he heard very imperfectly, if it was true which we heard he said afterwards among his Companions, as an Argument, that
Morgan
was a
Jesuit,
viz.
That in his Preaching he trolled over his
Latin
as fluently as ever he heard any one:
whereas
Morgan
(good Man!) was better Versed in
Welch,
than in
Latin;
which, I suppose, he had never learned, I am sure he did not understand it.
When this Martial Justice (who at
Amersham
had with his drawn Sword struck an unarmed Man, who he knew would not strike again) had now stood some time abroad, on a suddain he rushed in among us, with the Stackwood-stick held up in his Hand, ready to strike; crying out,
Make way there:
and an Ancient Woman not getting soon enough out of his way, he struck her with the Stick, a shrewd Blow over the Breast. Then pressing through the Croud to the place where
Morgan
stood, he plucked him from thence; and caused so great a Disorder in the Room, that it brake the Meeting up: yet would not the People go away, or disperse themselves; but tarried to see what the Issue would be.
date
1665
Then taking Pen and Paper, he sate down at the Table among us; and asked several of us our Names, which we gave and he set down in Writing.
Amongst others he asked
Judith Parker
(the Doctor's Wife) what her Name was; which she readily gave: and thence taking Occasion to discourse him, she so over-mastered him by clear Reason, delivered in fine Language; that he, glad to be rid of her, struck out her Name, and Dismist her; yet did not she remove, but kept her place amongst us.
When he had taken what Number of Names he thought fit, he singled out half a Dozen; whereof
Morgan
was one, I another, One Man more, and three Women: of which the Woman of the House was one, although her Husband then was (and for divers Years before had been) a Prisoner in the
Fleet
for Tythes, and had no body to take care of his Family and Business, but her his Wife.
Us six he committed to
Alesbury
Goal. Which when the Doctor's Wife heard him read to the Constable, she attacked him again; and having put him in Mind that it was a sickly Time, and that the
Pestilence
was reported to be in that Place; she, in handsome Terms, desired him to Consider in time,
how he would Answer the Cry of our Blood, if by his sending us to be shut up in an Infected Place, we should lose our Lives there.
This made him alter his Purpose, and by a new
Mittimus
sent us to the
House of Correction
at
Wiccomb.
And although he committed us upon
date
1665
the Act for
Banishment,
which limited a certain time for Imprisonment: yet he, in his
Mittimus,
imitted no time, but ordered us to be kept till we should be delivered by due Course of LAW; so little regardful was he, though a Lawyer, of keeping to the Letter of the LAW.
date
1666
We were committed on the Thirteenth Day of the Month called
March,
1665. and were kept close Prisoners there till the Seventh Day of the Month called
June,
1666; which was some Days above Twelve Weeks: and much above what the Act required.
Then were we sent for to the Justices House, and the rest being Released,
Morgan Watkins
and I were required to find Sureties, for our Appearance at the next
Assize;
which we refusing to do, were committed a-new to our old Prison (the
House of Correction
at
Wiccomb
) there to lie until the next
Assizes: Morgan
being, in this second
Mittimus,
represented as a
Notorious Offender in Preaching;
and I, as being upon the
second Conviction, in order to Banishment.
There we ay, till the Five and Twentieth Day of the same Month; and then, by the Favour of the Earl of
Ancram,
being brought before him at his House, we were discharged from the Prison, upon our Promise to appear (if at Liberty and in Health) at the
Assizes.
Which we did, and were there discharged by Proclamation.
During my Imprisonment in this Prison, I betook my self, for an Imployment, to making of Nets for Kitchin-Service, to boil Herbs,
&c.
in; which Trade I learned of
Morgan Watkins,
date
1666
and Selling some, and Giving others, I pretty well stocked the Friends of that Country with them.
Though in that Confinement I was not very well suited with Company for Conversation;
Morgan
's natural Temper not being very agreeable to mine: yet we kept a fair and Brotherly Correspondence, as became Friends, Prison-fellows and Bed-fellows; which we were. And indeed, it was a good Time, I think to us all; for I found it so to me; the Lord being graciously pleased to visit my Soul with the refreshing Dews of his divine Life, whereby my Spirit was more and more quickned to him, and Truth gained ground in me over the Temptations and Snares of the Enemy. Which frequently raised in my Heart Thanksgivings and Praises unto the LORD. And at one time more especially, the Sense I had of the Prosperity of Truth, and the spreading thereof, filling my Heart with abundant Joy, made my Cup overflow, and the following Lines drop out.
For
Truth
I suffer Bonds, in
Truth
I live;
And unto Truth this Testimony give;
That
TRUTH shall over all Exalted be,
And in Dominion Reign for evermore:
The Child's already born, that this may see;
Honour, Praise, Glory be to God therefore.
date
1666
And underneath thus,
Tho' Death and Hell should against
Truth
combine,
It's Glory shall through all their Darkness shine.
This I saw with an Eye of Faith, beyond the reach of Humane Sense. For.
As strong Desire
Draws Objects nigher
In Apprehension, than indeed they are:
I, with an Eye
That pierced high,
Did thus of
Truth
's Prosperity declare.
After we had been discharged at the
Assizes,
I returned to
Isaac Penington
's Family at
Bottrel
's in
Chalfont;
and (as I remember)
Morgan Watkins
with me: leaving
Isaac Penington
a Prisoner in
Alesbury
Goal.
The Lodgings we had in this Farm-House (
Bottrel
's) proving too strait and inconvenient for the Family, I took larger and better Lodgings for them in
Berrie-House
at
Amersham;
whither we went at the time called
Michaelmas,
having spent the Summer at the other Place.
date
1667
Some time after, was that memorable Meeting appointed to be holden at
London,
through a divine Opening, in the Motion of Life, in that eminent Servant and Prophet of God,
date
1667
George Fox;
for the Restoring, and bringing in again those, who had gone out from Truth, and the Holy Unity of Friends therein, by the Means and Ministry of
John Perrot.
This Man came pretty early amongst
Friends,
and too early took upon him the Ministerial Office: and being, though little in Person, yet great in Opinion of himself, nothing less would serve him than to go and Convert the POPE: In order whereunto, he (having a better Man than himself,
John Luff,
to accompany him) travelled to
Rome,
where they had not been long, e're they were taken up, and clap't into Prison;
Luff
(as I remember) was put in the
Inquisition,
and
Perrot
in their
Bedlam,
or Hospital for Madmen.
Luff
died in Prison (not without well-grounded Suspicion of being Murthered there) but
Perrot
lay there some time, and now and then sent over an Epistle to be Printed here, written in such an affected and phantastick Stile, as might have induced an indifferent Reader to believe, they had suited the place of his Confinement to his Condition.
After some time, through the Mediation of Friends (who hoped better of him, than he proved) with some Person of Note and Interest there, he was released, and came back for
England.
And the Report of his great Sufferings there (far greater in Report, than in Reality) joined with a singular Shew of Sanctity, so far opened the Hearts of many tender and compassionate Friends towards him, that it gave
date
1667
im the Advantage of insinuating himself in
o their Affections and Esteem, and made way
or the more ready Propagation of that peculiar Error of his, of
Keeping on the Hat in time of Prayer, as well publick as private, unless they had
immediate Motion at that time to put if off.
Now although I had not the least Acquaint
nce with this Man, not having ever exchanged
Word with him (though I knew him by
ight;) nor had I any Esteem of him for either
is Natural Parts, or Ministerial Gift, but ra
her a Dislike of his Aspect, Preaching and way of Writing; yet this Error of his being
roached in the Time of my Infancy, and Weakness of Judgment as to Truth (while I
ived privately in
London,
and had little Converse with Friends.) I, amongst the many who were catch't in that Snare, was taken with the Notion, as what then seemed, to my weak Understanding, suitable to the Doctrine of a Spiritual Dispensation. And the Matter com
ng to warm Debates, both in Words and Wri
ing, I, in a misguided Zeal, was ready to have entred the Lists of Contention about it: not then seeing what Spirit it proceeded from, and was managed by; nor forseeing the Disorder and Confusion in Worship, which must naturally attend it.
But as I had no evil Intention, or sinister End in engaging in it; but was simply betrayed by the specious Pretence and Shew of greater Spirituality: the Lord, in tender Compassion to my Soul, was graciously pleased to open my
date
1667
Understanding, and give me a clear Sight of the Enemies Design in this Work, and drew me off from the Practice of it, and to bear Testimony against it, as Occasion offered.
But when that solemn Meeting was appointed at
London,
for a Travel in Spirit on behalf of those who had thus gone out, that they might rightly return, and be sensibly received into the Unity of the Body again. My Spirit rejoyced, and with Gladness of Heart I went to it: as did many more of both City and Country; and with great Simplicity, and Humility of Mind, did honestly and openly Acknowledge our Outgoing, and take Condemnation and Shame to our selves. And some that lived at too remote a Distance, in this Nation as well as beyond the Seas, upon Notice given of that Meeting, and the intended Service of it
did the like by Writing, in Letters directed to and openly read in the Meeting, which for that Purpose was continued many Days.
Thus, in the Motion of Life, were the healing Waters stirred; and many through the Virtuous Power thereof, restored to Soundness
and indeed not many lost. And though most of these, who thus returned, were such as with my self, had before renounced the Error
and forsaken the Practice: yet did we sensibly find, that Forsaking without Confessing (in Case of publick Scandal) was not sufficient
but that an open Acknowledgment (of ope
Offences) as well as Forsaking them, was necessary to the obtaining compleat Remission.
date
1667
Not long after this,
G. F.
was moved of the Lord to Travel through the Countries, from County to County, to Advise and Encourage Friends to set up
Monthly
and
Quarterly Meetings,
for the better ordering the Affairs of the Church, in taking Care of the Poor, and Exercising a true Gospel-Discipline, for a due Dealing with any that might walk disorderly under our Name, and to see that such as should Marry among us, did act fairly and clearly in
hat respect.
date
6618
When he came into this County, I was one
f the many Friends that were with him, at
he Meeting for that Purpose. And afterwards
travelled with
Guli
and her Maid, into the West of
England
to meet him there, and to visit Friends in those Parts: and we went as
ar as
Topsham
in
Devonshire,
before we found
im. He had been in
Cornwall,
and was then
eturning: and came in unexpectedly at
Top
ham,
where we then were providing (if he
ad not then come thither) to have gone that Day towards
Cornwall.
But after he was come
o us, we turned back with him through
De
onshire, Somersetshire
and
Dorsetshire;
having
enerally very good Meetings where he was:
nd the Work, he was chiefly concerned in, went on very prosperously and well, without
y Opposition or Dislike: save that in the General Meeting of Friends in
Dorsetshire,
a
uarrelsom Man, who had gone out from
riends in
John Perrot
's Business, and had not
ome rightly in again (but continued in the
date
1668
Practice of keeping on his Hat in time of Prayer, to the great Trouble and Offence of Friends) began to Cavil, and raise Disputes, which occasioned some Interruption and Disturbance.
Not only
George,
and
Alexander Parker
(who was with him) but divers of the Ancient Friends of that Country, endeavoured to quiet that troublesom Man, and make him sensible of his Error: but his unruly Spirit would still be Opposing what was said unto him, and justifying himself in that Practice. This brought a great Weight and Exercise upon me (who sate at a Distance in the outward Part of the Meeting:) and after I had for some time bore the Burthen thereof, I stood up in the constraining Power of the LORD, and in great Tenderness of Spirit, declared unto the Meeting, and to that Person more particularly, how it had been with me in that respect; how I had been betrayed into that wrong Practice, how strong I had been therein, and how the Lord had been graciously pleased to shew me the Evil thereof, and recover me out of it.
This coming unexpectedly from me, a young Man, a Stranger, and one who had not intermedled with the Business of the Meeting, had that Effect upon the Caviller, that if it did not satisfie him, it did at least silence him, and made him for the Present sink down and be still, without giving any further Disturbance to the Meeting. And the Friends were well pleased with this unlooked for Testimony from me;
date
1668
and I was glad that I had that Opportunity to Confess to the Truth, and to Acknowledge once more, in so publick a manner, the Mercy and Goodness of the Lord to me therein.
date
1669
By the time we came back from this Journey, the Summer was pretty far gone, and the following Winter I spent with the Children of the Family as before, without any remarkable Alteration in my Circumstances, until the next Spring: when I found in my self a Disposition of Mind, to change my Single Life for a Married State.
I had always entertained so high a Regard for Marriage, as it was a Divine Institution, that I held it not lawful to make it a sort of political Trade to rise in the World by. And therefore as I could not but, in my Judgment, blame such, as I found made it their Business to Hunt after, and endeavour to gain those who were accounted great
Fortunes;
not so much regarding
What she is,
as
what she has,
but making Wealth the chief, if not the only thing they Aimed at: so I resolved to avoid, in my own Practice, that Course; and how much soever my Condition might have prompted me (as well as others) to seek Advantage that way, never to engage on the Account of
Riches,
nor at all to Marry, till judicious Affection drew me to it, which I now began to feel at Work in my Breast.
The Object of this Affection was a Friend (whose Name was
Mary Ellis
) whom for divers Years I had had an Acquaintance with, in the
date
1669
way of common Friendship only; and in whom I thought I then saw those fair Prints of Truth and solid Virtue, which I afterwards found in a sublime Degree, in her: but what her Condition in the World was, as to Estate, I was wholly a Stranger to, nor desired to know.
I had once, a Year or two before, had an Opportunity to do her a small Piece of Service, which she wanted some Assistance in: wherein I acted with all Sincerity, and Freedom of Mind, not expecting, or desiring any Advantage by her, or Reward from her; being very well satisfied in the Act it self, that I had served a Friend, and helped the Helpless.
That little Intercourse of common Kindness between us Ended, without the least Though (I am verily perswaded, on her Part; well-assured on my own) of any other or further Relation, than that of free and fair Friendship Nor did it, at that time, lead us into any close Conversation, or more intimate Acquaintan
one with the other, than had been before.
But some time (and that a good while) a
ter, I found my Heart secretly drawn, and inclining towards her: Yet was I not hasty i
proposing; but waited to feel a satisfactory Settlement of Mind therein, before I made an
step thereto.
After some time, I took an Opportunity
open my Mind therein unto my much honou
ed Friends,
Isaac
and
Mary Penington,
who th
stood
Parentum loco,
in the Place or Stead
Parents to me. They having solemnly weig
d
date
1669
the Matter, exprest their Unity therewith:
nd indeed their Approbation thereof was no
mall Confirmation to me therein. Yet took I
urther Deliberation, often retiring in Spirit to
he Lord, and Crying to him for Direction,
efore I addrest my self to her. At length,
s I was sitting all alone, waiting upon the
ord for Counsel and Guidance in this (in it
lf, and) to me so important Affair. I felt
Word sweetly rise in me, as if I had heard
Voice, which said,
Go, and Prevail.
And
ith springing in my Heart with the Word,
immediately arose and went; nothing doubt
g.
When I was come to her Lodgings (which
ere about a Mile from me) her Maid told
e she was in her Chamber (for having been
der some Indisposition of Body, which had
liged her to keep her Chamber, she had not
t left it.) Wherefore I desired the Maid to
quaint her Mistress, that I was come to give
r a Visit: Whereupon I was invited to go
to her. And after some little time spent in
mmon Conversation, feeling my Spirit weigh
y concerned, I solemnly opened my Mind un
her, with respect to the particular Business
ame about; which I soon perceived was a
eat Surprisal to her for she had taken in an
pprehension (as others also had done) that
ine Eye had been fixed elsewhere, and nearer
ome.
I used not many Words to her: but I felt
Divine Power went along with the Words,
date
1669
and fixed the Matter expressed by them so fast in her Breast, that (as she afterwards acknowledged to me) she could not shut it out.
I made, at that time, but a short Visit. For having told her, I did not expect an Answer from her now; but desired she would, in the most solemn Manner, weigh the Proposal made, and in due time give me such an Answer thereunto, as the Lord should give her: I took my leave of her, and departed; leaving the Issue to the Lord.
I had a Journey then at hand, which I foresaw would take me up about two Weeks time. Wherefore, the Day before I was to set out, I went to visit her again; to acquaint her with my Journey, and excuse my Absence: not yet pressing her for an Answer; but assuring her, that I felt in my self an Increase of Affection to her, and hoped to receive a suitable Return from her in the Lord's time; to whom, in the mean time, I committed both her, my self and the Concern between us. And indeed, I found at my Return, that I could not have left it in a better Hand: for the Lord had been my Advocate in my Absence, and had so far answered all her Objections, that, when I came to her again, she rather acquainted me with them, than urged them.
From that time forwards we Entertained each other with Affectionate Kindness in order to Marriage; which yet we did not hasten to, but went on deliberately. Neither did I use those vulgar ways of Courtship, by making
date
1669
requent and rich Presents: Not only for that my Outward Condition would not comport with the Expence: But because I liked not to
btain by such Means; but preferred an un
ribed Affection.
While this Affair stood thus with me, I had
ccasion to take another Journey into
Kent
and
ussex:
Which yet I would not mention here,
ut for a particular Accident, which befel me
n the Way.
The Occasion of this Journey was this.
Mary Penington
's Daughter
Guli
intending to go to
er Uncle
Springett
's in
Sussex,
and from thence
mongst her Tenants; her Mother desired me
o accompany her, and assist her in her Busi
ess with her
Tenants.
We tarried at
London
the first Night, and
et out next Morning on the
Tunbridge
-Road;
nd
Seven-Oak
lying in our way, we put in here to Bait: But truly, we had much ado to get either Provisions or Room for our selves, or our Horses; the House was so filled with Guests, and those not of the better Sort. For the Duke of
York
being (as we were told) on the Road that Day for the
Wells,
divers of his
Guards,
and the meaner sort of his
Retinue,
had near filled all the
Inns
there.
I left
John Gigger
(who waited on
Guli
in this Journey, and was afterwards her menial Servant) to take Care for the Horses, while I did the like, as well as I could for her. I got a little Room to put her into, and having shut her into it, went to see what Relief the
Kitchin
date
1669
would afford us: and with much ado, by Praying hard, and Paying dear, I got a smal
Joint of Meat from the Spit; which served rather to stay, than satisfie our Stomachs; for w
were all pretty sharp set.
After this short Repast, being weary of ou
Quarters, we quickly Mounted, and took th
Road again; willing to hasten from a Place, where we found nothing but Rudeness: fo
the
Roysters,
who at that time swarmed there, besides the Damning Oaths they belched out a
one another, looked very sowerly on us, as i
they grudged us both the Horses we rode, and the Cloaths we wore.
A Knot of these soon followed us, designing (as we afterwards found) to put an Abuse upon us, and make themselves Sport with us. We had a spot of fine, smooth, sandy Way, whereon the Horses trod so softly that we heard them not, till one of them was upon us. I was then riding a Breast with
Guli,
and discoursing with her; when on a suddain hearing a little Noise, and turning mine Eye that way, I saw an Horseman coming up on the further Side of her Horse, having his left Arm stretched out, just ready to take her about the Waste, and pluck her off backwards from her own Horse, to lay her before him upon his. I had but just time to thrust forth my Stick, between him and her, and bid him stand off: and at the same time reigning my Horse, to let hers go before me, thrust in between her and him and being better Mounted than he, my Horse
date
1669
run him off. But his Horse being (tho' weaker than mine, yet) Nimble, he slipt by me, and got up to her on the near Side; endeavouring to offer Abuse to her: To prevent which, I thrust in upon him again, and in our Jostling, we drove her Horse quite out of the Way, and almost into the next Hedge.
While we were thus Contending, I heard a Noise of loud Laughter behind us; and turning my Head that way, I saw three or four Horse-men more, who could scarce sit their Horses for Laughing, to see the Sport their Companion made with us. From thence I saw it was a Plot laid; and that this rude Fel
ow was not to be dallied with: Wherefore I bestirr'd my self the more to keep him off; Admonishing him to take Warning in time, and give over his Abusiveness, lest he Repented too late. He had in his Hand a short thick Truncheon, which he held up at me; on which laying hold with a strong Gripe, I suddainly wrenched it out of his Hand, and threw it at as far a Distance behind me, as I could.
While he rode back to fetch his Truncheon, I called up honest
John Gigger;
who was indeed a right honest Man, and of a Temper so throughly Peaceable, that he had not hitherto put in at all. But now I rouzed him, and bid him ride so close up to his Mistress's Horse, on the further Side, that no Horse might thrust in between; and I would endeavour to Guard the near Side. But he, good Man, not thinking it,
date
1669
perhaps, decent enough for him to Ride so nea
his Mistress, left room enough for another t
Ride between. And indeed, so soon as ou
Brute had recovered his Truncheon, he cam
up directly thither; and had thrust in again
had not I, by a nimble turn, chopt in upon him
and kept him at a Bay.
I then told him, I had hitherto spared him
but wish'd him not to Provoke me further. This I spake with such a Tone, as bespake an high Resentment of the Abuse put upon us and withal pressed so close upon him with my Horse, that I suffered him not to come up any more to
Guli.
This his Companions (who kept an equal distance behind us) both heard and saw; and thereupon Two of them advancing, came up to us. I then thought I might likely have my Hands full; but Providence turn'd it otherwise. For they, seeing the Contest rise so high, and probably fearing it would rise higher, not knowing where it might stop, came in to part us: Which they did, by taking him away; one of them leading his Horse by the Bridle, and the other driving him on with his Whip, and so carried him off.
One of their Campany staid yet behind. And it so happening, that a great Shower just then fell, we betook our selves, for shelter, to a thick and well-spread
Oak,
which stood hard by. Thither also came that other Person (who wore the
Duke
's Livery) and while we put on our defensive Garments against the Weather, which
date
1669
en set in to be wet, he took the opportunity
discourse with me about the Man that had
een so Rude to us; endeavouring to Excuse
m, by alledging that
he had drunk a little too
iberally.
I let him know, that one Vice would
ot Excuse another; That although but one of
em was actually concern'd in the Abuse, yet
oth He, and the rest of them, were Abettors
f it, and Accessaries to it; that I was not Ig
orant whose Livery they wore, and was well
ssured, their Lord would not maintain them in
ommitting such Outrages upon Travellers on
he Road, to our Injury, and his Dishonour; That I understood the
Duke
was coming down;
nd that they might expect to be called to an Account for this rude Action.
He then begg'd hard that we would pass by the Offence, and make no Complaint to their Lord: for he knew, he said,
the
Duke
would be very severe; and it would be the utter Ruin of the Young Man.
When he had said what he could, he went off before us, without any ground given him to expect Favour: And when we had fitted our selves for the Weather, we followed after, our own Pace.
When we came to
Tunbridge,
I set
John Gigger
foremost, bidding him lead on briskly, through the Town; and placing
Guli
in the middle, I came close up after her, that I might both Observe, and Interpose, if any fresh abuse should have been offered her. We were expected, I perceived: for, though it Rained very hard, the Street was thronged with Men; who
date
1669
looked very earnestly on us, but did not put
ny affront upon us.
We had a good way to Ride beyond
Tu
bridge,
and beyond the
Wells,
in By-ways, among the Woods; and were the later, for th
hinderance we had had on the Way. An
when, being come to
Harbert Springett
's Hous
Guli
acquainted her Uncle what Danger an
Trouble she had gone through on the way; h
resented it so high, that he would have had th
Persons been Prosecuted for it. But, since Providence had interposed, and so well Preserved an
Delivered her, she chose to pass by the Offence
When
Guli
had finished the Business she wen
upon, we returned home, and I delivered he
safe to her glad Mother. From that time forward, I continued my Visits to my best beloved Friend, untill we Married; which was on the 28
th
Day of the 8
th
Month (called
October
) in the Year 1669. We took each other in a Select Meeting, of the Ancient and Grave
Friends
of that Country, holden in a
Friend
's House, where, in those times, not only the Monthly Meeting for Business, but the Publick Meeting for Worship was sometimes kept. A very Solemn Meeting it was, and in a weighty frame of Spirit we were; in which we sensibly felt the Lord with us, and Joyning us: the sense whereof remained with us all our Life time; and was of good Service, and very Comfortable to us on all Occasions.
My next Care, after Marriage, was to Secure to my Wife what Monies she had, and
date
1669
ith her self, bestowed upon me. For I held it
ould be an Abominable Crime in me, and sa
ur of the highest Ingratitude, if I (though
t through Negligence) should leave room for
y Father (in case I should be taken away sud
nly) to break in upon her Estate; and de
ive her of any part of that which had been,
d ought to be her own. Wherefore with the
st opportunity (as I remember, the very next
y, and before I knew particularly what she
d) I made my
Will;
and thereby secured to
r whatever I was Possessed of, as well all that
hich she brought either in Monies, or in
oods, as that little which I had before I Mar
ed her: Which indeed was but little, yet
ore, [by all that Little,] than I had ever gi
en her Ground to expect with me.
She had indeed been Advised by some of her
elations, to secure before Marriage, some part,
t least, of what she had, to be at her own
isposal. Which (though perhaps not wholly
ree from some Tincture of Self-Interest in the Proposer) was not, in it self, the worst of Counsel. But the worthyness of her Mind,
nd the sense of the Ground on which she re
eived me, would not suffer her to entertain any
uspicion of me: And this laid on me the greater Obligation, in point of Gratitude, as well as of Justice, to Regard and Secure her; which I did.
I omitted in its proper place (because I would not break in upon the Discourse I was then upon) to insert a few Lines, which I writ as a Congratulation to an Honoured
Friend,
upon
date
1669
his Marriage; and presented him with the ne
Morning, thus.
MY Heart's affected with a weighty Se
Of Yesterdays Proceedings, and fr
thence
Desire arises to CONGRATULATE
My happy
Friend
in his New Married State.
Not in that strain, wherewith some use to Cl
Mens Ears with tedious Peals of giving Joy.
But, shunning all Extreams, I chuse to tread
The Middle Path, which doth to
Vertue
lead
This then my Heart desires for thee, my
Frie
Thy
Nuptial
Joys may never here have End.
May
Happiness
with thee take up her Rest:
And sweet
Contentment
always fill thy Breast
May GOD thee bless with numerous Increase
And may thy utmost Off-spring rest in Peace.
Accept this Pledge of Love (tho' but a Pa
Of what is Treasur'd for thee in my Heart)
From him, who herein hath no other End,
Than to declare himself
Thy faithful Friend T. E
Stepney,
9th. 2d.
Month,
1669.
date
1669
I had not been long Married, before I was
licited, by my dear Friends
Isaac
and
Mary
enington,
and her Daughter
Guli,
to take a
ourney into
Kent
and
Sussex,
to Accompt with
eir Tenants, and overlook their Estates in
ose Countries; which, before I was Married,
had had the Care of: and accordingly the
ourney I undertook, though in the depth of Winter.
My Travels into those Parts were the more
ksome to me, from the Solitariness I underwent, and want of suitable Society. For my Business lying among the Tenants, who were a
ustick sort of People, of various Perswasions
nd Humours; but not
Friends:
I had little Op
ortunity of Conversing with
Friends;
though
contrived to be with them, as much as I could,
specially on the First Day of the Week.
But that which made my present Journey more heavy to me, was a sorrowful Exercise, which was newly fallen upon me from my Fa
her, harder to be born, than any I had ever met with before.
He had, upon my first acquainting him with my Inclination to Marry, and to whom, not only very much approved the Match, and vountarily offered, without my either asking or expecting, to give me a hansome Portion at present, with Assurance of an Addition to it hereafter. And he not only made this Offer to me in private; but came down from
London
into the Country on purpose, to be better acquainted with my Friend: and did there make the
date
1669
same Proposal to her; offering also to give Se
rity to any Friend, or Relation of hers, for t
Performance. Which Offer she most generou
declined; leaving him as free as she found hi
But after we were Married, notwithstan
ing such his Promise, he wholly declined t
Performance of it, under Pretence of our n
being Married by the
Priest
and
Liturgy.
Th
Usage, and Evil Treatment of us thereupo
was a great Trouble to me: and when I ende
voured to Soften him in the matter, he forbi
me speaking to him of it any more; and remo
ed his Lodging that I might not find him.
The Grief I conceived on this Occasion, wa
not for any Disappointment to my self, or to m
Wife: for neither she nor I had any strict,
necessary Dependence upon that Promise; bu
my Grief was partly for the Cause assigned b
him, as the Ground of it: which was,
That o
Marriage was not by
Priest
or
Liturgy; and part
for that his lower Circumstances in the World might probably tempt him to find some such though Unwarrantable, Excuse to avoid performing his Promise.
And surely hard would it have been for m
Spirit to have born up under the weight of thi
Exercise, had not the LORD been exceedin
gracious to me, and supported me with the Inflowings of his Love and Life; wherewith h
visited my Soul in my Travel. The Sens
whereof raised in my Heart a thankful Remembrance of his manifold Kindnesses, in his former Dealings with me. And in the Evening
date
1669
hen I came to my Inn, while Supper was get
ng ready, I took my Pen, and put into Words,
hat had in the Day revolved in my Thoughts.
nd thus it was.
A Song of
PRAISE.
THY Love, dear Father, and thy tender Care,
Have in my Heart begot a strong Desire,
celebrate thy Name with Praises rare;
That others too thy Goodness may admire,
And learn to yield to what thou dost require.
ny have been the Tryals of my Mind,
My Exercises great, great my Distress;
ll oft my Ruin hath my Foe design'd:
My Sorrows then my Pen cannot express;
Nor could the best of Men afford Redress.
en thus beset, to thee I lift mine Eye,
And with a mournful Heart my Moan did make:
w oft with Eyes o'erflowing, did I cry,
My God, my God, O do me not forsake!
Regard my Tears! Some Pity on me take!
date
1669
And, to the Glory of thy holy Name,
Eternal God, whom I both Love and Fear,
I hereby do declare, I never came
Before
thy Throne,
and found thee
loath to h
But always
ready,
with an open Ear.
And tho' sometimes thou seem'st
thy Face to h
As one that had
withdrawn thy Love from me
'Tis that my
Faith
may to the full be try'd,
And that I thereby may the better see
How weak I am, when not upheld by thee
For underneath thy holy Arm I feel
Encompassing with
Strength,
as with a
W
That, if the Enemy trip up my Heel,
Thou ready art to save me from a Fall.
To thee belong
Thanksgivings
over all.
And for thy tender Love, my God, my King
My
Heart
shall magnifie thee, all my Days
My
Tongue
of thy Renown shall daily sing:
My
Pen
shall also grateful Trophies raise,
As
Monuments
to thy Eternal Praise.
T.
Kent
11
th Mo.
1669.
date
1669
Having finished my Business in
Kent,
I struck
f into
Sussex;
and finding the Enemy endea
uring still more strongly to beset me: I be
ok my self to the Lord for safety, in whom I
ew all help and Strength was; and thus pour
forth my Supplication, directed
To the Holy ONE.
ETERNAL God, Preserver of all those
(Without respect of Person, or Degree)
ho in thy Faithfulness their Trust repose,
And place their Confidence alone in Thee;
thou my Succour: for thou know'st that I
thy Protection, LORD, alone rely.
rround me, Father, with thy mighty Pow'r;
Support me daily by thine Holy Arm:
eserve me faithful, in the Evil Hour;
Stretch forth
thine Hand,
to save me from all Harm.
e thou my
Helmet, Breastplate, Sword
and
Shield:
nd make my Foes before thy Power yield.
each me the Spirit'al Battel so to fight,
That when the Enemy shall me beset;
rm'd
Cap-a-Pe,
with th' Armour of thy Light,
A perfect Conquest o'er him I may get:
date
1669
And with thy
Battle-Ax
may cleave the
Head
Of him, who bites that part whereon I tread.
Then being from
Domestick
Foes set free,
The
Cruelties
of
Men
I shall not fear;
But in thy Quarrel,
Lord,
undaunted be:
And,
for thy sake,
the Loss of all things bea
Yea, tho' in
Dungeon
lock'd, with Joy will sin
An ODE of
Praise
to thee, my
God,
my
Kin
T. E
Sussex,
11th Mo. 1669.
As soon as I had dispatch't the Business I we
about, I returned home without delay; and
my great Comfort, found my Wife well, a
my self very welcome to her: both which
esteemed as great Favours.
date
1670
Towards the latter part of the Summer fo
lowing, I went into
Kent
again; and in
Passage through
London,
received the unwe
come News of the Loss of a very hopeful Yout
who had formerly been under my Care for Ed
cation. It was
Isaac Penington
(the second S
of my worthy Friends
Isaac
and
Mary Peningto
a Child of excellent natural Parts; whose gre
Abilities bespake him likely to be a great Ma
had he lived to be a Man. He was designed
be bred a
Merchant;
and before he was thoug
ripe enough to be entred thereunto, his Paren
atsome-bodies Request, gave leave that
date
1670
ght go a Voyage to
Barbadoes,
only to spend
ttle time, see the Place, and be somewhat
uainted with the Sea, under the Care and
nduct of a choice Friend and Sailor,
John
ve
of
London,
who was Master of a Vessel,
Traded to that Island: and a little Venture
had with him, made up by divers of his
nds; and by me among the rest. He made
Voyage thither very well; found the wat'ry
ent agreeable; had his Health there; liked
Place; was much pleased with his Enter
ment there; and was returning home, with
little Cargo, in Return for the Goods he car
d out; when on a suddain, through Unwari
s, he drop't over Board; and (the Vessel be
under Sail, with a brisk Gale) was irreco
ably lost, notwithstanding the utmost La
r, Care and Diligence of the Master, and
ors to have saved him.
This unhappy Accident took from the afflict
Master all the Pleasure of his Voyage; and he
urn'd for the Loss of this Youth, as if it had
en his own, yea, only Son: for as he was in
self a Man of a worthy Mind; so the Boy, by
witty and hansome Behaviour in general, and
equious Carriage towards him in particular,
very much wrought himself into his Favour.
As for me, I thought it one of the sharpest
okes I had met with: sor I both loved the
ild very well, and had conceived great hopes
general Good from him; and it pierced me
deeper to think how deeply it would pierce
afflicted Parents.
date
1670
Sorrow for this Disaster was my Compani
in this Journey, and I travelled the Roads
der great Exercise of Mind, revolving in
Thoughts the manifold Accidents, which
LIFE of Man
was attended with, and sub
to, and the great
Uncertainty of all Hum
Things;
I could find no Center, no firm B
for the
Mind of Man
to fix upon, but the
Div
Power
and
Will
of the
Almighty.
This Consid
ation wrought in my Spirit a sort of Conte
of what supposed
Happiness
or
Pleasure
World, or the things that are in and of it,
of themselves yield; and raised my Conte
plation higher: which, as it ripened, and ca
to some degree of Digestion, I breathed fort
mournful Accents, thus.
Solitary THOUGHTS.
On the Uncertainty of Humane Thing
Occasioned by the suddain Loss of an HOPEFUL YOUTH.
Transibunt citò, quae vos mansura putatis.
Those things soon will pass away,
Which ye think will always stay.
WHAT ground, alas, has any Man
To set his Heart on things below
Which, when they seem most like to stand,
Fly, like an Arrow from a Bow!
date
1670
hings subject to exterior Sense
re to mutation most propence.
stately Houses we Erect,
And therein think to take Delight:
what a suddain are we Check't,
And all our Hopes made groundless quite!
e little Spark in Ashes lays
hat we were building half our Days.
on Estate an Eye we cast,
And Pleasure there expect to find;
secret Providential Blast
Gives Disapointment to our Mind.
ho now's on Top, e're long may feel
he circling Motion of the Wheel.
we our tender Babes embrace,
And Comfort hope in them to have:
las, in what a little Space,
Is Hope, with them, laid in the Grave!
Whatever promiseth Content
, in a Moment, from us rent.
This World cannot afford a thing,
Which, to a well-composed Mind,
Can any lasting Pleasure bring;
But in its Womb its Grave will find.
date
1670
All things unto their Center tend:
What had
Ʋ nderstand th
of Natural Things.
Beginning will have End.
But is there nothing then that's sure,
For Man to fix his Heart upon?
Nothing that always will endure;
When all these transient things are gone;
Sad State! where Man, with Grief opprest,
Finds nought whereon his Mind may rest.
O yes! There is a God above,
Who unto Men is also nigh:
On whose unalterable Love
We may with Confidence rely.
No Disappointment can befall
Us, having him that's
All in All.
If unto him we Faithful be
It is impossible to miss
Of whatsoever he shall see
Conducible unto our Bliss.
What can of Pleasure him prevent,
Who hath the Fountain of Content?
In Him alone if we delight,
And in his Precepts Pleasure take;
We shall be sure to do aright,
'Tis not his Nature to forsake.
date
1670
A proper Object's He alone,
For Man to set his Heart upon.
— Domino Mens nixa quieta est.
The Mind which upon God is stay'd,
Shall with no Trouble be dismay'd.
T. E.
Kent,
7
bris
4
to
1670.
A Copy of the foregoing Lines, inclosed in a Letter of
Condoleance,
I sent by the first Post into
Buckinghamshire,
to my dear Friends the afflicted Parents: And upon my Return home, going to visit them, we sate down and solemnly mixed our Sorrows and Tears together.
About this time (as I remember) it was, that some Bickerings happening between some
Baptists,
and some of the People called
Quakers
in or about
High-Wiccomb
in
Buckinghamshire;
occasioned by some reflecting Words a
Baptist
-Preacher had publickly uttered in one of their Meetings there, against the
Quakers
in general, and
W. Penn
in particular: it came, at length, to this Issue, that a Meeting for a publick Dispute was appointed, to be holden at
West-Wiccomb,
between
Jeremy Ives
(who espoused his Brother's Cause) and
W. Penn.
To this Meeting, it being so near me, I went; rather to Countenance the Cause, than for any Delight I took in such Work: for indeed, I have rarely found the Advantage, equivolent to the
date
1670
Trouble and Danger, arising from those Contests. For which Cause I would not chuse them, as, being justly engaged, I would not refuse them.
The Issue of this proved better than I expected. For
Ives
having undertaken an Ill Cause, to argue against the
Divine Light,
and
Universal Grace, conferr'd by God on all Men;
when he had spent his Stock of Arguments, which he brought with him on that Subject: finding his Work go on heavily, and the Auditory not well satisfied; stept down from his Seat, and departed, with purpose to have broken up the Assembly. But, except some few of his Party, who followed him, the People generally stay'd, and were the more attentive to what was afterwards delivered amongst them. Which
Ives
understanding came in again, and in an angry railing Manner, expressing his Dislike that we went not all away when he did, gave more Disgust to the People.
After the Meeting was ended, I sent to my Friend
I. P.
(by his Son and Servant, who returned Home, though it was late, that Evening) a short Account of the Business in the following
Distich.
Praevaluit
VERITAS:
Inimici Terga dedêre:
Nos sumus in tuto; Laus tribuenda Deo.
Which may be thus Englished.
Truth
hath prevail'd; the Enemies did fly:
We are in Safety; Praise to God on high.
date
1670
But both they and we had quickly other Work found us: It soon became a stormy time. The Clouds had been long gathering, and threatned a Tempest. The Parliament had sate some time before, and hatched that unaccountable Law, which was called
The Conventicle Act:
(If that may be allowed to be called a Law, by whomsoever made) which was so directly contrary to the Fundamental Laws of
England,
to common Justice, Equity and right Reason; as this manifestly was. For
1
st,
It brake down and overrun the Bounds and Banks, anciently set for the Defence and Security of
Englishmens
Lives, Liberties and Properties,
viz. Tryal by Juries.
Instead thereof directing and authorizing Justices of the Peace (and that too privately, out of
Sessions
) to Convict, Fine, and by their Warrants Distrein upon Offendors against it; directly contrary to the
Great Charter.
2. By that Act, the Informers (who Swear for their own Advantage, as being thereby entituled to a Third Part of the Fines) were many times concealed, driving on an underhand private Trade: so that Men might be, and often were Convicted and Fined, without having any Notice or Knowledge of it, till the Officers came and took away their Goods, nor even then could they tell by whose Evidence they were convicted. Than which, what could be more opposite to common Justice? which requires that every Man should be openly charged, and have his Accuser Face to Face, that he might
date
1670
both Answer for himself before he be convicted, and object to the Validity of the Evidence given against him.
3. By that Act, the Innocent were punished for the Offences of the Guilty. If the Wife or Child was convicted of having been at one of those Assemblies, which by that Act was adjudged Unlawful; the Fine was levied on the Goods of the Husband or Father of such Wife or Child: though he was neither present at such Assembly, nor was of the same Religious Perswasion that they were of; but perhaps an Enemy to it.
4. It was left in the arbitrary Pleasure of the Justices to lay half the Fine for the House or Ground where such Assembly was holden, and half the Fine for a pretended unknown Preacher; and the whole Fines of such and so many of the Meeters as they should account Poor, upon any other or others of the People, who were present at the same Meeting (not exceeding a certain limitted Sum;) without any regard to Equity or Reason. And yet (such Blindness doth the
Spirit of Persecution
bring on Men, otherwise sharp sighted enough) that this Unlawful, Unjust, Unequal, Unreasonable and Unrighteous Law took place in (almost) all Places, and was vigorously prosecuted against the Meetings of
Dissenters
in general; though the Brunt of the Storm fell most sharply on the People called
Quakers:
not that it seemed to be more particularly levelled at them: but that they stood more fair, steady and open, as a But to receive all the
date
1670
Shot that came, while some others found means,
nd freedom to retire to Coverts for Shelter.
