The History of the Rise, Increase, and Progress of the Christian People Called Quakers / Intermixed with Several Remarkable Occurrencs.

1655.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

By continuing this relation without breaking off, I am advanced somewhat as to time; but going back a little, let us see the transactions of Edward Burrough and Francis Howgill. It was in the year 1655, that they went together to Ireland, where they came in the summer, and staid more than six months, having spent at Dublin about three months, without being disturbed, though they omitted no opportunity to declare the doctrine of Truth. Henry Cromwell, son of the protector, was at that time lord deputy of Ireland; and it was in his name that they were carried from Cork, (whither they were gone,) to Dublin; for since several received their testimony, and adhered to the doctrine they preached, it was resolved upon, not to let them stay any longer in Ireland. Here it was, as I have been told, that William Ames, by their ministry, was brought over into the society of the Quakers, so called. He was a Baptist teacher, and also a military officer, who being of a strict life himself, kept his soldiers under a severe discipline. I remember how he used to tell us, when any soldier under his colours had been guilty of any immorality on a First-day of the week, he presently had him bound neck and heels. But being now entered into the society of the despised Quakers, and in process of time becoming a minister among them, it was not long before he was cast into prison; of whom more may be said hereafter.

Now E. Burrough and F. Howgill were banished out of Ireland; but on the same day that they were sent away, Barbara Blaugdone arrived there. She went from England in a vessel bound for Cork, but by foul weather carried to Dublin. When the tempest was high, the seamen said, that she being a Quaker was the cause of it, and they conspired to cast her overboard. Aware of this plot, she told the master what his men designed to do, and said that if he did suffer this, her blood would be required at his hands. So he charged them not to meddle with her. The storm continuing, and it being on a First-day of the week, she went upon the deck, feeling herself moved to speak to the seamen by way of exhortation, and to pray for them; for their priest, afraid like the rest, could not say any thing among them. Having spoke what was upon her, she concluded with a prayer; and all the ship’s crew were very quiet and sedate, saying, that they were more beholden to her than to their priest, because she prayed for them; and he, for fear, could not open his mouth to speak. At length they arrived safe at Dublin, without damage, which indeed was strange, and made the master say, that he was never in such a storm without receiving any loss.

Barbara going ashore, went to the house of the deputy; but the people told her, there was for her no speaking with him; for she might know that he had banished two of her friends out of the nation the day before. Then she met with the secretary, and desired him to help her to speak with the deputy. He answered that he did not think he could; then she told him that if he would be so civil, as to go up and tell the deputy that there was a woman below that would speak with him; if he refused, she was answered. So the secretary went up; and there came a man to fetch her into the withdrawing-room; and after she had been there awhile, a person came out of the deputy’s chamber, and all that accompanied him stood bare-headed; for they knew she never saw the deputy, but she had a sense it was a priest, who showed himself covered to deceive her: and the room being almost full of people, they asked her why she did not do her message to their lord. To which she answered, ‘When I see your lord, then I shall do my message to him.’ A little after the deputy came forth, and sat down on a couch: she then stood up, and speaking to him what was upon her mind, bade him beware that he was not found fighting against God, in opposing the Truth, and persecuting the innocent; but like wise Gamaliel, to let them alone; for if it was of God, it would stand; but if of man, it would fall. Further, that the enmity did not lie so much in himself, but he was stirred up to it by evil magistrates, and bad priests; and that God’s people were as dear to him now, as ever; and they that touched them, touched the apple of his eye. In the meanwhile, in his name, and by his power, there was much hurt done to the people of God, all over the nation, and it would at last lie heavy upon him. Moreover, that the teachers of the people did cause them to err, and that he knew the priests’ condition. She touching upon that, the deputy said to the priest that stood by, ‘There’s for you, Mr. Harrison:’ and she spoke with such power, that it made the deputy much concerned: and when she had done, he asked the priest what he had to say to that which she spoke. And he said, it was all very true, and very good, and he had nothing to say against it, if she did speak as she meant. Then she told the priest, that the Spirit of God was true, and did speak as it meant, and meant as it spoke; but that men of corrupt minds did pervert the Scriptures, by putting their own imaginations and conceivings upon it, and so did deceive the people: but the holy men of God wrote, and gave forth the Scriptures as they were inspired of the Holy Ghost; and that they were of no private interpretation; and could not be understood but by the same spirit that gave them forth.