No sooner had the Bishops obtained this Law, for suppressing all other Meetings but their own, but some of the Clergy of most Ranks, and some others too, who were over-much bigotted to that Party, bestirr'd themselves with might and main, to find out and Encourage the most profligate Wretches to turn Informers; and to get such Persons into Parochial Offices, as would be most obsequious to their Commands, and ready at their Beck, to put it into the most rigorous Execution. Yet it took not alike in all Places; but some were forwarder in the Work than others, according as the Agents intended to be chiefly imployed therein, had been predisposed thereunto.
For in some Parts of the Nation care had been timely taken, by some not of the lowest Rank, to chuse out some particular Persons (Men of sharp Wit, close Countenances, pliant Tempers and deep Dissimulation) and send them forth among the
Sectaries,
so called; with Instructions to thrust themselves into all Societies, Conform to all, or any sort of Religious Profession,
Proteous
-like change their Shapes, and transform themselves from one Religious Appearance to another, as occasion should require. In a word, To be all things to all: not that they might win some; but that they might (if possible) ruin all, at least many.
The Drift of this Design was, That they who imployed them might, by this means, get a full
date
1670
Account what Number of
Dissenters Meetings
of every sort, there were in each County; and where kept: what Number of Persons frequented them, and of what Ranks; who amongst them were Persons of Estate, and where they lived: that when they should afterwards have troubled the Waters, they might the better know where, with most Advantage, to cast their Nets
He, of these Emisaries, whose Post was assigned him in this County of
Bucks,
adventured to thrust himself upon a
Friend,
under the counterfeit Appearance of a
Quaker:
but being by the Friend suspected, and thereupon dismist unentertain'd, he was forced to betake himself to an Inn or Alehouse for Accommodation. Long he had not been there, e're his unruly Nature (not to be long kept under by the Curb of a feigned Sobriety) broke forth into open Prophanness: so true is that of the POET,
Naturam expellas furcâ licèt, us
que
recurret.
To Fudling now falls he with those whom he found Tippling there before; and who but he amo
gst them! In him was then made good the Proverb,
In Vino Veritas:
for in his Cups he out with that, which was, no doubt, to have been kept a Secret. 'Twas to his Pot-Companions, that (after his Head was somewhat heated with strong Liquors) he discovered that he was sent forth by Dr.
Mew,
the then Vice-Chancellor of
Oxford,
on the Design before related, and under the Protection of Justice
Morton,
a
date
1670
Warrant under whose Hand and Seal he there produced.
Sensible of his Error too late (when Sleep had restored him to some degree of Sense) and discouraged with this ill Success of his Attempt upon the
Quakers,
he quickly left that Place; and crossing through the Country, cast himself among the
Baptists,
at a Meeting which they held in a private Place: of which the over-easie Credulity of some that went among them (whom he had craftily insinuated himself into) had given him Notice. The Entertainment he found amongst them, deserved a better Return than he made them. For, having smoothly wrought himself into their good Opinion, and cunningly drawn some of them into an unwary Openness, and Freedom of Conversation with him, upon the unpleasing Subject of the Severity of those Times; he most villanously impeached one of them (whose Name was
— Headach,
a Man well reputed amongst his Neighbours) of having spoken
Treasonable Words:
and thereby brought the Man in danger of losing both his Estate and Life; had not a seasonable Discovery of his abominable Practices elsewhere (imprinting Terror, the Effect of Guilt upon him) caused him to fly both out of the Court and Country; at that very instant of Time, when the honest Man stood at the Bar, ready to be arraigned upon his false Accusation.
This his false Charge against that
Baptist,
left him no further room to play the Hypocrite in those Parts. Off therefore go his Cloak and
date
1670
Vizor. And now he openly appears, in his proper Colours, to disturb the Assemblies of God's People: which was indeed the very End, for which the Design at first was laid.
But because the Law provided,
That a Conviction must be grounded upon the Oaths of two Witnesses;
it was needful for him, in order to the carrying on his intended Mischief, to find out an Associate, who might be both sordid enough for such an Imployment, and vicious enough to be his Companion.
This was not an easie Task: yet he found out one, who had already given an Experiment of his Readiness to take other Mens Goods: being not long before released out of
Alesbury
-Goal, where he very narrowly escaped the Gallows, for having Stolen a Cow.
The Names of these Fellows being yet unknown, in that Part of the Country where they began their Work; the former, by the general Voice of the Country, was called
The Trepan:
the latter,
The Informer;
and, from the Colour of his Hair,
Red-head.
But in a little time the
Trepan
called himself
John Poulter:
adding withal, That Judge
Morton
used to call him
John for the King;
and that the A. B. of
Canterbury
had given him a
Deaconry.
That his Name was indeed
John Poulter,
the reputed Son of one
— Poulter,
a Butcher in
Salisbury;
and that he had long since been there branded for a Fellow egregiously Wicked and Debauched, we were assured by the Testimony of a young Man, then living in
Amersham,
who both was his Countryman,
date
1670
and had known him in
Salisbury:
as well
s by a Letter from an Inhabitant of that Place;
o whom his Course of Life had been well known.
His Comrade, who for some time was only
alled
The Informer,
was named
Ralph Lacy
of
Risborough;
and Sirnamed the
Cow-stealer.
These agreed between themselves where to
ake their first Onset (which was to be, and was,
n the Meeting of the People called
Quakers,
hen holden at the House of
William Russell,
cal
ed
Jourden's,
in the Parish of
Giles-Chalfont
in
he County of
Bucks
) that which was wanting
o their Accommodation, was a Place of Har
our, fit for such Beasts of Prey to lurk in: for Assistance wherein Recourse was had to Parson
Philips;
none being so ready, none so willing,
one so able to help them, as he.
A Friend he had in a Corner, a Widow-Wo
an; not long before one of his Parishioners.
er Name was
Anne Dell;
and at that time
he lived at a Farm called
Whites,
a By-place in
he Parish of
Beconsfield,
whither she removed
rom
Hitchindon.
To her these Fellows were
ecommended, by her old Friend the Parson.
he, with all readiness, received them; Her
ouse was at all times open to them: what she
ad, was at their Command.
Two Sons she had at home with her, both at Man's Estate; to the Eldest of which her Maid-
ervant, not long before, had laid a Bastard: which Infamy to smother up proved Expensive
them. The younger Son (whose Name was
ohn Dell
) hoping, by the Pillage of his honest
date
1670
Neighbours, to regain what the Incontinency o
his lustful Brother had mis-spent; listed himsel
in the Service of his Mothers New Guests, t
attend on them, as their Guide, and to inform them (who were too much Strangers to pretend to know the Names of any of the Persons there whom they should inform against.
Thus consorted, thus in a triple League confederated, on the 24th Day of the
Fifth Mont
(commonly called
July
) in the Year 1670, the
appeared openly, and began to Act their i
tended Tragoedy upon the
Quakers
Meeting, a
the Place aforesaid; to which I belonged, an
at which I was present. Here the chief Acto
Poulter,
behaved himself with such impetuo
Violence, and brutish Rudeness, as gave Occsion for Enquiry who, or what, he was. An
being soon discovered to be the
Trepan,
so Inf
mous, and abhor'd by all sober People; and afte
wards daily detected of gross Impieties, and
ven Capital Crimes (such as
Christ'ning
(so th
common Term is) of a Cat in contempt of th
Practice which is used by many upon Childre
naming it
Catharine-Catherina,
in derision of t
then Queen; And the Felonious taking of c
tain Goods from one of
Brainford;
whom a
he cheated of Money. These things raising
Out-cry in the Country upon him, made h
consult his own Safety; and leaving his Part
be Acted by others, quitted the Country
soon as he could.
He being gone, Satan soon supplied his Pla
by sending one
Richard Aris,
a broken
Ironm
er
date
1670
of
Wiccomb,
to join with
Lacy
in this Service;
ompted thereto, in hopes that he might there
y repair his broken Fortunes.
Of this New Adventurer this single Charac
r may serve, whereby the Reader may make
dgment of him, as of the Lion by his Paw;
at at the Sessions, holden at
Wiccomb
in
Octo
r
then last past, he was openly accused of
ving enticed one
Harding,
of the same Town,
be his Companion and Associate in Robbing
the Highway; and Proof offered to be made,
at he had made Bullets in order to that Ser
e: Which Charge
Harding
himself, whom
had endeavoured to draw into that hainous
ickedness, was ready in Court to prove upon
th; had not the Prosecution been discounten
ced and smothered.
Lacy
(the Cow-stealer) having thus got
Aris
e intended Highway-man) to be his Com
de; they came (on the 21st of the Month cal
August,
1670.) to the Meeting of the People
led
Quakers,
where
Lacy
with
Poulter
had
en a Month before; and taking for granted
at the same, who had been there before, were
ere then, they went to a Justice of the Peace
led Sir
Thomas Clayton,
and Swore at all ad
nture, against one
Thomas Zachary
and his
ife (whom
Lacy
understood to have been there
e Month before) that they were then present
that Meeting: Whereas neither the said
Tho
s Zachary
nor his Wife were at that Meeting;
t were both of them at
London
(above Twen
Miles distant) all that Day; having been
date
1670
there sometime before and after. Which no
withstanding, upon this false Oath of these fal
Men, the Justice laid Fines upon the said
Thom
Zachary,
of 10
l.
for his own Offence, 10
l.
f
his Wife's, and 10
l.
for the Offence of a pr
tended Preacher (though indeed there was n
any that preached at that Meeting that Day
and issued forth his Warrant to the Officers
Beconsfield
(where
Thomas Zachary
dwelt) for t
levying of the same upon his Goods.
I mention these things thus particularly (t
not an immediate Suffering of my own;)
cause, in the Consequence thereof, it occasio
no small Trouble and Exercise to me.
For when
Thomas Zachary,
returning H
from
London,
understanding what had been
against him; and advising what to do, was
formed by a Neighbouring
Attorney,
that his
medy lay in appealing from the Judgmen
the Convicting Justice, to the
General Qu
Sessions
of the Peace: he thereupon ordering
said
Attorney
to draw up his Appeal in For
Law, went himself with it, and tendered
the Justice. But the Justice, being a Man ne
well principled, nor well natured; and u
that he should lose the Advantage, both of
present Conviction, and future Service of
(in his Judgment) useful Men, as those bold Informers were likely to be: fell sh
upon
Thomas Zachary,
charging him that h
fer'd justly; and that his Suffering was
a Religious Account.
date
1670
This rough and unjust Dealing engaged the
od Man to enter into further Discourse with
e Justice, in defence of his own Innocency.
om which Discourse the insidious Justice, tak
g offence at some Expression of his, charged
with saying,
The Righteous are Oppressed, and
Wicked go Unpunished.
Which the Justice in
preting to be a Reflection on the Govern
nt, and calling it an
high Misdemeanour;
re
ired Sureties of the good Man to answer it at
e next
Quarter Sessions,
and in the mean time
be bound to his good Behaviour, But, he,
ll knowing himself to be Innocent of having
ken any Law, or done in this Matter any E
could not answer the Justices Unjust De
nd; and therefore was sent forthwith a Pri
er to the County Goal.
By this Severity, it was thought, the Justice
igned, not only to wreak his Displeasure on
good Man; but to prevent the further Pro
ution of his Appeal: Whereby he should at
e both Oppress the Righteous; by the Levy
of the Fines unduly imposed upon him;
d secure the informers from a Conviction of
ful
Perjury, and the Punishment due there
e, that so they might go on, without Controul,
he wicked Work they were engaged in.
But so great Wickedness was not to be suffer
to go unpunished, or at least undiscovered.
herefore, although no way could be found at
sent, to get the good Man released from his
ust Imprisonment: Yet that his Restraint
ght not hinder the Prosecution of his Appeal,
date
1670
on which the Detection of the Informers V
lany depended: Consideration being had the
of amongst some Friends, the
Management the Prosecution was committed to my Care, w
was thought (with respect at least to Leisu
and disengagement from other Business) most
to attend it; and very willingly I undertook
Wherefore at the next general
Quarter-Sessi
of the Peace, holden at
High-Wiccomb
in
Oct
ber
following, I took care that Four Substant
Witnesses, Citizens of unquestionable Cred
should come down from
London,
in a Coa
and four Horses, hired on purpose.
These gave so punctual and full Eviden
that
Thomas Zachary
and his Wife were in
Lond
all that Day, whereon the Informers had Sw
them to have been at an Unlawful Meeting, a
place more than Twenty Miles distant fr
London,
that, notwithstanding what Endeavo
were used to the contrary, the Jury found th
Not Guilty.
Whereupon the Money deposi
for the Fines, at the Entring of the Appe
ought to have been returned: and so was T
Pounds of it; but the rest of the Money bei
in the Hand of the Clerk of the Peace, wh
Name was
Wells,
could never be got out aga
Thomas Zachary
himself was brought fro
Alesbury
Goal to
Wiccomb,
to receive his Trya
and though no Evil could be charged upon hi
yet Justice
Clayton,
who at first committed hi
displeased to see the Appeal Prosecuted, and
Conviction he had made set aside, by Imp
tunity prevailed with the Bench to rema
date
1670
im to Prison again, there to lie until another
essions.
While this was doing, I got an Indictment
rawn up against the Informers,
Aris
and
Lacy,
or wilful Perjury, and caused it to be delivered
o the Grand Jury; who found the Bill. And
lthough the Court adjourned from the Town Hall to the Chamber at their Inn (in favour, as
t was thought, to the Informers, on Supposition we would not pursue them thither;) yet thither
hey were pursued: and there being two Coun
ells present from
Windsor
(the Name of the one was
Starkey,
and of the other, as I remember,
Forster;
the former of which I had before retained upon the Tryal of the Appeal) I now retained them both, and sent them into Court again, to Prosecute the Informers upon this Indictment, Which they did so smartly, that the Informers (being present, as not suspecting any such suddain Danger) were of necessity called to the Bar, and Arraigned; and having pleaded
Not Guilty,
were forced to enter a Traverse, to avoid a present Commitment: All the Favour the Court could shew them, being to take them Bail one for the other (though probably both not worth a Groat) else they must have gone to Goal for want of Bail, which would have put them besides their Business, spoil'd the Informing Trade, and broke the Design; whereas now they were turned loose again, to do what Mischief they could, until the next Sessions.
Accordingly they did what they could, and yet could make little or no Earnings at it: For
date
1670
this little step of Prosecution had made them so known, and their late apparent Perjury had made them so detestable; that even the common sort of bad Men shunned them, and would not willingly yield them any Assistance.
The next Quarter-Sessions was holden at
Alesbury,
whither we were fain to bring down our Witnesses again from
London,
in like manner, and at like Charge (at the least) as before. And though I met with great Discouragements in the Prosecution, yet I followed it so vigorously, that I got a Verdict against the Informers for
wilful
Perjury: and had forthwith taken them up, had not they forthwith fled from Justice, and hid themselves. However, I moved by my
Attorney
for an Order of Court, directed to all
Mayors, Bayliffs, High Constables, Petty Constables,
and other Inferiour Officers of the Peace, to Arrest and take them up, where-ever they should be found within the County of
Bucks:
and bring them to the County Goal.
The Report of this so terrified them, that, of all things dreading the Misery of lying in a Goa
(out of which they could not hope for Deliverance, otherwise than by, at least, the Loss o
their Ears) they, hopeless now of carrying o
their Informing Trade, disjoyned; and one o
them
(Aris)
fled the Country: So that (whatever Gallows caught him) he appeared no mo
in this Country. The other
(Lacy)
lurked privily, for a while, in Woods and By-places, 'ti
Hunger and Want forced him out; and the
casting himself upon an hazardous Adventu
date
1670
which yet was the best, and proved to him the
est Course he could have taken) he went di
ectly to the Goal (where, he knew, the Inno
ent Man suffered Imprisonment by his Means,
nd for his sake:) where asking for, and being
rought to
Thomas Zachary,
he cast himself on
is Knees, at his Feet; and with appearance of
orrow, confessing his Fault, did so earnestly beg
or Forgiveness, that he wrought upon the ten
er Nature of that very good Man, not only to
ut him in hopes of Mercy, but to be his Advo
ate by Letter to me, to mitigate, at least, if
ot wholly to remit the Prosecution. To which I so far only consented, as to let him know, I would suspend the Execution of the Warrant upon him, according as he behaved himself, or until he gave fresh Provocation. At which Message the Fellow was so overjoyed, that, relying with Confidence thereon, he returned openly to his Family and Labour, and applyed himself to Business (as his Neighbours observed and reported) with greater Diligence and Industry, than he had ever done before.
Thus began, and thus ended, the Informing-Trade, in these Parts of the County of
Bucks;
the ill Success that these first Informers found, discouraging all others, how Vile soever, from attempting the like Enterprize there ever after. And though it cost some Money to carry on the Prosecution; and some Pains too: Yet, for every Shilling so spent, a Pound, probably, might be saved, of what (in all likelihood) would have been lost, by the Spoil and Havock that might
date
1670
have been made, by Distresses taken on the
Informations.
But so Angry was the Convicting Justi
(whatever others, of the same Rank were) a
this Prosecution, and the loss thereby of the Se
vice of those
Honest Men,
the
Perjur'd Informer
For as I heard an
Attorney
(one
Hitchcock
of
Alesbury,
who was their Advocate in Court) sa
A great Lord, a Peer of the Realm, called them
in a Letter directed to him; whereby he recommended to him the Care and Defence of them and thei
Cause;
that he prevailed to have the Oath o
Allegiance
tendred in Court to
Thomas Zachary
which he knew he would not take, because h
could not take any Oath at all; by which Sna
he was kept in Prison a long time after; and (
far as I remember) until a general Pardon r
leased him.
But though it pleased the Divine Providenc
(which sometimes vouchsafeth to bring Goo
out of Evil) to put a stop (in a great Measur
at least) to the Prosecution here begun: Yet i
other Parts, both of the City and Country,
was carried on with very great Severity and R
gour; the worst of Men, for the most part, b
ing set up for
Informers;
the worst of Mag
strates encouraging and abetting them; and th
worst of the Priests (who first began to blo the Fire) now seeing how it took, spread an
blazed, Clapping their Hands, and Hallowin
them on to this Evil Work.
The Sense whereof, as it deeply affected m
Heart with a Sympathizing Pity for the Oppre
sed
date
1670
Sufferers: So it raised in my Spirit an Holy Disdain, and Contempt of that Spirit and its Agent; by which this ungodly Work was stirred up, and carried on. Which at length brake forth in an Expostulatory POEM, under the Title of
GIGANTOMACHIA (The Wars of the Giants against Heaven.)
Not without some Allusion to the Second
Psalm,
thus.
WHY do the Heathen in a brutish Rage,
Themselves against the Lord of Hosts Engage!
Why do the frantick People entertain
Their Thoughts upon a thing that is so vain!
Why do the Kings themselves together set!
And why do all the Princes them abet!
Why do the Rulers to each other speak
After this foolish manner,
Let us break
Their Bonds asunder! Come let us make hast,
With joint Consent, their Cords from us cast.
Why do they thus joyn Hands! and Counsel take
Against the
Lord's Anointed!
This will make
Him, doubtless, Laugh; who doth in Heaven Sit:
The
Lord
will have them in Contempt for it.
His sore Displeasure on them he will wreak:
And in his Wrath will he unto them Speak.
date
1670
For on his Holy Hill of
Sion,
He
His King hath set to Reign;
Scepters
must be
Cast down before him:
Diadems
must lie
At foot of him, who sits in Majesty
Upon his Throne of Glory; whence he will
Send forth his fiery Ministers, to Kill
All those his Enemies, who would not be
Subject to his Supream Authority.
Where then will ye appear, who are so far
From being
Subjects,
that ye
Rebels
are
Against his Holy Government; and strive
Others from their Allegiance too to drive;
What
Earthly Prince
such an
Affront
wou'd bear
From any of his Subjects, shou'd they dare
So to encroach on his Prerogative!
Which of them wou'd permit that Man to
live!
What shou'd it be adjudg'd but
Treason?
And
Death he must suffer for it, out of hand.
And shall the
King
of
Kings
such
Treason
see
Acted against him, and the Traytors be
Acquitted! No,
Vengeance
is his: and they
That him
Provoke,
shall know he will repay.
And of a Truth, provoked he hath been,
In an high Manner, by this daring Sin.
date
1670
Of Usurpation, and of Tyranny
Over Mens
Consciences,
which should be free
To Serve the
Living God,
as he requires,
And as his Holy Spirit them Inspires.
For Conscience is an Inward thing, and none,
Can govern that aright, but God alone.
Nor can a well-Informed Conscience low'r
Her Sails to any Temporary Pow'r;
Or bow to Mens Decrees: For that wou'd be
Treason in a Superlative Degree;
For God alone can Laws to Conscience give,
And that's a Badge of his PREROGATIVE.
This is the Controversie of this Day,
Between the Holy God, and sinful Clay.
God hath, throughout the Earth, Proclaim'd, that he
Will over Conscience hold the Sov'raignty;
That he the Kingdom to himself will take,
And in Man's Heart his Residence will make:
From whence his Subjects shall such Laws receive,
As please his
Royal
Majesty to give.
Man heeds not this: but most audaciously
Says,
Unto me belongs Supremacy:
date
1670
And all Mens Consciences, within my Land,
Ought to be subject unto my Command.
God, by his Holy Spirit, doth direct
His People how to Worship: And expect
Obedience from them. Man says,
I ordain,
That none shall Worship in that way, on pain
Of Prison, Confiscation, Banishment;
Or being to the Stake, or Gallows, Sent.
God, out of
Babylon,
doth People call:
Commands them to forsake her Ways, and all
Her sev'ral sorts of Worship, to deny
Her whole Religion, as
Idolatry.
Will Man thus his usurped Pow'r forgo,
And lose his ill-got Government? Oh no:
But out comes his Enacted, be't,
That all
Who, when the Organs Play, will not down fall
Before this Golden Image, and adore
What I have caus'd to be set up; therefore
Into the fiery Furnace shall be cast:
And be consumed with a flaming Blast.
Or, in the mildest Terms, Conform, or Pay
So much a Month, or so much ev'ry Day;
Which we will Levy on you, by Distress,
Sparing nor Widow, nor the Fatherless:
date
1670
nd if you have not what will Satisfie,
are like in Prison, during Life, to lie.
Christ says,
Swear not:
but Man says,
Swear, or lie
n Prison, praemunir'd, until you Die.
Man's Ways are, in a Word, as Opposite
To God's, as Midnight-Darkness is to Light.
And yet fond Man doth stive with
Might
and
Main
By
Penal Laws,
God's People to constrain
To Worship
What, When, Where, How
he thinks fit;
And to whatever he Injoyns, submit.
What will the Issue of this Contest be!
Which must
give
place, the
Lord
's, or
Man
's Decree!
Will Man be in the Day of
Battle,
found
Able to keep the Field, maintain his Ground,
Against the mighty God! No more than can
The lightest
Chaff
before the Winnowing Fan:
No more than
Straw
cou'd stand before the Flame;
Or smallest
Atoms,
when a Whirlwind came.
The LORD (who in Creation, only said,
Let us make Man,
and forthwith Man was made)
date
1670
Can, in a Moment, by one Blast of Breath,
Strike all Mankind with an Eternal Death.
How soon can God all Man's Devices quash,
And, with his Iron Rod, in Pieces dash
Him, like a Potter's Vessel! None can stand
Against the Mighty Power of his Hand.
Be therefore wise, ye Kings; instructed be,
Ye Rulers of the Earth, and henceforth see
Ye serve the Lord in Fear: and stand in aw
Of sinning any more against his Law,
His
Royal Law
of
Liberty;
to do
To others as you'd have them do to you.
Oh stoop, ye
mighty Monarchs,
and let none
Reject his Government; but kiss the Son
While's Wrath is but a little kindled, lest
His Anger burn, and you that have transgrest
His Law so oft; and wou'd not him obey,
Eternally shou'd perish from the Way;
The Way of
God's Salvation.
where the Just
Are bless'd, who in the Lord do put their trust.
Foelix quem faciunt aliena Pericula cautum.
— Happy's He,
Whom others Harms do wary make to be.
date
1671
As the unreasonable Rage, and furious Vio
nce of the Persecutors had drawn the for
er Expostulation from me: so, in a while after,
y Heart being deeply affected with a Sense of
e great Loving-kindness, and tender Goodness
f the LORD to his People, in bearing up their
pirits in their greatest Exercises, and preserv
g them through the sharpest Tryals, in a faith
l Testimony to his blessed Truth, and open
g, in due time, a Door of Deliverance to
em, I could not forbear to celebrate his Praises
the following Lines, under the Title of
A SONG of the Mercies and Deliverances of the LORD.
HAD not the Lord been on our Side,
May
Israel
now say,
We were not able to abide
The Tryals of that Day.
When Men did up against us rise,
With Fury, Rage and Spight;
Hoping to catch us by surprize,
Or run us down by Might.
Then had not God for us arose,
And shewn his mighty Pow'r;
We had been swallow'd by our Foes,
Who waited to devour.
date
1671
When the joint-Pow'rs of Death and Hell
Against us did combine:
And, with united Forces, fell
Upon us, with design
To Root us out: then had not God
Appear'd to take our Part,
And them chastized with his Rod,
And made them feel the Smart:
We then had overwhelmed been,
And trodden in the Mire,
Our Enemies on us had seen
Their cruel Hearts Desire.
When
Ston'd,
when
Stock't,
when rudely
stript
Some, to the Waste, have been,
(Without regard of Sex) and whip't,
Until the Blood did spin:
Yea, when their
Skins,
with
Stripes look't black,
Their Flesh to Jelly beat,
Enough to make their Sinews crack,
The Lashes were so great:
Then had not God been with them, to
Support them, they had dy'd;
His Pow'r it was, that bore them thro',
Nothing cou'd do't beside.
date
1671
When into Prisons we were throng'd
(Where
Pestilence
was rife,)
By bloody-minded Men, that long'd
To take away our Life:
Then had not God been with us, we
Had perish't there, no doubt;
'Twas He preserv'd us there, and He
It was that brought us out.
When Sentenced to Banishment
Inhumanly we were;
To be from Native Country sent,
From all that Men call
dear:
Then had not God been pleas'd t' appear,
And take our Cause in hand;
And struck them with a pannick Fear,
Which put them to a stand.
Nay, had he not great Judgments sent,
And compass'd them about;
They were, at that time, fully bent
To root us wholly out.
Had he not gone with them that went,
The Seas had been their Graves:
Or, when they came where they were sent,
They had been Sold for Slaves.
date
1671
But God was pleased still to give
Them Favour where they came;
And in his Truth they yet do live,
To Praise his Holy Name.
And now afresh do Men contrive
Another wicked Way,
Of our Estates us to deprive,
And take our Goods away.
But will the Lord (who, to this Day,
Our Part did always take)
Now leave us, to be made a Prey;
And that too for his sake?
Can any one, who calls to Mind
Deliverances past;
Discourag'd be at what's behind,
And murmur now at last!
O that no unbelieving Heart
Among us may be found,
That from the Lord wou'd now depart;
And, Coward like, give ground.
For, without doubt, the God we serve
Will still our Cause defend;
If we from him do never swerve,
But trust him to the End.
date
1671
What if our Goods, by Violence,
From us be torn, and we,
Of all things but our Innocence,
Should wholly stripped be?
Would this be more than did befal
Good
Job?
Nay sure, much less:
He lost Estate, Children and all;
Yet he the Lord did bless.
But did not God his Stock augment,
Double what 'twas before?
And this was writ to the Intent
That we should hope the more.
View but the Lillies of the Field,
That neither Knit, nor Spin:
Who is it that to them doth yield
The Robes they're decked in?
Doth not the Lord the Ravens feed,
And for the Sparrows care?
And will not He, for his own Seed,
All needful things prepare?
The Lions shall sharp Hunger bear,
And pine for lack of Food:
But who the Lord do truly Fear
Shall nothing want that's good.
date
1671
Oh! which of us can now diffide
That God will us defend,
Who hath been always on our Side,
And will be to the End.
167
Spes consisa Deo nunquam confusa recedet.
Hope, which on God is firmly grounded,
Will never fail, nor be confounded.
date
1672
Scarce was the before-mentioned Storm
outward Persecution
from the Government, blow
over; when Satan rais'd another Storm, of a
other kind, against us on this Occasion. T
foregoing Storm of Persecution, as it lasted lon
so, in many Parts of the Nation, and partic
larly at
London,
it fell very sharp and violen
especially on the
Quakers.
For they having
Refuge, but God alone, to fly unto, could n
dodge and shift to avoid the Suffering; as othe
of other Denominations could, and in the
worldly Wisdom and Policy did; altering the
Meetings, with respect both to Place and Tim
and forbearing to meet, when Forbidden,
kept out of their
Meeting-Houses.
So that of the s
veral Sorts of Dissenters, the
Quakers
only he
up a publick Testimony, as a Standard or Ensig
of Religion, by keeping their Meeting duly a
fully, at the accustomed Times and Places (
long as they were suffered to Enjoy the Use
their Meeting-Houses:) and when they we
shut up, and Friends kept out of them by Forc
date
1672
ey assembled in the Streets, as near to their Meeting-Houses as they could.
This bold, and truly Christian Behaviour in
e
Quakers
disturbed, and not a little displeas
the
Persecutors;
who fretting complained,
at the Stubborn
Quakers
brake their Strength, and
e off the Blow from those other Dissenters, whom,
they most feared, so they principally aimed at.
r indeed the
Quakers
they rather despised,
an feared; as being a People, from whose
aceable both
Principles
and
Practices,
they held
emselves secure from Danger: whereas hav
g suffered severely, and that lately too, by
d under the other Dissenters; they thought
ey had just cause to be apprehensive of danger
m them, and good reason to suppress them.
On the other hand, the more Ingenious a
ongst other Dissenters, of each Denomination,
nsible of the Ease they enjoyed by our bold
d steady Suffering (which abated the Heat of
e Persecutors, and blunted the Edge of the
word, before it came to them) frankly acknow
dged the Benefit received; calling us
The Bul
ark that kept off the Force of the Stroke from them,
nd praying
That we might be preserved, and en
bled to break the Strength of the Enemy:
nor
ould some of them forbear (those especially who were called
Baptists
) to express their kind
nd favourable Opinion of us, and of the Prin
iples we profess'd; which emboldened us to go thro' that, which but to hear of was a Ter
or to them.
date
1672
This their Good-will rais'd Ill-will in some
their Teachers against us; who, though willi
to reap the Advantage of a Shelter, by a R
treat behind us, during the time that the Sto
lasted: yet, partly through an Evil Emulatio
partly through Fear, lest they should lose so
of those Members of their Society, who h
discovered such favourable Thoughts of o
Principles and us; they set themselves, as so
as the Storm was over, to represent us in as ug
a Dress, and in as frightful Figure to t
World; as they could invent, and put upon
date
1673
In order whereunto one
Thomas Hicks,
Preacher among the
Baptists
at
London,
took u
on him to write several Pamphlets successivel
under the Title of
A Dialogue between a Christia
and a Quaker;
which were so craftily contrive
that the unwary Reader might conclude the
to be (not meerly Fictions, but) real Discourse
actually held between one of the People called
Quaker,
and some other Person. In these feig
ed Dialogues,
Hicks
(having no regard to Justice, or common Honesty) had made his
Counterfeit Quaker
say whatsoever he thought woul
render him, one while, sufficiently
Erronious
another while,
Ridiculous
enough: forging, i
the
Quaker
's Name, some things so abominabl
False, other Things so intolerably Foolish; a
could not reasonably be supposed to have com
into the Conceit, much less to have droppe
from the Lip or Pen of any that went under th
Name of a
Quaker.
date
1673
These
Dialogues
(shall I call them, or rather
iabologues
) were answered by our
Friend W.
enn,
in two Books; the first being entituled,
eason against Railing;
the other,
The Counter
it Christian detected:
in which
Hicks
being
harged with manifest, as well as manifold
For
eries, Perversions, downright Lyes
and
Slanders
gainst the People called
Quakers
in general,
W. Penn, G. Whitehead,
and divers others by Name; Complaint was made, by way of an
Appeal,
to the
Baptists
in and about
London,
for
ustice against
Thomas Hicks.
date
1674
Those
Baptists
(who, it seems, were in the Plot with
Hicks
to defame, at any rate, right or wrong, the People called
Quakers
) taking the Advantage of the Absence of
W. P.
and
G. W.
who were the Persons most immediately con
erned, and who were then gone a long Jour
ey, on the service of Truth, to be absent from the City, in all probability, for a considerable time) appointed a publick Meeting, in one of their Meeting-Houses, under pretence of calling
Thomas Hicks
to account, and hearing the Charge made good against him: but with design to give the greater Stroke to the
Quakers,
when they, who should make good the Charge against
Hicks,
could not be present. For upon their sending Notice to the Lodgings of
W. P.
and
G. W.
of their intended Meeting, they were told by several
Friends,
that both
W. P.
and
G. W.
were from home, travelling in the Countries, uncertain where; and therefore could not be informed of their intended Meeting,
date
1674
either by Letter, or Express, within the time by them limitted: for which reason they were desired to deferr the Meeting, till they could have Notice of it, and time to return that they might be at it. But these
Baptists
whose Design was otherwise laid, would not be prevailed with to deferr their Meeting: but, glad of the Advantage, gave their brother
Hick
opportunity to make a colourable Defence where he had his Party to help him; and none to oppose him! and having made a mock Shew of Examining him and his Works of Darkness they in fine having heard one side, Acquitted him
This gave just Occasion for a New Complaint and Demand of Justice against him and them. For as soon as
W. P.
return'd to
London,
he in Print exhibited his Complaint of this unfair Dealing, and demanded Justice, by a re-hearing of the Matter, in a publick Meeting, to be appointed by joint Agreement. This went hardly down with the
Baptists,
nor could it be obtained from them, without great Importunity, and hard pressing. At length, after many delays, and Tricks used to shift it off, constrained by Necessity, they yielded to have a Meeting at their own Meeting-House, in
Barbican, London.
There, amongst other
Friends,
was I, and undertook to read our Charge there against
Thomas Hicks:
which, not without much Difficulty, I did; they, inasmuch as the House was theirs, putting all the Inconveniencies they could upon us.
date
1674
The particular Passages, and Management
f this Meeting (as also of that other, which,
ollowed soon after, they refusing to give us any
ther publick Meeting, we were fain to ap
oint in our own Meeting-House, by
Wheeler
treet
near
Spittle-Fields, London,
and gave
em timely notice of) I forbear here to men
on; there being in Print a Narrative of each,
which, for particular Information, I refer
he Reader.
But to this Meeting
Thomas Hicks
would not
ome; but lodged himself at an Ale-house hard
y: yet sent his Brother
Ives,
with some others
f the Party, by clamorous Noises to divert us
rom the Prosecution of our Charge against
im; which they so effectually performed, that
hey would not suffer the Charge to be heard,
hough often attempted to be read.
As this rude Behaviour of theirs was a Cause of Grief to me; so afterwards when I understood, that they used all evasive Tricks, to avoid another Meeting with us, and refused to do us Right, my Spirit was greatly stirred at their Injustice: and in the Sense thereof, willing, if possible, to have provoked them to more fair and manly Dealing, I let fly a Broad-side at them, in a single Sheet of Paper, under the Title of
A Fresh Parsuit.
In which, having re-stated the Controversie between them and us, and reinforced our Charge of Forgery,
&c.
against
Thomas Hicks
and his Abettors: I offered a fair Challenge to them (not only to
Thomas Hicks
himself, but to all those his Compurgators, who
date
1674
had before undertaken to acquit him from our Charge, together with their Companion
Jer
Ives
) to give me a fair and publick Meeting
in which I would make good our Charge against him, as
Principal,
and all the rest of them, as
Accessaries.
But nothing could provoke them to come fairly forth.
Yet not long after, finding themselves galled by the Narrative lately published of what had passed in the last Meeting near
Wheeler-Street;
they, to help themselves, if they could, sent forth a Counter Account of that Meeting, and of the former at
Barbican,
as much to the Advantage of their own Cause, as they, upon deliberate Consideration cou'd contrive it. This was published by
Thomas Plant
(a
Baptist
-Teacher, and one of
Thomas Hicks
his former Compurgators) and bore (but falsly) the Title of
A Contest for Christianity; or, A faithful Relation of two late Meetings,
&c.
To this I quickly writ and published an Answer. And, because I saw the Design, and whole drift of the
Baptists
was to shroud
T. Hicks
from our Charge of
Forgery,
under the specious Pretence of his and their
standing up, and contending for Christianity;
I gave my Book this general Title,
Forgery no Christianity: or a brief Examen of a late Book,
&c. And having from their own Book, plainly convicted that which they called
A faithful Relation
to be indeed
A false Relation;
I, in an Expostulatory
Postscript
to the
Baptists,
reinforced our Charge, and my former Challenge: Offering to make it
date
1674
ood against them, before a publick and free
uditory. But they were too wary to appear
rther, either in Person, or in Print.
This was the End of that Controversie; which was observed to have this Issue: That what those Dialogues were written to prevent, was, by the Dialogues, and their unfair, un
anly, unchristian Carriage, in endeavouring
defend them, hastened and brought to pass:
not a few of the
Baptist
-Members, upon this
ccasion left their Meetings and Society, and
me over to the
Quakers
-Meetings, and were
yned in Fellowship with them. Thanks be
God.
Though many of the most eminent among t
e
Baptists,
in and about
London,
engaged
hemselves in this Quarrel: to have defended,
, at least, to have brought fairly off (if it
ad been possible) their Brother
Hicks:
yet the
ain Service lay upon
Jeremy Ives.
Who, having
een an unsuccessful Trader in
Cheese,
and there
n failed more than once; had now for some
ime, given over that Imployment, and (like a Mercenary
Switzer
) undertook to be the Cham
ion for the
Baptists,
and to maintain their Quarrels against all Comers.
His Name was up, for a topping Disputant: but indeed, on the best Observation I could make of him (both now, and formerly) I could not find him a clean and fair Disputant. He seemed, I confess, well read in the
Falacies of Logick,
and was indeed rather ready, than true and sound, in framing
Syllogisms.
But his
date
1674
chief Art lay in Tickling the Humours of rud
unlearned and injudicious Hearers; thereby i
sinuating himself into their good Opinion: an
then Bantering his Opponent.
date
1675
He lived not long after this; but the Impre
sion his crafty false and frothy Carriage (as we
at this time, as before) had made upon m
Mind, drew from me, when I heard of h
Death, something like an
Epitaph,
in a drollin
Stile, as himself was wont to Use. And th
it was.
BEneath this Stone deprest doth lie.
The Mirrour of
Hypocrisie,
IVES;
whose mercenary Tongue
Like a Weather-Cock was hung:
And did this, or that way play,
As
Advantage
led the way.
If well-hir'd, he wou'd Dispute;
Otherwise he wou'd be mute:
But he'd Baul nigh half a Day,
If he knew, and lik'd his Pay.
For his Person, let it pass.
Only Note, his
Face
was
Brass:
His Heart was like a
Pumice
-Stone;
And for
Conscience,
he had none.
date
1675
Of
Earth
and
Air
he was compos'd,
With
Water
round about enclos'd,
But
Earth
in him had greatest Share:
For, questionless his Life lay there;
And thence his cankred
Envy
sprung,
Which poyson'd both his
Heart
and
Tongue.
Air
made him frothy, light and vain,
And puff't him up with proud Disdain;
Flouting
and
fleering,
more like a
Stage-Player,
Than an
Anabaptist
Preacher and Prayer:
Fitter to be a
Mountebank
's Fool,
Than peep into a
Divinity-School;
More Tricks he had than
Jack Pudding
by Half,
To raise the rude
Multitude
into a Laugh.
Into the
Water
oft he went,
And through the
Water
many sent;
That was, ye know, his Element:
The greatest Odds that did appear,
Was this (for ought that I can hear)
That He in
Cold
did others dip;
But did himself
Hot Waters
sip.
Sip! said I? Nay, more than so,
Sipping wou'd not serve his turn;
date
1675
He did unto
Quaffing
go
('Twas much his Guts he did not burn:)
For, if Credit may be given
To Report, he'd Fuddle, even
Till he Reeled to and fro;
And his Cause he'd never doubt,
If well-soak'd o'er Night in
Stout.
But, mean while, he must not lack
Brandy,
or a Draught of
Sack.
One Dispute wou'd shrink a Bottle
Of three Pints, if not a Pottle.
One wou'd think he fetch'd from thence,
All his dreaming
Eloquence;
And his four-leg'd
Syllogisms,
Proving
Breakings
are no
Schisms.
Wot ye why? Himself
Brake
twice.
Say no more: the Point is nice.
But let us now bring back the Sot
Unto his
Aqua-Vitae
-Pot;
And observe, with some Content,
How he fram'd his Argument.
That his Whistle he might wet,
The Bottle to his Mouth he set;
date
1675
And, being Master of that Art,
Thence he drew the
Major
part:
But left the
Minor
still behind,
Good reason why: He wanted Wind.
If his Breath wou'd have held out,
He had Conclusion drawn, no doubt.
But to't again he went, and thence
He fetch'd a lusty Consequence.
Then finding all his Drink was spent,
He thus wound up his Argument.
My Sides are not of Iron, neither
Are my Lungs made of Whit-leather.
If therefore you've not, I have done.
Then, Leaping down,
From the Dispute at
Wheeler-Street, London;
the
16
th of
October, 1674.
away he Run.
The Controversie which had been raised by
ose cavilling
Baptists,
had not been long end
; before another was raised, by an
Episcopal
iest in
Lincolnshire:
Who, fearing, as it seem
, to lose some of his Hearers, to the
Quakers,
rote a Book, which he miscalled,
A Friendly
nference between a Minister and a Parishioner of
inclining to Quakerism.
In which, he Mis
ted, and greatly Perverted the
Quakers
Prin
ples, that he might thereby beget in his Pa
hioners an Aversion to them: And that he
ght Abuse us the more securely, he concealed
self; sending forth his Book without a Name.
date
1676
This Book coming to my Hand, became m
Concern (after I had read it, and considere
the evil Management, and worse design ther
of) to Answer it: Which I did in a Treati
called
Truth Prevailing, and detecting Erro
Published in the Year, 1676.
My Answer I divided, according to the sev
ral Subjects handled in the Conference, into d
vers distinct Chapters; the last of which trea
ed of TYTHES.
This being the Priests
Delilah;
and th
Chapter of mine pinching them (it seems)
a tender part, the Belly; they laid their Hea
together, and with what speed they could, se
forth a distinct Reply to the last Chapter
Tythes
in mine, under the Title of
The Right
Tythes Asserted and Proved.
This also ca
forth without a Name; yet pretended to
written by another Hand.
date
1678
Before I had finished my Rejoynder to t
came forth another, called
A Vindication of
Friendly Conference;
said to be written by
Author of the feigned Conference, who was
yet willing to trust the World with his Na
So much of it, as related to the Subject I w
then upon,
Tythes,
I took into my Rejoynde
the
Right of Tythes;
which I Published, in
Year, 1678. with this Title.
The Foundat
of Tythes Shaken,
&c.
date
1680
After this, it was a pretty while befor
heard from either of them again. But at len
came forth a Reply to my Last, supposed to
written by the same Hand, who had be
date
1680
ritten the
Right of Tythes Asserted,
&c. but
ll without a Name. This latter Book had
ore of Art, than Argument, in it. It was in
ed a
Hash
of ill-cook'd
Crambe,
set off with as
uch Flourish as the Author was Master of,
d swell'd into Bulk by many Quotations: But
ose so wretchedly misgiven, misapplied or
verted; that, to a judicious and impartial
ader, I durst oppose my
Foundation of Tythes
ken,
to the utmost Force that Book has in it.
t, it coming forth at a time when I was pret
well at leisure, I intended a full Refutation
ereof; and in order thereunto had written be
een Forty and Fifty Sheets: When other Bu
ess, more urgent, intervening, took me off,
d detained me from it so long, that it was then
ged out of Season; and so it was laid aside.
Hitherto the War I had been engag'd in, was
a sort, Foreign; with People of other Reli
us Perswasions, such as were open and avow
Enemies: but now another sort of War a
e, an intestine War, raised by some among
selves; such as had once been of us, and yet
ained the same Profession, and would have
n thought to be of us still: But having
ough ill-grounded Jealousies, let in Discon
ts, and thereupon fallen into Jangling, chief
about Church-Discipline; they at length
ke forth into an open Schism, headed by two
rthern Men of Name and Note,
John Wil
on
and
John Story.
The latter of which, as
ng the most active and popular Man, having
ed a considerable Interest in the
West,
carried
date
1680
the Controversie with him thither, an
there spreading it, drew many, too many, t
abet him therein.
Among those,
William Rogers,
a Merchant
Bristol,
was not the least, nor least accounted
(by himself and some others.) He was a bo
and an active Man, moderately Learned, b
immoderately Conceited of his own Parts a
Abilities; which made him forward to Engag
as thinking none would dare to take up t
Gauntlet he should cast down. This high Op
nion of himself made him rather a Troub
some, than Formidable Enemy.
That I may here step over the various ste
by which he advanced to open Hostility (
what I was not Actually, or Personally engag
in:) He in a while arrived to that height
Folly and Wickedness, that he Wrote and Pu
lished a large Book, in Five Parts, to which
Maliciously gave for a Title [
The Christian Q
ker distinguished from the Apostate and Innovat
thereby Arrogating to himself, and those w
were of his Party, the topping Stile of
Christ
Quaker;
and no less Impiously, than Uncha
tably branding, and rejecting all others (e
the main Body of
Friends
) for
Apostates
a
Innovators.
date
1681
When this Book came abroad, it was no
little (and He, for its sake) cryed up by his
judicious Admirers; whose Applause setting
Head assoat, he came up to
London
at the ti
of the
Yearly-Meeting
then following, and at
Close thereof, gave notice in writing to this
ct,
date
1681
viz. That if any were Dissatisfied with his
ok, he was there ready to Maintain and Defend
h it and himself against all Commers.
This daring Challenge was neither dreaded,
r slighted; but an Answer forthwith returned
Writing (Signed by a few
Friends,
amongst
hom I was one) to let him know, that as ma
were Dissatisfied with his Book and him, he
ould not fail (God willing) to be met by the
xth Hour next Morning, at the Meeting
ace at
Devonshire-House.
Accordingly we met, and continued the Meet
g till Noon, or after; in which time he (sur
unded with those of his own Party, as might
et and assist him) was so fairly foiled and baf
d, and so fully exposed, that he was glad to
it the Place, and early next Morning the own also; leaving, in excuse for his going so
bruptly off (and thereby refusing us another Meeting with him, which we had earnestly pro
oked him to) this slight shift, that he had be
re given Earnest for his Passage in the Stage-Coach home, and was not willing to lose it.
I had before this gotten a sight of his Book,
nd procured one for my use, on this occasion;
ut I had not time to read it through: But a while after, Providence cast another of them in
o my Hands very unexpectedly: For our dear
riend,
G. Fox,
passing through this Country a
ong
Friends,
and lying in his Journey at my House, had one of them in his Bags, which he
ad made some Marginal Notes upon. For that
ood Man (like
Julius Caesar
) willing to improve
date
1681
all parts of his time, did usually, even i
his Travels, dictate to his
Amanuensis,
what h
would have committed to Writing. I knew not that he had this Book with him (for he ha
not said any thing to me of it) till going in th
Morning, into his Chamber, while he wa
Dressing himself; I found it lying on the Tabl
by him. And understanding that he was goin
but for a few Weeks, to Visit
Friends
in the Meetings hereabouts, and the Neighbouring parts
Oxford
and
Berkshire,
and so return through th
County again: I made bold to ask him, if
would Favour me so much, as to leave it wit
me till his Return; that I might have the opportunity of reading it thorough. He consente
and as soon almost as he was gone, I set my se
to read it over. But I had not gone far in i e're, observing the many foul Falshoods, ma
lious Slanders, gross Perversions and false Doctrines, abounding in it; the sense thereof inflamed my Breast with a Just and Holy Indignation against the Work, and that Devilish Spi
in which it was brought forth. Wherefor
finding my Spirit raised, and my Understandin
Divinely opened to Refute it; I began the Boo
again, and reading it with Pen in Hand, Answered it Paragraphically, as I went. And
clear were the Openings I received from th
Lord therein, that by the time my Friend cam
back, I had gone through the greatest part of it
and was too far engaged in Spirit, to think o
giving over the Work: Wherefore, requesting him to continue the Book a little longer with
date
1682
me, I soon after finished the Answer; which, with
Friends
Approbation, was Printed, under
he Title of
An Antidote against the Infection of
W. Rogers
his Book, miscalled, The Christian Qua
er,
&c. This was written in the Year, 1682. But no Answer was given to it (either by him
r any other of his Party; though many others were concerned therein, and some by Name) so
ar as I have ever heard. Perhaps there might
e an Hand of Providence over-ruling them
herein; to give me leisure to attend some other
ervices, which soon after fell upon me.
For it being a Stormy time, and Persecu
ion waxing hot, upon the Conventicle-Act,
hrough the busie Boldness of Hungry Infor
ers, who, for their own Advantage, did not
nly themselves hunt after Religious and Pea
eable Meetings; but drove on the Officers
not only the more Inferior and Subordinate,
ut, in some places, even the Justices also) for
ear of Penalties, to Hunt with them and for
hem: I found a Pressure upon my Spirit to write a small Treatise, to inform such Officers
ow they might secure and defend themselves from being ridden by those Malepert Informers, and made their Drudges.
This Treatise I called,
A Caution to Constables, and other Inferior Officers, concerned in the Execution of the Conventicle-Act. With some Observations thereupon, humbly offered by way of Advice, to such Well-meaning and Moderate Justices of the Peace, as would not willingly Ruin their Peaceable Neighbours,
&c.
date
1683
This was thought to have some good Service where it came, upon such Sober and Moderate Officers, as well
Justices,
as
Constables,
&c. as acted rather by Constraint than Choice; by incouraging them to stand their Ground, with more Courage and Resolution, against the Insults of sawcy
Informers.
But whatever Ease it brought to others, it brought me some Trouble, and had like to have brought me into more Danger, had not Providence wrought my Deliverance, by an unexpected Way.
For as soon as it came forth in Print (which was in the Year, 1683.) one
William Ayrs
o
Watford
in
Hertfordshire,
a Friend, and an Acquaintance of mine (who was both an
Apothecay
and
Barber
) being acquainted with divers of the Gentry in those Parts, and going often to som
of their Houses, to Trim them; took one o
these Books with him, when he went to Tri
Sir
Benjamin Titchborn
of
Rickmansworth,
an
presented it to him: supposing he would have taken it kindly, as in like Cases he had formerly done. But it fell out otherwise. For he lookin
it over, after
Ayrs
was gone; and taking it b
the wrong Handle, entertained an evil Opinio
of it, and of me for it, though he knew me no
He thereupon communicated both the Book
and his Thoughts upon it, to a Neighbouring Justice, living in
Rickmansworth,
whose Nam
was
Thomas Fotherly;
who concurring with hi
in Judgment, they concluded that I should b
taken up and Prosecuted for it, as a Seditiou
date
1683
Book: For a Libel they could not call it, my Name being to it at length.
Wherefore sending for
Ayrs,
who had brought the Book, Justice
Titchborn
examined him if
he knew me, and where I dwelt.
Who telling him, He
knew me well, and had been often at my House:
He gave him in charge to give me Notice, that
I should appear before him and the other Justice, at
Rickmansworth
on such a Day:
Threatning that
if I did not appear, he himself should be Prosecuted for spreading the Book.
This put
William Ayrs
in a Fright. Over he came in haste with this Message to me; troubled that he should be a means to bring me into Trouble. But I endeavoured to give him Ease, by assuring him I would not fail (with God's Leave) to appear at the time and place appointed; and thereby free him from
Trouble
or
Danger.
In the Interim I received Advice, by an Express out of
Sussex,
that
Guli Penn
(with whom I had had an Intimate Acquaintance, and firm Friendship from our very Youths) was very dangerously Ill (her Husband being then absent in
Pennsylvania
) and that she had a great Desire to see and speak with me.
This put me to a great Straight, and brought a sore Exercise on my Mind. I was divided betwixt Honour and Friendship. I had engaged my Word to appear before the Justices; which to omit, would bring Dishonour on me and my Profession. To stay till that time was come and past, might probably prove (if I
date
1683
should then be left at Liberty) too late to Answer her desire, and satisfie Friendship.
After some little Deliberation, I resolv'd (as the best Expedient to answer both Ends) to go over next Morning to the Justices, and lay my Straight before them; and try if I cou'd procure from them a Respit of my Appearance before them, until I had been in
Sussex,
and paid the Duty of Friendship to my Sick Friend. Which I had the more Hopes to obtain, because I knew those Justices had a great respect for
Guli.
For when
William Penn
and she were first Married, they lived for some Years at
Rickmansworth;
in which time they contracted a
Neighbourly Friendship
with both these Justices and theirs; who ever after retained a kind regard for them both.
Early therefore in the Morning I rode over. But being wholly a Stranger to the Justices, I went first to
Watford,
that I might take
Ayrs
along with me, who supposed himself to have some Interest in
Justice Titchborn:
And when I came there, understanding that another Friend of that Town, whose Name was
John Wells,
was well acquainted with the other Justice,
Fotherly;
having imparted to them the Occasion of my coming, I took them both with me, and hasted back to
Rickmansworth.
Where having put our Horses up at an Inn, and leaving
W. Ayrs
(who was a Stranger to
Fotherly
) there; I went with
John Wells
to
Fotherly
's House: and being brought into a fair Hall, I tarried there, while
Wells
went into the Parlour to him, and having acquainted him that I was there, and desired
date
1683
to speak w
th him, brought him to me with Severity in his Countenance.
After he had asked me (in a Tone which spake Displeasure)
what I had to say to him?
I told him, I came to wait on him, upon an Intimation given me, that he had something to say to me: He thereupon, plucking my Book out of his Pocket, asked me,
If I owned my self to be the Author of that Book?
I told him If he pleased to let me look into it; if it were mine, I would not deny it. He thereupon giving it into my Hand, when I had turned over the Leaves, and look'd it through, finding it to be as it came from the Press; I told him, I wrote the Book, and would own it, all but the Errors of the Press. Whereupon he, looking sternly on me, answered,
Your own Errors you should have said.
Having Innocency on my side, I was not at all daunted at either his Speech, or Looks: but feeling the Lord present with me, I replied, I know there are Errors of the Press in it, and therefore I excepted them: but I do not know there is any Error of mine in it, and therefore cannot except them. But (added I) if thou pleasest to shew me any Error of mine in it, I shall readily both acknowledge and retract it. And thereupon I desired him to give me an Instance, in any one Passage in that Book, wherein he thought I had Erred. He said,
he needed not go to particulars: but charge me with the general Contents of the whole Book.
I replied, that such a Charge would be too General, for me to give a Particular Answer to: but if he would assign
date
1683
me any particular Passage, or Sentence in the Book, wherein he apprehended the ground of Offence to lie; when I should have opened the Terms, and explained my meaning therein, he might perhaps find Cause to change his Mind, and entertain a better Opinion, both of the Book and me. And therefore I again intreated him, to let me know what particular Passage, or Passages had given him an Offence. He told me,
I needed not to be in so much haste for that; I might have it timely enough, if not too soon: But this,
said he,
is not the Day appointed for your Hearing; and therefore
(added he)
what, I pray, made you in such haste to come now?
I told him, I hoped he wou'd not take it for an Argument of Guilt, that I came before I was sent for: and offered my self to my Purgation, before the time appointed. And this I spake with somewhat a brisker Air: which had so much Influence on him, as to bring a somewhat softer Air over his Countenance.
Then, going on, I told him, I had a particular Occasion, which induced me to come now; which was, That I received Advice last Night, by an Express out of
Sussex,
That
William Penn
's Wife (with whom I had had an intimate Acquaintance, and strict Friendship,
ab ipsis ferè Incunabilis,
at least,
à teneris Unguiculis
) lay now there very ill; not without great Danger (in the Apprehension of those about her) of her Life: and that she had exprest her desire that I would come to her, as soon as I could; the rather, for that her Husband
date
1683
was absent in
America.
That this had brought a great Straight upon me, being divided between
Friendship
and
Duty;
willing to visit my Friend in her Ilness, which the Nature and Law of Friendship required: yet unwilling to omit my
Duty,
by failing of my Appearance (before him and the other Justice) according to their Command and my Promise; lest I should thereby subject, not my own Reputation only, but the Reputation of my Religious Profession to the Suspicion of Guilt, and Censure of willingly shunning a Tryal. To prevent which I had chosen to anticipate the Time, and come now; to see if I could give them Satisfaction, in what they had to object against me; and thereupon being dismist, pursue my Journey into
Sussex;
or if by them detained, to submit to Providence; and by an Express to acquaint my Friend therewith, both to free her from an Expectation of my Coming, and my self from any Imputation of Neglect.
While I thus delivered my self, I observed a sensible Alteration in the Justice; and when I had done speaking, he first said he was
very sorry for Madam
Penn
's Ilness;
of whose Virtue and Worth he spake very highly (yet not more than was her due:) Then he told me,
That, for her sake, he would do what he could to further my Visit to her, But,
said he,
I am but one; and of my self can do nothing in it: therefore you must go to Sir
Benjamin Titchborn,
and, if he be at home, see if you can prevail with him to meet me, that we may consider of it.
date
1683
But I can assure you,
added he,
the matter which will be laid to your Charge, concerning your Book, is of greater Importance, than you seem to think it. For your Book has been laid before the
KING
and
Council;
and the Earl of
Bridgwater (
who is one of the
Council)
hath thereupon given us Command to Examine you about it, and secure you.
I wish, said I, I could speak with the Earl my self: for I make no Doubt but to acquit my self unto him: And, added I, if thou pleasest to give me thy Letter to him; I will wait upon him, with it, forthwith. For although I know, continued I, that he hath no Favour for any of my Perswasion; yet knowing my self to be wholly innocent in this matter, I can with Confidence appear before him, or even before the KING in Council.
Well,
said he,
I see you are Confident; but for all that, let me tell you, how good soever your Intention was, you timed the publishing of your Book very unluckily: for you cannot be ignorant, that there is a very dangerous Plot lately discovered, contrived by the
Dissenters,
against the
Government,
and
His Majesty's
Life.
(This was the
Rie-Plot,
then newly broke forth, and laid upon the
Presbyterians:) And for you,
added he,
to publish a Book, just at that Juncture of time, to discourage the Magistrates, and other Officers, from putting in Execution those Laws, which were made to suppress their Meetings; looks, I must tell you, but with a scurvy Countenance upon you.
If (replied I, with somewhat a pleasanter Air) there was any Mis-timing in the Case, it must
date
1683
lie on the Part of those Plotters, for timing the breaking forth of their Plot while my Book was a Printing: for I can bring very good Proof, that my Book was in the Press, and well-nigh wrought off, before any Man talked, or knew of a Plot; but those who were in it.
Here our Discourse ended, and I, taking, for the present, my leave of him, went to my Horse. and, changing my Companion, rode to Justice
Titchborn
's, having with me
William Ayrs,
who was best acquainted with him, and who had casually brought this Trouble on me.
When he had introduced me to
Titchborn,
I gave him alike Account of the Occasion of my coming at that time, as I had before given to the other Justice. And both he, and his Lady (who was present) exprest much Concern for
Guli Penn
's Ilness.
I found this Man to be of quite another Temper than Justice
Fotherly:
for this Man was smooth, soft and oily; whereas the other was rather rough, severe and sharp. Yet at the winding up, I found
Fotherly
my truest Friend.
When I had told Sir
B. Titchborn,
that I came from Justice
Fotherly,
and requested him to give him a Meeting, to consider of my Business; he readily, without any Hesitation, told me he would go with me to
Rickmansworth
(from which his House was distant about a Mile;) and calling for his Horses, mounted immediately; and to
Rickmansworth
we rode.
After they had been a little while together, I was called in before them; and in the first place
date
1683
they Examined me
what was my Intention an
Design in writing that Book.
I told them the I
troductory Part of it, gave a plain Account o
it
(viz.)
"That it was to get Ease from the Penalties of a
Severe Law;
often Executed wit
too great a Severity, by unskilful Officers
who were driven on beyond the Bounds o
their Duty, by the impetuous Threats of a sort of Insolent Fellows (as needy as greedy) who, for their own Advantage, sought out Ruin.
To prevent which was the Design, and Drift of that Book; by acquainting such Officers how they might safely demean themselves, in the Execution of their Offices, towards their honest and peaceable Neighbours, without ruining either their Neighbours, or themselves, to enrich some of the worst of Men. And that I humbly conceived It was neither Unlawful, nor Unreasonable for a Sufferer to do this: so long as it was done in a fair, sober and peaceable Way.
They then put me in Mind of the Plot; told me
It was a troublesome and dangerous Time, and my Book might be Construed to import Sedition, in discouraging the Officers from putting the Laws in Execution, as by Law and by their Oath they were bound.
And in fine brought it to this Issue, That
they were directed to secure me, by a Commitment to Prison, until the Assize, at which I should receive a further Charge, than they were provided now to give me: but because they were desirous to forward my Visit to Madam
Penn,
they told me they would admit me to Bayl; and therefore if I would enter a Recognizance, with sufficient Sureties, for
date
1683
my Appearance at the next Assize, they would leave me at Liberty to go on my Journey.
I told them, I could not do it. They said
hey would give me as little Trouble as they could;
nd therefore they would not put me to seek Bail: but
ould accept those two Friends of mine, who were
hen present, to be bound with me for my Appearance.
I let them know my Straight lay not in the Difficulty of procuring Sureties; for I did sup
ose my self to have sufficient Acquaintance,
nd Credit in that place, if, on such an Occasion I could be free to use it: but, as I knew my
elf to be an innocent Man, I had not Satis
action in my self, to desire others to be bound
or me, nor to enter my self into a Recogni
ance; that carrying in it (to my Apprehension) Reflection on my Innocency, and the Repu
ation of my Christian Profession.
Here we stuck, and strugled about this a pret
y while; till at length, finding me fixed in my
udgment, and resolved rather to go to Prison,
han give Bail, they ask'd me
If I was against Appearing, or only against being bound with Sure
ies to Appear.
I told them I was not against Appearing; which as I could not avoid, if I would; so I would not, if I might: but was
eady and willing to Appear, if required; to
nswer whatsoever should be charged against me. But in any Case of a Religious Nature, or wherein my Christian Profession was concerned (which I took this Case to be) I could not yield
give any other, or further Security than my Word, or Promise, as a Christian.
date
1683
They, unwilling to commit me, took hold o
that; and ask'd,
If I would promise to appear.
answered, Yes; with due Limitations.
What d
you mean by due Limitations,
said they. I mea
replied I, if I am not disabled, or prevented by Sickness, or Imprisonment. For (added I) a
you alledge that it is a troublesome Time; I perhaps may find it so. I may, for ought I know
be seized and imprisoned elsewhere, on the sam
Account for which I now stand here before you
and if I should, how then could I appear at th
Assize in this County?
Oh,
said they,
these ar
due Limitations indeed! Sickness or Imprisonmen
are lawful Excuses; and if either of these befal yo
we shall not expect your Appearance here: but the
you must Certifie us that you are so disabled by Sicknes
or Restraint.
But, said I, how shall I know, when and where I shall wait upon you again, after my Return from
Sussex? You need not,
said they,
trouble your self about that: we will take care to giv
you Notice of both Time and Place; and till you hea
from us, you may dispose your self as you please.
Well then, said I, I do promise you, tha
when I shall have received from you a fres
Command to Appear before you, I will (if th
Lord permit me Life, Health and Liberty) appear when and where you shall appoint.
It is enough,
said they,
we will take your Word
And, desiring me to give their hearty Respect
and Service to Madam
Penn,
they dismist m
with their good Wishes for a good Journey.
date
1683
I was sensible, that in this they had dealt ve
y favourably and kindly with me: therefore I
ould not but acknowledge to them the Sense I
ad thereof. Which done, I took leave of them,
nd mounting returned home, with what haste
could, to let my Wife know how I had sped.
nd having given her a summary Account of
he Business; I took Horse again, and went so
ar that Evening towards
Worminghurst,
that I got thither pretty early next Morning: and, to my great Satisfaction, found my Friend in an
opeful Way towards a Recovery.
I stay'd some Days with her; and then find
ng her Ilness wear daily off, and some other
riends being come from
London
to visit her: I
mindful of my Engagement to the Justices,
nd unwilling, by too long an Absence, to give
hem Occasion to suspect I was willing to avoid
heir Summons) leaving those other Friends to
ear her Company longer, took my leave of her
nd them, and set my Face homewards; car
ying with me the welcome Account of my
riend's Recovery.
Being returned home, I waited in daily Ex
ectation of a Command from the Justices, to
ppear again before them: but none came. I
pake with those Friends, who had been with me when I was before them: and they said, They
had heard nothing of it from them, although
ey had since been in Company with them.
At length
he Assize came; but no Notice was given to me, that I shou'd appear there: In fine, they
er troubled themselves, nor me, any further a
out it.
date
1683
Thus was a Cloud, that look'd black, an threatned an
great Storm, blown gently over, b
a providential Breath; which I could not bu
with a thankful Mind, acknowledge to the Al
great, All-good, All-wise Disposer, in whos
Hand, and at whose Command, the Hearts o
all Men, even the greatest, are, and who turn
their Counsels, disappoints their Purposes, and defeats their Designs and Contrivances, as He pleases. For if my dear Friend
Guli Penn
had not fallen Sick; if I had not thereupon been sen
for to her, I had not prevented the time of my Appearance, but had appeared on the Day appointed: And, as I afterwards understood, tha
was the Day appointed for the Appearance of a great many Persons, of the Dissenting Party in that side of the County, who were to be taken up, and secured, on the Account of the aforementioned Plot, which had been cast upon the
Presbyterians.
So that if I had then appeared
with and amongst them, I had, in all likelihood
been sent to Goal with them for Company; and that under the Imputation of a Plotter: tha
which nothing was more contrary to my Profession and Inclination.
But though I came off so easie, it fared no
so well with others: for the Storm increasing
many Friends, in divers Parts, both of City and Country, suffered greatly; the Sense whereo
did deeply affect me: and the more, for that I observed the Magistrates, not thinking the Laws, which had been made against us, severe enough, perverted the Law, in order to punish
date
1683
s. For calling our peaceable Meetings
Riots
which in the Legal Notion of the Word [
Riot
]
a
Contradiction in Terms)
they indicted our
riends as
Rioters,
for only sitting in a Meeting,
o' nothing was there either said or done by
em; and then set Fines on them at pleasure.
This I knew to be not only against
Right
and
J
stice;
but even against
Law:
and it troubled
e to think that we should be made to suffer
t only by Laws made directly against us; but
en by Laws that did not at all concern us.
or was it long before I had Occasion offered
ore throughly to consider this Matter.
For a Justice of the Peace in this County (who
as called Sir
Dennis Hampson
of
Taplow
) break
g in, with a Party of Horse, upon a little Meet
g near
Wooburn,
in his Neighbourhood, the 1
st
the
Fifth Month,
1683. sent most of the Men,
the Number of Twenty three, whom he found
ere, to
Alesbury
Prison, tho' most of them were
r Men, who lived by their Labour: and not
ing himself to the next
Quarter-Sessions
at
ckingham,
on the 12th of the some Month, sent
Clark, with Direction,
That they should be in
cted for a Riot.
Whither the Prisoners were
ried, and indicted accordingly; and being
essed by the Court to Traverse and give Bail,
y moved to be tryed forthwith; but that was
ied them. And they, giving in Writing the
ason of their refusing Bail and Fees, were re
nded to Prison till next Quarter-Sessions; but
lliam Woodhouse
was again Bailed, (as he had
en before) and
William Mason
and
John Reeve,
date
1683
who not being Friends, but casually taken at that Meeting, entred
Recognizance,
as the Court desired; and so were released till next Sessions Before which time
Mason
died, and
Reeve,
being sick, appeared not, but got himself taken off
And in the
Eighth Month
following, the Twenty one Prisoners that remained were brought to Tryal, a Jury was found, who brought in a pr
tended Verdict, that they were
Guilty of a Rio
for only sitting peaceably together, without
Wo
or
Action,
and tho' there was no Proclamatio
made, nor they required to depart: but one
the Jury-men afterwards did confess,
he kne
not what a Riot was;
yet the Prisoners we
fined a Noble a Piece, and re-committed to P
son
during Life
(a hard Sentence) or the
King
Pleasure,
or until they should
pay the said Fin
William Woodhouse
was forthwith discharged,
his Kinsman's paying the Fine and Fees for hi
Thomas Dell
and
Edward Moor
also, by other Pe
ple of the World, paying their Fines and Fees
them; and shortly after
Stephen Pewsey,
by t
Town and Parish where he lived, for fear
Wife and Children should become a Charge u
on them. The other Seventeen remained P
soners, till King JAMES's Proclamation of P
don: whose Names were
Thomas
and
Willi
Sexton, Timothy Child, Robert Moor, Richard Jam
William
and
Robert Aldridge, John Ellis, Geo
Salter, John Smith. William Tanner, William B
chelor, John Dolbin, Andrew Brothers, Rich
Baldwin, John Jennings
and
Robert Austin.
A SUPPLEMENT:
Being a Continuation of the History of the Life of
THOMAS ELLWOOD;
Giving Account in particular of his
Books
and
Writings.
OUR dear Friend
Thomas Ellwood,
for whom we cannot but have an honourable Esteem, for his Service in the Church,
aving written an
Historical Account
of Part of
is Life, well worth the Knowledge of Posterity,
far as it goes;
viz.
to the Year 1683. and
ere left off. Whether he writ any further;
whether ever he designed it; or for what
eason he did not proceed, is uncertain: but so
is, that no more of it can be found at present;
hich is to be lamented, he being a Man so E
inent many Ways, that any Part of it should
e lost. In Consideration whereof, it rose in my
eart to write something in order to
supply
the
eficiency thereof: many things occurring to
y Mind, which its pity should be omitted.
herefore for the Respect I bore him, and owe
his Memory (being acquainted with him for ore than the last Twenty Years of his Life) I
all endeavour to make up that Defect as far as
am capable of; tho' far short of what himself
ight have done, by giving an Account of some of the most material Passages of the remaining Part of his Life: and such Memorials of him, and his Works, as came to my Hands: which I shall set down with as much Brevity and Plainness as I can, in Sincerity to him, and the Truth he professed and adorned. Particularly, of his Labours, Writings, Sufferings and End, from the time he left off.
But first I must look back a little, to give some additional Account of some Passages in relation to his Answers to the
Priests
about
Tythes
for the Readers Information and Satisfaction
which every Body may not know, to preven
Misapprehensions in the Case.
In the Year 1676, he answered a Namele
Book, miscalled,
A Friendly Conference between
Minister, and a Parishioner of his inclining to
Quakerism; in a Book intituled
Truth prevailing a
detecting Error:
which he divided into Nin
Chapters, according to the various Subjects trea
ed of (wherein that nameless Author had endeavoured to misrepresent us) the last of whic
was of
Tythes.
'This (to use his own Words
pinching the Priests in a tender Part, the
Bel
(as
Erasmus
wittily said
Luther
did the
Monk
made them bestir themselves, and lay the
Heads together, to consider what was to b
done.
Preface to Foundation of Tythes Shaken, Pag. 1. 2.
After divers Debates, and much Co
sultation (as he was informed) about it; it wa
at last resolved, to Answer that first: which, th
the last Chapter in his Book, yet having the fi
and chiefest Place in the Priests Minds and A
fections, the
Priests Delilah; the very Darling a
Minion of the Clergy
(says T. E.)
the Oil by which their Lamp is Nourished; the Pay by which their Army is maintained
(as the Priest confesses:) and to take away
Tythes,
would be to
stop the Oil that nourishes the Lamp, and force them to disband for want of Pay.
Introduction.
Page 3.
Right of Tythes.
p. 13.
This being I say their chiefest Concern, and lying nearest at Heart,
obtain'd
from them the first and chiefest Defence: which at length came forth by a nameless Author also, in a Book, intituled,
The Right of Tythes asserted and proved.
To which
T. E.
reply'd (in 1678,) in a large Book, intituled,
The Foundation of
Tythes
shaken, and the four principal Posts
(
of
Divine Institution, Primitive Practice, Voluntary Donation
and
Positive Laws)
on which the Nameless Author of the said Book had set his pretended Right to
Tythes,
removed.
Tracing them all along, from the
Patriarchs
to the time of the
Law;
shewing the Design and Use of them under it; and how they were abolished by the Coming, and Suffering of Christ in the Flesh: and how they came to be set up again in the Declension of the Church, by
Popish
Kings and Councils, in the Night of Apostacy, for supersticious and Idolatrous Ends and Uses; contrary to the Gospel Dispensation, and consequently not Obligatory on Christians, by any
Divine Right,
to pay in this Gospel Day; answering all the Objections and Pretences, which were brought by that Author for them, from the Four forementioned Topicks.
To this Book of
T. E
's. there was a pretended Answer put forth Two Years after, supposed by the Author of the former; but Nameless still: the Author not daring to own his Work with his Name, (though since called
Combers
) intituled,
The Right of
Tythes
Re-asserted:
wherein the Proofs from the four former Points are said to be further
strengthened and vindicated: especially from the Objections taken out of Mr.
Selden
's History of Tythes:
as if it was chiefly designed against
John Selden, T. E.
's Name, or Book, not being so much as mentioned in the Title Page, though often in the Book; as if it was however designed as an Answer to him: which therefore
T. E.
(though not entituled to it) took in Hand, to rejoin to, and had begun and made some considerable Progress in it; but before he had gone through, or finished it, some other Occasions falling in his way (of which hereafter) it was laid by, and never finished: though he had writ (as he told me) near
Sixty Sheets
(though I find but
Fourty Six
among his Papers; but these, with his Notes and Quotations will make near
Sixty
) for he had Collected a vast Number of Materials out of Authors, in order thereto, as appears by his Papers, which I have since seen. For thus it was, That some of the Priests party, vaunting that this Second Book of the Priests was not answered, I took occasion once at
London,
in the Year 1692, to speak to him about it; and he told me,
That the Substance of the Priests Arguments, in this Second Book, were answered in his former
(The Foundation of Tythes shaken)
only some New Quotations, which he had brought; and that was what he chiefly designed
to deal with the Priest about, to Examine and Clear, by adding some New Ones also: but that he never expected to have the last Word with the Priests about
Tythes;
which their Interest lay so much in, that they would never be satisfied; but always be Cavilling about, some way or other, how little soever it was to the Purpose: and some other Services taking him off
(as aforesaid)
he laid it by.
Which I mention to satisfie any who may Question in their Minds, why it was never answered (or at least gone through) and this is the Reason why I resumed this Matter.
'In handling the Argument of
Tythes
(says he, in a Paper found among his Manuscripts, as an
Introdnction
to his said intended Answer) I write with this Disadvantage, That I encounter a numerous Party and Order of Men, with whom
Interest
is far more prevalent than
Truth;
whose
Profit
will not permit them to yield to
Reason;
whose
Advantage
will not suffer them to acknowledge the plainest
Demonstration:
their
Gain
as apparently lying in that which I oppose, as
Demetrius
's, and his Fellow-Craftsmen, the
Silversmiths
of
Ephesus
did in that which the Apostle preached against,
Acts
19. 25, 26. Hence is it that they bend all their Strength, and imploy their utmost Force to maintain this Point, by which they are maintained; and like those
Shrine-makers
of old, they endeavour to carry it by Noise and Clamour, instead of Truth and Reason. Nor do they regard what they say, how false soever; or whom they bespatter, how undeservedly soever, in order to the upholding their adored
Diana,
and enjoying their most beloved
Delilah, TYTHES.
My present Adversary is not ashamed to say (p. 1, 2.)
That I, and my fellow Quaking Speakers
(as he reproachfully calls us)
have our Gain by Railing against Tythes.
A Charge so apparently and rediculously False, that it needs no more than its own Malice and Folly to detect it. With equal Reason might
Demetrius
have charged St.
Paul,
that he and his Brethren had their Gain by impugning the Idolatrous Worship of
Diana.
'
Sacriledge
and
Idolatry,
the Priests say,
are Sins near of kin:
but
Covetousness
and the
Clergy
are perhaps nearer. The great Outcry against
Sacriledge
is made for the most part by Idolaters and false Ministers; who, as they are most greedy and crafty to get, so are they most solicitous and careful to keep, most enraged and clamourous, when they come to lose their unjustly acquired Gains. Thus was it with the
Popish Clergy,
after they had gull'd the People by a religious Cheat, of a great part of their Substance, they laboured to terrifie them, by the Name of
Sacriledge,
from attempting to recover that which had been so fraudulently gotten from them, and doubtless the
English Clergy,
as they derive [in chief part] the Maintenance they possess from their Predecessors, the
Popish Clergy;
from whom they received their
Priesthood,
have therewith also taken up from them their Old Cry of
Sacriledge,
with which, as a Bugbear, they would scare all from attempting to discover the
Cheat.
But the legal Alienation of a great Part of those surreptitius Acquisitions of the
Clergy,
begun in
HENRY the Eighth
's Time, carried on in
EDWARD the Sixth
's, and compleated in Q.
ELIZABETH
's (of these three, the two last were
Protestant
Princes) hath abated the Edge of that
Clerical
Weapon, and satisfied the dis-intrested Part of the Nation, that the Word [
Sacriledge
] in this Case, is but like a Scare-crow, especially when used by the Priests for their own Profit; as most commonly it is: for though they pretend the Maintenance of
God's Worship,
yet it is their own Maintenance they intend. And herein
Demetrius
and they most patly agree: for he also urged (as the most specious Pretence, and which was most likely to impress the People) the Danger, lest, by
Paul
's Preaching,
the Temple of the great Goddess Diana should be despised, and her Magnificence destroyed,
Acts 19. 27. Whereas the great Inducement to him for stirring, was the danger lest his Craft should be set at nought, and he should thereby lose the Gains he made by
Diana's Temple,
ver. 25, 27. Do the Priests now cry out against
Sacriledge?
So did
Demetrius
and his Craftsmen then. Did they cloak their private Interest with a seeming Regard, and Care for the
Temple and Magnificence of their Goddess
Dinna? So do the
Priests
theirs now, with a pretence of Zeal for the
Worship of God.
Did they in their Fury take no notice of th
Magistrates
nor
Laws
of their Country? S
neither do many of the
Priests
now, who wit
out regard to
Law
or
Magistrates,
run Fur
ously and Tumultuously into their Neighbou
Grounds, with their Servants and Teams and Forcibly, and Arbitrarily Take, and carry away their
Corn
and
Hay;
when, where and in what Quantity they please: Will the
Priests
alledge, that, notwithstanding these irregular Practices; yet they have the
Law
and
Magistrates
on their sides: So had
Demetrius
and his Company too, while the good
Apostle,
not backt by
Laws,
nor countenanced by
Magistracy;
was yet Enabled, by
Divine Assistance,
to stand the shock of a
their Rage and Fury, and boldly to Testifie against that which was Corrupt and Naugh
although it had the Favour and Support of
Law
and
Magistracy
too: And indeed, so ap
is the Comparison in most Respects, betwee
those
Shrine-Makers,
and these
Tythe-Taker
that my Adversary in vain Labours to Reto
it; for even the very particulars he instanc
to cast it upon me, fix it the more firmly
the Head of himself, and his own Party.
'Nor is he less put to it, to avoid the force
his own unwary Expressions of the
Oyl for t
Lamp,
and
Pay for the Soldier;
whereby
hath discovered, that he and his Brethren, a
meer mercinary Men, whose
Lamp
will bu
no longer than it is fed with the
Oyl of Tyth
This was one of the
Arcana Cleri,
a Secret
seems) that should not have been divulged. But
Children,
and he knows who besides, are said to tell true. And he having inconsideratly blab'd it out, his chief Care and Art is now how to palliate, extenuate and mince the Matter, and varnish it over, with some kind of flourish, that the ground of it may not be seen; but this he does so weakly, and lays his Colour so thin, that even the weakest Eye may easily see through it. The mention I made of these Passages in my former Book, he calls
tedious and nauseous Repetitions:
and tedious no doubt, and nauseous it is to him and his Brethren, to see the false Foundation of their Ministry so openly exposed: but so little do I fear those Repetitions being nauseous or tedious to the indifferent Reader, that upon this Occasion I desire him to peruse them again, in the 6, 7, 8 and 9 Pages of my former Book.
'
From Tythes, being the Oyl to their Lamp, and Pay to their Army,
He says,
I draw (as I imagin) a cutting Consequence,
viz.
That their Lamps will not burn without Oyl, nor they Fight without Pay.
This
Cutting Consequence
(as he calls it) he touches as tenderly, as if he was afraid it would cut his Fingers; though he well knew, that in the Wording of it, he had taken off its Edge as much as he could: For if my Consequence had been only that their
Lamps will not burn without Oyl,
it would not then have been so Keen. He might then have Replied,
Whose will? Can any Lamp burn without Oyl?
No sure: Every
Lamp
must have
Oyl:
But the
Oyl
should be suitable to the
Lam
an
Outward Lamp,
should have
Outward Oy
an
Inward Lamp, Inward Oyl.
Now they pr
tending their
Ministry
to be a
Spiritual Lam
a
Religious Lamp
(as the
True Ministry
inde
is; and is, and can be, Nourished only by t
Spiritual Heavenly Oyl
of the
Divine Eter
Word;
) and yet Confessing
Tythes to be the O
that Nourishes their Ministerial Lamp, and wit
out which their Lamp will not Burn:
This plai
ly shews, their
Lamp
is not
Spiritual,
nor th
Ministry
what they Pretend,
&c.