After having thus spoken, she went away, and returned to her lodging, which was at one captain Rich’s house, who coming home, said, that the deputy was so sad and melancholy, after she had been with him, that he could not go to bowls, or to any other pastime.

Barbara having now performed her service at Dublin, went to Cork, where she had some relations and acquaintance; but great were her sufferings thereabout; for she was imprisoned almost wherever she came, being moved to follow those of her acquaintance, into several steeple-houses: yet wherever her mouth was opened, there was some that received her testimony. Once she was made to speak in a market-place, where a butcher swore he would cleave her head; and having lifted up his cleaver to do it, there came a woman behind him, and catching his arms, stopt him, till the soldiers came and rescued Barbara. Many of her acquaintance, with whom she formerly had been very conversant, were now afraid of her; for sometimes she spoke so awfully to them in their houses, that it made them tremble; and some said she was a witch; and, running away, their servants turned her out of doors. After having been there some time, she returned home to Bristol; but it was not very long ere she was moved to go to Ireland again; and being come near Dungarvan, the ship foundered near the shore: the master and the passengers got into the boat, save one man and a woman, who were cast away; and Barbara who was still in the cabin, was almost stifled by waves that beat in upon her; yet at length she got upon the deck. The master in the meanwhile being come ashore, called to her, that if she would leap down, he and another would venture to come into the water to save her. Accordingly they came up to their necks, and she leaping down, they caught her; but being entangled in the ropes in leaping down, she was drawn from them again: but presently a wave came rolling and beat the ship outward, which was their preservation; for if it had beaten inward, it might have killed them all three; she was thus caught again, and drawn to shore. Then she went to Dublin, where coming into the court of justice, she spoke to the judges, and exhorted them to righteousness. But this was taken so ill, that she was put into prison, where she lay upon straw on the ground, and when it rained, the wet and filth of the house of office ran in under her. Being arraigned at the bar, she was required to plead guilty or not guilty. She answered that there was no guilt upon any one’s conscience for what was done in obedience to the Lord God. But she not answering in that form of words they bid her, was sent back to prison again, where she suffered much. In the meanwhile, there happened a singular instance, which I cannot pass by with silence.

At that time there was in prison an inn-keeper, with his family, being accused of a murder: now the brother of him that was either murdered, or lost, could not enjoy some land, except he could prove that his brother was dead; and in order thereto, he brought a fellow into the prison, who said, he would prove that the man was killed at such an inn, and buried under a wall: and he accused the inn-keeper and his wife, their man and maid, and a smith, to be guilty of this murder; they being already in prison. Barbara having heard of this, found means to go to this desperate fellow: and asked him how he could conceal this murder so long, when he was, according to law, as guilty of it as any of them, if what he said were true. At this question he trembled so exceedingly, that his knees struck one against another; and he confessed that he never before saw the people with his eyes, nor ever was at the place in his life, nor knew anything of it, but only he was drawn in by the man that was to have the land, and was persuaded to witness the fact. Other prisoners heard this confession also, and Barbara sent to the deputy, desiring him to send down his priest, that he might hear the said confession. The priest came, and the fellow confessed the same to him as he had done to Barbara; and he once also confessed the same before the judge. But afterwards he eat his words; for the man that had induced him, came every day, and made him drink plentifully, and also caused the jailer to lock up Barbara, that she might not come to him. Then she wrote to the inn-keeper, and his wife, and man, and judge Pepes, and told him the day of his death did draw nigh, wherein he must give an account of his actions; and that therefore he ought to take heed, that he did not condemn innocent people, having but one witness, in whose mouth so many lies were found, the others all saying they were innocent. For all that, the judge went on, and condemned all the accused, and the accuser also, as conscious to the crime. Hereupon a priest came to speak with the maid that was condemned, and was in the same prison with Barbara, but she would not see him, saying, ‘Nay, he can do me no good; I have done with man for ever: but God, thou knowest that I am innocent of what they lay to my charge.’ But, however, they were all hanged, and the witness first, probably for fear he should have made another confession after he had seen the others hanged.