By this we may Judge,
Ex pede Herculem,
the Priests performance; and
T. E
's Answ
had he gone through and finished it; which y
I hope, so far as he hath gone, may, one ti
or other, see the Light, being well worth t
Perusal as it is; and had he finished it, I am
tisfied, it would have been a very serviceab
Piece: No Hand, in my Judgment, being m
Capable of such a Performance. But he ha
as I said, some other Services on his Hands divert him: Of which, his Answer to
Willi
Rogers
's great Book aforesaid, in 1682. Inti
led,
An Antidote against the Infection of
Willia
Rogers
's Book, miscalled the
Christian Quak
In Five Parts, soon after; no doubt, was o
containing above Thirty Sheets: In which
Answered him, Chapter by Chapter; and
most Paragraph by Paragraph; in Relation
Church Government, and the good Order
Truth,
Established amongst us; and also as
most of the Principles of
Truth,
which the
W. R.
in one part of his Work, had endeavour
d to Pervert to his own Ends. A Laborious Work it was, and difficult task to go through
o evenly as he hath done: And though it is Controversie, yet pleasant to Read. As also his
aution to Constables, and other Inferior Officers,
ncerning the Execution of the Conventicle-Act. With some Observations thereupon. Humbly offered,
way of Advice, to such Well-meaning and Mode
te Justices of the Peace, as would not willingly
in their Peaceable Neighbours,
&c. Which is
entioned in his own Account.
date
1683
And now to come to the time, where he
eaks off his own Relation, and to carry it on,
some measure; though far short and infe
ur, to what his own Hand could have done:
r it cannot be expected, that any one can
ite another Man's Life like himself; there
ing many Passages, Publick and Private, Out
ard and Inward, even as to the frame of his
wn Mind and Condition, between God and
own Soul; which, as
No Man knoweth the
ngs of a Man, save the Spirit of a Man which is
im:
So none can Relate but himself; or like
self: For as the Wise Man says,
The Heart
weth his own Bitterness, and the Stranger can
intermeddle whith his Joy.
But what occurs
m my own Knowledge, or from his Books
d Papers, pertinent to the case in Hand, shall
thfully be Related.
Therefore to resume the Thread of his Dis
rse, and begin where he leaves off. He inti
tes at the Close of his own Account that the
date
1683
Magistrates not thinking the Laws made against us (
viz.
the
Conventicle-Act,
&c.) s
vere enough, perverted the Law, by makin
our
Peaceable Meetings Riots;
and Indicting o
Friends
as
Rioters,
that they might Fine at Pleasure: Which he knew to be contrary to Law and Justice; nor was it long (says he) before h
had occasion offered, more throughly to Con
der this matter (
viz.
the breaking up of t
Meeting near
Wooburn,
by Justice
Hampso
sending Friends to Prison, and Indicting the
for a
Riot;
) which shews he design'd to write
Book on that Subject (though he doth not me
tion it) and accordingly did this Year (aft
the
Caution to Constables,
&c. as aforesaid.) T
he called
A Discourse concerning Riots: Occasion
by some of the People called Quakers being Indict
for a Riot,
&c. Of which he gives (by way
Preface) this further Account.
'The Procee
ings of late in City and Country, against
of the People called
Quakers
for
Riots,
for o
Meeting
Peaceably
together to
Serve
and
W
ship
GOD, first put me upon enquiring i
the Nature of
Riots:
What, upon inquiry,
have found, I here present to publick Vie
for common Benefit; that none through Ig
rance, may be the occasion of bringing an
U
just Suffering
upon an
Innocent People,
a
thereby Guilt on themselves. I do not prete
much Skill in
Law
(a Study and Professio
was never bred to) but having spent so
Hours on this occasion, in searching what
Law Books say in this Case; I hope I
date
1683
(without incurring the Censure of Presumption) communicate my Gleaning to such of my well meaning Country Men, as have not Leizure or Opportunity to inform themselves otherwise. I solemnly declare, I have no other End, or Aim in this Work, than to
do Good,
and
prevent Evil:
Which Consideration, with Men of Candour and Ingenuity, will be, I hope, a sufficient Apology, for my seeming boldness in this Undertaking.
And so he proceeds to set forth what
Riots
are in the Law, and Law Books; of which he cites divers (and Scripture too) to shew that our Peaceable Meetitgs (which in those Days they used to make
Riots;
that they might Imprison and Fine us at Pleasure) could not be
Riots;
tho' thro' Ignorance, or Envy, they were often so rendred (which shewed their Injustice) Saying,
'How truly I have stated the Case on the one hand, with respect to
Riots;
the many Quotations in the foregoing Discourse, will shew. How true an Account, on the other Hand, I have given of our Meetings, the whole Nation (and all Nations where we have Meetings) may Judge upon the whole. (says he) My request is, that all, both
Justices
and
Jurors,
who have or shall be Concerned, in this or the like Case, will seriously weigh the matter; and not strain the Law beyond its due Extent. (adding) To Oppress any by colour of Law, is the greatest abuse of Law.
Concluding with a serious Re-capitulation, and Application of the whole: That none for the
date
1683
future might Err Ignorantly in that Respect; and if any would willfully, they might be left without Excuse.
About the same time, or not long after, he writ also,
A Seasonable Disswasive from
Persecution:
Humbly and Modestly, yet with Christian freedom, and plainness of Speech, offered to the Consideration of all concerned therein; on Behalf generally, of all that suffer for Conscience sake: Particularly the People called Quakers.
In the beginning of which, he defines what
Persecution
is.
'
Persecution
(says he) is a word of so harsh a Sound, and so generally Distastfull to
English
Ears, that scarce any of those who are most forward and active in that Work, are willing to have their Actions called by that Name. That none therefore, who have set an Hand to that Work, or whose Minds are any whit inclining thereto; may, from the dislike they have to the Word [
Persecution
] Reject this
Disswasive,
as a thing wherein they are not Concerned: I think it needful here to declare, what it is I mean by
Persecution.
By
Persecution
then, I intend
a Forcing, or Compelling any, by Pains or Penalties, Bodily or Pecuniary, to Relinquish or Forsake that Exercise of Religion, or way of Worship, which they believe to be the Right way of Worship; and the true and acceptable Exercise of Religion, which God hath required of them. And to Receive, Embrace, Conform to and perform some other Exercise of Religion, and way of Worship; which they who are so Compelled are either firmly perswaded is not the Right; or at
date
1683
least, have no belief that it is Right.
This (in short) is that which I call
Persecution;
and this is that which I Disswade from, whatever other Name, the Actors of it may please themselves in calling it by.
I. To begin with the first of these,
viz.
the Forcing, or Compelling any to Forsake, and and Leave that Exercise of Religion, or way of Worship,
&c.
The Reasons by which he endeavours to disswade all Men from such an undertaking, are these. [
i. e.
the Heads of them]
'1. You may, for ought you know, be found
Fighting against God:
You are not, you cannot be, upon your own Principles, infallibly sure, that that way of Worship, which you thus endeavour to force us from, is not the true Worship of God.— 2. By endeavouring to force us from that way of Worship, which we believe the Lord hath led us into, and requireth of us; you endeavour to force us, to make
Shipwrack
of
Faith.
— 3. In endeavouring by Force and Cruelty, to Restrain us from Worshipping God as (we are fully perswaded) he hath Taught us, and doth Require us: You go out of the Path of the Righteous, and tread in the Steps of the Wicked and Ungodly.— 4. That Exercise of Religion which you would force us from; is not simply of it self, Condemned and Disallowed by that Law, by the Severity of which, you would force us from it.— 5. In thus eagerly Pursuing us, and Disturbing our Peaceable Meetings; you give your selves, as well as us, a great deal of needless
date
1683
Trouble.—
Refrain from these Men, and let them alone.
— 6. And lastly, Be pleased to Consider, what sort of Agents and Instruments you are fain to make use of (and not seldom are your selves made use of by) to carry on this Work. Concluding this part thus: O never give Cause for this
Epitaph
to be written on your Tombs,
Here lies a Persecutor of the People of God.
II. Now for the other Branch of
Persecution,
viz.
The Forcing, or Compelling of any, by Pains or Penalties,— to Receive, Embrace, Conform to, and Perform some Exercise of Religion, and way of Worship,
&c. The Reasons by which he endeavours to disswade all Men from such an Undertaking, are these (
viz,
the Heads.)
'1. In thus imposing your way of Worship upon others, you act quite contrary to Christ and his Apostles.— 2. In thus imposing your way of Worship upon others, you follow the worst of Patterns,
Nebuchadnezzar
King of
Babylon,
&c.— 3. In forcing People to your way of Worship, who have no Belief that it is the right, you cause them to Sin: for
whatsoever is not of Faith is Sin.
— 4. In forcing People to your way of Worship, who have a firm Perswasion and Belief that it is not the right; you make Men
Hypocrites
and
Time-servers.
— 5. By obtruding and inforcing your Religion upon others, you greatly disparage and undervalue it, and give Men the more ground to suspect and dislike it.— 6. You break that great Command, which Christ says is the
Law
date
1683
and the Prophets,
viz.
All things whatsoever ye, would that Men should do to you, do ye even so to them,
Mat. 7. 12.—
All these Reasons are illustrated and backed with Scripture and Reason, concluding with a
ery close and seasonable Application to our
Per
cutors.
A solid serious Discourse it is, if any Arguments had been sufficient to disswade Men
om
Persecution
(of which there was very great bout this time; particularly in
London, Bristol,
nd divers other Places) the whole being well worth Perusal: and I should have inclined to in
ert it at large, but that it hath pleased God to
cline the Hearts of our Superiours to ease us in
hat respect, by Granting a Toleration to
Prote
ant Dissenters:
for which we are thankful. These three,
viz.
the
Caution to Constables, Discourse of Riots,
and
Disswasive from Persecu
ion,
were all Written, or at least Printed, this Year, 1683.
date
1684
And he acquitted himself so well on these Subjects, that one
William Tournay
(to him unknown) sent him a Letter from
London,
taking Notice of the aforesaid
Tracts,
which he was so well pleased with, that he desired his Judgment on the 23d, 29th and 35th of Q.
ELIZABETH,
in Relation to the Proceedings then upon them: to which our Friend
T. E.
return'd him an Answer in a large Letter, which is in his Decades of Letters, among many others, to divers Persons, and on various Subjects, well worthy the Perusal, from the Year 1670, down to his latter Times: and if they were published,
date
1684
would help to supply the deficiency of his own Account of the latter Part of his Life.
About this time he writ the following POEM or HYMN of Praise to the Lord; whic
I think well deserves to be inserted in thi
Place: Intituled,
COLLAUDEMUS DOMINUM.
COME, let us Praise the LORD with on Consent,
All ye, whose Hearts to honour him are ben
Come, let us of his gracious Dealings tell:
For with us he hath dealt exceeding well,
When him we did not seek, he did us find,
He gave us Sight, when we were dark and blind
He brought us home, when we were run astray
And set our Feet i'th' new and living way,
When Hunger pin'd he gave us heavenly Bread
And, with the choicest Dainties, hath us fed.
He from mis-leading Guides deliver'd hath,
And led us forward in the Just Man's Path,
He hath with Strength and Courage us endu'd
With Zeal for Truth and Christian Fortitude;
He Wisdom from above doth daily give:
To them that in his Truth sincerely live.
In Battle he hath us preserv'd thus far,
And made us Victors in the Holy War.
Our Enemies he greatly hath subdu'd.
His Sword in Blood o'th' slain hath been imbru'd
He hath preserved from the Roaring Lion:
And brought a little Remnant safe to
Sion.
date
1684
Where, in his Presence, they sit down and Sing
Eternal
Hallelu-jah's
to their KING,
Who lives and reigns, and may his Reign extend
Throughout the Universe, and have no End.
T. E.
But to proceed:
date
1685
William Rogers,
whom our Author Answered in the Year 1682, (as aforesaid) though he did not Reply to it, or ever attempted it that I have heard of, putting forth a Rhiming
Scourge
for
George Whitehead;
against whom he bent his most Inveterate Spleen, and who had also Answered his great Book, falsly called,
The Christian Quaker,
in a Book intituled,
The Accuser of the Brethren cast down,
&c.
T. E.
writ an Answer to his Scourge in Verse, intituled,
Rogero-Mastix, A Rod for
William Rogers,
in return for his Rhiming Scourge:
For which he gives the following Reason.
To such as ask why I in Verse have writ?
This Answer I return, I held it fit,
Verse
shou'd in
Verse
be answer'd,
Prose
in
Prose.
My Adversary his own Weapon chose.
He chose before in
Prose
to write, and then
I answer'd him in
Prose.
So now agen,
Since he his Stile from
Prose
to
Verse
hath chang'd,
And in the
Muses Walks
hath boldly rang'd,
In his own Method him I chose to treat,
Lest he should wise be in his own Conceit.
Prov: 26. 5.
And begins thus:
The Preacher tells us, that
beneath the Sun
There's no new thing:
for,
That which shall be done,
date
1685
Hath been before;
And
what is now a doing
Shall acted be again, in Times ensuing.
Let none be shaken, therefore, in his Mind,
If he God's People now Reviled find,
Reproach'd with bitter words, and vilify'd,
With filthy Slanders loaded, and bely'd
By wicked Men. Such was the Churches State
Of old, as Sacred Story doth relate.
And having recounted the Opposition made by
Rabshaketh, Sanballat
and
Tobiah,
&c. to the
Jews,
and
Diotrephes
to the
Apostles;
he proceeds,
Page
6.
By these Examples, plainly it appears,
How Satan play'd his Pranks in former Years;
What Arts he us'd; how craftily he wrought;
What Instruments, whereby to work, he sought:
One while, professed Enemies, and then
Another while he chose false Brethren.
And though those Agents now are dead and gone,
Satan remains the same, the
Evil One.
He Mischief always to the Church intends,
And, Mischief to effect, his Agents sends.
Though
Rabshaketh
be dead,
Tobiah
rotten,
Sanballat
and
Diotrephes
forgotten,
The wicked Spirit that in them did strive
Against God's Truth and Church, is still alive;
And other Instruments doth daily raise,
To hinder Truth's fair Progress, in these Days.
He Agents has, great store, of ev'ry Size
And Sort. How numerous are Truth's Enemies!
Yet blest be God! A greater Number's those
That stand for Truth, than those that it oppose.
date
1685
I list not here a Muster-Roll to make
Of all who, from without, in hand did take
To Battle against Truth, and shake their Spears
At
Israel's
Camp within these Twenty Years.
Nor do I purpose to ennum'rate all,
Who, in that time, themselves did
Quakers
call,
That through misguided Zeal, or Discontent,
Their Bows against their Brethren have bent.
But since some few, of late, appear to be
With Rage and Envy fill'd, to that degree,
That with more Bitterness than all the rest,
Their Malice against Truth they have exprest.
My Purpose is to single out from these
Him, that appears as their
Diotrephes.
And that is
ROGERS:
For tho'
Crisp
and
Bug,
With other some, do at the same Oar tug,
And Toil hard at it too, with all their Might,
et can they do no more but shew their Spight.
And for the rest, that lie behind the Skreen,
And move the Wheels, but like not to be seen;
Although they help to carry on the Work,
take less notice of them, while they Lurk.
Them therefore leaving I return again,
To view
Will. Rogers
his Poetick Strain;
Who having been too often foil'd in
Prose,
To try his Fortune now in
Verse
hath chose;
Verse,
without Offence, that may call'd,
Which is delivered in Rhimes so bald,
So flat, so dull, so rough, so void of Grace,
Where
Symphony
and
Cadence
have no place;
So full of
Chasmes,
stuck with
Prosie
Pegs,
Whereon his tired
Muse
might rest her Legs.
date
1685
(Not having Wings) and take new Breath, that the
She might, with much a do, hop on agen.
His
[
Words to that Effect,— Why so,— How so?
Hence I observe,— Hence I conclude,—
]
do show
His Pursy
Muse
was often out of Wind,
And glad when she a perching place could find.
What drew thee
William,
to this Rhiming fit,
Having no more Propensity to it?
Could'st think such hobling, and unequal Rhimes,
That make a Jangling, like disorder'd Chimes,
Could of a
POEM
e'er deserve the Name,
Or e'er be read without the Author's Shame?
What Clouds of Darkness in thy Lines appear!
How is thy Stile perplex't! How far from clear!
Thy
Muse
is wrapt in thickest Fogs of Night,
Which shews thou art departed from the Light.
Nor Sun, nor Moon, nor Star throughout thy Boo
Is to be seen. No Spring nor Christal Brook
Glides through thy Margin. No, thy Waters ru
Black, like the Streams of
Styx,
or
Phlegeton.
And having gone through, and Answered this Adversaries Book, he sums it up, and concludes as followeth. Page 29.
William,
Thy Work is weigh'd, thy Spirit try'd
And both thy Work and Spirit are deny'd.
Thy Spirit is the same that wrought of old
In
Sanballat, Tobiah,
and the bold
Assyrian
Railer,
Rabshakeh,
who sought
God's Work and People to have brought to nought,
As thou hast done: And what the Prophet cry'd
In that Case, may to thee be well apply'd.
The Virgin hath despis'd thee,
Zion
's Daughte
Makes thee the Object of her Scorn and Laughte
date
1685
The Daughter of Jerusalem hath shook
At thee her Head
(with a disdainful Look:)
or,
whom hast thou Reproached and Blasphem'd,
And against whom hast thou so
loudly scream'd,
And lift thine Eyes on high?
Thy Spleen doth swell
Against the Holy One of
Israel.
To this effect the Prophet did declaim
Against the Proud
Assyrian,
from whom came
That cursed Railer, who e'en seems to be,
Railing Blasphemies, a Type of thee.
What
Nehemiah
to
Sanballat
said,
When he foul Slanders to his Charge had laid)
That I to thee, of all thy Slanders, Thus,
There are no such things acted,
amongst us,
As thy abusive Pamphlet doth contain;
But out of thine own Heart thou dost them feign.
And where thou carp'st at what we do aright,
We can for Truth's sake, in Reproach delight.
The Lord rebuilding is his Holy City,
Which thou and others envy (more's the pity)
And put forth all the Strength and Art you have,
The Work to stop, the Workmen to deprave.
But never be so vain, to think you can
The Work obstruct:
'tis not the Work of Man.
The God of Heaven, He will prosper us;
And therefore we his Servants,
(strengthned thus)
Will rise and build, as God shall us endue
With Courage, Strength and Counsel for't:
But you
No Portion have,
who do the Work condemn,
Right nor Memorial in JERUSALEM.
My Soul laments your State, who once have felt
That tend'ring Pow'r, which stony Hearts can melt.
date
1685
And have been in some measure, tend'red by it,
But now so hard'ned are as to defie it:
All you I mean, who have in Print appear'd
(With Envious Hearts, and Conscience doubly sear'd
To fight against the
Truth,
and to expose
God's People
to the
Fury
of their
Foes.
And all you too, who do that
Work
abet,
Although your Names thereto ye have not set.
Ah! had ye kept unto the
heav'nly Grace,
(Which in your
inward Parts
the
Lord
did place
And not, in
discontented Humour,
run
After
Lo-heres, Lo-theres,
as you have done;
Ye might, in
Truth,
the
Bond of Peace
have known
And in the
Spirits Unity
have grown,
Which is the
Churches Girdle,
highly priz'd
By all the
Faithful,
though by you despis'd,
Whereas (by letting in first
false Surmisings
Of others, which e're long produc'd Despisings,
And so made way for
Prejudice
to enter,
Till
cancred Malice
in your
Hearts
did center)
Ye now are broke, and into Pieces Shatter'd,
And from the
Body
and
Head
are Scatter'd.
Without the Camp ye stand (Oh dismal State!)
Snarling amongst the Dogs,
without the Gate;
Belching forth
Slander
and
Calumniation
'Gainst those that in the
Light
have kept their
Station.
Oh! may the God of Heaven stop your Way
That ye no more the Simple may betray.
I could not but recite thus much, of the Beginning and End of that Book, which is so Excellent, both for the Subject and Composure,
date
1685
that one may sooner Transcribe too little than too much; the whole being well worth the Reading.
date
1686
In the Second Month, 1686, he had a Concern upon his Spirit, in a deep Sense of the Enemies working, to sow Divisions, and endeavouring to lay waste the Testimony of Truth, to write an Epistle to
Friends,
which he did, very solidly and weightily; to stir up Friends to Faithfulness, and to beware of the Enemies Wiles, and avoid that Rending Dividing Spirit, which was then at work, to cause Division and Strife among Friends: which being so Seasonable and Excellent, both for Matter and Stile, the whole is thought meet to be here inserted at large; and is as followeth:
An EPISTLE to FRIENDS.
DEAR Friends, unto whom the gathering Arm of the Lord hath reached, and who have known, in your several Measures, a being gathered thereby into the heavenly Life, and are Witnesses of the preserving Power, by which ye have been kept faithful to the Lord, and regardful of his Honour: Unto you, in an especial manner, is the Salutation of my true and tender Love in the Lord; and for you, as for my self, are the Breathings and fervent Desires
date
1686
of my Soul offered up, in the One Spirit, unto Him, who is your God and mine; that both you and I may be for ever kept in the fresh Sense of his tender Mercies, and great Loving-kindness unto us, that therein our Souls may cleave firmly unto Him, and never depart from Him. For Friends, it is a trying Day, a Day of great Difficulty and Danger, wherein the Enemy is at work, and very busie, setting his Snares on every side; and spreading his Temptations on every hand: And some, alas! have entred thereinto, and are caught and held therein, for whom my Soul in secret mourns.
And truly Friends, a great weight hath been upon my Spirit for many Days, and my Mind hath been deeply exercised, in the sence I have of the Enemy's prevailing, by one Bait or other, to unsettle the Minds of some, whom the Arm of the Lord had reached unto, and in some measure gathered to a resting Place: But not abiding in that pure Light, by which they were at first visited, and to which they were at first turned, the
Understanding
hath been vailed again; the
Eye,
which was once in some measure opened, hath the God of the World insensibly Blinded again, and Darkness is again come over, to that degree, that they can now contentedly take up again, what in the Day of their Convincement, and in the time of their true Tenderness, they cast off as a Burthen too heavy to be born. O my Friends, this hath been the Enemy's Work: therefore it greatly behoves all to watch against him; for it hath been for want
date
1686
of Watchfulness, that he hath got entrance into any. For when the Mind hath been from off the true Watch, in a secure and careless State, then hath he secretly wrought, and presented his fair Baits, his Allurements or Enticements by Pleasure or Profit, to catch the unwary Mind. And hence it hath come to pass that some, who have come out fairly, and begun well, and have seemed in good Earnest to have set their Hands to God's Plow, have looked back, and been weary of the Yoke of Christ, and have either
lusted after the Flesh-pots of Egypt
again, or turned aside into some By-path or crooked way in the Wilderness, and thereby have fallen short of the promised good Land.
But you, my dear Friends, in whom the Word of Life abides, and who abide in the Vertue and Savour thereof, ye know the Wiles of the Enemy, and the Power which subdues him,
nd the Rock in which the Preservation and
afety is. So that I write not these things unto
ou, because ye know them not: But the End
f my thus writing is, to stir up the pure Mind
n all, upon whom the Name of the Lord is cal
ed, that we all may be provoked to Watchful
ess against the Workings of the wicked One. Therefore, dear Friends, bear, I beseech you,
he Word of Exhortation, though from one
hat is little and low (and through Mercy sensile of it) and who hath not been accustomed
o appear after this manner: For the Wind, ye
now,
bloweth where it listeth.
date
1686
Friends, Call to Mind the former Times, and remember the Days that are past and gone, when the Day of the Lord first dawned unto you, and his Power seized upon you. Ye know how weighty and retired the Spirits of Friends then were, how grave and solid their Deportment and Carriage; how few and savoury their Words, tending to edifie the Hearers; how great a Fear and Backwardness was in them to enter into Familiarity with the World's People. O Friends, that was a good Day, and tha
was a safe State; for Fear begets Watchfulness
and Watchfulness is a means to prevent Danger
Therefore all Friends, keep in the Holy Fear
and therein watch against the Enemy, that h
entangle you not, nor hurt your Spirits, by a too near Familiarity, and intimate Conversing with the People of the World; for therein I assure you, lies a Snare. For though it be bot
lawful and necessary, and in some Cases al
useful and serviceable to the Truth to Convers
with them that are without: yet if any Frien
should adventure in a frank and free Mind,
b
yond the Limits of the pure Fear,
to entertain F
miliarity with the World's People, the Spiri
of the World in them will
seek an Entrance,
and
if not diligently watched against, will also
g
an Entrance;
and bring a hurt and a loss upo
him or them into whom it so gets. For bein
once entred, it will insensibly work, and dispose the Mind into which it is got, to a Condescention to, and Compliance with the People o
the World it converses with, first in one thing
date
1686
then in another, in
Words,
in
Behaviour,
&c. (little things in Appearance, but great in Consequence) till at length an Indifferency gets up in the Mind, and the Testimony of Truth by degrees is let fall. But while the pure Fear is kept to, and dwelt in, the Watch is always set, the Spirit is retired and weighty, and an holy Awfulness rests upon the Mind, which renders such Converse both safe to the Friends, and more serviceable to them they converse withal.
And, Friends, not only in your conversing with the World's People, but in all your Conversation and Course of Life, watch against the Spirit of the World, for it lies near to tempt, and to draw out the mind, and to lead back into the World again. You know, Friends, that at the first, when the visiting Arm of the Lord reached to us, he led us out of the World's
Ways, Manners, Customs
and
Fashions,
and a close Testimony, both in Word and Practice, was born against them. But how hath this Testimony been kept up, and kept to by all, who have since made Profession of the Truth? Ah, how hath the Enemy,
for want of Watchfulness,
stole in upon too too many, and led out their Minds, from that which did at first Convince them, into a Liberty beyond the Cross of Christ Jesus; and in that Liberty they have run into the Worlds Fashions, which the worldly Spirit continually invents to feed the vain and airy Minds withal, that they may not come to Gravity and Solidity?
date
1686
Thence it hath come to pass, that there is scarce a
New Fashion
come up, or a
Fantastick Cut
invented, but some one or other, that professes Truth, is ready, with the foremost, to run into it. Ah, Friends, the World sees this and smiles, and
points the Finger at it.
And this is both a Hurt to the particular, and a Reproach to the general. Therefore, O let the Lot be cast, let Search be made by every one, and let every one Examine himself, that this
Achan,
with his
Babylonish Garment,
may be found out and cast out: for indeed he is a
Troubler of Israel.
And all Friends, who upon true search shall find your selves concerned in this particular, I warn and exhort you all, Return to that which at first Convinced you; to that keep close, in that abide, that therein ye may know, as at the first (not only a
Bridle to the Tongue,
but) a
Curb to the roving Mind,
a
Restraint to the wandring Desire.
For assuredly, Friends, if Truth be kept to, none will need to learn of the World what to wear, what to put on, or how to shape and fashion their Garments: but Truth will teach all how best to answer
the End of Cloathing,
both for
useful Service
and
modest Decency.
And the Cross of Christ will be a Yoke to the unruly Will, and a Restraint upon the wanton Mind; and will Crucifie that Nature that delights in
Finery
and in
Bravery of Apparel,
in which the true adorning doth not stand, but
in the hidden Man of the Heart, in that which is not corruptible,
even
a meek and quiet Spirit,
1 Pet. 3. 4. And the Grace of God, which
date
1686
hath appeared to all, and which hath brought Salvation to many, will not only teach
to deny all Ungodliness and worldly Lusts, and to live soberly, righteously and godly in this present World,
Titus 2. 11, 12. but will also lead those that obey it out of all Excess, and out of all Superfluities and worldly Vanities, and will teach them to order their Conversation aright. Therefore to this heavenly Grace let every Mind be turned, and therein stay'd, that thereby all who profess the Truth may be kept in the holy Limits of it; that in their whole Conversation and Course of Life, in Eating, in Drinking, in putting on Apparel, and in whatsoever else we do, or take in hand, that all may be done to the Glory of God, 1
Cor.
10. 31. that our Moderation in all things may appear unto all Men.
And let not any deceive and hurt themselves with a False Plea, saying,
I will be left to my Liberty; I have freedom to do, go, or wear so and so;
And
Religion stands not in Cloths,
&c. For that Liberty which the worldly Spirit leads into, is not indeed the true Liberty, but is a false and feigned Liberty, which leads into true and real Bondage. And though Religion stands not simply
n Cloths; yet true Religion stands in that which
ets a
Bound
and
Limit
to the
Mind
with respect
o Cloths, as well as to other things. So that where there is a running out into
Excess
and
Va
ity
in Apparel, that is a certain Indication and
oken that the
Mind is got loose,
and hath cast off
he Yoke, and is broke away from its due Sub
ction to that Divine Power, in which the true
eligion stands.
date
1686
Great hath been the Hurt which the Enemy hath done in this Day, by leading into a
false Freedom,
and crying up a
wrong Liberty:
for under this Pretence have crept in great Disorders, some running out one way, and some another; some mixing in Marriages with the World's People, and some going to the Priest to be married. And many loose and unclean Spirits have shrouded themselves under this plausible Pretence of
being left to their Liberty,
unto whom Truth's Order is irksome and uneasie; and they kick against it, and call it
Imposition,
because it
checks their licentious Liberty.
Therefore all, who join with their Plea, examine and try what Liberty it is ye claim and stand for: for the true Liberty is not inconsistent with the Cross of Christ, nor repugnant to his Yoke; but agrees with it, and is obtained through it, and maintained by it. And none whom the Son hath made free indeed, will, or can plead or make use of that Liberty, in Opposition to any Means, which the God of Order hath appointed, or set up in his Church for the keeping out Confusion, Disorder and Loosness. And hereby all may take a right Measure, and may certainly know
what kind of Liberty
that is, which some have so hotly contended for, in Opposition to that necessary and commendable Order, which God hath led his People into, and which the Enemy
in his Agents, labours so hard to lead them ou
of. For the Enemy well knows, that the Tendency and Service thereof is to detect and discover his secret workings, and to bring his Deeds t
date
1686
Light and Judgment; and therefore he strives with might and main to overturn it, crying out through his Instruments,
Away with your Order, Let every one be left to his Liberty.
By which seemingly fair and specious Plea, not only the loose, disorderly, factious Spirits have been let up, and encouraged to greater Boldness and Licentiousness: but some simple and well-meaning Friends also, not seeing the Design of Satan therein, have been misled thereby, and made use of by the Enemy, and the more subtle of his Instruments, to oppose the good order of Truth. Thus hath the Enemy wrought, and sought to lay waste the Work of the Lord. But the Lord (magnified be his holy Name) hath not been wanting to his People, who in sincerity of Heart have diligently waited on him, and trusted in him; for he hath all along raised up some, whose Eye he hath opened to see the Design and working of the Evil One; and whose Spirits he hath engaged to stand up in a faithful Testimony against him,
contending for the way of Truth.
Which when they, in whom the Enemy wrought, perceived, and found they could not run over the Heads of Friends, and carry things on as themselves pleased, they set themselves,
in a heady wilful Spirit,
to raise Disturbances in Meetings for Business, by encouraging and abetting such heady, loose, contentious and disorderly Persons as wou'd join with them; thus hardning themselves, and provoking the Lord to give them up to Blindness and Hardness of Heart, till at length the Enemy prevailed so far upon them,
date
1686
as to work them by degrees, from
Discontent
to
Prejudice,
then to
Enmity,
and so at length, in divers Places, to an open
Defection, Apostasy
and
Separation.
Now although I know, my dear Friends, that ye who have
kept your Habitation in the Light of the Lord,
and whose
Eye is single
therein, have a clear Sight and Understanding, that the Spirit, which hath thus
wrought
and
fought against the Truth,
is not, nor can be, of God, but is of the
wicked One;
and although the Fruits it hath brought forth, through the Agents and Instruments in and by which it hath wrought,
viz. Making Disturbances in Meetings, to the breaking the Churches Peace; Causing Divisions amongst Friends; Publishing to the World most wicked, malicious, railing and scandalous Books, against Friend
(an Effect of the greatest Enmity)
shutting an
keeping Friends out of their common Meeting-Houses, in which they have a just Right and Property
and not suffering them to meet therein
(which is a part of the Persecution inflicted on Friends by the World)
and at length also set up separate Meetings, in Opposition to the Meetings of God's People
Although, I say, these Fruits are sufficient o
themselves to discover and manifest, to an
unclouded Mind,
what Spirit that is, and mus
needs be, which hath brought them forth; ye
inasmuch as some, partly through
Weakness o
Judgment,
and partly through
personal Affectio
to some of those leading Separatists,
are yet in danger to be betrayed by their
fair Words and feigned Speeches, wherewith they lie in wait to deceive,
date
1686
feel a Concern remain upon my Spirit, in the Love of God, to warn all such, that they join not with, nor give Countenance unto that Spirit, that hath thus wrought against the Lord, and against his People.
For Friends, in the holy Fear of the living God, and in the Openings of the Spring of his pure Life in my Soul, at this time, and from the certain Knowledge, and clear Demonstration which I have received from him therein; I testifie and declare unto you, That this Spirit, which in this Day hath run out, and hath drawn out some, into Opposition against the Way and Work of the Lord, into Division and Separation from the People of the Lord, and from the holy Assemblies which the Lord hath gathered, and by his powerful Presence hath owned, and daily doth own: This Spirit, I say, is the same with that which hath formerly wrought, in other Appearances, against the Truth in our time; and is the same with that Spirit, that wrought against the Work of the Lord in the Days of the Holy Apostles. This Mystery of Iniquity then wrought, and caused many to turn aside, and to leave the right way of the Lord, and to
forsake the Assemblies of God's People,
Heb. 10. 25. Yea, and to run into
Separation
too,
Jude
19. Upon whom the holy Ghost hath set his Brand; that they were
Sensual, having not the Spirit.
And many close and sharp Testimonies did the Lord give forth through his Servants in that Day against this Spirit, and against those that were joined to it,
date
1686
and acted by it, as may be seen in the Holy Scriptures.
Yea, Friends, this Spirit that hath led some now to set up their Separate Meetings, is the same that led
Jeroboam
the Son of
Nebat
to set up his separate Altar at
Bethel,
of which you may read 1
Kings
12, and 13 Chapters. He was afraid, that if the People should continue to go up to the House of the Lord, to do Sacrifice there, as they had been accustomed to do, and as the Lord had required, they would then forsake him, and return to the Lord again. And this Spirit now is afraid, that if they whom he hath seduced, and drawn aside, should still frequent the Assemblies of God's People, and continue to meet with Friends as before; that heavenly Power which is eminently manifest in the Meetings of God's People, might at one time or other reach unto them, touch their Hearts, open the right Eye in them, and give them to see the Mischief and misery he is leading them into. And therefore to prevent this, and to keep his Captives close unto him, he hath contrived to set up Separate Meetings, in Opposition to the Meetings of God's Appointment, as
Jeroboam
set up his Separate Altar, in Opposition to the Altar which God hath commanded to be set up; and to keep the People from going thereto. And so subtilly did this Spirit work then, as well as now, that
Jeroboam
contrived to have his false Worship bear some Resemblance to the true; that he might the more easily beguile the People: For he ordained a
date
1686
Feast like unto the Feast that was in Judah,
1 Kings 12. 32. But it was
in the Month which he had devised of his own Heart,
ver. 33. Mark that, there is a Blot upon it: How fair or specious soever the Worship he set up appeared, or seemed to be, yet it was but the
Devise of his
own
Heart;
it was neither appointed by God, nor accepted of God. For you may read in the 13th Chapter, that the Lord sent a Prophet, a Man of God, out of
Judah
to
Bethel;
and he cryed against the Altar in the Word of the Lord, and prophesied the Destruction thereof by
Josiah;
which was afterwards outwardly fulfilled, as you may read, 2
Kings
23. 15,
&c.
Now
Josiah
signifies,
The Fire,
or
Burning of the Lord.
And, in the holy Dread of the living Eternal God, I declare, The Fire of the Lord is kindled, and kindling against this accursed separating Spirit, and against its Work, and against all those that join with it therein. Therefore all Fear before the Mighty God, and stand still and consider your Ways; and let none resist or reject the Warning of the Lord, lest such be hardned to Destruction. For
Jeroboam,
you may read, stood by his separate Altar, vers. 1.
And when he heard the saying of the Man of God, which he cryed against the Altar in
Bethel,
he put forth his Hand, saying, Lay hold on him.
But
his Hand which he put forth against him, dried up, so that he could not pull it in again to him,
vers. 4. O Friends, consider, How hath Driness and Withering come upon many a great and stout One in this Day, who have lifted up themselves against
date
1686
the Lord; and have sought, by the
Devices of their own Hearts,
to establish themselves in their own Way, against the Way of the Lord; so that the Hand they have put forth in that Work, they could not pull in again. Now mind, I pray you, Friends, and observe the way of the working of this Spirit in that Day. Here was the Enmity, the rough Nature of
Cain
and
Esau,
the Spirit of
Persecution,
got up first in
Jeroboam,
to dismay the Man of God:
Lay hold of him,
says he. But when he saw that would not do; then the subtle Serpent, the crafty Fox, the fair Speeches, the smooth Words, the seeming Friendship and shew of Kindness to betray him.
Come home with me,
says he to the Man of God,
and refresh thy self, and I will give thee a Reward,
vers. 7. O Friends, stand in the Fear and Counsel of the Lord, and in the Dominion of his Power, over this wicked Spirit in all its Twistings and Twinings. Let neither the Frowns nor the Fawnings, the Threats nor the Flatteries, the hard Speeches nor the Oyly Words, the Pharisaical Friendship, the dissembling Love, the seeming Kindness, the familiar Carriage, the free Entertainment, the fine Bit, the Offer of Advantages,
&c.
have any Influence upon you, to draw you, in the least measure, to join or touch with God's Enemy; with him that sets up a separate Altar, a separate Meeting, in Opposition to, and to draw or keep from the right Way of the Lord: Mind well the Answer, which the Man of God gave to
Jeroboam
's tempting Invitation.
If
date
1686
said he)
thou wilt give me half thine House, I
ill not go in with thee; neither will I eat Bread, nor
rink Water in this Place,
ver. 8. (This was where
he Separate Altar was set up.) And he gives
forcible Reason for it:
For so it was charged
by the Word of the Lord,
Vers. 9.
Here now you see both the Charge of the Lord, and the good Resolution of the Man of God: I will not go in with thee, who hast re
olted from God; neither will I eat or drink in
is Place, where an Ensign of Separation and Opposition to the way of God is set up. Con
der this well, I warn you All, in whom there
yet any true Breathings after the living God,
ho retain any Tenderness, and in whom there
any Simplicity left: Consider this well, I say,
hen thy pretended Friend, or Friends, in a
eat deal of seeming Love and Kindness, shall
vite thee to partake with them at their Separ
e Altar, to sit down with them in their Se
rate Meeting. Thou canst not be a Man of
od, and go in with them, or eat or drink in
at Place. Thou canst not sit down there, to
ait for the Bread of Life, or the Water of
ife to be given thee there: No, the Word of
e LORD, if thou givest heed unto it, will
arge thee otherwise. Therefore to that pure
ing Word let every Mind be turned, and
ereto kept, in a diligent Waiting to receive Wisdom, Strength and Power from the Lord
erein; that none may be betrayed by the
btilty of the the Enemy, with whatsoever
ir pretences he may come. For remember
date
1686
how the Man of God, that was enticed by a
other to eat and drink outwardly at
Bethel,
t
place where the separate Altar was set up, lo
his outward Life therefore, ver. 18. and 2
And if thou shalt presume to go in, to eat o
to drink spiritually; that is, to join in Worshi
with the Sons of
Nebat
at this Day, in the s
parate Meetings, which any of them have s
up, in Opposition to the Assemblies of God
People, and to the Blessed Way and Work
the Lord; how knowest thou, but thou may
for ever lose thy spiritual Life, and never kno
a Day of Quickning more.
Therefore all Friends, watch against eve
Temptation thereunto, as you love your Liv
as you regard the Good and Eternal Welfare
your Souls; and let not the Name, nor Pers
of any Man have Power over you, to dra
you aside, neither let
Numbers
sway with yo
in which, I know, these Adversaries of Tru
do not a little boast (though, blessed be G
with little Reason) But remember that
Je
boam
of Old had Ten Tribes out of Twelve
cry up his separate Altar; Notwithstandi
which, he is branded to Posterity in the H
Record with this Brand,
Jeroboam the Son
Nebat, WHO MADE ISRAEL TO S
2 Kings 14. 24. Therefore let not any foll
a Multitude to do
Evil,
Exod. 23. 2. But
follow that which is Good, both among your selv
and to all Men,
1 Thess. 5. 15. For Friends, y
know whither the
Broad
Way leads, and w
it is the
Wide
Gate opens into, which
date
1686
MANY
go in at: but keep ye to the
Straight
Gate, and walk ye on in the
NARROW
Way; for in it is Safety, and at the End of it everlasting Happiness.
But Friends, because of the Straightness of this Gate, and the Narrowness of this Way, some that have attempted to walk in it, are grown weary of it, and have sought out another way, a way which (
Jeroboam
like) they have devised of their own Hearts; wherein they may have more Room, more Scope, more Company, Ease in the Flesh, Liberty to the Flesh, and all without controul. And this I am satisfied, hath not been the least Motive to the Separation in this Day (as it was the greatest in Days past) tho' some that have been drawn into it, may not perhaps see the Ground upon which it was undertaken. But the Lord hath opened an Eye in many, which sees the Rise and Ground, Entrance and End of this libertine Spirit, and its Work. And this Eye will the Lord daily open more and more in all, that diligently and in Sincerity wait upon Him. Therefore all Friends every where, who have not yet a clear Sight, and a thorow Understanding of the Nature and Work, Design and Drift of this dividing Spirit; wait, I beseech you, in Simplicity of Heart, and Lowliness of Mind, upon the Lord, and keep to the Measure of the Grace you have received from him; and suffer not your Minds to be swayed or byassed by any personal Kindness, natural Affection, Relation, Kindred or Acquaintance; but stand single and
date
1686
open to the Lord, not joining to, nor any way countenancing that which the Testimony of Truth, in the Arisings of the heavenly Life, and Breakings forth of the divine Power thro' any, goes forth against. So will your present Standing be safe, and you be preserved out of the Snares of this insinuating and treacherous Spirit: And the Lord in his appointed time, as ye abide with him, will open your Understandings further, and give you a clearer Sight of that, which at present you do not fully see; and thereby bring you to that Certainty and Assurance, which (blessed be his Name) he hath brought many unto.
And you, my dear Friends, whose Spirits the Lord hath stirred up, and whose Hearts he hath engaged, in an Holy Zeal, to stand up for his Blessed Name and Truth, and to bear a faithful Testimony against this wicked rending Spirit; go on in the Strength and Power of the Lord, in the Might of the God of
Jacob;
for you are assuredly on the Lord's Side, and the Lord
Jehovah,
the Strength of
Israel,
is on your Side. Therefore, Friends, be encouraged in the Lord, to stand stedfast in your Testimony, not giving way to the Enemy, no not for a Moment. And take heed, I beseech you in the Love of God, how ye enter into any Treaty of Peace, or Terms of Agreement with this Ungodly Treacherous Spirit, which is out of the Truth, and draws out of the Truth, and Fights against the Truth: For there is no Peace unto it, saith my God. And they who have
date
1686
joined themselves unto it, and have wickedly given themselves up to be acted by it, and to act for it, must pass through the River of Judgment, if ever they be redeemed from under its Power. Friends, Condemnation must first be felt and owned, before Reconciliation can be known; and the Fire of the Lord must pass upon the Transgressor, to consume the Works of Darkness, the ungodly Deeds, the envious reviling Speeches, the wicked malicious slanderous Books and Pamphlets,
&c.
and to burn up the Ground from whence they sprang. For a flaming Sword hath the Lord God set in his
Eden,
which turneth every Way; and none that are gone out can ever come in again, but they must pass under the flaming Edge thereof. Therefore, my dear Friends, stand your Ground, in the Authority of the heavenly Life, and tamper not with God's Enemies: Remember the Word of the Lord to the Prophet,
Let them return unto thee, but return not thou unto them,
Jer. 15. 19. And then what follows?
I will make thee unto this People a fenced brazen Wall, and they shall fight against thee, but they shall not prevail against thee; for I am with thee, to save thee, and to deliver thee, saith the Lord,
ver. 20. So the God of Life fill your Hearts daily more and more with a
Phineas Zeal
for the Honour of his Name; and furnish you abundantly with Wisdom and Counsel, with Boldness and Courage, with Strength and Power, to encounter and overcome the Enemy: And make every one more watchful against the Spirit of the World, to
date
1686
withstand it in all its Allurements to Vanity, of whatsoever kind; that whatsoever would defile the Camp of the Lord, may be purged out, and kept out, that the Lord may more and more delight in his People; and shower down his Blessings upon them; which is the fervent desire of,
Your faithful Friend in the Love and Service of the unchangeable Truth,
Thomas Ellwood.
The
24
th of the
2
d Month,
1686.
date
1688
After this, I do not find he writ any thing (only some private Letters in his
Decades
) but lived Retired till the Year 1688. In wich time of Privacy (as fittest for it) he began a Work which he did not finish till many Years after; and that was
The Life of
David
King of
Israel, in Verse; which he began for his own Diversion, not thinking then of Printing it, and carried it on to the End of the Third Book. But then the
Prince of Orange
Landing, and the Revolution following, the Nation being in Arms against King
James;
the Noise of Guns, and Sound of Drums,
&c.
so desturbed his Meditation, and gentle Muse (which like the
Halcion,
breeds in Calm Weather) that his Poetical Genius left him for a time, and he thereupon left his Work, for above Twenty Years; of which more hereafter in its Place.
And here he retired again for two Years; so that I find nothing to Remark of him, either publick or private, but some private Letters,
date
1690
till the Year, 1690. When
John Raunce
and
Charles Harris
of
Wiccomb,
in that County, publishing
A Memorial
(as they call'd it)
for the present Generation; and also for that which is to come: Being an Account from
Wiccomb,
concerning the Difference,
&c. This
Thomas Ellwood
answered in a Book intituled,
The Account from
Wiccomb (
lately published by
John Raunce
and
Charles Harris)
examined, and found false. And a Warning thereof given, to all such well-meaning Persona among the People called
Quakers,
as through Personal Affection, want of Consideration, or Weakness of Judgment, have been betrayed, or may be in danger to be betrayed by them, or any other in the same dividing Spirit with them; and led aside from the Way of Truth, into a Separation from the People of God: For whose Recovery and Preservation this is written.
Which begins thus.
'For your sakes it is, O ye much pittied Ones; more than for any weight in the Account it self, or worth in the Authors of it, that I have thus taken notice of it. For indeed, as soon as I had perused it, I felt a compassionate Concern spring in my Heart on your behalfs, and a direction in Spirit to open some Passages therein, and relating thereto, to you, that ye might be preserved from being taken: Or, if in any measure taken, might be rescued and delivered from the Snare, which the Enemy of your Souls, and of all Righteousness, hath made use of these Men to set, to entangle, entrap and catch you by. And to the true Witness of the Holy God, in
date
1690
every one of your Consciences, who retain any honest Breathings after the Lord, and the Way of Holiness, do I recommend this my Undertaking, and the Sincerity of my Intention herein.
Wherein he discovered their Deceit, as to their Separation; and that it was not for Conscience, but from a libertine Spirit, to lay waste the good Order in the Church, as their Actions manifested: Of which he gave some Instances, not to their Advantage. But their Works have made them manifest.
date
1691
The next Book he published, was in 1691, viz.
A Reply to an Answer lately published, to a Book long since written by
W. Penn:
Intituled, A brief Examination and State of Liberty Spiritual; both with respect to Persons in their private Capacity, and in their Church Society and Conversation.
Which Book was written, or at least published by
W. Penn,
in the Year 1681. To distinguish between true and false Liberty, little understood by some, and too frequently abused by others: Liberty from Sin, not to Sin, to do his (God's) Will, and not our own; as
W. P.
expresses it. Which true spiritual Liberty, being abused by some in the Profession of the Truth (as our Friend
T. E.
observes in his Preface)
'Who under pretence of being left to that Liberty in themselves, and to their own Freedom therein; both took Liberty to do such things as were inconsistent with that true Liberty, and with the Principle of Truth which they professed; and despising those useful, good and necessary Helps and Means which
date
1691
the Lord hath provided, and furnished his Church and People with, for the preventing and keeping out such Disorders, Evils and Scandals, as the unruly Nature of Man, thro' such a Mistake of true Liberty, might and would bring in: Did reject the Counsel, Admonition or Reproof of their Brethren, with
What hast thou to do with me? Leave me to my own Freedom.
To reclaim (if it might be) those who are thus deceived, and prevent others from being so: the Author being pressed in Spirit for
Zion
's sake, and for the Peace of
Jerusalem;
and having a deep Sense (as himself expresses) of the working of the Enemy of
Zion
's Peace, to rend and divide the Heritage of God, did write the forementioned Treatise, for the Establishment of the Faithful, Information of the Simple-hearted, and Reproof of the Arrogant and High-minded.
Which striking at the false Liberty and Pre
ences of the Separate Party; it seems it had
ain on their Stomachs undigested these Ten Years, and then came forth an Answer to it by
J. H.
(supposed to be
John Hog,
one of the Se
arates about
Hull.
) This Answer our Friend
T. Ellwood
undertakes, and replies to, in a pretty
arge Book; in which he shews what is meant
y true spiritual Liberty, in
W. P
's own Defi
ition, which he defends; shews their Abuse
f it, answers their Arguments, or rather Ca
ils against it, in behalf of their false libertine
pirit and Practices, which too many ran into,
their own Hurt, and Separation from the
date
1691
Church, the Body of Christ, whereof He is Head: saying, in the
Preface,
'The God of Truth knows, I have no other End in this Reply, than to defend Truth, and the Children of it, against the slanderous Suggestions, false Charges, and wicked Insinuation of the Adversaries; to lay open their deceitful Dealing, and to remove (as the Lord shall enable me) the stumbling Blocks, which they have laid in the Way of the Weak, whereby they have caused some to fall into Misapprehensions and hard Thoughts of Friends, without Cause. And I beseech the God of Mercy to open the Understandings, and clear the Sight of all those, whose Simplicity has been betrayed by the others Subtilty, that they may see and escape the Enemies Snares, and return to the true Fold, from which they have been led astray.
To which I never heard of any Rejoinder; only some private Letters past between
J. H.
and
T. E.
about some Passages in it.
date
1692
His next were two Broadsides; the first (in 1692.
viz.
T. E's
Answer to so much of
Leonard Key
's late Printed Sheet as relates to him.
Which Paper of
L. K
's was intended mostly to excuse their shutting Friends out of their Meeting-House at
Reading.
But therein taking Occasion to slant at some Passages in
T. E
's Answer to the Account from
Wiccomb;
gave our Friend
Thomas
an Occasion, not only to open that Matter further; but also to lay open their Deceit in Relation to that Affair, as well as
L. K
's, and his Party at
Reading.
To which I refer the Reader.
date
1693
The Second was (in 1693.)
viz. Deceit discovered, and Malice manifested, in
L. Key
's late Paper from
Reading.
Thomas
being then at
London,
at the Yearly-Meeting, met with
B. Coal's Expedients, for a true Reconciliation among the People of God called
Quakers: Which
L. K.
it seems promoted. But when
T. E.
came home, he found a Letter at his House directed to him, from
L. K.
with a Printed Sheet inclosed, so different in Terms and Tendency from the other, sign'd by
B. C.
and
C. H.
(that proposing Expedients for Peace, this renewing the Difference;) and yet but one Day different in the Dates (this being dated the 3d, the other the 4th of the 4th Month, 1693.) that he could not but admire at it; which therefore he compares, and shews the Difference of, and discovers their Deceit in; and not only in that, but also in Relation to the Difference at
Wiccomb,
which they were not yet easie under, and yet would not confess the Truth; but instead thereof
J. Raunce
endeavours to fix a Slander on
T. Ellwood
about his Father's Burial, pretending he was not Buried in the right Ground, but among Strangers; he and his Party Riding Twenty Miles, or more, about the Country; and
J. R.
going himself to the place where he was Buried at
Holton,
to pick up a Stone at the Father's Grave, to throw at the Son, above seven Years after his Death; enquiring, examining, yea, provoking some to pretend as if
T. E.
had been unkind to his Father, and that they had shewed
date
1693
him Kindness, to bring
Thomas
under Obligation of Requital, or upbraid him for Ingratitude if he did not. In all which
J. R
's Malice was manifest more than any thing else; for as to the Ground he was buried in,
T. E.
confesses, he was not so well acquainted with the Grave-Yard, as to know the Difference of Places in it or whether some Parts of it be more Holy than others; which he thinks, considering their former Principles, they should not have quarrel'd with him about. However the Place was not of his appointing; for he was prevented of being at the Burial, by a Message his Father received in his Sickness, that his Sister (but which of them he doth not say) lay then Sick in
London,
near unto Death. After he had waited on his Father until he had finished his Life, and given Direction for his Interrment, he hastened up to his Sister at
London,
thinking he might be more serviceable to the Living than to the Dead, and knew not in what Part of the Ground his Father was buried, till after his Return from
London,
he went thither to defray the Charges of his Sickness and Funeral, as some of them knew: and therefore the more shame to raise such a Story. And as to the other of Unkindness, they could prove nothing, but shew their Envy against him; which we shall have Occasion to take further notice of, e're we have done.
The next and last Book he writ in Relation to this Controversie with the Separates, was,
A fair Examination of a foul Paper, called,
Observations and Reflections,
&c. lately published by
John
date
1693
Raunce
and
Leonard Key; who after their separate Bickerings, come now to join their Forces together in this Paper, which seems to be Reflections on
T. E
's last mentioned Paper; and which Paper of theirs our Friend answers in this Examination, wherein
their Envy is rebuked, and their Folly and Falshood laid open,
in endeavouring to excuse
L. K
's former Paper of Revival of the Difference, at the same time when
B. C
's Expedient for Reconciliation was for having it all forgotten and buried: which
T. E.
exposes in its proper Colours, beginning thus,
'We read among the
Proverbs
of
Solomon,
that
the Way of the Wicked is as Darkness, they know not at what they Stumble,
Prov. 4. 19. This is verified in
J. Raunce
and
L. Key,
and others of their separate Party. Since their turning against the Truth, their way is become as Darkness; they stumble and know not at what. They fall into many idle Absurdities, many gross Follies and Errors, and into many hurtful Evils, and labour to draw others (better than themselves) after them: for whose sake chiefly the following Lines are written, that the Deceit and Hypocrisie of these Men, their Falshood and Envy being further and further laid open, the more Simple and Well-meaning Ones amongst them, may see them as they are, and be no longer beguiled by them.
So he goes on to Answer their Cavils, confirming by Certificate his former Charge of their scandalous Practice at
Wiccomb;
then answers their new Slander (the old proving false)
That he suffered
date
1693
his Father to want;
raking into his Ash
when he had been dead above Ten Years, to ca
something at his Son (so restless is Envy) as if h
had been short in his Duty to his Father: whic
T. E.
fairly and clearly wipes off, vindicating himself as to his not being at his Father's Burial (which
J. R.
throws at him) though
Thoma
in his last had fairly related the Occasion; which was his Sister's Ilness at
London
(though she recovered;) and which one would think might have satisfied any one, not overgrown with Envy; which yet
J. R.
revives again: and also about his Burial,
&c.
All which appears to be nothing but
J. R
's Rancor: which seeing he has made so much a-do about, out of his Inveterate Malice to
T. E.
under pretence of Friendship to his Father, but to be sure Hatred to the Son; and as
T. E.
says,
If this be the Effect of his Friendship, he should not desire to be numbred among his Friends.
To set which in a clear Light, I shall here set down his Vindication in his own Words, because it bears some Analogy to his Relation of the former part of his Life;
viz.
Pag. 20. of the Fair
Examination.
'Tis well known to many, that my Father was possest of a good Estate; and they that knew him well, knew also that he had the spending of it himself. How he spent it becomes not me to speak; he was my Father, to whom I ow'd and always paid Respect and Honour, while living; and whose Frailty, being dead, I desire to cover. It is enough for me to say, I did not help him spend his Estate, nor was
date
1693
I much chargeable to him, after I was capable of shifting for my self. And when it pleased the Lord to visit me with the saving Knowledge of his Truth, and bring me under the visible Characters of the Profession thereof (which was about the 20th Year of my Age) my Father expressing a dislike to me on that Account, by degrees withdrew his Care of me, not making any Provision for my Maintenance, save the giving me such of his Houshold Goods as he could spare, upon his giving over House-Keeping; though he had then a plentiful Estate remaining. When afterwards he Sold his Estate, I had no part at all of the Money.
—[Though upon his Marriage he promised both him and his intended Wife to do something considerable for them, yet after they were Married he refused to give them any thing (as aforesaid, p. 272.) and so far withdrew himself, that he would not let him know where he lodged.—]
'Notwithstanding this (says
T. E.
) he would sometimes come to my House, which was always open and free to him, to come when he pleased, and to tarry as long as he pleased; whenever he came he was well Habitted, both for Linnen and Woolen, and made no Appearance of Want, other than such as may befal any Man, to have his Money fall short in a Journey: upon which Occasion (when he had, as he said, been longer from home than he expected, or when, being here, he had a mind to go further, than at his coming forth he intended) he
date
1693
has divers times asked me to lend him Money
which I always did, and never asked him fo
it again. And, to the best of my Remembrance, it was not above two Weeks time before his last Sickness, that he had been at my House, and had Money of me on that Account
As soon as I heard of his Ilness, I hastened t
him; and took the best Care of him I could during his Life; and after his Death defrayed the Charge of his Sickness and Burial, and repaid to my Sister that Money she had sen
him, before I knew of his Ilness. I could say more on this Subject than I intend, or at present think fit: But I forbear, and commit my Innocent Cause to the Lord, not doubting but that, as I am clear in his Sight from any Undutifulness, or Unkindness towards my Father, so he will clear mine Innocency in the Hearts of his People, and of all unprejudiced Persons.
This I hope will satisfie the Reader of
T. E
's Carriage towards his Father, which we are beholding to
J. R.
for, or else perhaps might never have had this Account, which one would think Envy it self should not be able to cavil at▪ yet after this
J. R.
being restless, trumpt up another Story, answered by
T. E.
in his Postscript to that Book; which we shall meet with again hereafter, on another Occasion; and therefore I shall say no more of it here.
Here ends his Controversie with the
Separates:
In which I must needs say, he acquitted himself
date
1693
as an Ingenuous Man, a Christian, and a fair Opponent. And now to come to something more pleasant. Our dear Friend
G. Fox
dying
n the
Eleventh Month,
1690. and leaving be
ind him an excellent Journal of his Travels
nd Sufferings, our Friend
T. E.
(as no body fit
er) about this time was at the Pains of Tran
cribing it, and fitting it for the Press. (A Labo
ious Work.) Which was Printed next Year in
large Folio: To which
T. E.
prefixed a nota
le Account concerning him; which is the only
ingle Testimony Printed with it; except his Wifes
M. F
's, and an Excellent Preface by
W. Penn.
date
1694
But now a new Scene opens: for
George Keith,
who had known better things than most Oppo
ers that ever rose up against Truth and
Friends,
aving been a
Quaker,
and a
Preacher
among
hem, near
Thirty Years,
and had writ many Books in
Vindication
of
Truth
and
Friends:
but
ow falling out, and differing with some of his Brethren in
Pennsylvania
(whither he went some Years before) because he could not have his own way in every thing, came over with some of his Party, full fraught with Contention, against the
Yearly-Meeting,
1694. Which difference coming
efore the Meeting, by some Letters from be
ond Sea, which were read in Course in the Meeting: whereupon
G. K.
desired to be heard; which, after the other Business of the Meeting was over, Friends condescended to for several Days, to hear him and his Party; and
S. Jen
ings,
&c. on the other Side; in hopes to have
econciled the Difference before it went any further:
date
1694
But as the Prophet (
Hos.
7. 1.) said,
Wh
I would have healed Israel, then the Iniquity of
phraim was discover'd,
&c. which may be applie
to him: for the more Endeavours were used
reconcile him to his Brethren, the more his D
ceit appear'd; and the more Tenderness an
shewed towards him, the more perverse he wa
in turning it to a wrong Use, and strengt
ening himself in his Opposition. There was
holding what would away (as the Proverb is Resolved he was for a Breach: by opposin
Friends more and more, till he ran himself qui
out from among them. Which our Friend
T.
observing the bent and tendency of; not only i
the
Yearly-Meeting,
but after: and how he e
deavoured to make Divisions among Friends,
divide the Heritage of God. He took up
Pen again, and writ an Excellent
Epistle
Friends: briefly Commemorating the gracious Dea
ings of the Lord with them; and warning them
beware of that Spirit of Contention and Divisio
which hath appeared of late in
George Keith,
which he Addresses to Friends thus.
'Dear Friends, whom the Lord hath calle
with an Holy Calling; and who, throug
Faithfulness to the heavenly Call, are becom
the Chosen of the Lord. It is in my Hear
in the Openings of the Love of God, to se
these few Lines amongst you, as a Salutatio
of true and hearty Love unto you; and in th
tendering Sense of the Lord's Unspeakab
Goodness unto us: which at this time rest
with an affecting Weight, upon my Spiri
date
1694
briefly to Commemorate the Gracious Dealings of the Lord with us, since we have been a People.
Which he Commemorates as follows.
'Great and manifold have been the Mercies of our God, unto his People, in this his Day, and his Loving Kindnesses are beyond expressing: when we were young and little his fatherly Care was over us, he preserved us, and nourished us, and caused us to grow up before him. How did he carry his Lambs in his Bosom, when the Beasts of Prey roar'd on every side, seeking to devour! Who can rehearse the many Deliverances he hath wrought for his People, in their Passage from Spiritual
Egypt!
How hath he girded their Loins with Strength, and covered their Heads in the Day of Battle! How hath he subdued their Enemies before them, and put to flight the Armies of Aliens! How hath he fed them with Bread from Heaven, and made them to suck Honey out of the Rock! Yea, he hath caused the Rock to give forth Water abundantly, and hath been to his People as a Brook in the way [and
the Shadow of a mighty Rock in a weary Land.
] So that from a sencible Experience we can say, to his Praise, Our Bread hath been sure, and our Water hath not failed, as we have singly relied on him. Oh! his Goodness is unutterable, and his Faithfulness hath never failed them that have trusted in him: when have we ever been in Prison for his sake, and he hath not visited and comforted us there? What Sufferings have any undergone on his Account, and he
date
1694
hath not abundantly recompenced the Loss
Nay, hath he not often stopped the Mouths o
Lions, and reproved Rulers for the sake of hi
People, saying,
Touch not mine Anointed, an
do my Prophets no harm.
In all our Exercises h
hath been with us, and he hath stood by us i
our sorest Trials; yea, he hath caused his Angel to encamp round about us, so that no Weapon formed against us hath prospered; but every Tongue that hath risen up against us, the Lord hath given us Power to condemn: blessed be his holy Name, and exalted and magnified be his Glorious Power for ever.
'These things and much more than I can write, I doubt not but ye, my dear Friends, are Witnesses of; ye especially, my elder Brethren, who were called early in the Morning of this Day, and have stood faithful in your Testimony for God until now, who from your own both early and late Experiences can set your Seals to the Truth hereof; and unto you I do believe this brief Commemoration of the Goodness and Loving-Kindness of the Lord to his People, will be pleasing and delightful, as I hope it may prove useful and profitable unto us all, in the stirring up of the
Pure Mind,
and putting us in fresh Remembrance of the Lord's manifold Favours towards us, and gracious Dealings with us; which should be as a renewed Engagement upon us to cleave fast unto the Lord, and in Humility of Heart, to walk closely with him, both that we may, as far as in us lies, answer his great loving-Kindness
date
1694
to us-ward, and receive from him still daily Strength and Ability to stand, and withstand the Assaults and Temptations of the Enemy, and escape his Snares, wherewith he is, at this time, as busie and Industrious to betray, and draw aside from the Simplicity of the Truth, as ever he was.
'For Friends, ye know we have a restless Adversary to watch against, and to war with; one that sometimes walks about, as a
Roaring Lion,
seeking whom he may devour; and sometimes creeps about, as a
subtil Serpent,
seeking whom he may betray; whom, in each Appearance, it is our Duty and Interest to resist, stedfast in the Faith which overcomes. I need not recount unto you, my Friends, the many Winds and Floods, Storms and Tempests, of open and cruel
Persecutions,
which this roaring Adversary hath often raised, and and caused to beat upon us, to have driven us (if possible) from off our Foundation; ye cannot have forgotten it, nor that noble
Arm of the Lord,
which was made bare for our Preservation, and by preserving us against the most furious Shocks, gave Evidence even to the World, that we are that People whose House is founded and built upon the immoveable Rock
Christ Jesus.
At this sort of Fighting the Enemy hath been foiled; which hath made him shift his Hand, and like a cunning Hunter
spread his Nets,
set his Snares, lay his Baits, to catch the simple and unwary Ones. Thus wrought this subtil Enemy in the early
date
1694
times of Christianity, sometimes stirring up the Rulers, both
Jews
and
Gentiles,
to fall, with violent and bloody Hands, upon the little Flock of Christ; and sometimes in the Intermissions of those Storms, covering his Hooks with the taking Baits of
Pleasure, Profit
and
Preferment,
catch some (perhaps of those that had withstood the strongest Storm of outward Persecution) and made them Instruments for himself to work by, to betray others. Such was
Diotrephes
of old, whose aspiring Mind, loving and seeking
Praeeminence,
laboured to make a
Schism
in the Church, prating against even the Elders thereof
with malicious Words,
&c. 3. John 9. 10. What Mischief the wicked One hath wrought in our Day, by such
ambitious Spirits,
I need not recount; nor is it pleasing to me to remember, ye know it, to your Grief, as well as I. But this in all such Cases is observable, that such as have made
Disturbances
in the Church, and have run into
Divisions
and
Separations
from Friends, have framed to themselves some specious Pretence or other, as the Inducement to their Undertaking, which they have Industriously spread abroad, and varnished over with the fairest Colours they could, to allure and draw others to join with them,
&c.
This, with much more to the same purpose, which might be cited, I thought meet to mention, of the Mercies of the Lord to his People, and Preservation of them from the Beginning, well worth the Reading. Then recounting the
date
1694
Wiles and Workings of the Enemy, in drawing some aside from the Simplicity of the Truth, and stirring them up to make Divisions (on one Pretence or other) to disturb the Peace of the Church, and hinder the Work of the Lord in the Earth; as lately in the Separates: so now being disappointed in that, he hath formed a new Design in
G. Keith;
yet to shew the difference between the former and this (and consequently the Confusion of their Pretences)
Theirs
relating to
Discipline, This
to
Doctrine; They
alledged
That Friends were gone too much from the Inward to the Outward,
This
That Friends were gone too much from the Outward to the Inward,
&c. (for our Adversaries seldom agree in their Charges.) And so he goes on to examine and compare his Books (published beyond Sea, with those he writ here) as to the Ground of the Difference and Separation, which he lays at his Door, manifesting his deceitful Pretences, Falacies and Self-Contradictions. Answering his Cavils, and confuting his Calumnies, that none might be deceived by him. Concluding by way of Application and Warning to Friends, to beware of the Enemies Wiles: which I doubt not had a good Effect as to many, in preserving them out of the Enemies Snare, who were in danger of being stagger'd by him.
When our Friend
T. Ellwood
had written this Epistle he went up to
London
with it, and presented it to the
Second-Days Morning-Meeting,
where such Books and Writings of Friends, as are intended for the Press, use to be read and
date
1694
consider'd, and read it through in that Meeting, and not one Friend (though the Meeting was pretty full) shewed any Dis-unity therewith; but approved it, and left it to him to publish it. And yet
G. Keith
pretended that it was Printed in great Dis-unity, and against the mind of many Friends, as though it was only approved and promoted by a Party,
&c.
Which I mention, to shew that he stuck at nothing to make good his Part.
Against this Book of
T. E
's,
G. K.
made a heavy Complaint to Friends to have it called in, as very injurious to him (to his Cause to be sure) Poor Man! who had writ so many Books against Friends, after he had writ so many for them, and would not take Friends Advice himself; and how then could he expect they should answer him? So that his Complaint and Clamour not prevailing to stifle it, he takes another way, first putting out a Sheet against it, called a
Loving Epistle,
but envious enough: In which he charged
T. E.
with
Fifty Pervertions,
&c. which he said he had noted in his Book; but left his Proofs behind to come after
(The first by Post,
as the Proverb is,
the second by Tom Long the Carrier
) in another Book which he threatned to Publish, if
T. E
's was not called in and disowned: which not prevailing neither, some Weeks after he sent forth his threatned Book, miscalled
A Seasonable Information,
&c. but very unseasonable for himself, as to his Reconciliation with Friends; which he pretended he had rather lay down his natural Life (or have his
date
1694
Right Hand cut off) than be dis-united (or disjointed) from them. This Book he pretended to be an Answer to
T. E
's Epistle, and to contain his Proofs (such as they were) of the Charge he had published before. To both these our Friend
T. Ellwood
replied this Year (1694.) In a Book intituled
A further Discovery of that Spirit of Contention and Division, which hath appeared of late in
George Keith,
&c. wherein his Cavils are Answered, his Falshood is laid open, and the Guilt and Blame of the Breach and Separation in
America,
&c. are fixed faster on him: written by way of Epistle
(as the former was)
and recommended as a farther Warning to Friends.
Which begins thus:
'Dear Friends, who have received the Truth in the Love of it, and have kept your Habitation therein, unto whom the Truth is exceeding precious, and who desire the Prosperity thereof above all things; unto you is the Salutation of my endeared Love, in this blessed Truth, in which the Fellowship of the Faithful stands. In this it is I desire to know you, to be known by you, and to have Fellowship with you; earnestly breathing to the God of Truth, the Father of Spirits, that he would be pleased to pour forth more abundantly of his Good Spirit into all our Hearts, and fill us with the blessed Fruits thereof, that there may be no room for the Enemy to enter, to break this Holy Fellowship: But that all, who profess to believe in the Light, may so walk therein, that a clear Sight they may
date
1694
have thereby, and a true Discerning between things that differ, and may be able to make a right Judgment what is of God, and what is not; that so the design of that Spirit (by whatsoever Instrument it works) which would break or disturb the Churches Peace, and cast Reproach upon the Heritage of God, may be so discovered and laid open, that all may see and shun it. As this is the Exercise and Travel of my Spirit; so it is the Service I have been of late, and am at present engaged in. For Friends, 'tis not many Months since I saluted you with an Epistle, wherein my Spirit was drawn forth
briefly to Commemorate the gracious Dealings of the Lord with his People;
and, as in a general way, to remind you of the many Attempts the Enemy hath made, by Force and Fraud, to hinder the Work of God from going on: so more particularly to warn you
to beware of that Spirit of Contention and Division, which hath appeared of late in
George Keith,
and some few others that join with him, who have made a Separation from Friends in some parts of
America. In writing that Epistle I did not consult Flesh and Blood, neither had I an Eye to my own Ease and Quit, as outwardly (for I had no Reason to expect Rest from so restless a Man, nor fair Treatment from One, who in his late Writings and Personal Debates hath so notoriously let loose his Pen and Tongue, to an
unbridled Liberty
of Railing and Reviling) But I clear'd my Conscience, in discharging my Duty to God, and to his Church, and
date
1694
therein have that Peace, which all his Abuses cannot disturb.
And so he proceeds to clear himself of the Perversions,
&c.
which
G. K.
charged him with, and answers all his Cavils against his Book; manifesting his Deceit, Evasions and Sophistry so effectually, that I do not find that
G. Keith
ever replied to it, being answered home, and having his Belly full, I suppose of the Controversie with
T. Ellwood;
for though our Friend
Thomas
answered several other of
G. Keith
's Books afterwards (of which hereafter) he never replied to any of them: which shews he had enough of it.
At the end of this Book of
G. Keith
's,
J. Raunce
came forth again, with a new Slander against
T. E.
(all his old ones being bafled) as if his Father had not been buried decently; which however False.
G. K
's
mean Mind, it seems, could not resist
J. R
's slight Offer, to take off an Hundred of his Books; but rather glad of any Help to run down his Opponent, if he could with Slander, which he found he could not do with Arguments: but had
G. K.
been a Man of any Worthiness
(says T. E.)
or his Cause defensible, he would not (though an Adversary) have suffer'd
J. R.
to have clapt on his Abusive Piece at the end of his Book, to throw Dirt at his Opponent. And had
J. R.
been a manly Adversary, he would have scorn'd to have crept in at the Tail of another's Book, to renew his Slander, no way relating to the Subject of the Book,
when
T. E's Fair Examination
had lain a Twelve-Month at his Door unanswered. But to creep behind such
date
1694
a mickle Man as
G. K.
was taken to be,
J. R.
perhaps might count it no Disgrace, to repeat his Slander; which
T. E.
had answered in his Postscript to the
fair Examination:
and for a final Stroke to it, he produces Certificates from those who were concerned about his Father at the time of his Death and Interrment, that he was decently Buried as usual; which may be seen at the End of this Book, in Reply to
G. K.
And there's an End of all those Lying Stories raised concerning the Dead, to asperse the Living, to the Shame and Confusion of all the Inventors and Fomentors of them, the Man was dead, and in his Grave, and there should have rested without Envy or Detraction; and I am only sorry he seemed to retain his Aversion to his Son for the Truth's sake, which he received in his early Days. To the Honour of which I attribute it, that he was preserved, and carried through and over all Opposition, and lived in Reputation and Renown to his Dying Day.
His next Book is in 1695, intituled
Truth defended, and the Friends thereof cleared from the false Charges, foul Reproaches, and envious Cavils cast upon it and them, by
George Keith
(an Apostate from them) in two Books by him lately published; one called
A true Copy of a Paper delivered into the Yearly-Meeting,
&c. The other,
The Pretended Yearly-Meeting's nameless Bull of Excommunication,
&c.
In which last
G. K.
gives an Account of his Coming to the
Yearly-Meeting
(1695.) and of his Entertainment in it (when admitted) as if he had never been there
date
1695
before,
viz. That he was allowed to sit at the Great Square Table among the Ministers and Commissioners
(as he calls them)
that could hold about it, either fully, or near double, to the Number of Twenty four: whether by Allusion to the Twenty four Seats and Elders, mentioned
Rev. 4?
but doubling the Number he doth not determin;
adding,
I think it suits not their Crying out so much as they were wont against chief Seats in the Synagogues, to erect such a stately Fabrick in their Meeting-House, at that time, little differing from the manner of a Throne, but that it is low upon the Floor, covered with Green Cloth.
All which only serves to shew his own
Pageantry,
and which our Friend
T. Ellwood
corrects him for according to his deserts. For the Table will hold few more than Twenty four, or Twenty eight at most, and only necessary to lay Books and Papers on to Write.
In the Beginning of this Book, our Friend
T. E.
resumes the Controversie from the Beginning, shews the Rise of the Difference, and Proceedings thereupon, in relation to
George Keith,
particularly after his coming into
England
in the beginning of 1694; and how he came to be disowned by the Yearly Meeting in 1695, for his rejecting the Advice of the former, and opposite Carriage thereunto; which being so excellent to the matter in hand, and setting the Controversie in a clear light, I shall here insert it; which begins thus:
'It is an old Observation, That none prove more angry and implacable Enemies to any Society of People, than those that, for their
date
1695
Disorders and unruly Behaviour, have been disowned by the Society they once were of; a certain vindictive Enmity usually getting up in such, and stirring them up to load that Society, by which they were denied, with all the Reproach and Infamy they can, thereby both gratifying a revengeful Spirit in themselves, and thinking also, by recriminating others, to extenuate at least their own Crimes. That thus it was in the early Times of Christianity, may be gathered from the Writings of the Apostles, particularly 2
Tim.
4. 14. 2
Pet.
2. 1
John
2. 18,
&c.
3
John
9,
&c. Jude
vers. 4. Among those in this Age, whom Satan hath drawn to this degree of Malice and Madness,
George Keith
a
Scotchman,
is the latest, but not the least; whether with respect to his Anger, or his Envy. He, having been bred a Scholar, before he came amongst the People called
Quakers,
and having acquired more of School-Learning than most (it may be, in his own Opinion, than any) of that People have, hath given, in himself, a demonstrative Proof of the Apostle's Proposition (1
Cor.
8. 1.)
Knowledge puffeth up, where Edifying Chais not joined with it.
For
Humane Knowledge
is apt of it self to lift up Mens Minds, that have, or think they have it, in any degree of Eminency; and makes them think better of themselves, than of others, or than themselves deserve: whereas true Charity useth Knowledge to instruct, and thereby builds up; not to puzzle and confound, and thereby destroy
date
1695
others: but that Charity this Man not having but being vainly puffed up in his Fleshly Mind, from a proud Conceit of his own Abilities; and being gotten into
America
(among a plain People, who better understood the plain and simple Truth, than the nice Distinctions and Subtilties of the Schools) and there advanced to the Office of a School-Master, with a standing Sallary (as I have been informed) of an Hundred and Twenty Pounds by the Year, he soon began, like
Diotrephes
of old (3
John
9. 10.) to affect
Praeeminence
in the Church; and nothing less would serve his turn, than to rule and over-rule all. And that he might not want Matter to work upon, and some Pretence to begin on, he not only found fault with Friends Ministry and Discipline there; but having, in private Discourses, put some captious and ensnaring Questions to some particular Persons there, whose Simplicity he thought he might most easily betray, he (by wresting their Answers to a wrong Sense) took Advantage to complain against them,
for holding,
as he said,
gross and vile Errors;
and with impetuous Heat prosecuted his Charge: and not being so fully nor speedily answered, as he expected, by those Friends to whom he complained, who seeing the Innocency of the Accused, and his evil Design in Accusing, could not Countenance him therein, he involved them also in the like Charge of
Cloaking, or Covering gross and vile Errors, Damnable Heresies and Doctrines of Devils,
date
1695
&c. Nor gave he over, till by continua
Clamours and frequent Disturbances, he ha
filled Friends Meetings with Strife and Contention; and at length having leavened a Party to himself, made an open Division and Separation from Friends, setting up separate Meetings for himself and his Party, in Opposition to the Meetings of Friends before settled there. And having got the Printer to hi
Party (and thereby the only Press there at hi
Command) he maliciously put the Difference into Print, and thereby spread it not only in those Parts of
America,
but in these of
Europ
also. These things drew Friends there, afte
much Patience and long Forbearance, to dea
with him in a Church-way, and to give forth at length a Testimony against him; which proving uneasie to him, he came over from thence to
England,
about the beginning of the the Year 1694, of which some Friends o
Pennsylvania
having Notice, came over also; and at the Yearly Meeting of the People called
Quakers,
holden at
London
in the 4th Mon
that Year, the Matters relating to that Difference being fully heard and considered, the Sence of that Meeting was,
That the Separation lay at
G. K
's door; and that he had done ill, in Printing and Publishing those Differences as he had done.
And the Advice of the Meeting to him thereupon was,
To call in those Books of his, or publish something innocently and effectually to clear the Body of the People called
Quakers,
and their Ministers, from those gross Errors charged on
date
1695
some few in
America;
and retract the bitter Language in them, so far as he was concerned: and sincerely to use his utmost Endeavours with his Friends concerned to remove the Separation,
&c. Which Sence and Advice, being drawn up at large in Writing, was then in that Meeting delivered to him, and soon after Printed by one of his Party, with very envious Reflections upon it, as may be seen in a small Pamphlet, called
A True Account,
&c. to which I refer. But so far was
G. K.
from regarding the Sence, or following the Advice of that Yearly Meeting, that in several printed Books by him soon after published, he rejected it, denying it to be the Sence or Advice of the Yearly Meeting, or that to be the Yearly Meeting that gave it. Which Abuse this last Yearly Meeting (in the 3d Month past) taking notice of, and upon further dealing with him, finding him, instead of being humbled and sorry for the Evil he had done, more hardned therein, justifying himself both by Word and Writing, and rejecting the Meetings Advice. That Meeting (after it had heard him patiently, till he of his own accord withdrew) gave forth a Testimony against him: which he hath since Printed, with his Answer thereunto. As he hath also (in another Pamphlet) a Copy of his Paper which he read in the Meeting; together with a Narrative (of his own making) of the Proceedings of the Meeting with him, and a List of Errors charged by him on some particular Persons. To each
date
1695
of these I intend to speak, now that I have premised this short Introduction; which I thought needful for the Information of any such Reader as had not before heard the Ris
of the Difference, nor the Course of Proceedings thereupon.
This I thought fit to insert, being so materia
as to the Ground of the Controversie with
Keith:
after which
T. E.
proceeds to Answe
all his Cavils in his said two Books or Papers
And shews that by his disorderly Practices h
had excluded himself from our Society, befor
Friends disowned him. So leaving him withou
Excuse, and the weight of his Iniquity upon hi
own Head; which he could never get from under, but waxed worse and worse, as evil Me
and Seducers use to do: so that Truth was se
over his Head, and Friends were clear of him
date
1696
But now another Occasion offer'd, and that was, one
Gerard Croese
a
Dutchman,
publishing
A general History
(so called)
of the
Quakers;
containing the Lives, Tenets, Sufferings, Tryals, Speeches
and
Letters
(as pretended)
of the most eminent of them;
First in
Latin:
which was Translated, and Printed in
English
in the Year 1696. Wherein, though he had represented some things pretty fairly; yet in others, through Inadvertancy or Ignorance (I hope not wilfully) he had misrepresented us, and our Principles and Practices: whereupon our Friend
T. Ellwood,
according to an Advertisement at the End of the said
History
in
English,
that
some Remarks on it would be published,
he writ some Remarks
date
1696
on it in
Latin
(perhaps before the
English
came out, which would no doubt have been turn'd into
English
) intending, doubtless, to publish 'em; but in the mean time before they were finished, a Book of the same Nature, and to the same purpose, in
Latin,
was published in
Holland
(by way of Remarks or Observations on the said
History
) which seemed again to circumvent him in his intended Remarks on it, so that he laid 'em by, and never finished them; and so the World was deprived of this Piece also.
But now
G. Keith
being gone out from the Fellowship of the Faithful, and hardened in his Enmity against Friends, he arrived to the Top or Height of Opposition, he had been playing small Stakes hitherto; but now came to throw all at once. In order to which he Erected a Stage of Contention at
Turners-Hall
in
Philpot-Lane, London
(where he had held Separate Meetings for some time before) to oppose Friends in general, under pretence of discovering divers Errors out of the
Quakers
Books (that were never in them) and published an Advertisement of a Meeting he intended to hold there, in the 4
th Month,
1696, to discover the
Quakers
Errors (though he had been one so long himself, and vindicated them, as to all that any could Object against, and yet now came to accuse them himself;) but Friends slighted him, not thinking it worth their while to follow him, or Dance after his Pipe to
Turners-Hall.