Now some friends of Barbara, viz. Sir William King, colonel Fare, and the lady Brown, hearing she was in prison, came to see her, and afterwards went to the aforementioned judge, to get her released: but when they came to him, he told them, that he was afraid of his life. At which they laughed, and said, they had known her from a child, and there was no harm in her at all. And being all very earnest to get her liberty, they at last obtained it. Then she went to the steeple-house where this judge was, and cleared herself of him. He being come home, went to bed, and died that night. The noise of which sudden death being spread, it made people say, that Barbara had been a true prophetess unto him.

She now went to Limerick, where she was put into prison, but after a while being released, she took shipping for England again; and at sea was robbed of all that she had, by a privateer, who, coming on board, took the master away, until he should pay them a sum of money, for the ship and goods; but she came safe to England. She travelled at her own charge, paying for what she had.

But leaving her, I will return to Miles Halhead, who, as he was following the plough, in the beginning of this year, felt a motion to go to London. Taking York and Hull in his way, and passing thence through Lincolnshire and Leicestershire, he came to the city of London, from whence, after some stay, he went to Bristol with Thomas Salthouse, and so to Exeter and Plymouth, where he suffered much persecution, and was imprisoned. He writ about that time a letter to his wife, which I think worth the while to insert here, and was as followeth.

This year also he writ the following epistle to his fellow-believers.

A chief cause why he was imprisoned there, was, that Thomas Salthouse, with whom he travelled, (having heard that one George Brooks, a priest belonging to the Nightingale frigate, said, after the declarations of M. Halhead, and T. Salthouse, at Plymouth, that it was the eternal truth which they had spoken, with many other words in vindication of what they said,) told Brooks, that he had spoken many good words, and fair speeches; but asked him, whether he lived the life of what he spoke? Further, ‘He that entereth not by the door, but climbeth up some other way, is, as Christ said, a thief and a robber.’ For T. Salthouse thought, and that not without reason, as will be shown by and by, that he did not want the praises of this priest, that were not better than those of the damsel possessed with a spirit of divination, which she spoke concerning Paul and Silas, viz. ‘These men are the servants of the most high God, which show unto us the way of salvation.’ Now what T. Salthouse had spoken to the priest, was called provoking language; the rather, because when the priest was speaking of the trinity, T. Salthouse had asked him, where that word was to be found in the Scriptures: saying further, ‘I know no such Scripture that speaks of the three persons in the trinity; but the three that the Scripture speaks of, are the Father, the Son, and the Holy Ghost, and these three are one.’ From hence T. Salthouse, and M. Halhead, were accused as such as denied the Holy Three that are One. But because about this accusation, they were at a loss in the court, something else was thought of to ensnare them, viz. they were required to take the oath of abjuration of the Pope. This oath the mayor of Plymouth had already tendered them, when they were first apprehended; and they refusing to swear, were sent to Exeter prison: and now being brought to trial, and the said oath required of them, they answered thus:

‘In the presence of the Eternal God, and before all this people, we do deny, with as much detestation as any of you do, the Pope and his supremacy, and the purgatory, and all that is in the form of the oath mentioned, we declare freely against: and we do not deny to swear because of any guilt that is upon us, but in obedience to the command of Christ, who saith, “Swear not at all:” and we will not come under the condemnation of an oath, for the liberty of the outward man.’

Thus refusing to swear, merely that they might not offend against the command of our Saviour, they were sent back to prison again, as such that clandestinely adhered to the Pope: and use hath been made of this snare during the space of many years, to vex the Quakers, so called. The next day the prisoners were brought again before the bench, and were asked:

‘Will ye confess, that you wronged G. Brooks, in calling him thief, and be sorry for it, and make him satisfaction?’

To this M. Halhead answered:

‘One of us did not speak one word to him, and therefore I deny to make him satisfaction, or to be sorry for it; and what was spoken was no such thing; therefore we will not lie for our liberty, nor confess that we are sorry for that which we never spoke.’

Then the court fined them five pounds a piece; and they were to go to the house of correction till payment, and to find sureties for their good behaviour: and for refusing to take the oath, the court threatened to send into the North to seize on their estates. So they were returned to prison; and what follows, was entered as the record of their proceedings.