Of which contentious Meeting he afterwards published a Narrative; which our Friend
T. E.
answered, this Year, in
date
1696
a Book intituled
An Answer to
George Keith
's Narrative of his Proceedings at
Turners-Hall,
&c. wherein his Charges against divers of the People called
Quakers (
in that and another Book of his, called
Gross Errors,
&c.
)
are fairly considered, examined and refuted.
And he made his Title good in a close Answer, and entire Confutation of all his Cavils against our Friends Books: which, because I have given the Preambles or Introductions of his former, to illustrate the matter, I shall also, in like manner, introduce this with his general Account of the Controversie (by way of Introduction to his Answer) being so pertinent to the Case in hand, for the Readers better Information and Satisfaction, which follows, beginning thus:
'It is not surely, without good Reason, that the Church of Christ, here on Earth, is called the
Church Militant:
For (besides the Inward and Spiritual Enemies, which her several Members have to encounter with, in their Pilgrimage through this troublesome World) such hath been, and is, her Lot and Portion, that she hath rarely been free from outward Enemies of one kind or other, her great Adversary,
Satan,
continually raising up some Evil Instruments or other to fall upon her; all aiming at her Ruin, though after divers ways and manners. Sometimes the Civil Powers, under which she hath lived, have been stirred up to proclaim, as it were, open War against her, and to inflict severe and heavy Penalties upon her, for her faithful Adherence
date
1696
to her Lord and Master, Christ Jesus. When through Faith and Patience, she hath overcome, and the Wrath and Fury of Men hath been asswaged, so that she hath had some respit from those outward Snfferings; Then hath her old Adversary (the common Enemy of Mankind) bestirr'd himself in another way, to raise up
Persecution
against her of another kind, by instigating some or other (either such as were always avowed Enemies to her, or such as for sometime appeared to be of her, but by the sweep of his Tail had been struck off from her) to speak or write against her, falsly to accuse her, and load her with the foulest Reproaches, and most infamous Slanders and Scandals, that by so misrepresenting her, they might hinder others from joining to, or favouring her, and stir up the Civil Magistrate again, to persecute her afresh. This hath been the Lot, this the Condition of the Little Flock of Christ in former Ages, as
Ecclesiastical Histories
declare. As for the present Age, and with respect to the People called
Quakers
(whom God, by an invisible Arm of Power, hath raised up, and held up, and made a peculiar People to himself) Experience gives sufficient Proof, the Matter being yet fresh in Memory. For (not to look back so far as that which was called the
Commonwealth
's Time, wherein many of the Leading Men, in most Professions, put forth their utmost Strength against us, both in Preaching and Printing, raising those false Reports concerning
date
1696
us, and charging many false Accusations upon us, with respect both to
Doctrine
and
Practice,
which others of our Adversaries, that followed after, have taken up upon trust from them) no sooner was that great Persecution a little abated (which soon after the Restoration of K.
Charles
the
Second,
through the Fault of some
Dissenters,
fell upon
all,
but most heavily upon
us
) and that a little Calm and Quiet ensued; but out came several Books against us, written by some of those Professors, who either in some measure did suffer, or (if they had been faithful to their own Principle) should have suffered in the same Storm with us. By that time the Dust, which those Books had raised, was laid by our Answers thereunto, a fresh Persecution from the Government arose, upon the
Informing Act,
the main weight of which, it is well known, fell upon us; they who before, and afterwards, assaulted us in Print, finding ways then to hide, and save themselves from Suffering. But when that Storm was a little over, out they came again, and in divers Books, written by
Faldo, Hicks,
and others, heaped up many wrong Charges, Defamations, Slanders and false Accusations against us; all which were refuted, and wiped off in our Books, Printed in Answer thereunto: Nor have those of other Professions been so forward to attack us since. But now that Liberty of Conscience, in the free Exercise of Religious Worship, is by Authority granted, and thereby outward Sufferings, in a great
date
1696
measure, abated; our old Enemy, envying us so great a Benefit (though but in common with others) hath contrived ways and means to raise a
New War
against us; by stirring up some, who have formerly walked with us, and for some time professed to be of us (but upon some peevish Discontent or other, have turned aside and left us) to turn now against us, and oppose us, and to pour forth Floods of Reproach, Slanders and false Accusations upon us. His chief Agent, at present, in this Work, is
George Keith a Scotchman,
whose
ambitious Aims
not being answered, nor his
absurd
and
fantastical Notions
received by and amongst the People called
Quakers,
he is now become, of a
seeming Friend,
a
real Enemy.
He having published many Books against us, and in defence of those Books wrangled with us for a while in Print, till he found himself too closely pinched, to be able to give an Answer fit to be seen in Print, hath at length bethought himself of a
Wile
to excuse himself from answering: which was, To set up a kind of
Judicial Court,
of his
own Head,
and by his
own Authority,
in a place at his
own Command,
on a Day of his
own Appointing,
there to charge and try divers of us who are called
Quakers,
whether present or absent, concerning Matters of
Faith
and
Doctrine;
and that the rude Multitude might not be wanting to his Assistance there, he gave publick notice of it some time before, by an Advertisement in Print, and therein a sort of
Summons
to some of us by Name, to others
date
1696
by Designation, to be present. This
Arbitrary
Proceeding, and
Usurped
Authority, as we judged it unreasonable in him to impose, so we did not think fit to submit to, or own, and therefore forbore to appear at the time and place by him appointed. Yet lest any whom he should draw thither, might mistake the Cause of our not appearing, the Reasons thereof, drawn up in short Heads, were sent thither to be Read, and given among the People: which they were. However, according to his before declared Intention, to proceed whether any of us were there or no, he, being
Judge in his own Court,
over-ruled our Reasons, and went on to Arraign, and Convict us absent. The
Pageantry
of which Days Work, as acted there by himself, he hath since Published, with his Name to it, under the Title of
An Exact Narrative of the Proceedings at
Turners Hall,
&c. Together with the Disputes and Speeches there, between
G. Keith,
and other
Quakers,
differing from him in some Religious Principles.
How Idle is this in him, to pretend in his Title to give an Account of Disputes and Speeches between him and other Quakers, when as his
Narrative
it self gives no Account of any Dispute there, nor any thing like it and of that little that was said by any of those few Quakers, that were present, most was to the People (tending to shew them the Unreasonableness of his Undertaking, and desiring them to reserve one Ear for the other side) very little of it to him.
date
1696
Then he goes on to shew
G. K
's. Falshood
in calling it
An Exact Narrative;
and yet not Inserting the Reasons why our Friends did not Appear, which he Confesses were Read; and his Falacies in evading them, which therefore
T. E.
sets down, Obviates
G. K
's Quibbles on them: So proceeds to Answer his
Narrative,
Clearing the Quotations he brought out of our Friends Books, from his Perversions (being either unfairly or falsly Quoted, or perverted in their Sense, to what they never intended; according to his Carping and Caviling Way.) Vindicating the soundness of their Doctrine, shewing
G. K
's self-contradictions (in opposing what he had so often Vindicated as Orthodox; and yet pretending to hold the same Doctrines and Principles still) and laying open his Deceit, Falshood and Prevarications so plainly and effectually, that
G. K
never reply'd to it; and good reason why; because he could not to the Purpose, being Answered home, and defeated in all his Vile Pretences, Envious Cavils, and False Accusations.
But being Pinch'd and driven to a Nonplus, by Quotations out of his own Books, in favour of what he opposed (which he could not Answer;) wherein he had Asserted or Defended the same Doctrines and Principles, in as plain or higher Words, which he now blamed Friends for as Gross Errors,
&c.
Which yet he would not allow to be so in himself, but paliated them under the soft Term of
Mistakes:
Saying,
Narrative
p. 15.
I know not any fundamental Principle, nor indeed any one Principle of Christian Faith, that
date
1696
I have varied from to this Day, ever since I came among the Quakers; which is about Thirty Three Years ago.
— And in his Preface to his
Nar.
p. 6. he says,
The things
(he does not call them
Errors,
nor hardly ever uses the word
Error
with respect to himself, and his own Writings.—)
that need Correction in my Books, compared with the vile Errors in theirs, are but as my Motes to their Beams:— Nor are they such things as oppose any Christian Principles of Faith: But of an inferior Nature.
[and yet they were as full in the Points, as any he could Cite out of ours.] And in
The true Copy of a Paper,
Printed 1694. where, in p. 17. he faintly intimates a purpose, to Publish some
short Explication,
&c.—
of some Words and Passages in his former Books.
He adds,
For upon a Review of my former Books,— I freely Acknowledge, I have found some Passages and Words, that not only need some farther Explanation; but even in some part, an Emendation and Correction.
How gently doth he Touch himself? (says
T. E.
) How softly doth he handle his own Sores? Not a Syllable of
Errors
or
Heresie
there; No, the hardest word he can afford to give them, is, his
former Mistakes:
And lest the Reader should extend them too far, he explains it in the next Page, saying,
Upon the most Impartial search I have made, I find not any Cause to Correct either my Judgment or Books, as touching any of the great Doctrines and Principles of the Christian Religion; nor do I know that I am of another Faith in any one Principle of Christian Doctrine, contrary to what I believed, ever since I went under the Profession of a Quaker, so Called.
With much more to the same purpose.
date
1696
Thus Partial was he as to himself, notwithstanding his loud Clamours and outcries of
vile Errors
against the Quakers, for the same things he had held himself, which yet were no
Errors
in him; such a Hypocrite was he to Dissemble with God and Man. So that when he found his Doctrines Compared with what he Accused Friends of, and saw they were the same, or parallel; 'twas to no purpose for him to go to Vindicate or Clear himself of what was so Notorious▪ And therefore procured another, or at least he undertook it for him, under disguise of the
Snake in the Grass:
And so to slide by the Quotatious out of his Books, that lay in his Way; which would have been a shame for
G. K.
to do (a
Snake in the Grass
indeed) pretending in his Preface, that
it was not meant as a Defence of
George Keith,
any further than he defended the Truth of the Christian Faith; for which Reason
(says he)
I have wholly omitted all the Personal Reflections cast upon him, and the Contradictions which
Thomas Ellwood
pretends to find in his former Books (while he was a Quaker of their Communion) to the Doctrine he now sets up in opposition to them.
And so gave the go by to whatever pincht him, which was the design, as
T. E.
observes, to help
G. Keith
off at a dead Lift, from his manifold and manifest self Contradictions, which it was impossible for him to Reconcile or Defend; and because it had been as absurd for him to have undertaken a Reply to
T. E
's Answer. and not have attempted to acquit himself of those Contradictions charged upon him therein, as it
date
1696
would have been impossible for him to have Clear'd himself of them. Therefore this Contrivance was found out, that another (or perhaps he in a Mask, under the disguise of another, for Satan, though disrob'd from his Disguise of Light, has many black Robes and dark Disguises to put on) should undertake the Task of Replying (for a Task it seems it was) upon such a Foot, and under such Circumstances, as might give him some colourable Pretence to wave the Contradictions, and wholly to omit them, and with them whatsoever else he found too hard to meddle with.
So that any one might plainly see this was a Contrivance (as our Friend
T. E.
observes) to help
G. K.
out at a dead Lift. To which Book of the
Snake's, T. E.
writ an Answer, though he did not quite finish it, or publish it: Of which, and that Controversie, he gives the following Account.
'This Controversie begun by
George Keith
(upon a Pick he took against the People called
Quakers;
because they could not Answer his Ambitious desire of Rule, nor receive some Wild and Fantastical Notions of his) has been carried on by him, in his own Name, 'till he could go no further. The Doctrines he Condemns us for, as Erroneous and Heritical, have been either so clearly cast off by us, as Slanders, or so Rivetted on himself by undeniable Instances and Proofs taken out of his own Books, that (having fore-closed his way to a Retractation of them, as shall be
date
1697
shewed anon) he had no way left, but (as his last shift) to shift the Cause into anothers Hand; to carry it on under the disguise of a-another Person; which brought to my Mind the Fable of
Achelous,
who being too weak for his Antagonist in fair Force, was fain to shift from one Shape to another; first to that of a
Snake,
then to that of a
Bull;
and is thereupon brought in by the
Poet:
Saying,
Inferior Virtute, meas divertor ad Artes
Elaborque Viro, Longum formatus in Anguem,
&c.
Metam. Lib. 9. Fab. 1.
In Strength too Weak, I to my Wiles betake,
And slide from Man, into a Twining Snake.
Somewhat a like Crafty Course has
G. Keith
taken; who finding himself over prest the last Year with Books, which he knew not how to Answer; got (as was supposed) an Adjutant of his, to Publish a Book against us under Disguise, without a Name to it, and with the very Title of
The Snake in the Grass:
Thereby to have diverted us from pursuing the Controversie (then, and still in Hand) with him: But when he found that would not do (for the design was seen) he Roar'd against us like a
Bull,
at
Turners-Hall,
in the Month called
June,
1696. and afterwards in his
Narrative
thereof: The Answer to that (which soon followed) has, it seems, involv'd him in such difficulties, that he hath not thought fit to appear against it in his own Shape; but either assuming another
date
1697
Person, or turning over his broken Forces (with the united Forces of the whole Party) to the Hissing Author of the
Snake;
they have amongst them, lately thrust forth another Book, as a Reply to that Answer of mine to
G. Keith's Narrative:
This (without a Name too, and said to be written
by the Author of the Snake in the Grass
) is called
Satan Dis-rob'd from his disguise of Light.
But the observant Reader will find Cause enough, I think, to Conclude, that whoever writ it, was fully Inrob'd in
Satan
's over-Guise and proper Dress of
Darkness,
from the many bitter and scornful Invectives therein used against the
Light.
And for the Controversie it self, he Remarks.
'1. That the matters therein Charged upon us, are generally the same that have been charged on us heretofore, by
Faldo, Hicks,
and other Adversaries; and always Refuted over and over, both formerly and of late.
'2. That the things they Charge on us, as Errors and Heresie, are not pretended to be proved by any plain express Positions or Assertions of ours; but from our Adversaries own perverse meanings, and wrested Constructions of our Words; always Denyed and Rejected by us.
'3. That the Words and Passages brought by our Adversaries for Proof of their Charges against us, are not taken out of our Doctrinal Treatises, or Declarations of Faith and Principles; but (for the most part) out of Controversial Books; wherein, oft times, the scope
date
1697
and aim of the Author is, not so much to Assert or Express his own Principles or Doctrines, as to Impugn and Expose his Adversaries, by shewing the Contradictions, Absurdities, and ill Consequences of his Adversaries Opinions; from whence, Positively to conclude the Authors own Judgment, is neither safe nor fair.
'4. That however any of our former Adversaries, might have been misled in their Judgments concerning us,
G. Keith,
who hath now moved this Controversie against us, knows full well, that we do not hold those things either generally as a People, or as particular Persons, which he has charged on us as Errors. As a People he has clearly acquitted us from them, in his
Preface
to his
Narrative,
P. 6. where hesays,
I charge them not, either upon the Generality, far less upon the Universality of all them called
Quakers. For particular Persons, hear what he says of
George Whitehead,
one of the principal Butts he shoots at
Nar.
p. 16. where having charged him with
Denying that Christ in Heaven has any bodily Existence without us,
being conscious that
G. Whitehead
did not so hold, but that he had therein abused him, he immediatly adds,
If he
(G. W.)
has said otherwise in any of his late printed Books, I am glad of it.
And a Line lower,
There is a
G. Whitehead
Orthodox, and a
G. Whitehead
not Orthodox. He is— in this and some other things Orthodox and not Orthodox:
and a little further,
I own it, that I have cited divers Passages out of his later Books, that are Orthodox, to prove him sound.
date
1697
What can be made of all this, but that
G. Whitehead
was Orthodox and Sound in his own both Intentions and Expressions; not Orthodox in
G. Keith's
perverse and false Constructions? And whereas he harps upon the Word
later Books,
thereby to insinuate as if
G. W.
had of late altered his Judgment: he has cut off that also in his
Nar.
p. 38. where he gives an Account, That in the Year 1678. (which is Eighteen Years ago)
some
(whom he would not Name)
Questioning him about some Principles in a Book of his,
both
G. Whitehead
and
W. Penn
took part with him against them, though those Principles (as he calls them) which he says he was then
Questioned about,
were of the same Nature with some of those he now charges upon them as Errors. From whence it appears, that he found them then, as well as now,
Sound
and
Orthodox
in those Principles.
'5. That as this Controversie lies properly and directly between
G. Keith
and us, and that he being bafled in it, and driven to a
Ne plus ultra
on his own Part, hath contrived to carry it on under Disguise, by the Assistance of another (yet without a Name) who under pretence of
Indifferency, and being unconcerned with or for
G. Keith, should drop the Quotations I had loaded him with, out of his own Books against himself, and thereby free him (if he could) from those pinching
Dilemma's
which lay against him, and
draw Dun
(as the Proverb speaks)
out of the mire,
he was plung'd into: so to obviate and disappoint the Design.
date
1697
That I may not suffer my self to be bubbled by such Artificial Shams, but that the Controversie may be kept (as much as may be) upon its first Bottom, I have thought fit in this Rejoinder, so to order the Matter, as not to let
G. Keith
slip away (which I perceive he would fain do) while I am contending with I know not whom in this Quarrel. Therefore as I pass through the several Heads of the Controversie, I purpose not only to Answer the most material Cavils of the present Adversary, but withal to repeat (some at least of) those Passages that lay so heavy upon
G. Keith,
and settle (not to use his own smithing Metaphors of
Clinching
and
Rivetting
) them faster on him; to the end that both the Reader may more plainly see the true Reason why
G. Keith
did not himself reply, in his own Name, to my Answer to his Narrative, and
G. Keith
may know that I expect it from him, and in the mean time look upon him but as a bafled shifting Adversary.
'He begins his Epistle with telling his Reader that
his Reply is short in Comparison of the Answer.
Therein he and I agree, but in
Words
rather than in
Meaning;
for he means in Number of Pages, I mean in Truth and fair Dealing, in which I am confident the indifferent Reader will find his Reply
short
indeed: And even as to Bulk, upon due Consideration, the Disproportion is not so great as he would represent it, for his Book is rather more than half as big as mine, though he replies not to
date
1697
the Tenth Part of the Matter contained in mine. He makes nothing of skipping over Ten or Fifteen Pages at a time, so nimble heel'd he is.
[And yet this is the Man that caution'd the
Quakers,
that
if they answer'd his Book
(Snake, 3d Edit. p. 344.)
that they would reply distinctly,— and not Answer a Book as Rats do, by nibling at some Corners of the Leaves, stealing through it like Moths, to no other Purpose than to deface some Words at a venture;
who yet could reply thus slightly himself]
'Nay in his first Page he throws off no less than Twenty Five Pages at once, and barely mentioning, in less than Nine Lines, a few Words contained in some of them, without a Syllable of Reply thereto, sets in his Margin
Reply to the first Twenty three Pages;
and yet he hath the Confidence to miscal his Book, and that even in the same Page,
A full Reply
(he might better have called it a
foul
and
false Reply
)
to
T. Ellwood
's Answer.
And in his Epistle says,
he has omitted nothing that is material.
I suppose he means, that he has omitted nothing which he thought might tend to abuse and defame the
Quakers,
and me: for that he has omitted the most material Parts of my Book, and thrust in many Passages, idle, impertinent, false and wholly foreign to the Subject, only that he might misrepresent, ridicule and slander us, I shall have occasion hereafter, by plenty of Instances, to shew.
I might cite a great deal more, to explicate this Controversie, and shew their Dis-ingenuity
date
1697
in it; but by this we may judge what a Reply this of the
Snake
's was, and by this Taste (to use his own Words at the End of the
Snake
)
the Reader may guess what a plentiful Meal we might have had,
if
T. E.
had published his
Rejoinder,
but that, as I said, he did not; for what Reason I cannot justly assign: for though our Friend
George Whitehead
(in his Answer to the
Snake in the Grass
) writ also
A brief Examination of some Passages in the said Book of the Snake's, stiled
Satan Disrob'd,
&c.
as being concerned therein; yet he refer'd to a further Answer by
T. E.
p. 186. judging it
'No fair Reply to
T. Ellwood
's Answer; and so it appears (says he) and I expect will be made further appear, if
T. Ellwood
deems it worth the while to undertake it:
Which he did, and writ Twenty seven Sheets in order thereto; and why he should be prevented from publishing it, by
G. Whitehead's Brief Examination,
I do not see, being much larger and fuller; but perceive he was so modest, that he was apt to be put by of his Work, if any other put in before him; as will further appear on another Occasion hereafter. And so I shall leave it, hoping however one time or other, to see this, and some other of his Posthumous Works published by themselves, as they well deserve.
And here our Friend drop'd his Pen, till another Occasion offer'd.
And that was next (or at least the next he laid hold on) after a Vacancy of two or three Years, on this Occasion.
date
1698
Some Angry Priests in
Norfolk,
on our Friends having a Meeting near one of them, and Truth spreading to their regret, they challenged a Dispute with some of our Friends at
West-Deerham
in that County, the 8th of the Tenth Month, 1698. where some of our Friends appearing, and answering them, so disappointed the Priests in their envious Designs in the said Dispute, that they afterwards promoted two Petitions against our Friends to the Parliament (one from
Norfolk,
the other from
Suffolk
) to stir up Persecution against them, that what they could not do by Arguments, they might by Force. To which two Petitions our Friend
T. Ellwood
(having obtained Copies of them) writ
A sober Reply on behalf of the People called
Quakers,
to two Petitions against them
(
the one out of
Norfolk,
and the other from
Bury
in
Suffolk)
being some brief Observations upon them,
&c.
date
1699
Printed 1699, manifesting their mischievous Machinations against the Truth and Friends; which, with some other Discouragements, through the Labour and Industry of Friends at
London,
in attending the Parliament, and delivering Printed Papers; particularly,
A few Considerations humbly offered to the Members of Parliament, to obviate some Evil Jealousies and Designs against the People called
Quakers, so quashed their malicious Purposes, that their Petitions were never delivered to, or receiv'd by the Parliament; but fell, and came to nothing, and their Evil Designs were frustrated, Friends were preserved, and Truth prospered over their Heads.
date
1696
About this time also, our Friend
William Penn
being gone to
Pennsylvania
(in the 7th Month this Year) and
G. Keith
continuing his Opposition against Truth and Friends; sometimes more general at
Turners-Hall,
where, as the Course of his
Dilirious Distemper
returned (as
Joseph Wyeth
observes, in his Answer to his Advertisement this Year) he held his Contentious Meetings, once a Year, to pick Passages out of our Friends Books to Cavil at (though he could not Answer nor Clear himself of
T. Ellwood
's, or others that were writ against him) And sometimes more particularly against single Persons, especially
William Penn,
against whom he chose to vent his Malice above most others; especially now in his Absence, making him the Butt of his Indignation; and published two Books against him, one called
The Deism of
William Penn
and his Brethren,
&c. This our Friend
T. Ellwood
undertook to Answer, and made a considerable Progress in it, in a large Book, of between Thirty and Forty Sheets: which I shall cite some of, Beginning thus.
'We read of one in former Times, who, because he had given up himself to do Evil, was said to have
sold himself to work Wickedness in the Sight of the Lord,
1 Kings 21: 20, and 25. Whether
George Keith
hath directly sold himself, or only let himself out to hire, I will not undertake to determine; but evident it is, that since he crept into the Interest of that which is called the
Church of England,
and become a mercenary Hackney to some of the
date
1699
Clergy,
he hath laid out himself, with his utmost Vigour, to
work Wickedness,
not only
in the Sight of the Lord,
but
in the Sight of the Sun;
asserting, defending, maintaining and upholding divers both
Doctrines
and
Practices
in Religion, which upon a declared full Conviction, and from a professed Assurance of Divine Openings, and Immediate Guidance of the
Holy Spirit,
he had before not only Renounced, but declared and written against, as
False, Superstitious
(if not
Idolatrous
) and
Antichristian;
And to fill up his Measure of
Iniquity,
and heap it up, that it might run over, he hath not only (to gratifie his Supporters) shot his unadvised Bolts at the several other Bodies of
Protestam Dissenters,
but, in an especial manner (and in a most virulent, and to him peculiar Stile) hath evomitted Floods, not of
Reproach
only and
bitter Revilings;
but of the most
malicious Slanders
and
Falshoods,
that ever, perhaps, were poured from the Pulpit, or squeezed through the Press against the People called
Quakers,
whom once he owned for his Brethren, and with whom he professed to hold Communion for more than Thirty Years. Herein he hath exceeded good
Joseph
of Old in his Liberality, but in another kind: that good Man bestowed a
Fivefold-Mess
of his
good Things
on his Brother
Benjamin,
as a Token of his peculiar and abundant Love to him. This bad Man has bestowed
double
and
treble
that proportion of his
evil Things
on us: The Effect of his peculiar and superabundant Hatred to us, to say
date
1699
nothing here of his railing Rhetorick and bitter Invectives against us, wherewith he hath prophaned the Pulpit (which lie under the just Censure of the more discreet and well-minded of his Auditors) An Instance of his Malice and Injustice from the Press, is a late Book of his (now lying before me) called
The Deism of
William Penn
and his Brethren, destructive to the Christian Religion, exposed,
&c. The Word [
Deism
] being somewhat an uncommon Term, may not, perhaps, be readily understood by every Reader. As it has been opposed to
Atheism,
it has been taken in a good Sense; but as it is now used it is taken in an ill sence, as importing an Acknowledgment, or owning of God
only,
or of the
Godhead;
but not of Christ, with respect to his Incarnation, or being manifest in the Flesh, for the Redemption of Man: So that to Charge any one now with
Deism,
is to Charge him with denying that Christ is Come, and hath Suffered in the Flesh. Now herein
G. Keith
's both Injustice and Malice, is the greater, in Charging
W. Penn,
and his Brethren the
Quakers,
with
Deism;
in as much as he assuredly knows (which some other Adversaries have not had the like opportunity to know, as he hath had) by certain Experience, drawn by so many Years intimate Conversation with
W. P.
and the
Quakers,
in free and familiar Conferences, and in Reading their Books, that
W. P.
and the
Quakers,
both in Word and Writing, Publickly and Privately, have always, and on all
date
1699
Occasions, Confest, Acknowledged, Owned as well as Believed, the Incarnation of Christ, according to the Holy Scriptures,
viz. That the Word was made Flesh
(John 1. 14.)
That when the fulness of time was come, God sent forth his Son made of a Woman, made under the Law, to Redeem them that were under the Law
(Gal. 4. 4, 5.) That
Christ Jesus being in the form of God, and thinking it no Robbery to be equal with God; made himself of no Reputation, and took upon him the form of a Servant, and was made in the likeness of Men; and being found in fashion as a Man, he humbled himself, and became obedient unto Death, even the Death of the Cross
(Phil. 2. 5, 6, 7, 8.)
Christ Dyed for our Sins, according to the Scriptures, and that he was Buried, and that he Rose again the Third Day, according to the Scriptures
(1 Cor. 15. 3, 4.)
That he was delivered for our Offences, and was raised again for our Justification
(Rom. 4. 25.)
That he is the Propitiation for our Sins; and not for ours only, but for the Sins of the whole World.
(1 John 2. 2.)
That he ascended up far above all Heavens, that he might fill all things
(Ephes. 4. 10.)
That he is the one Mediator between God and Men,
(1 Tim. 2. 5.)
That he is at the Right Hand of God, and maketh intercession for us,
(Rom. 8. 34.)
And is our Advocate with the Father,
(1 John 2. 1.)
And that it is he which was ordained of God, to be the Judge of Quick and Dead.
(Acts 10. 42.) These things, I say,
G. Keith
certainly knows, have been constantly Held, Believed, Professed and Owned by
W. Penn
date
1699
and his Brethren, the
Quakers,
in General, both Privately and Publickly, in Word and Writing. These things are so often Testified of in our Meetings, and have been so fully and plainly asserted and held forth in our Books, that we might call in almost as many Witnesses thereof, as have frequented our Meetings, or Attentively Read our Books.
'The Book of
W. P
's. Called
A Discourse of the general Rule of Faith and Life.
(To which
G. K
's
Deism
is an Answer)
G. K.
tells us in his Preface,
was first Printed in the Year,
1673. As an Appendix to
W. P
's. part of the
Christian Quaker.
(A Folio Book, in Two Parts; the former written by
W. Penn,
the latter by
G. Whitehead
) In that former part of the
Christian Quaker,
written by
W. Penn
(though the tendency of it is to Assert and Defend the Divinity of Christ, and his Spiritual Appearance, by his Divine Light in the Hearts of
Men;
yet) there it enough said concerning his Manhood, his Outward Appearance, and Sufferings in the Flesh; to free
W. Penn
from the Imputation or Suspicion of
Deism.
— In p. 101.
W. P.
says, Notwithstanding the same Light and Life, with that which afterwards cloathed it self with that Outward Body, did in measure, Inwardly appear for the Salvation of the Souls of Men: Yet, as I have often said, never did that Life so eminently put forth it self, to that end, as in that Sanctified and prepared Body; so that what he then Suffered and did, in that Transcendent Manifestation, may, by way of
date
1699
Eminency, assume the whole work unto it self, that he ever did before, or might do afterwards. P. 102. His Righteous Life, with respect to its appearance in that Body, was grieved by Sin, and the weight of the Iniquity of the whole World, with the concernment of its Eternal Well-being, lay hard upon him; nor was his
Manhood
insencible of it, under the load of this, did he Travel:
He alone trod the Wine-press,
&c.—
Not that we would irreverently Rob the Holy Body of whatsoever acknowledgement is justly due; nor yet separate what God joined,
P. 104.— Chap. 21. A Confession in particular, to Christ's Redemption, Remission, Justification and Salvation.— Which was actually to the Salvation of some, and intentionally of the whole World.— As there was a necessity that
one should Die for the People;
so whoever then, or since, Believed in him, had, and have a Seal, or Confirmation of the
Remission
of their Sins, in his Blood.— This grand assurance of Remission do all receive, in the Ratifying Blood of Christ, who Repenting of their Sins, Believe and Obey the Holy Light, with which he hath Illuminated them.— P. 107. But there is yet a further Benefit that accrueth by the Blood of Christ,
viz.
That
Christ is a Propitiation and Redemption, to such as have Faith in it:
For though I still place the stress of particular Benefit upon the Light, Life and Spirit Revealed and Witnessed in every Particular: Yet in that general Appearance, there was a general Benefit, justly to be attributed
date
1699
to the Blood of that very Body of Christ; to wit, that it did Propitiate: For however it might draw stupendious Judgments upon the Heads of those who were Authors of that dismal
Tragedy,
and died Impenitent; yet doubtless, it thus far turned to very great Account, in that it was a most precious Offering in the sight of the Lord, and drew God's Love the more eminently to Mankind; at least, such as should Believe in his Name. P. 108. Doubtless it did greatly Influence, to some singular Tenderness and peculiar Regard unto all such, as should Believe in his Name, among other his weighty Performances: For the sake of that last, and greatest of all his External Acts, the resisting unto Blood, for the Spiritual good of the World, thereby offering up his Life upon the Cross, through the Power of the Eternal Spirit that Remission of Sin, God's Bounty to the World, might be Preached in his Name, and in his very Blood too, as that which was the most Ratifying of all his Bodily Sufferings. And indeed, therefore might it seem meet to the Holy Ghost, that Redemption, Propitiation and Remission should be Declared, and held forth in the Blood of Christ, unto all that have a right Faith therein; as saith the Apostle to the
Romans;
— because it implies a firm Belief, that
Christ was come in the Flesh,
and that none could then have him as their
Propitiation
and
Redemption,
who withstood the acknowledgment of, and belief in his
Visible Appearance.
— P. 110. Faith in his Blood was requisite,
date
1699
that they might Confess him, whose Body and Blood it was, to be Christ. To Conclude, we confess,
He
who then appeared, was and is the Propitiation,
&c.
and in him was Redemption obtained by all those, who had such true Faith in his Blood.
'Thus much (and much more which I have omitted) against
Deism,
in that very Treatise of
W. P
's. to which, the Book out of which
G. K.
by his Art of Counterfeit
Chymistry,
would Extract
Deism,
was an Appendix; and yet this was not the direct Subject of that Treatise, but only toucht on occasionally, or by the by: Should I gather up all Quotations on this Argument out of our other Books; such especially as have more directly handled this Subject, I might therewith fill a large Volume: To prevent which, I refer the Reader to my
Answer to
G. Keith
's First Narrative of his Proceedings at
Turners-Hall. from P. 33. to 63. where he may find this Cavil fully Confuted. Which Answer to his first
Narrative,
may serve for an Answer to his other following
Narratives
also; they for the most part, being but the Scraps of his First, heated again, and served up afresh with some new Garnish.
'It is observable that that Book, called
A Discourse of the general Rule of Faith and Life,
was first Printed (as
G. K.
in his Preface to his
Deism
takes Notice) in the Year 1673. which is 27 Years ago, and about 20 Years before he quite left us; it appears he had Read it in the first Impression; for making as if
date
1699
when he saw the last Impression, he did not know but that it was a New Book,—
So little had I Read or Considered the Contents of it.
Both Read it then, it seems he had, and Considered the Contents of it, and though here he would suggest he had but slightly Read it, yet he would not be taken for an heedless Reader, or a superficial Considerer of what he Reads. Now since he held the same Doctrine, with respect to the
General Rule of Faith and Life,
which is laid down by
W. Penn
in that Discourse, during the time he was amongst us, and Professed himself one of us, as well after the Publishing of that Book, in the Year, 1673. as before; and did not only openly Defend and Maintain that Doctrine in publick Disputations both in
England,
and in
Scotland,
after the Year, 1673. But, no longer ago than in the Year, 1692. Nineteen Years after that Book of
W. Penn
's (Called
A Discourse of the General Rule of Faith and Life
) was in Print,
G. K.
in his
Serious Appeal,
p. 7. says,
According to the best Knowledge I have of the People called
Quakers,
and those most generally owned by them, as Preachers and Publishers of their Faith, of unquestioned esteem among them, and worthy of double Honour (as many such there are) I know none that are Guilty of any one such Heresies and Blasphemies as thou Accusest them.: And I think I should know, and do know these called
Quakers,
better than
C. Mather (against whom he then writ)
or any of his Brethren; having been Conversant with them, in Publick Meetings as well as
date
1699
in Private Discourse, with the most Noted and Esteemed among them, for above
28
Years past; and that in many places of the World, in
Europe;
and for these divers Years, in
America. I say, all this Considered, how will
G. Keith
(upon the Charges he now makes against
W. P.
) acquit himself from having been a Profest
Deist,
all the while he was among the
Quakers?
Yet he himself well knows, that neither he, nor
W. Penn,
nor any of the
Quakers
ever were
Deists;
ever did Deny, Disown, or Disbelieve the Coming, Incarnation, Sufferings and Death of Christ, as Man outwardly in the Flesh, his Resurrection, Ascention and Mediatorship; and he himself has undesignedly acquitted
W. Penn
from his present Charge of
Deism,
by a story he told in his first
Narrative,
P. 38. That upon some urging him to give an Instance of one English
Quaker
that he ever heard Pray to Christ:
W. Penn
being present, said,
I am an English Man, and a Quaker, and I own I have oft Prayed to Christ Jesus; even him that was Crucified.
This, he says, was in the Year 1678. Which was Five Years after the Publishing of that Book, from which he attempts to prove him a
Deist;
that is, a Denyer of the Man Christ Jesus, who was Crucified. Judge now, Reader, how Rank the Malice of
G. Keith
must needs be against
W. Penn,
and his Brethren the
Quakers,
who would choose to subject himself with them, to the foul imputation of
Deism
(though in his own Conscience, he knows the Charge is false on them, as well as
date
1699
on himself) rather then not gratifie his Envy and Revenge upon them: In this resembling the Envious Man in the
Apologue,
who desired that he might loose one of his Eyes, on Condition his Neighbour might loose both his.
Whence th' Observation rose, a wicked Will
Would wound it self, to work another's Ill.
date
1700
But before he had finished this Answer (tho' he had gone about two thirds through it)
Benjamin Coole
of
Bristol,
Published a Book there, Intituled,
Honesty the truest Policy, shewing the Sophistry, Envy and Perversion of
George Keith,
in his Three Books,
(viz.)
His Bristol Quakerism▪ Bristol Narrative,
And his
Deism.
On Perusal of which,
viz.
His Answer to
G. Keith's Deism,
&c.
T. E.
writ the following Verses.
INDEED, Is then the Work by me begun,
And which I labour'd at with such good Will,
Already, by a readier Work-man, done:
Who Nimbleness hath added to his Skill!
Well may it thrive, Successful may it prove,
Truth's way to Clear, and Stumbling-Blocks Remove!
I never was Ambitious to appear
In Print, nor to my self Applause have sought;
With satisfaction therefore, I can bear
What thon design'st, another hand hath wrought:
This superceeds my Work. I'm glad to see
Such help come in, that there's no need of me.
This is the third Time, I have thus been put
Besides my Work, which makes me think (my Friend)
date
1700
The Controversial Door to me is shut;
And of my scribling Service there's an End.
If so, Content, I can with pleasure see
The Work well done; although not done by me.
T. E.
17th. 11th. Month, 1700.
The three Times he was put besides his Work, of which (he says) this was the Third: The other Two (I suppose) were, his
Remarks on
Gerrard Croese's
History of the
Quakers. And his Answer to
The Snake in the Grass,
his Book called
Satan Disrob'd.
Both before mentioned.
However, this of
B. C
's. Anticipating his Answer to the
Deism,
he laid it by and never finished it; thinking perhaps, the other (tho' far short of his) might suffice at present for an Answer thereto; and so we were deprived of his Labour in this respect also: Which yet I hope, one time or other, may be Published for the Service of Truth; which its pity the World should be deprived of.
date
1701
His next Service, upon a general Foot, which I find any Footsteps of, was on this Occasion. One
John Shockling
a Priest, of
Ash,
near
Sandwich,
in
Kent,
having got some of the
Snake
's Books, set up for an Opposer, or Disputant, about
Water-Baptism,
and sends a Paper to
John Love,
Called,
A Question upon those Words in
Mathew 28. 19.
Go ye therefore and Teach all Nations, Baptizing them in the Name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Ghost. Whether
date
1701
the Apostles were not commanded by them to baptize with Water?
This Paper and Question our Friend
T. E.
answered in the 4th Month, 1701, very much to the purpose. To which the
Priest
being unwilling to take an Answer, and let it drop so, replying (I might say, to little purpose)
T. E.
writ a Rejoinder, in the 4th Month,
date
1702
1702. Both which, Answer and Rejoinder, being very pertinent to the Purpose, and notable on that Subject, I should insert some part of it, but that it was only private, and never published (that I know of:) And therefore I would not begin to be the first Publisher thereof.
date
1703
But now we come to his great Work, of the
History of the Old Testament:
which, at his Leisure, he had in Hand for some Years; and both he and we had this Advantage of his being put by his Work in answering Adversaries; particularly that of the Snake, and
G. K
's
Deism
(having now seem'd to have done with Controversie) that he had the more Time and Leisure to prosecute this more excellent Work; which having finished in
date
1704
1704, he brought it up to
London,
to shew it to Friends, for their Perusal and Approbation. Which being done, it was published in Folio, the next Year,
date
1705
1705, under the Title of
Sacred History; or the Historical Part of the Holy Scriptures of the Old Testament. Gathered out from the other Parts thereof, and digested (as near as well could be) into due Method, with respect to Order of Time and Place: with some Observations here and there, tending to illustrate some Passages therein.
In his Preface to
date
1705
which, having mentioned the Praise of History out of
Cicero,
viz. That it is
The Witness of Times, the Light of Truth, the Life of Memory,
&c. which he thinks cannot be so well verefied of any particular History, as of that which, being written by divinely-inspired Penmen, is contained in the Books of the Old and New Testament. Then speaking of the Motive or Inducement to the Undertaking, Two things (he says) more especially led him to it: One, That the Divine Providence, the Wisdom, Power, Goodness and Favour of God, in ordering, disposing, providing for, preserving, defending, and wonderfully delivering his Servants and People out of the greatest Straits, Difficulties, Hardships, Dangers and Sufferings, being more directly, and in a continued Series and Course of Actions set before the Readers Eye, he might be thereby the more stirred up, and engaged to admire and magnifie, to love, reverence and fear the Lord, and be the more careful not to offend Him. The other Motive was, That all, the Youth especially, of either Sex, under what soever Religious Denomination they go, might be furnished with such an Entertainment, to spend (at least) their Leisure Hours upon, as might yield them at once both Profit and Delight. After which he proceeds to speak of the Manner of Performance under Eight Heads: The Substance of which are,
1. That in digesting the following History, he hath not strictly tied himself to the Letter and very Syllables of the Text; but with all
date
1705,
due Circumspection and Care to retain the Matter and Sense, hath sometimes varied the Expressions,
&c.
2. Where he hath left the last
English Translation
of the BIBLE, he hath followed for the most part some other
English
or
Latin;
or the Judgment of some eminently Learned
Expositors.
3. As to the Chronology (especially with respect to the Times of the Judges and Kings of
Israel
and
Judah
) he found so much Incertainty, and so little Certainty or Agreement amongst Interpreters about it, that he had a Mind to have left it out; but at the Desire of some he added it in the Margin; wherein for the most part he followed
R. Blome's History of the Old and New Testament.
4. The few Helps (he says) he had, were chiefly from Dr.
Gell's Essay towards an Amendment of the last
English
Translation of the Bible. Hugh Broughton's Consent of Scripture, Godwin's Moses and Aaron. The Annotations of
Tremelius
and
Junius. And for Names of Persons and Places the
Tables
of
Robert F. Herry.
5. The whole Work is divided into Three Parts, without any particular Regard had to the
Seven Periods of Time,
into which Chronologers and Historiographers, out of a Desire to reduce them to some sort of Proportion with the
Six Days Work
and
Seventh Days Rest,
in the first Week of the Creation, have generally divided the Ages of the World, from
Adam
until now. 6. Of these three Parts, the first reaches from the Creation to the Death of
Moses,
when the Children of
Israel,
being come to the Borders of the Promised Land
date
1705
(the second Time) were ready to enter in; and contains the Remarkables in the Five Books of
Moses,
taking in
Job
between
Genesis
and
Exodus.
7. The second Part beginning with the Book of
Joshua,
goes through that, and the Book of
Judges,
with the first Book of
Samuel,
and carries on the History from the Death of
Moses
to the Death of
Saul,
and the Account that was brought to
David
of it. In which are recounted the Transactions of chief Note under all the
Judges
and
Saul,
the first Anointed King of
Israel.
8. The third Part (by much the largest) goes on with the second Book of
Samuel,
thro' the rest of the Canonical Scripture, sets forth the Reigns of the Kings of
Israel
and
Judah
throughout the
Jewish Monarchy,
with the most remarkable Acts and Occurrences therein, from
David
to the Return of the last
Babylonish Captivity,
and Re-building of the Temple, taking in the Prophets, as near as may be, in their several Times.
Then he gives Account who hath writ on this Subject; particularly a Treatise called
The General View of the Holy Scriptures,
supposed to be the Learned
Broughton
's; which
T. E.
commends as a useful Discourse in its kind. And of late Years
Chr. Ness
his
History and Mystery of the Old and New Testament,
(in four Volumes) A Book (says he) well fraught with Variety of useful Matter; but (wittily observes) the Mystery is not only interwoven with the History, but hath also so much overgrowu it, that the Reader who desires to peruse the History by it
date
1705
self, will be at some Loss in that respect. And that which promises most to answer his End, he says, is,
R. Blome's History of the Old and New Testament.
A Work indeed (says he) not only instructive and delightful, but pompous and magnificent. A Character that may justly be apply'd to his own (except the Word
pompous.
) A Work indeed it is both pleasant and profitable; such judicious Observations, and witty (though grave) Turns on Passages and Things, as make it (as well as his other Writings) not only pleasant to read, but profitable to the Reader. A Work that will remain a Monument of his Worth and Ingenuity to Generations to come.
I would only add, That there is a Book of
Sulpitius Severus,
intituled
Sacred History:
but as that is in
Latin,
and far short of this of
T. E
's; so this cannot interfere with that, or be justly thought to be in Imitation of it.
About this time we entred into a more particular Correspondence by Letters on several Occasions; which we continued, at times, almost 'till his Death. So that I usually imparted to him the most remarkable Occurrences that passed here; and often advised with him in the most important Affairs, as I had Occasion: and he, in Requital, was always ready to Answer me, in a very obliging manner, in any thing I desired. And I must acknowledge, he was very helpful to me, by his Advice, in some Controversies I had with some late Adversaries; which I shall not now name, some of them being gone
date
1705
to their Graves; and his friendly Correspondence was always very acceptable, and instructive as well as grateful to me, in his agreeable Letters: of which I have many by me. Some of which he hath inserted in his
Decades.
date
1706
The next Year,
viz.
1706, there followed an Intercourse of some Letters between him and
William Sewell
of
Holland,
upon some particular Points; which led into a Friendly Correspondence between them, in some other Matters not unpleasant to read. Several of which Letters of
T. E
's are in his
Decades;
with many others to divers Persons, Friends and others, on various Subjects: Which, if ever it should be thought meet to publish them, or any of them, they would, I doubt not, be very instructive, as well as diverting.
His next publick Work was on this Occasion. About this time a Book was published by a Nameless Author, called
A Divine Treatise, written by way of Essay,
(pretending)
to demonstrate, according to the
Mosaical Philosophy,
Water-Baptism, Imposition of Hands, and the Commemoration of the Death and Passion of our ever blessed Lord and Saviour under the Species of Bread and Wine,
&c. This Treatise coming accidentally or providentially to our Friend
Thomas Ellwood
's Hands (as he says in his Preface) he observed that the Design of the Author therein was, To re-introduce and set up again those
Typical Representations
therein treated of, among those who have been led by the Lord out of the use thereof, into a more spiritual
date
1706
Dispensation. And finding his Understanding in some measure Opened, to see the Danger and Mischief of that Undertaking, and his Spirit withal stirred in him against it, he felt a Concern upon his Mind to publish his
Observations
which he had made thereon, that others might the more clearly see and readily escape the Snare therein laid to entangle them, and draw them into Bondage to outward Ceremonies, and elementary Shadows again. This he did in a Book Printed
date
1707
1707, intituled,
The glorious Brightness of the Gospel-Day, dispelling the Shadows of the Legal Dispensation, and whatsoever else of Humane Invention hath been super-added thereunto.
And hoped to make it evident, that they are not of the Nature of the Gospel Dispensation; nor have by any Divine Institution a continued Place or Service in the Church of Christ, without taking Notice who or what he was that writ it,
'Since the Author of the Treatise, (says
T. E.
) under my Observation, hath thought fit to conceal his Name, I shall not pry behind the Curtain which himself hath thereby drawn before him, or concern my self to enquire either who or what, he is, or has been: but without any regard to that, shall directly apply my self to give a plain Answer to the most material Parts of his Treatise:
which he did to the purpose, in a close and nervous Answer; it being indeed an excellent Treatise, well worth the Perusal of every impartial Reader: To whom therefore I recommend it.
date
1707
And now I must say something of him under another Consideration as well as Writing. He had writ several Books against Tythes (as before hinted) to shew the Unsuitableness of them to the Gospel Dispensation (being
Jewish
in their Original, and
Popish
in their Revival) and that the Obligation of paying them was ceased under the Gospel, as to any
Divine Right
from Scripture. And now it fell to his Lot to suffer also in his turn for his Testimony against the Payment of them
(For to him it was given, in the behalf of Christ, not only to believe in him
(and bear witness to his Coming in the Flesh, and offering up himself, to put an End to the Law and Priesthood, Tythes and Offerings)
but also to suffer for his sake
) being prosecuted (with three Friends more,
viz. John Penington, Abraham Butterfield
and
William Catch
) in the
Exchequer
for Tythes, at the Suit of
Joshua Leaper,
Tythe-Farmer of
Amersham
in the County of
Bucks
under
Humphry Drake,
Clerk, Rector and Parson (so called) of the Rectory and Parish-Church of
Agmondesham,
alias,
Amersham,
aforesaid.
Thomas Ellwood
(with the rest) were
Subpoena'd
to appear at
Westminster
in
Trinity-Term,
1707. which they did by an Attourney to prevent being in Contempt of the Court, and took a Copy of the Complainants Bill. But for not Answering, Attachments were issued out in
Michaelmas Term,
to take them up: on which they were taken into Custody in the Eleventh Month, and afterwards an
Habeas Corpus
sent down to the Sheriff of
Bucks,
to bring them up to the
Exchequer
-Bar
date
1708
Bar in
Trinity Term,
1708, on which they came up. And to to prevent the Plantiffs going on to a Sequestration by default, they put in their Answers; setting forth the Value of the Tythes, according to the best of their Knowledge. Yet so vexatious was the Adversary, that he would not be satisfied with their Answer, but got a Commission of Enquiry to Examine Witnesses in the Country, as to the Value of the Tythes; which they did at
Amersham,
in the Tenth Month. The first Witness they examined, was one
E—. G—.
of the Parish of
Chesham,
Aged (as they say) Fourty four Years, or thereabouts, who deposed,
That he knew the Complainant and Defendants; and had known the Complainant about Sixty Years
(which was about Sixteen Years before he was born.) Whereby we may Judge of the rest of his Evidence: The Charge of which Commission, and executing it, came to between Thirty and Fourty Pounds, though some of it was abated on taxing the Cost; and yet they proved little, if any thing more than the Defendants had set down in their Answers; yet went on to a hearing on it, and obtain'd a Decree for the Tythes and Cost. For not performing which, Attachments were issued out a-fresh against them, in
Trinity-Term
date
1709
1709, to the Sheriff of
Hartfordshire
(
T.E. A.B.
and
W.C.
living in that County) but
J.P.
living in
Bucks,
was drop't, because the Attachments to the Sheriff of
Hartfordshire
would not reach him) and then a Proclamation; but the Sheriff living remote, did
date
1709
not endeavour to take them; and the Prosecutor seemed rather to aim at a
Sequestration
on their Goods and Estates, than their Bodies: so that seeing them resolved to go on, the Defendants, to prevent it, offer'd to surrender themselves to the Sheriff; but he return'd them each,
Non est Inventus,
and they got a Commission of
Rebellion
antedated, and moved for a Serjeant at Arms, the same Day, to run them to a Sequestration in all haste, (
Leaper
being Sick and bad, like to die) least he should not live till it was accomplish'd: but being so
illegal,
at least in point of time, for that there ought to be Eight Days, between the
Test
and
Return of the Writ,
in 30 Miles off
London,
and 14 beyond, on our appearing against it, they could not obtain it till
Hillary Term.
In which time
Leaper
recovered; and one might have hoped that he might have repented: but instead thereof then got a
Sequestration
against them and their Estates, both Real and Personal, for Tythes of
Thomas Ellwood;
which was but
00
12
0
And
Abraham Butterfield
's
15
15
6
And
William Catch
's
16
07
4
And Cost as tax'd by the Deputy
71
17
8
In all for Tythes and Cost
104
12
6
For which they seized and took from
T. E.
in Houshold-Goods, Bedding, Pewter,
&c.
(throwing out the Meat to take the Dishes) to the Value of 19
l.
And a Horse he used to ride on, which he would not have took Five
date
1709
Gueneas
for.
In all about
24
10
0
Which they sold (working and hobling about the Horse, till they had almost spoil'd him) all for about
14
15
0
And from
Abraham Butterfield,
Cattle, Corn, Hay,
&c.
to the value of which they Sold by their own Account for so much.
86
17
0
And from
William Catch
they took, by their Account,
Grass,
&c.
8
14
8
And a Years Rent of his House, (deducting for Taxes, 11 shillings.)
2
09
0
Being about 3
l. per Annnm,
which they seized, and kept till paid; which for Four Years, since the time called
Michaelmas
1709, when they gave in their Account, came to
9
16
0
In all from
W. C.
about
20
19
8
Seized & taken in the
whole
about
132
06
8
For Tythes and Cost
104
12
6
More than demanded
027
14
2
And yet, what by Charge of
Sequestration
making out, and selling the Corn; Selling underhand,
&c.
they brought in the Defendants in Debt, and wanted more.
I have been the larger in this Account, to shew the Proceeding of the
Exchequer,
and the Fruit of Tythes, to ruin the QUEEN's Subjects for small Matters, when they might recover
date
1709
by
Justices-Warrants
to the value of 10
l.
with the hundredth part of the Charge.
Now we come to the second Volume of his Great Work, the
History of the New Testament,
which he had had in Hand at times, for the most Part since he finished his former; and when he had finished this, he brought it up to
London
for
Friends
Perusal and Approbation: where it was Read, and afterwards published this Year 1709, in Folio, under the same Title with the former, only as that was of the Old Testament, this was of the New,
viz. Sacred History, or the Historical Part of the Holy Scriptures of the New Testament,
&c. (as in the Title of the former) which as I gave some Account of, so it behoves I should of this. The former Treatise (says he in his Preface) having found a favourable Reception, he was thence encouraged to resume his Pen (which at the close of that Volume he had let fall) and proceed to the Methodizing of the Historical Part of the New Testament, in Two Parts. In the first Part whereof the Reader will find an Account of the Conception, Birth, Life, Travels, Doctrines, Discourses, Miracles, Sufferings, Death, Burial, Resurrection and Ascention of our Blessed Lord and Saviour JESUS CHRIST (the Author of the true Christian Religion) plainly, fairly and succinctly given; ushered in with a brief Account of the Conception, Birth, Manner of Life, Ministry and Death of his Forerunner,
John,
Sirnamed the
Baptist:
And attended (in the Second
date
1709
Part) with a like Historical Account of the Acts and Travels of the Apostles of our Lord, in the Propagation of his Blessed Gospel, after the Ascention of our blessed Saviour; so far, at least, as the Evangelist
Luke
in the Acts of the Apostles hath recorded, or the Clue or Thread of the Holy Text leads him: beyond which (he says) he was not willing to adventure,
&c.
In this Undertaking, he says, he aimed at the same End as in the former,
viz.
That all the Youth especially, of either Sex, under whatsoever religious Denomination they go, might be further furnished, with such an Entertainment, to spend, at least, their Leisure Hours upon, as might yield them at once both Profit and Delight; and might be thereby drawn off from mis-spending their precious Time upon other, either hurtful, or (at best) unprofitable Subjects. Then he gives Account why he hath, with the Matter of Fact, delivered the Discourses, Speeches, Sermons and Doctrines delivered by our blessed Lord to his Disciples,
&c.
viz. That the Nature of the History required it, and that without it the Discourse would have been less profitable and pleasant to the Reader; and by that means less conducive to the End he proposed, which is to allure him to read the Holy Scriptures with Delight,
&c.
according to the Poet,
He certainly doth hit the white,
Who mingleth Profit with Delight.
date
1709
After which he gives an Account of his going from Place to Place in the
Evangelists,
to reduce the several Parts and Passages of the History (in the first Part) to their due and Proper Times and Places, which he endeavoured to do, (tho' difficult) as near as he could. But the Second Part (the Acts) being all written by one Hand, the Method (he says) is more regular, and the Course of the History more clear. Yet the Apostolical Epistles, being without Date, are hardly, he conceives, to be reduced with indubitable Certainty to exact Order; which yet he hath endeavour'd to place them right, according to the best of his Understanding. Then owning the Helps he had in Compiling this History, had been chiefly from the
Criticks,
and
Cradock
's
Harmony of the four Evangelists,
and his
Apostolical History,
with a few Words of the Performance; which if not done as it should (nor as he would) yet as well as he could; And therefore, in all Humility, recommending and committing it to the Divine Disposal, he concludes his Preface.
Next to the Preface is an Introduction, concerning the Pen-men of the New Testament, and in what Language Originally written, and in what Order of Time; particularly of the four Evangelists,
Matthew, Mark, Luke
and
John,
what they were, the time of their Writing, and some particular Circumstances concerning them and their Ends; well worth the Readers Perusal, for the better understanding the History, both of the Evangelists and Apostles. So proceeds to
date
1709
the History; which he deduces from the
Promised Seed
after the Fall, for Man's Restoration, which the Prophets foretold the Coming of, and which he pleasantly draws out at large in Order of Time, and explains with the like judicious Observations, as in the former, taking in the Epistles of St.
Paul,
&c. (in the second Part) in their proper Places (as near as could be) and gives an Account of them, the Occasion why, the manner how, and time when they were written: ending with the Revelations, which he renders as a Revelation unrevealed; with some Brief Notes on it. The whole, as I said of the former, being both pleasant and profitable. Both which will remain a lasting Monument of him in time to come.
date
1710
This Year (1710.) our Friend
Oliver Sansom,
formerly of
Faringdon,
since of
Abington
in
Berkshire
(who had long War with the Priests about Tythes) dying in the 2d Month, and leaving behind him
An Account of some Remarkable Passages of his Life,
which he Communicated (in his Life time) to our Friend
T. Ellwood
to peruse, who being always ready to be helpful and serviceable to all, especially his Friends, he Transcribed the same, and fitted it for the Press: which was Printed this Year; to which
T. E.
prefixed a Testimony concerning him, pertinent to the Occasion.
There is one Book more of his, which he published in his Life-time; which, it seems, he had had by him, for the most part, a long time, and after he had finished his
Sacred History of the New
date
1710
Testament,
he took in hand to finish, and compleated. And that is
The Life of
DAVID
in Verse;
first begun (for his own Diversion, not then thinking of the Press) and carried on, by degrees, to the End of the Third Book, in the Year 1688. (as hinted before in that Year) when the
Prince of Orange
Landing, and the Nation being in Arms; the Noise of
Guns,
and Sounds of
Drums
and
Trumpets
so affrighted, and disturbed his peaceful Muse (as he says in his Preface) that both she, for a while, forsook him, and he thereupon the Work (for above Twenty Years:) save that on a Review, observing how abruptly
David
was brought in, he added the first Chapter (of the first Book) to introduce his Hero from the Beginning of his Story. Where it rested again, without any Prospect of its ever going further, until the last Winter;
date
1711
(1711.) When having (as he says) less Health and more Leisure, than at sometimes before, he took it up for an Entertainment, to make some uneasie Hours pass somewhat less uneasily over. And after he had read it through, considering that if, after his Death, it should be found among his Papers and committed to the Press, it would be but an imperfect Piece; he found an Inclination to carry on the Story to the End of
David
's Life, (I wish he had done so by his own) And giving a kind Invitation to his gentle Muse to return (which by some short Visits on particular Occasions, in the Interval, had given him some Ground to hope, she had not quite forsook him) he entred again upon the Subject, where he had
date
1711
left off; and by degrees went through it, till he had brought his
warlike Hero
to his
peaceful Grave.
date
1712
After it was finished, deliberating, whether to publish it himself, or leave it, as a
Posthume,
to be published by some kind Hand after his Death, for some Reasons; particularly, That if any should
Carp
at it, he might be capable to answer for himself, he thought best to publish it in his Life time; and accordingly brought it up with him, when he came to the
Yearly-Meeting
(1712.) but not having then an Opportunity to have it Read, he came up again with it some time after (which I think was the last time he was at
London
) and after Reading, committed it to the Press this Year, under the Title of
DAVIDEIS. The Life of
David
King of
Israel.
A Sacred Poem: in five Books,
in Octavo. Tho', as he observes,
Abraham Cowley
writ a Poem called
Davideis,
he had not read it till after he had finished his; and besides, their different way of Writing,
A. C
's was but of the Troubles of
David
in his Youth, and that not half finished. And that he had the same Aim in this, as in that of his
Sacred History
aforesaid. Which Book begins thus.
I Sing the Life of
David, Israel
's King,
Assist, thou sacred Pow'r who did'st him bring
From the Sheepfold, and set him on the Throne,
Thee I invoke, on thee rely alone.
Breath on my Muse; and fill her slender Quill
With thy Refreshing Dews from
Hermon-Hill:
date
1712
That what she Sings may turn unto thy Praise,
And to thy Name may lasting Trophies Raise.
But I would not Anticipate the Reader, but leave him to Read and Judge for himself, as it deserves
I shall Conclude his Works and Writings with a Copy of Verses he formerly Writ; which, though out of Course as to Time, is so well worth the Inserting, that I hope they will make amends for being mis-placed,
viz.
O That mine Eye might closed be,
To what becomes me not to see!
That Deafness might possess mine Ear,
To what concerns me not to hear!
That
Truth
my Tongue might always ty,
From ever speaking Foolishly!
That no vain Thought might ever rest,
Or be conceived in my Breast!
That, by each Word, each Deed, each Thought,
Glory may to my God be brought!
But what are Wishes! Lord, mine Eye
On thee is fixt; to thee I Cry:
O purge out all my Dross, my Tin:
Make me more white than Snow, within!
Wash Lord, and purifie my Heart,
And make it clean in every part:
And when 'tis clean, Lord keep it too:
For that is more than I can do.
T. E.
Thus having gone through his Printed Books and Papers, which I have endeavoured to give
date
1712
a plain and succinct Account of, and of him out of them, as far as I could, and with as much Brevity as well might be: I shall now speak somewhat of him in his Private Capacity, and other Services and Station in the Church, with his Death and Character; and so Conclude the Whole.
He lived many Years (if not most of his Time, especially after he was Married) at
Hunger-Hill,
in the Parish of
Agmondesham,
alias,
Amersham,
in
Buckinghamshire
(though his House stood in
Hartfordshtre,
as aforesaid) where the Monthly Meetings of Men and Women were constantly kept, for that part of the County of
Bucks:
Wherein he was very Serviceable, in Writing, Advising, and Exhorting to keep all things Well, and in good Order, according to Truth, and the Testimony thereof; and had a Peculiar Gift for Government in the Church, and ordering things in Monthly and Quarterly Meetings, and used to come up constantly to the Yearly-Meeting at
London,
and was very Serviceable therein; not only by his Grave Counsel and Advice; but also, in Reading and Writing on occasion, especially in difficult Matters. He had a singular Talent in Indicting and Composing of things, Epistles and Papers beyond many; so that I must needs say, he was an Ornament to the Meeting, and will be much missed therein, and many other ways. His Wife Died about Five Years before him, being a Solid Weighty Woman, who had a Publick
date
1712
Testimony for the Lord and his Truth, in Meetings; and therefore the greater Loss to him and Friends: And for himself, he lived a Private Retired Life, not concerning himself with much Business in the World; but gave himself much to Reading and Writing, and lived in good Repute among Friends, and all sorts of People, as far as ever I heard of, to a pretty good Age; but bore his Age very well, being of a Regular Life, and Healthy Constitution; only in his latter Years, was somewhat troubled at times with an
Asthma:
And at last he was taken ill of a
Palsie,
the 23d Day of the 2d Month,
date
1713
1713. which he bore with great Patience and Resignation; an Account of which, and his Dying Words, I leave to them who were with him in the time of his Sickness, the 8th day of which, he departed this Life, the 1st of the 3d Month, in the 74th Year of his Age:
Having served his Generation according to the Will of God, he fell a Sleep;
and was Honourably Buried the 2d Day following, being the 4th of the 3d Month, at
Jordans:
Being accompanied from his own House by a great many Friends and others, to the Meeting-House there (the Meeting he belong'd to) and Interr'd in the Burying-Ground belonging thereto, where was a very large Meeting, and great Appearance of Friends and others, several Publick Friends being there from
London,
and other Parts; and divers Living Testimonies born, to the Truth he Lived and Died in, in a Living Remembrance of him, and his Services in the Church. A Man of a Comely Aspect, of a
date
1713
Free and Generous Disposition, of a Courteous and Affable Temper, and Pleasant Conversation; a Gentleman Born and Bred, a Scholar, a True Christian, an Eminent Author, a Good Neighbour, and Kind Friend; whose Loss is much Lamented, and will be much missed at Home and Abroad. The Lord (if it be his Will) Raise up many more such Pillars, Elders and Overseers of his
Flock
and
Family
(as Watchmen upon
Sion's
Walls) for his Honour, and the benefit of his Church and People, saith my Soul,
Amen.
J. W.
London
the
30
th of the
9
th Month,
1713.
POSTSCRIPT.
SINCE the Writing of the foregoing
Supplement,
I have Understood, that our Friend
Thomas Ellwood,
after he had finished and Published his
Davideis,
signified,
That he had but one thing more that lay upon his Mind, and that was, to add something to his
Journal,
or Account of his
Life;
which was chiefly to give an Account of his
Books
and
Writings: Which, as it shews he had not done it, or finished it before, and 'tis to be doubted he did not after (not Living long after that) and so no more to be expected (more's the Pity) from his own Hand. So it shews what his design was, as to what he intended to have added to it; had he Lived to perform it, or had not Death prevented him. So that the foresaid
Supplement
seems (in some sort at least) to Answer his own Intention (though far short, as was said, of what his own Hand could have done) yet so far as it does any way answer his Mind, I am therein Glad that I have done any service to his Memory, or the Truth in that respect; having endeavoured to represent things according to his own Mind, and to speak of him and things as probably he would have done it he had been Living, and hope the Reader will accept it the better. To whom therefore I recommend it; as giving at least, a fair Character of the Books he Writ, and Controversies he Managed, both Published and Unpublished; which I hope will be no Disservice (but Service) to the
Truth,
as it is intended in the Fear of God: To whose Honour, and the Service of his
Truth,
I desire, with great Sincerity, to Dedicate the remainder of my Days, and Rest,
A Friend to all Men.
J. W.
A Catalogue of his Printed BOOKS before mentioned.
1.
AN Alarm
Priests, &c.
Pr. 1660. 1 Sheet. Page. 104
2.
A fresh
&c. Broadside, 1674. 315
3.
Forgery
istianity,
against T. P. 80. 9 sh. 316
4.
Truth pr
ailing and detecting Er.
8
o.
1676, 23½. 322, 344
5.
The Foundation of Tythes shaken.
8
o.
1678, 33. 323, 346
6.
An Antidote against the Infection of
W. Rogers
's Book.
4
to.
1682. 31. Sheets. 327, 352
7.
A Caution to Constables,
&c. 4
to.
1683, 2½. 327, 353
8.
A Discourse concerning Riots.
4
to.
dit. 2. 354
9.
A seasonable Disswasive from Persec.
4
to.
dit. 1½. 356
10.
Rogero Mastix;
Rod for
W. R. 4
to
1685. 4. 361
11.
An Epistle to Friends.
4
to.
1686. is inserted 367
12.
The Acco. from
Wiccomb
examined.
4
to.
1690. 2½. 387
13.
A Reply to
J. H's
Answ. to
W. P. 4
to.
1691. 13. 388
14.
His Answer to
Leonard Key
's late printed Sheet.
Broadside. 1693. 390
15.
Deceit discovered, and Malice manifested.
L. K.
ditto
391
16.
A fair Examination of a foul Paper.
4
to.
dit. 3. 392
17.
An Epistle to Friends; briefly commemorating,
&c. 8
to.
1694. 5. 398
18.
A further discovery of the Spirit of Contention.
8
o.
ditto 8. 405
19.
Truth defended, and the Friends thereof cleared,
&c. 8
o.
1695. 11. 408
20.
An Answer to
G. Keith
's Narrat.
8
o.
1696. 14½ 416
21.
A sober Reply,
&c. 4
to.
1699. 2. 432
22.
Sacred History of the Old Testam.
fol. 1705, 150. 445
23.
The Glorious Brightness of the Gospel-Day.
4
to.
1707. 12. 451
24.
Sacred History of the New Testa.
fol. 1709. 111. 456
25.
Davideis. The Life of
David. 8
o.
1712. 20½ 386, 461 About 464 Sheets.
A List of the MANUSCRIPTS he left behind him.
1.
AN Answer to a Paper directed to the Members of the Society of
Quakers,
especially to those that frequent the Town of
Feversham (
in
Kent) 1672. To which the Priest replying,
T. Ellwood
writ a
Rejoinder,
very notable, and worth the Publishing. The whole about 15 Sheets, in 1672, or 1673.
2.
His Reply, or Rejoinder to the Priests second Book, called
The Right of Tythes Re-asserted, 46 Sheets. About 1681.
3.
Some Remarks on
Gerard Croeses
General History of the
Quakers,
in
Latin, 3 or 4 Sheets. About 1695, or 1696.
4.
A Rejoinder to the
Snake in the Grass,
his Book called
Satan disrob'd,
in reply to
T. E
's Answer to
G. Keith
's
Narrative. 27 Sheets. 1696.
5.
Some Instructions for Children.
About 2 Sheets.
6.
An Answer to
G. Keith's
Deism of
W. Penn
and his Brethren.
37 Sheets. 1700.
7.
An Answer to
John Shockling
Priest of
Ash
near
Sandwich
in
Kent,
concerning Baptism,
1701, and a
Rejoinder to his Reply,
1702. both about 3 sh.
8.
The Tythe Dialogue improved, for the better explaining the present State of Tythes, by the same Method of a Dialogue, supposed to be holden between a Tytheman and a Quaker.
6 Sheets. 1707.
9.
A Volume of Miscellany
Poems, about 20 Sheets.
10.
Several Decades of Letters to particular Persons;
about 35 Sheets.
11.
To
Robert Snow,
in Answer to his Objections.
12.
An Account of Tythes in general.
☞ The two last mentioned Papers, because we could not fix their Dates, are here added at the End. And are as follow:
AN ANSWER To Some OBJECTIONS OF A
Moderate ENQUIRER.
Robert Snow,
WE received a Paper subscribed by thee, and directed to the Church or People of God called
Quakers,
&c. Which Paper contains some
Objections,
which (thou sayst) thou hast heard spoken against us, and wherein thou desirest to be satisfied. To which we say, It is no strange Thing to us to be spoken against by the World's Teachers, that being no more than befel the People of God, in the First breaking forth of Christianity in the World, Of whom it was said,
Acts
28. 22.
As concerning this Sect, we know that every where it is spoken against.
But we are willing to endeavour thy Satisfaction, by Answering the
Objections.
The First is,
You own no Day, either the First or Last, as a Sabbath to the Gentiles.
Answer.
The Sabbath (which was the seventh or last Day of the Week) was given to the
Jews, Ex.
16. 29.
Rom.
9. 4. Not to the
Gentiles, Psal.
147. 19. 20.
Rom.
3. 19. and was to last (as other typical Ordinances were)
untill the time of Reformation, Heb.
9. 10
till the Seed should come, Gal.
3. 19.
which was Christ. ver.
16.
the Lord of the Sabbath, Mat.
12. 8.
who, in the Fulness of time, did blot out the Hand writing of Ordinances,
&c.
and took it out of the way, nailing it to his Cross, Col.
2. 14. From whence the Apostle thus infers,
Let no man therefore judge you
(the Saints and faithful Brethren,
Col.
1. 2.)
in Meat or in Drink, or in respect of an Holy Day, or of the New Moon or of the Sabbath Days, Col.
2. 16. which, says he,
are a Shadow of things to come, but the Body is of Christ. ver.
17. Thus was that
Sabbath,
which was given by God, to his People the
Jews,
ended and taken away by Christ, before the
Gentiles
were called to be his People. And as for the
First Day
of the Week, we do not read in the Holy Scriptures, that it is called the
Sabbath-Day,
or commanded to be kept and observed for a
Sabbath,
as the
Seventh Day
had been. But, on the contrary, we find the Apostle
Paul,
writing to the
Romans,
who were
Gentiles
(though not without some mixture of believing
Jews
amongst them, as appears,
Acts
18. 2.) says,
One Man esteems one Day above another
(there was the believing
Jew
)
Another esteemeth every Day alike
(there was the believing
Gentile.
) Well, what then? Doth he commend the Former of these, and condemn the latter? No; but he says,
Let every Man be fully perswaded in his own Mind,
Rom. 14. 5. And in the 4
th,
10
th,
and 13
th
verses disswades them from judging one another about the Observing, or not observing a Day, as well as about the Eating, or not eating of Meats; and seems to lay no more Stress upon the one, than the other. And if the Drift of the Apostle's discourse there be heedfully minded, it will appear that, as he sets him who believed he might eat all Things, with him that esteemed every Day a like; and him that esteemed one Day above another, with him that eat Herbs: So he imputes the Weakness to the Latter,
ver.
2. and sets himself on the other side, saying,
We then that are strong ought to bear the Infirmities of the weak,
Chap. 15. 1. And he tells the
Galatians
(which though a
Gentile Church,
had also
Jewish
Believers in it)
I am afraid of you, lest I have bestowed upon you Labour in vain,
Gal. 4. 11. Why so?
Ye observe Days, and Months, and Times, and Years,
says he,
ver.
10. So Jealous was the Apostle, lest any that had been gathered from outward Observations, and from a shadowy State, should imbondage themselves again in Shadows, and fall short of injoying the Substance, which is the true Gospel
Rest that remains to the People of God,
Heb. 4. 9. Which in the next Verse is described to be, Their
Ceasing from their own Works, as God did from His. Into which Rest we
(saith the Apostle)
that have believed, do enter,
ver. 3. And in the 11. Verse he presses others to labour to enter into that Rest, Now when the Apostle says,
There remains a Rest,
it plainly implies that the former Rest, the outward Sabbatical Rest did not
remain,
but was passed away and gone. Nor is it reasonable to suppose, that the Rest here mentioned, which is said to
Remain to the People of God,
was an outward bodily Resting, from outward bodily Labour, on whatsoever Day; both, as that would be but to change one Type or Figure for another; And, as the entring into this Rest is set forth in the Text, as a Matter of Labour and Difficulty,
ver.
11. as it is indeed, yet blessed be the Lord, he hath enabled some, that have believed in his Name, and subjected to his Power, to enter into this Rest, in this his Day; and many are pressing after it, as the true abiding Gospel-Rest, which the Legal Sabbath was but a Type or Shadow of.
The 2d Objection is,
You deny the Scriptures to be any Rule for Man or Woman to walk by, so as to direct them to the saving of their Souls.
Answer.
In this we are misrepresented. We sincerely own, love and regard the Holy Scriptures, believing with the Apostle, that
they were given by Inspiration of God, and are profitable for Doctrine, for Reproof, for Correction, for Instruction in Righteousness, that the Man of God may be perfect, throughly furnished unto all good Works,
2
Tim.
3. 16, 17. and that
they are able to make wise unto Salvation, through Faith that is in Christ Jesus, ver.
15. And great benefit and delight we find in them, reading them in the openings of that Divine Spirit, by which they were given forth. We are so far from denying them to be
any
Rule,
&c.
that we acknowledge them to contain
many
excellent Rules, Precepts, Doctrines and Instructions, directing Man and Woman how to walk, that they may obtain the Salvation of their Souls. Yet we do not say (as some have done) that the Scriptures are the
only
Rule, or the
chief
and
principal
Rule: because we dare not give the Honour and Office of the Holy Spirit unto the Scriptures; For the Scriptures themselves declare, That
it is the Office of the Holy Spirit to guide Believers into all Truth, John.
16. 13. And indeed, the true Meaning and Benefit of the Scriptures themselves is not attained to in the Reading of them, unless the Spirit that gave them forth do open them, and unseal the Mysteries contained in them. So that the Holy Spirit is greater than the Scriptures, and therefore we cannot but give the chief Place unto him. For he is able to manifest himself unto Man, and to lead Man into the Way of Salvation, either with and by the Scriptures, or without them, as he pleases: But the Scriptures cannot do that without the Operation of the Holy Spirit. Justly therefore do we affirm the Spirit of God, to be the
Chief
Rule, and yet acknowledge the Holy Scriptures to be a true Rule, and proper Instrument in the Hand of the Spirit, to direct Men and Women how they ought to walk, to obtain Salvation to their Souls, as the Spirit of the Lord makes use of the Scriptures to that End.
The 3d OBJECTION is,
You deny the Resurrection of this mortal Body, that this Mortal shall not put on Immortality.
Answer.
In this also we are misrepresented: We do not deny, but own the Resurrection of the Dead; Believing, with the Apostle, that
This Corruptible shall put on Incorruption, and this Mortal shall put on Immortality,
1 Cor. 15. 54. And indeed, if we did not believe this, we might well say (as he did)
If in this Life only we have Hope in Christ, we were of all Men most miserable,
ver. 19.
And, Why stand we in jeopardy every Hour,
ver. 30. But the Lord knows, and we have openly and sincerely declared, that we believe and own the Resurrection of the Dead, according as the Holy Scriptures testify concerning it; Which say,
Thou sowest not that Body that shall be, but bare Grain
&c.
But God giveth it a Body as it hath pleased him, and to every Seed his own Body,
ver. 37, 38.
It is sown a natural Body; it is raised a Spiritual Body,
ver. 44. the reason of which follows
ver.
50. namely,
That Flesh and Blood cannot inherit the Kingdom of God, neither doth Corruption inherit Incorruption.
And as we firmly believe this; So we take this to be sufficient, without being so curiously inquisitive as he, who would needs ask,
How are the Dead raised up? and with what Body do they come?
ver. 35. and was called
Fool
for his Pains,
ver.
36.
The 4th OBJECTION is,
You suffer Women to be your Teachers, that were forbid by the Apostle, for he says, that they should keep silence.
Answer.
The
Jews
of old had a strong Persuasion (grounded upon some misunderstood Places of Scripture) that the Salvation of God was confined to them, and belonged not at all to the
Gentiles.
And this Opinion had prevailed so far upon them, that even those of them that received the Gospel could not easily shake it off. In so much that, after
Peter
had been with
Cornelius
the
Centurion,
and was come back again to
Jerusalem,
he was called before the Church for it,
they that were of the Circumcision contending with him,
and
saying, Thou went'st in to Men uncircumcised, and did'st eat with them,
Act. 11. 2, 3. To whom, having related the Occasion and Particulars of that Matter, he concludes his Defence thus,
For as much then as God gave them the like Gift as he did unto us, who believed on the Lord Jesus Christ, what was I, that I could withstand God?
ver. 17. And in the next verse it follows,
when they heard these Things they held their Peace, and glorified God,
&c. This Answer, which the Apostle gave in that Case, may be suitable (we think) for us to give in this Case, to such as (from some misunderstood Places of Scripture) are offended at us for Suffering Women to speak in our Assemblies,
viz.
For as much as God hath given them the like Gift as he did unto us, who believed on the Lord Jesus Christ, what are we that we should withstand God? God, by his Servant
Joel,
in the Time of the Law, had made this Promise, with Relation to the Times of the Gospel,
viz. And it shall come to pass afterwards
(
or in the last Days, as
Peter
repeats it,
Act. 2. 17.)
that I will pour out my Spirit upon all Flesh, and your Sons and your Daughters shall prophecy, your old Men shall dream Dreams, your young Men shall see Visions: And also upon the Servants and upon the Handmaids in those Days will I pour out my Spirit,
Joel 2. 28, 29. (And they shall prophecy, adds
Peter,
Act. 2. 18.) Here was no Distinction of Sex made; But this Promise of
pouring out the Spirit,
and of
prophesying
thereby, is extended as expresly and fully to the Daughters as to the Sons, to the Handmaids as to the Servants. And this the Apostle
Peter
doth expresly apply to that great
pouring forth of the Spirit upon the Church,
at the Pentecost immediately after Christ's Ascension, saying,
This is that which was spoken by the Prophet Joel,
Acts 2. 16. Now at that great and eminent pouring forth of the Spirit it appears the Women were not excluded: For when, after the Ascention, the Apostles and Disciples were returned from Mount
Oliver
to
Jerusalem,
it is said,
These all continued with one accord in Prayer and Supplication with the Women, and Mary the Mother of Jesus,
&c.
Acts
1. 14.
The Number of the Names together being about an Hundred and Twenty,
ver. 15.
And when the Day of Pentecost was fully come, they were
all
with one accord in one Place,
Chap. 2. 1. And in Ver. 3. it is said,
The cloven Tongues sate upon
each
of them, and they were all filled with the Holy Ghost, and began to speak with other Tongues, as the Spirit gave them utterance,
ver. 4. Here was no Distinction made, no shutting out the Women; but all were together, all received the Gift of the Spirit, and began to
speake with other Tongues, as the Spirit gave them utterance.
Nor was it thus only at that time, and upon that extraordinary Occasion, but continued in the Church afterwards. For we read
that Philip the Evangelist had four Daughters that did prophesie,
Acts 21. 8, 9.
Phebe,
a Woman, is recommended by the Apostle
Paul
to the Church at
Rome,
not only as a
Sister,
but as a
Servant of the Church,
Rom. 16. 1.
Priscilla,
a Woman, is called by the same Apostle,
My Helper
(or Fellow Labourer)
in Christ Jesus,
ver. 3.
Tryphena
and
Tryphosa,
two Godly Women, are saluted by him as
Labourers in the Lord.
And of the beloved
Persis,
another holy Woman, he testifies, that
she laboured much in the Lord,
ver. 12. The same Apostle, in his Epistle to the
Philippians,
says,
I entreat thee also, true Yoke Fellow, help those Women which laboured with me in the Gospel,
Phil. 4. 3. Which is the Phrase by which the Apostle doth frequently express his own Ministry; and which he particularly applies to
Timotheus,
whom he calls
Our Brother and Minister of God, and our Fellow Labourer in the Gospel of Christ,
1 Thes. 3. 2. Which is a clear Evidence that those Women, that had received the Gift of Prophesy, did minister therein to the Edification of the Church, as well as the Men. Nay the Apostle
Paul,
in that very Epistle, wherein he is thought by some to discountenance
Womens Preaching,
doth give Directions for the Manner of their
Preaching
or
Prophesying,
viz.
That they should do it with their Heads covered.
For having first said,
Every Man praying or prophesying, having his Head covered, dishonoureth his Head,
1 Cor. 11. 4. He adds,
But every Woman that Prayeth or Prophesyeth with her Head uncovered dishonoureth her Head,
ver. 5. This puts it out of doubt, that Womens
Praying
and
Prophesying
in the Church, was at that Time both lawful and usual, as well as Mens.
Now, that by
Prophesying
here is meant
Preaching
(not barely foretelling Things to come) may not only be inferred from the use of the same Word in the verse foregoing, where, being spoken of Men, it is granted on all Hands to intend
Preaching
(and from thence the general practice of
Mens Preaching uncovered
is defended) but may also fairly be concluded, from the explanation the Apostle gives of it, in Chap. 14. ver. 31. where he tells that Church in general,
We may all Prophesy one by one that
all
may
learn
; Which manifests that by
Prophesying
he intended
Preaching
or
Teaching,
that being the proper way or means of
Learning.
And in the Beginning of that Chapter, where he prefers
Prophesying
before
Speaking whith Tongues,
ver. 1. and 5. he says,
He that Prophesyeth, Speaketh unto Men, to Edification, and Exhortation, and Comfort,
ver. 3. And,
He that Prophesyeth, Edifieth the Church,
ver. 4. which plainly shew that by
Prophesying
he meant
Preaching
or
Teaching,
that being the proper means or way of Edifying. And therefore, seeing he not only allowed Women to
Prophecy,
but directed and advised them how they should perform it,
Chap.
11. 5. and that in this Place
Prophesying
and
Preaching
appear to be one and the same Thing, it is unreasonable to suppose he denied them the Liberty of
Preaching,
being gifted and called thereunto. As for those Words of his, 1 Cor. 14. 34.
Let your Women keep silence in the Churches: for it is not permitted unto them to speak; but to be under Obedience, as also saith the Law.
Observe first, that those Words, [
as also saith the Law
] relate only to the Womens being under
Obedience,
not to their keeping
silence
in the Church: For that was never enjoyned them in the Law, but they were permitted to speak in the Congregation; And both
Miriam,
who was a Prophetess, did sing the Triumphs of the Lord, in the publick Congregation,
Ex.
15. 20. 21. And
Deborah,
who was a Prophetess, did recount the noble Acts of the Lord, and celebrate his Praises in a Triumphant Song,
Judges
5. Read also what
Hanna
spake in the House of the Lord in
Shiloh,
1
Sam.
2. And
Anna,
who was a Prophetess, did not only give thanks unto the Lord, but spake of Christ to all them that looked for Redemption in
Jerusalem, Luke
2. 38. This was direct
Preaching,
and that
in the Temple.
So that the Women were not enjoyned
silence
under the Law, but were permitted to
Speak.
In the next Place, consider what Speaking it was that was forbidden by the Apostle in that Place, 1
Cor.
14. 34. which from his following Words will appear to be, not a Speaking of the Words of Life and Salvation, not a Speaking as the Spirit of God gives utterance; but speaking disorderly, asking Questions unseasonably, and out of place; not speaking for the Edification of Others, but speaking for their own Information only: for he immediatly adds,
If they will learn any Thing, let them ask their Husbands at home,
ver. 35. These Words [
learn
and
ask
] plainly shew, that the Speaking here condemned was not a Speaking the
Doctrines
of the Gospel for the Edification of the Church, but
asking Questions
for their own Satisfaction, which they might have done at home, but not there: therefore he adds,
For it is a Shame for Women to speak in the Church.
And so indeed it was in such a disorderly manner as they spake, to interrogate or Catechise either the Minister, or their Husbands, openly in the Church, to ask the Meaning of this, or call for an Explanation of that, which might look like a throwing off their Obedience to their Husbands, and must needs occasion Disorders and Confusion in the Assembly; which we may perceive was the thing that troubled the Apostle, and which he laboured to reform: for he said before,
God is not the Author of Confusion, but of Peace,
ver. 33. and he concludes the Chapter with this Admonition
Let all things be done decently and in order:
So that it was the disorderly Practice of some Women in that Church which he reproves, who, it seems, when any Thing was spoken which they did not understand, would interpose, and
ask Questions
for Information sake, which was uncomely in them, offensive and troublesome to the Congregation. This sort of
Speaking
was not permitted them, but was a Shame to them, and from which they ought to have kept silence
in the Church,
and
if they will learn any thing,
says he,
let them ask their Husbands at home.
Of like import are those other Words of the same Apostle to
Timothy,
and probably on the same Occasion.
Let the Woman,
says he,
learn in silence with all Subjection. But I suffer not a Woman to teach, nor to usurp Authority over the Man, but to be in silence,
1
Tim.
2. 11, 12. For hence it appears still, that the Occasion they took of speaking, was under pretence of
learning,
wherein they took an undue Liberty to
ask Questions,
as if they would catechize or teach their Husbands. But though the Apostle would not suffer such sort of Speaking in the Church, as might give Occasion to any to think that the Women did cast off the Obedience they owed, and did usurp Authority over their Husbands; nor after such a Manner, as might breed Confusion in the Congregation, for he was so watchful against that, that he enjoins the Man to be silent in that Case, as well as the Woman.
If any Man,
says he,
speaks in an unknown Tongue,— let one interpret: But if there be no Interpreter, let him keep silence in the Church,
1 Cor. 14. 27, 28. Yet we have before shewed, that he allowed of
Women Prophesying,
and that by
Prophesying
he meant
Preaching.
We have also given many Instances of Women that laboured in the Work of the Gospel in that Day; and could, from a living and sure Experience, multiply instances of many Women in this Day, whom the Lord hath committed the Word of Life and Reconciliation unto, and who, in the quickning Power and Virtue thereof, have sounded forth the same, to the awakening of many that were asleep in Sin, and turning of many
from darkness to Light,
and from the
Power of Satan to God,
who are now become living Seals of their Ministry. Neither would this seem so strange as it doth to some, did they duly consider. That
God is no Respecter of Persons.
But that, as, in the
old Creation,
Male and Female were Created in the Image of God: So, in the
new Creation,
Male and Female are all one in Christ Jesus,
Gal.
3. 28. But, as they that contended with
Peter,
for conversing with the
Gentiles,
when they had heard his Defence, held their Peace, and glorified God, saying,
Then hath God also to the Gentiles granted Repentance unto Life, Acts
11. 18. So, we hope, they that have taken Offence at us, for suffering Women to speak in the Church, when they shall have duly and impartially weighed what is herein offered for their Satisfaction, will hold their Peace (as to any Opposition thereunto) and Glorifie God, saying,
Then hath God committed unto Women also the Word of Reconciliation.
The fifth Objection is,
You are a People that have gained Health to your Immortal Souls, and are sure of Heaven, when the Scriptures say, that
the Righteous Man falls seven times a Day;
and the Apostle
Paul
said that
Sin was still actually in him.
Answer.
We do not desire to boast of any Attainments. Yet we cannot but confess, to the Glory of God, and the Praise of his Holy Name, that His saving Health hath appeared in this his Day, and we (through his Mercy) have tasted of it. Christ the Saviour, is manifested in Spirit, and we (through Grace) have felt the healing Virtue of his Divine Life and Power. Through the tender Mercy of our God, the Day-spring from on high hath visited us, and hath given Light to us that sate in Darkness and in the Shadow of Death, and hath guided our Feet into the way of Peace, and hath helped us to make our Calling and Election sure. As for the Scripture thou mentionest, we do not find that the Scripture saith,
The Righteous Man falls seven times a Day;
but in
Prov.
24. 16. we find it thus written,
For a Just Man falleth seven times, and riseth up again; but the Wicked shall fall into Mischief.
And as the Verse before shews the Occasion of these Words, where it is said,
Lay not wait, O wicked Man, against the Dwelling of the Righteous: spoil not his resting place.
So the latter Part of this 16th Verse [
but the wicked shall fall into Mischief
] implies, that the just Man doth not fall, as the wicked Man does,
into Mischief.
And seeing all Sin is Mischief, it seems as if the Fall here spoken of the just Man, were not a
falling into Sin,
but into some outward Calamity or Exercise. However the Place speaks nothing of
daily
or
continual falling.
Nor do we remember that
Paul
doth use that very Expression concerning himself,
viz. That Sin was still actually in him;
though we know that he doth, in divers places, run through, as it were, and open the various States and Travels of the Soul; in some of which he cried out,
O wretched Man that I am, who shall deliver,
&c! But he rested not there, but quickly breaks forth into a Rejoycing, and cries out,
I thank God, through Jesus Christ our Lord,
Rom. 7. 24, 25. And then in the next Chapter, having said,
There is no Condemnation to them that are in Christ Jesus, who walk not after the Flesh, but after the Spirit,
he says expresly concerning himself.
For the Law of the Spirit of Life in Christ Jesus, hath made me free from the Law of Sin and Death,
ver. 2. And again,
Thanks be to God, which giveth us the Victory, through our Lord Jesus Christ,
1 Cor. 15. 57. This
Victory
we press after; this
Freedom from the Law of Sin and Death,
we labour and travel to attain unto, by a Subjection (through Divine Assistance) to the
Law of the Spirit of Life in Christ Jesus.
The 6th Objection is,
Why your Teachers perswade you, that all other People are in a barren and desolate Condition, and are out of Christ.
Answer.
Our Teachers do not perswade us so; nor do we Judge so of all other People: For we our selves were gathered out of various Professions, States and Conditions; and some of us, who had been seeking after the Lord in other Professions, can remember, that before we were thus gathered to this divine Principle of
Light,
which the Lord hath set up, in this his Day, as an Ensign for the Nations to be gathered unto, and to walk in: we were not wholly barren and desolate; but had, at Seasons, some touches and tastes of the Vertue of that hidden Life, which we were then Strangers to; the Lord having regard to the Sincerity of our Hearts, and answering, in some measure, the Breathings of our Souls to him; so far, at least, as to cherish and keep alive those good Desires which were begotten in us, and to beget in us a greater Hunger and Thirst after him. And it is not hard to us to believe, that so it may be with others at this Day, who have an Integrity to the Lord, though not acquainted with his Outgoings, and Manifestations of himself in this Dispensation of
Light
and
Life:
And both our Prayers to God the Father, in and through his Son Jesus Christ, and our Labour and Endeavours, in the Openings of his Love and Life in our Hearts, are, That all these, in whatsoever Profession, may be drawn off from all the dry Hills and barren Mountains, and gathered into the true Sheepfold. For we remember our Saviour said,
Other Sheep I have, which are not of this Fold: them also I must bring, and they shall hear my Voice; and there shall be one Fold, and one Shepherd,
Joh. 10. 16. The Lord grant, that none of these may mistake his Voice, or disobey it.
The last Objection is,
You deny all outward Ordinances, as
Baptism,
and the
Six Principles,
that were taught to the first primitive Christians.
Answer.
The Dispensation of the Law was
outward,
and the Ordinances appertaining to that Dispensation were
outward
also: But the Dispensation of the Gospel is spiritual and
inward,
and the Ordinances appertaining to this Dispensation are of a spiritual Nature. The
Baptism with Water
was
John
's, and came up under the Dispensation of the Law, nor did properly belong to the Gospel Dispensation, though for a time, by Condescention, continued; as Circumcision, and some other Legal Rites, were. And this was that Baptism which
Paul
says Christ sent him not to baptize with, 1
Cor.
1. 17. But the
Baptism of Christ,
the true Gospel-Baptism, that by which the true Believer is baptized into Jesus Christ,
Rom.
6. 3. and buried with him into Death, ver. 4.
The one Baptism,
Eph. 4. 5. is the
Baptism with the Holy Ghost and with Fire,
and is plainly distinguished from the Baptism with Water, both by
John,
to whom the Water-Baptism belonged, and by Christ, to whom the Spirit-Baptism belonged. For
John
said,
I indeed baptize you with water unto Repentance; but he that cometh after me is mightier than I, whose Shoos I am not worthy to bear: He shall baptize you with the Holy Ghost and with Fire,
Mat. 3. 11. And Christ, as
Luke
records a little before his Ascension, said,
John truly baptized with Water, but ye shall be baptized with the Holy Ghost not many Days hence,
Acts 1. 5. which was the Promise of the Father,
ver.
4. delivered by Christ to his Apostles and Disciples, just before his parting from them,
Luke
24. 49. Let it therefore be fairly considered, 1. That the Dispensation of the Gospel is
Spiritual,
and therefore the Ordinances belonging to it should be so too. 2. That in
Mat.
28. 19. (From which place the Commission for Water-Baptism is usually fetched) there is no Mention ef Water. 3. That Baptism with Water is no where in Scripture called Christ's Baptism. 4. That Baptism with Water is frequently called
John's Baptism.
5. That the Baptism with the Holy Ghost is called
Christ's Baptism.
6. That the Apostle
Paul
acknowledges but
One Baptism,
Eph. 4. 5. which cannot be supposed to be that with
Water,
since then he must exclude the Baptism of the
Spirit.
7. That the Apostle
Peter,
speaking of the Baptism that saves, says expresly,
It is not the putting away the Filth of the Flesh,
1 Pet. 3. 21. (which it is the Property of Water to do) as if he had said,
The Baptism which now saves us is not Water-Baptism.
8. That Baptism with Water is no where expresly commanded in Scripture, as it would doubtless have been, had it been intended by Christ for a Gospel Ordinance. 9. That tho' it was sometimes used after Christ's Ascension, yet that cannot authorize the use of it now, any more than of Circumcision, and other Legal Ordinances, which, in Condescention to the Weakness of Believers in that Day, were also used after Christ's Ascension, yet are confest by all not to be in force now. For
John,
as himself said, was to
decrease,
Joh. 3. 30. which related to his Ministry or Dispensation, not to his Person. Now a
Decreasing
implies a growing less, or wearing away by degrees, not all on a suddain; or at once; and therefore no wonder, if his Water-Baptism was continued for a time, even after Christ's Baptism of the Holy Spirit took place. But as Christ's Baptism was to
increase,
so
John
's was to
decrease,
till Christ's came to be
all in all,
and
John
's Water Baptism wholly to give place. Let these things, we say, be duly weighed, and we hope we shall not be blamed, for leaving the Baptism of
John,
and cleaving to the Baptism of
Christ.
As for the
Six Principles
thou mentionest, seeing thou hast not declared what they are, it cannot be expected we should speak to them at this time. But we recommend to thee that holy divine Principle of
Light
wherewith Christ
lighteth every Man that cometh into the World,
Joh. 1. 9.
In which Light the Nations of them that are saved shall walk,
Rev. 21. 24. And we heartily desire thou mayst walk therein.
T. E.
AN ACCOUNT OF TYTHES In GENERAL.
THE only Command from God, that we read of in Holy Scripture, for the Payment of Tythes, was given by
Moses,
to the People of
Israel,
in the time of the
Levitical Law.
Then God first reserved to himself the Tythe of the Land of Canaan,
Lev.
27. 30. Which he did for this reason, that, intending to take the Tribe of
Levi
more peculiarly into his Service (as he did,
Numb.
3. 6. in stead of, or in exchange for all the First born of
Israel,
ver. 12. 13. and 45. and Chap. 8. ver. 18. Having before reserved and appropriated the First born to himself,
Ex.
13. 2.) he might bestow those Tythes on the
Levites,
for and towards the Maintenance of that whole Tribe, as a Reward for their Service in the Tabernacle of the Congregation,
Numb.
18. 21, 31. and in lieu of, and Compensation for, their Part or Share of and in the Land of
Canaan,
which thereupon they were expresly cut off from, ver. 20, 23, 24.
2. Now although it was grounded on a Principle of Moral Justice and Equity, that the
Levites,
thus engaged in a continual Attendance on a publick Service, and shut out from their Share in the Inheritance of the promised Land, should receive a sufficient Maintenance from them for whom they performed that Service, and who enjoyed their Part of the Land: Yet the ascertaining of the
Quot a
of that Maintenance to the exact Proportion of a
Tenth Part
of the Increase of the Land, was not grounded on moral Justice, but had its Dependence on the Ceremonial Law, adapted and limited to the Polity of that Dispensation and People only. And that it might not be extended beyond its appointed Time and Bounds, it pleased the Divine Wisdom, to subject it to such Ceremonial Circumstances, as plainly rank it amongst those carnal Ordinances (Rites or Ceremonies) which were imposed but
till the Time of Reformation,
spoken of
Heb.
9. 10. For as God appointed the
Levites
to be offered for a
Wave-Offering,
by
Moses,
in the Name and on the Behalf of the Children of
Israel,
when he said to
Moses, Thou shalt bring the Levites to the Tabernacle of the Congregation, and thou shalt gather the whole Assembly of the Children of Israel together; And thou shalt bring the Levites before the Lord, and the Children of Israel shall put their Hands upon the Levites: And Aaron shall offer
(in the Margin
Wave
)
the Levites before the Lord, for an Offering
(in the Margin
Wave-Offering
)
of the Children of Israel; that they may execute the Service of the Lord,
Numb. 8, 9, 10, 11. So the Tythes, which were assigned for the Maintenance of the
Levites,
were to be first offered, by the People, as an
Heave-Offering
unto the Lord. (
The Tythes of the Children of Israel, which they offer as an Heave-Offering unto the Lord, I have given to the Levites,
&c.
Numb.
18. 24.) And even the Tythe of those Tythes, which the
Levites
were to yield unto the
Priests,
were to be offered, by the
Levites,
as an
Heave-Offering
to the Lord, before the
Priests
might have them.
Thus speak unto the Levites
(said God to
Moses
)
and say unto them, When ye take of the Children of Israel the Tythe which I have given you from them for your Inheritance; Then ye shall offer up an Heave Offering of it for the Lord, even
a Tenth Part of the Tythe. And this your Heave-Offering shall be reckoned unto you, as though it were the Corn of the threshing Floor,
&c.
Thus ye also shall offer an Heave-Offering unto the Lord, of all your Tythes, which ye receive of the Children of Israel: And ye shall give there of the Lord's Heave-Offering to Aaron the Priest,
ver. 26, 27, 28. This makes it evident, beyond doubting, that the Tythes, which were given by the People to the
Levites,
and by the
Levites
to the
Priests,
under the Law, had their Dependence on the Ceremonial Law, as that Priesthood had; And were to stand no longer than that Law and that Priesthood stood: Which was but till
Shiloh
came, and by the Offering of himself once for all, had put an end to all the shadowy Offerings under that Law.
3. This the Author of the Epistle to the
Hebrews
did so well understand, that he positively declared that
the Levitical Priesthood being changed, there was made of Necessity a Change also of the Law,
(of that Law, by which that Priesthood and the Maintenance of it had stood) See
Heb.
7. 12. And 'tis also evident from Scripture and Primitive Antiquity, that neither the Apostles themselves, nor (for some ages after them) any of the Christians, did meddle with, or at all concern themselves about Tythes; But let them totally fall as they did the other abrogated Part,
viz.
Offerings,
&c.
and of the Ceremonial Law of
Moses.
4. But after that the Mystery of Iniquity, which in the Apostles time began to work (2
Thes.
2. 7.) had wrought to that Degree amongst some Christians, and had drawn them so far from the Purity and Simplicity of the Gospel, as to form and model the Church in many things, by and according to the
Jewish
Pattern amongst other Ceremonial Parts of the
Jewish
Religion, which had been abolished by the Coming and Death of Christ, Tythes were preached up again (about the latter end of the fourth Century, and beginning of the fifth) by some, at first, under the Notion of Alms and Charity (because part of the Tythes under the Levitical Law, were appointed for the Maintenance of the Fatherless, the Widow and the Stranger,
Deut.
14. 28, 29.) And by others, as then still due by the Mosaic Law, which had required them to be paid to the Levitical Priesthood. Which Plea afterwards (Corruptions increasing in the Church, and in those especially who were called the
Church-Men,
or
Clergy
) more and more prevailing, the Payment of Tythes was re-introduced, as due by those Levitical Laws, which had been given to the
Israelites
of old. And upon that Bottom, Tythes have stood, been claimed and the Claim defended unto this Day.
5. Now, not only he that thus claims, and receives Tythes; but he that consents to, and complies with such Claim, by paying Tythes thus brought in, and thus claimed, doth thereby implicitly, and vertually (at least) deny that Christ has put an End to the Ceremonial Law of
Moses,
and consequently that he is come, and hath suffered in his Flesh for Mankind. And that this may appear as plain as is possible, I shall draw the Matter into an Argument, thus:
To uphold any Thing, as still in force, which was to be taken away, and cease at and by the Death of Christ, is to deny that Christ is come and hath suffered in his Flesh for Mankind.
But to receive, or pay Tythes now, is to uphold a Thing, as still in force, which was to be taken away, and cease at and by the Death of Christ▪
Therefore to receive, or pay Tythes now, is to deny that Christ is come, and hath suffered in his Flesh for Mankind.
The
Major
must be granted, and the
Minor
I thus prove.
Whatsoever was
a part
of the Ceremonial Law of
Moses,
was to be taken away and cease at and by the Death of Christ;
But Tythes were a part of the Ceremonial Law of
Moses;
Therefore Tythes were to be taken away, and cease at and by the Death of Christ:
The
Major
here again is unexceptionable; And the
Minor
is thus proved.
Every
Heave-Offering
among the
Jews
was
a Part
of the Ceremonial Law of
Moses;
But Tythes were an
Heave-Offering
among the
Jews,
Num. 18. 24.
Therefore Tythes were
a Part
of the Ceremonial Law of
Moses.
6. By this it appears, that without regard had of the Person to whom, or the Use for which Tythes are paid, the paying of Tythes (as well as the receiving them) being
a Part
of the abrogated Ceremonial Law of
Moses,
imports a denyal of the Coming, and Death of
Christ.
Hence it is, that Tythes have been, and are commonly called
Antichristian,
or
against Christ.
And hence hath risen that saying (often used not only by our antient Friends, but by some of the Martyrs long before)
viz. He that pays Tythes, doth thereby deny that Christ is come in the Flesh.
That Conclusion could not have been drawn, from the paying of Tythes to a wrong Ministry, or for a wrong use only, though such Payment be evil: Nor could any thing justify that Inference, but the Consideration that Tythes, depending on the Ceremonial Law of
Moses,
which must of Necessity and in course fall, and cease when Christ suffered; the paying of Tythes carries in it a supposal, that that Law is not yet ceased, but is still in force: and consequently that Christ, whose Death must needs have ended it, is not yet come, nor has yet suffered in his Flesh for Mankind.
7. That other Objection, not less weighty than common against paying Tythes to the
Clergy,
so called,
viz.
The unlawfulness of upholding a false Ministry, to perform a false Worship (being it self so clear and plain, that it needs no illustration) I shall, in this Discourse, no further meddle with, than to observe in my way, how far it may affect those Tythes also, which the
Impropriators
claim. Wherefore having premised what is said before concerning Tythes in general, to what Hand, or for what Use soever paid, let us now inquire into those Tythes, which are called
Impropriate.
Of Impropriate
TYTHES.
1. THAT these Tythes, which are claimed by the
Impropriators,
are of the same Nature, and stand originally on the same Root and Ground, on which the other Tythes stand, which are claimed and exacted by the
Priests,
is evident from hence, that they were all heretofore, these as well as those, claimed by, and paid to some or other of the
Romish Clergy,
or their Appendices, the Religious Orders (so called) and upon the same Foot. That is, These
Impropriate Tythes
were paid to those Religious Orders or Houses, as being due to God, by vertue of the
Levitic Law;
as well as the other Tythes were paid to the
Parish-Priests,
on the same supposed Right, from the same Law. But how these Tythes came to those Religious Houses first, and how afterwards from them to the
Impropriators,
is next to be inquired.
2. Until the
Lateran Council
(so named, because it was holden in the
Pope's
Palace at
Rome,
called the
Lateran
) in the Year 1215. It was in the choice of every Man to give his Tythes to what Church he pleased, so he gave them to some Church. And even after that Council, the
Popes,
as Heads of that Church, by their dispencing Power, did give leave to such as would sue, and pay for it, to give their Tythes from the
Parish-Priest,
to such Order of Religious People (whether
Monks, Friers,
or
Nuns
) as they were best affected to. By which means, the
Parish-Priests
(called
Seculars,
) and those of the several Religious Orders (called by a general Title,
Regulars
) being left to scramble, as they could, for maintenance, the
Regulars
(
mendicant Fryers,
and others) swarming in all Places, and pretending, at least, to greater Sanctity, and Austerity of Life, than the
Parish-Priests,
prevailed with the People, either living or dying, to give not only very considerable Estates in Lands, but also the Tythes of other Lands, and of whole Parishes, from the
Parish-Priests,
to their Religious Houses or Convents.
3. The Tythes, or Parsonages, so given, were then called
Appropriations,
because they were appropriated to this, that, or the other Religious House or Convent. And I have read, that there were in
England
about 3845 Parsonages thus appropriated. And as Tythes were then held to be
due to God and holy Church;
and those Religious Orders were reputed a part of that Church: So the Tythes, as well as the Lands thus given them, were continued to them, and possessed by them, till that general Storm arose, in K.
Henry
8. his time, which overturned those Religious Houses and Orders together. And here, by the way, it may be noted, That while those Religious Houses stood, a great part of the Lands which had been given to them, were, by Papal Authority, exempted from paying Tythes: Whence it is, that many of those Estates, which had belonged to those Religious Houses, remain discharged from the Burden of Tythes still.
4. As Tythes were set up here on the Authority of the
Levitic Law,
and in imitation of the
Jewish Practice,
consonant to that Law: So while those Religious Houses stood, and the
Pope
's Power prevailed here, not only the
Seculars
or
Parish-Priests,
but all those
Regulars
who received Tythes, were bound to pay the
Tenths
out of the Tythes they received to the Head of their Church, the
Pope
as the
Levites,
under the Ceremonial Law, were required to do to the Priests.
5. But after that K.
Hen.
8. (upon a Quarrel between the
Pope
and him, about his Divorce from his first Queen
Catharine,
which he earnestly desired, and the
Pope
would not grant) fell off from the
Pope
(though not from
Popery:
For after that, he retained the most pernicious Doctrines of the
Romish Church,
contained in the six Articles, and burnt some for denying them) he threw off the
Pope
's Supremacy here, and assumed it to himself; declaring himself, and being declared, first by the
Clergy
in their
Convocation,
and soon after by
Lords
and
Commons
in
Parliament, The only Supream Head in Earth of the Church of England.
This was done by the Statute of 26
Hen.
8. c. 1. And therein it is enacted.
'That the King, his Heirs and Successors, Kings of this Realm, shall be taken, accepted and reputed the only Supream Head in Earth of the Church of
England.
And shall have and enjoy, annexed and united to the Imperial Crown of this Realm, as well the Title and Stile thereof, as all Honours, Dignities, Praeeminences, Jurisdictions, Privileges, Authorities, Immunities, Profits and Commodities to the said Dignity of Supream Head of the same Church belonging and appertaining. And shall have full Power and Authority, from time to time, to Visit, Repress, Redress, Reform, Order, Correct, Restrain and Amend all such Errors, Heresies, Abuses, Offences, Contempts and Enormities whatsoever they be, which by any manner of Spiritual Authority and Jurisdiction ought, or may lawfully be reformed, repressed, ordered, redressed, corrected, restrained, or amended,
&c.
By which it is evident, the Intention of the
Parliament
then was to transfer, confer and settle unto and upon King
Henry
all the Powers, Profits and Privileges, which had been before supposed to be in, or belong to, or had been enjoyed or exercised by the
Pope,
while he was received as
Supream Head of the Church.
6. And therefore, as the
Pope,
while he retained the
Supremacy
here, had the first Fruits (which are the Profits of every Spiritual or Ecclesiastical Living for one Year, upon the advancing of any Ecclesiastical Person, to such a Living; and also the
Tenths,
that is the
tenth Part
of all the Tythes: So these two Revenues, as appendant to that
Supremacy,
followed it; being settled on the King, in the same Session of Parliament, wherein the Supremacy was vested in him. The Words of the Statute, 26
H.
8. c. 3. relating to the
first Fruits,
are these.
'That for the more surety of Continuance and Augmentation of his Highness Royal Estate, being not only now recognized (as he always indeed hath heretofore been) the only Supream Head in Earth, next and immediatly under God, of the Church of
England,
but also their most assured and undoubted natural Soveraign Liege Lord and King,
&c.
It may therefore be enacted and ordained by,
&c.
That the King's Highness, his Heirs and Successors, Kings of this Realm, shall have and enjoy from time to time to endure for ever, of every such Person and Persons, which at any time after the first Day of
January
next shall be nominated, elected, perfected, presented, collated or by any other means appointed to have any Arch-Bishoprick, Abbacy, Monastery, Priory, Colledge, Hospital, Archdeaconry, Deanry, Provostship, Prebend, Parsonage, Vicarage, Chauntry, Free-Chappel, or other Dignity, Benefice, Office, or Promotion Spiritual, within this Realm, or elswhere within any of the King's Dominions, of what Name, Nature, or Quality soever they be, or to whose Foundation, Patronage, or Gift soever they belong, the First-Fruits, Revenues and Profits for one Year of every such Arch-Bishoprick, Bishoprick, Abby, Monastery, Priory,— Parsonage, Vicarage,
&c.
Then (after Provisions made for finding out the value of those Spiritual Livings, and for paying, receiving and recovering those
First-Fruits
) the Settlement of the
Tenths
(that other part of the
Pope
's Revenue) upon the King, follows, in the same Statute, in these Words.
'And over this, be it enacted by Authority aforesaid, that the Kings Majesty, his Heirs and Successors, Kings of this Realm, for more Augmentation and Maintenance of the Royal Estate of his Imperial Crown and Dignity of Supream Head of the Church of
England,
shall yearly have, take, enjoy and receive, united and knit to his Imperial Crown for ever, one yearly Rent, or Pension, amounting to the value of the Tenth Part of all the Revenues, Rents, Farms, Tythes, Offerings, Emoluments, and of all other Profits as well called Spiritual as Temporal, now appertaining or belonging, or that hereafter shall belong to any Archbishoprick, Bishoprick, Abbacy, Monastery, Priory, Archdeaconry, Deanry, Hospital, Colledge, House-Collegiate, Prebend, Cathedral Church, Collegiate-Church, Conventual-Church, Parsonage, Vicarage, Chauntry, Free-Chappel, or other Benefice or Promotion Spiritual, of what Name, Nature, or Quality soever they be, within any Diocess of this Realm, or in Wales,
&c.
And so goes on to direct the time, place and manner of Payment of these Tenths, with the Penalty for non-payment.
7. Thus were these two great Pillars of
Papal Supremacy (First Fruits
and
Tenths
) transferr'd from the
Pope,
(the old Head,) to the King, (the new Head of the Church,) to support and maintain that Headship in him, as they had done before in the
Pope.
Which Ecclesiastical Headship the King was no sooner possessed of, than he began to exercise it amongst those Religious Orders, Suppressing (as
Herbert,
in his Life, p. 379. relates) the
Observant Fryers
at
Greenwich, Canterbury, Richmond
and other Places, and substituting the
Augustines
in their Places.
'Which he did (says
Herbert
there) for the finding out how his People would take his Design of putting down Religious Houses:
To which he proceeded the next Year, beginning with the lesser Sort, and suppressing all those Monasteries, Priories and other Religious Houses of
Monks, Canons,
and
Nuns,
which had not in Lands, Tenements, Rents, Tythes, Portions, and other Hereditaments, above the clear yearly Value of two hundred Pounds. By which means 376 of those Religious Houses being dissolved, a Revenue of above thirty thousand Pounds a Year, beside an hundred thousand Pounds in Money raised by sale, at low Rates, of the Goods and Chattels, of those Houses (a Sum not small in that Age) came to the King, for support of his Ecclesiastical Supremacy.
8. The Statute, which countenanced this Proceeding, is the 27. of
Hen.
8. cap. 28. And a new Court, called
the Court of Augmentations,
was then erected and settled by Parliament, for receiving and ordering these new accessional Revenues: the Act for which, in our printed Statute Books, is set before that for the Suppression of those lesser Monasteries. But though that, for Suppressing those Monasteries, be, by an
Hysterosis,
set after that for establishing the
Court of Augmentations;
Yet it must have been made before it: For it is recited in it.
9. In that Statute, 27
Hen.
8. 28. for suppressing those smaller Monasteries, mention is made of Monasteries, Abbies, and Priores, which, within one Year before the making of that Statute, had been given and granted to the King by any Abbot, Prior, Abbess or Prioress, under their Convent-Seal, or that otherwise had been suppressed, or dissolved. All which were, by that Statute confirmed to the King, and to all those, unto whom the King either then before had conveyed, or then after should convey any Part or Parts thereof; 'To hold to them in like Manner, Form, and Conditions, as the Abbots, Priors, Abbesses, Prioresses, and other chief Governors of any religious Houses, which had the same, might or ought to have had if they had not been suppressed. For upon the King's falling (as was noted before) upon the Observant
Fryers
at
Greenwich,
and other places, some of the more considerate of the
Abbots, Priors,
&c. Seeing the Storm arising, which then threatned, and soon after brought Destruction on those Orders, thought it better Policy to comply with the times, and surrender upon Terms, in hopes to save something, than hold out to the last (as many did) and lose all.
10. And indeed, the suppressing of those 376 lesser Monasteries, struck so great a Fear into the greater, that the Statute made four Years after (31
Hen.
8. cap. 13.) whereby the Rest of the Religious Houses were given to the King, recites,
'That divers and sundry Abbots,
&c.
of their own free and voluntary Mind, since the fourth of
Feb.
in the 27 of his Reign, had by due Order of Law, and by their sufficient Writings of Record, under their Convent and common Seals, severally given, granted and confirmed to the King his Heirs and Successors for ever, All their said Monasteries, Abbeys, Priories,
&c.
and all the Mannors, Lord-ships, Lands, Tenements,
Tythes,
&c. to them belonging; and had voluntarily renounced, left and forsaken the same.
And therefore, in the said Statute it is enacted,
'That the King shall have, hold,
&c.
All such late Monasteries,
&c.
and all the Sites, Circuits, Manners, Lands, Tenements,
&c.
thereunto belonging.
In the ennumeration of the Particulars whereof, (which are many)
Tythes,
Parsonages, appropriate, and Vicarages are expresly mentioned. All which (as likewise all other Religious Houses, with the Revenues thereof, which should there after be dissolved, suppressed, relinquished, forfeited, or given to the King, and which by that Statute are settled on him) he was to hold and enjoy, in as large and ample Manner, and Form, as the late Abbots,
&c.
had held or of right ought to have held, the same, in Right of their said late Monasteries,
&c.
11. From hence this Observation arises. That since those Religious Orders did hold the
Tythes
which they possessed, upon the supposed Right of their being due
to God and Holy Church,
which they held themselves, and were by others holden to be a part of; and the King received those
Tythes
and
Parsonages
(amongst the rest of the Revenues of the Religious Houses) as well those that were resigned to him by the Governours of those Houses themselves, as the rest which by Act of Parliament he took, upon the same Right on which those Religious Orders had holden them: He also must hold them upon that supposed Right of their being due
to God and Holy Church;
which he then held himself, and was holden by all, both
Clergy
and
Laity,
to be the only
Supream Head
of here in
England.
And as upon that supposed Right (of their being
due to God and Holy Church
) on which the Religious Houses held them, they passed them from those Houses to the King, as
supream Head of the Church:
So on the same supposed Right (of their being
due to God and Holy Church
) they passed from the King, as
supream Head of the Church,
to those (whether
Spiritual
or
Lay
Persons) unto whom the King granted them. For they stuck not long in the King's Hand: But he, of his own meer Motion, Liberality and Benignity (as the Statute in the 33d Year of his Reign, cap. 39. relates) had by that time freely given and granted,
&c.
unto divers and sundry of the Lords and Nobles, as well
Spiritual
as
Temporal,
and unto divers and many other Persons and Bodies politick,
&c.
divers and many sundry Honours, Castles, Manors, Lands, Tenements, and among the rest,
Rectories,
&c.
12. But great care was taken to retain, and keep up the Character of
Spirituality,
which had formerly been stamped upon those
Rectories, Parsonages,
and other Revenues by
Tythes,
into what Hands soever they were passed. And therefore, by the Statute of 32
Hen.
8. cap. 7. in case of with-holding, or denying to pay the Tythes, all Persons claiming them
(Impropriators,
as well as
Priests)
are restrained from suing in the
Temporal Courts,
and limitted to the
Ecclesiastical
or
Spiritual Courts
only, for the Recovery of them.
13. And that they might still have Dependence upon the
Supremacy,
care was taken, from the first, by the Statute of 27
Hen.
8. cap. 27. That none of these Estates, which then had come, or should come, from any of those Religious Houses to the King, should pass from him by Grant to any Person whatsoever, without an express Reservation of a
Tenth.
And in a subsequent Statute (33
Hen.
8. cap. 39.) complaint being made that, altho' out of those Grants, which the King had made to sundry Persons, of Honours, Castles, Mannors, Lands, Tenements, Rectories,
&c.
(which were under the Survey of the
Court of Augmentations
) the
Tenths
had been reserved; yet the Persons unto whom such Grants had been made, though they had quietly enjoyed and taken the Issues and Profits of those Lands, Rectories,
&c.
had not paid the reserved
Tenths
to the King: Provision was made in that Statute, by several
Forfeitures
and
Nomine-Poenae
's to enforce the Payment thereof.
Nor was Care taken of the
Ecclesiastical Head
(the
King
) only, but of the
Ecclesiastical Members
(the
Clergy
) also: Many, if not most, of which had Pensions, or Portions issuing out of those Parsonages, Rectories, or other spiritual Benefices (as they were counted) which the Religious Orders held: for, besides that upon the increasing of those
Appropriations,
whereby the
Parish Priests
were pinch'd, there had been Provision made early, in the time of K.
Richard
the
Second,
for the
Vicars,
as well as for the
Poor;
the Statute of 15
Ric.
2. 6. directing,
'That, upon the
Appropriation
of such Churches, the
Diocaesian
of the Place (or Bishop of the Diocess) shall ordain, according to the Value of such Churches, a convenient Sum of Money to be paid and distributed Yearly, of the Fruits and Profits of the same Churches, to the poor Parishioners: and also, that the Vicar be well and sufficiently endowed.
Which Statute (so far, at least, as concerned the Vicars) was afterwards confirmed by another Statute of 4
Hen.
4. cap. 12. which expresly ordains,
'That the Statute of Appropriation of Churches, and of the Endowment of Vicars in the same, made the 15th Year of K.
Ric.
the 2
d
be firmly holden, and put in due Execution:
I say, besides these, the Stat. of 34 and 35 of
Hen.
8. cap. 19. takes notice,
'That the Arch-Bishops, Bishops, Arch-Deacons and other Ecclesiastical Persons, of both Provinces of
Canterbury
and
York,
having formerly, in right of their Churches received out of the late Monasteries,
&c.
divers Pensions, and other Profits, had after the Dissolution of those Houses, been disturbed, and denyed of the having, receiving and gathering of the said Pensions,
&c.
Whereupon it is, in the said Statute, enacted,
'That if any Person or Persons, being Farmer or Occupier of any Manners, Lands, Tenements, Parsonages, Benefices or other Hereditaments of any of the said late Monasteries,
&c.
by the King's Gift, Grant, Sale, Exchange, or otherwise, out of which any such Pensions,
&c.
have been heretofore lawfully going, answered or Paid to any of the Arch-Bishops, Bishops, Arch-Deacons, and other Ecclesiastical Persons abovesaid, do, at any time after the first Day of
April
next coming, wilfully deny the Payment thereof, Then it shall be lawful for the said Arch-Bishops, Bishops, Arch-Deacons, or other Ecclesiastical Persons aforesaid, being so denied, to be satisfied and paid thereof,
&c.
to proceed in the Ecclesiastical Courts, for the recovery thereof.
14. By which Statute, all Pensions payable to Arch-Bishops, Bishops, Arch-Deacons, or other Ecclesiastical Person, that had been possessed thereof, at or within Ten Years next before the time of the Dissolution of the Monasteries, out of the Parsonages, Rectories, or Tythes holden by the said Monasteries,
&c.
are confirmed and assured to such Arch-Bishops, Bishops, Arch-Deacons, and other Ecclesiastical Persons still.
15. So that, upon the whole, besides what hath been said of Tythes in general, with respect to the
Judaizing,
and denying of Christ, by the paying thereof (which extends a like to all
Tythes,
those claimed by the
Impropriator,
as well as those claimed by the
Priest
) the
Impropriate Tythes
being generally charged, either with some Payment to the
Vicars,
for enlarging of their
Stipends,
or with
Pensions
to the Arch-Bishops, Bishops, Arch-Deacons, and other Ecclesiasticks: all such of them as are so charged, come under the same Objection, that is made against paying to the Priest,
viz.
The upholding of a false Ministry, to perform a false Worship. And if any
Impropriation
may be supposed to be free from all those Charges: yet all
Impropriators,
as well as
Priests,
being bound to pay the reserved
Tenths
to the King, as
Supream Head of the Church
(which were wont before to be paid to the
Pope,
while he was owned for
Head of the Church
) the paying of Tythes to an
Impropriator,
is a
Recognizing,
and
acknowledging
of a Man (Bad or Good,
Popish
or
Protestant,
as it happens) to be the only
Supream Head on Earth of the Church.
Which is to set an
Human Head
to a
Spiritual Body:
and to divest and deprive our Lord
Jesus Christ
of his undoubted Right, who the Apostle says expresly, is
the Head of the Body, the Church,
Col. 1. 18.
And that not of Man's making or appointing; but God
(saith the Apostle)
hath given him to be the Head over all things to the Church, which is his Body,
Ephes. 1. 22, 23.
T. E.
FINIS.