‘July 10, 1655. Thomas Salthouse, and Miles Halhead, for provoking words against G. Brooks, clerk, who refused to be tried by the country, fined 5l. a piece, committed to Bridewell till payment, and finding sureties for their good behaviour.’

What is said here of refusing to be tried by the country, was a notorious untruth: and as to finding sureties, that seemed of little moment; for though the giving of security had been offered before, when they were taken prisoners, yet that was not accepted of; and the mayor, John Page, had the boldness to assert, that they refused to give security, as will appear by the warrant by which he sent them to the common jail in Exeter, whereof the following is a true copy.

By this may be seen under what frivolous pretences those called Quakers were imprisoned, viz. because of an ordinance made against duels, &c. and as for their having refused to give security, how untrue this was, as well as other accusations, may appear from the following certificate.

Now to what a height of confidence the aforesaid mayor, Page, was come, in saying, that Thomas Salthouse and Miles Halhead had refused to give bail, nay, that this was the cause of their confinement, may also appear from the following letter he writ to general Desborough, to excuse his proceedings against him.

That General Desborough was but little satisfied with this letter, seems not improbable, because, inquiring into the matter, he let others have a copy of it, so that Thomas and Miles wrote an answer to it; and it was also, some time after, given out in public print at London, by Giles Calvert, with other writings relating thereunto. Now as to what is said in this letter of his highness’s proclamation against Quakers, it was a gross untruth; for in the proclamation the Quakers were not named; but it was against the disturbing of Christians in their assemblies; and besides, the Quakers, so called, judged that their public worship was permitted them by the 37th article of the instrument of government, which said, ‘That all that profess faith in God by Jesus Christ, shall not be restrained from, but be protected in, the profession of the faith and exercise of their religion,’ &c. As concerning their contempt of authority the mayor charged them with, it was nothing else, but that for conscience sake they could not take off their hats to the magistrates; neither did they give that honour to any other but God alone. And as to what was said, that all the while they were in prison, they never sought God by prayer, &c. this was no other matter, than that they did not follow the formal way of prayers; for they were indeed religious men, who often prayed to God, and gave him thanks; though they were represented in the letter as very wicked men, and vagabonds that had left their calling, and wandered up and down the country; although it was well known that they were honest men, and travelled on horseback, lying at the best inns on the road, and paying for what they received there. And, therefore, after they had got a copy of the said letter, they writ a large letter to the mayor, Page, and showed him his abominable untruths, and told him, that they had been moved several times in prison, as well as out of prison, to go to prayers, and to give thanks for the blessings of God which they received. And in the conclusion of their letter, they signified, that they would not render railing for railing; but, (said they,) in the spirit of love and meekness we exhort you all to repent, and fear to offend the Lord, &c.

Now as concerning the provoking words against George Brooks, for which they had been fined, it hath been said already what they were; but this Brooks was of a dissolute life, and a debauched fellow, having for his drunkenness not only been turned out of the frigates in which he had served, but also once in the ship Nightingale, ignominiously exposed with a quarter can about his neck, as appears by the following testimonies.

From such evidences as these it appears, that it was not without reason that he and the like priests sometimes were treated a little roughly. But to return to M. Halhead; he continued prisoner many months before he was released.

In the meanwhile it happened that George Whitehead, Richard Clayton, and John Harwood, coming on the 30th of the month called July, to Bures, in Suffolk, were imprisoned on this occasion. R. Clayton had set up a paper on the steeple-house door, containing these queries.

‘Whether setting up such ministers as seek for their gain from their quarters, such as the prophet disapproves; Isaiah, lvi. 11. such as the prophet Jeremiah disapproves; Jer. v. and of whom mention is made also, Ezek. xxxiv. and Mic. iii. such as are called of men, masters, loving the chief places in the assemblies; such as Christ disapproved; Matt. xxiii. such as the apostle Peter disapproves, 2 Pet. ii. and which the apostle Paul disapproved also; Phil. iii. or when such were set up that would not suffer another to speak that stands by, when any thing is revealed, but send him to prison; whether this was not the setting up a persecuting spirit, limiting the Spirit of God, and despising prophecies, not daring to try all things? Whether it was expedient to give to scoffers, scorners, drunkards, swearers, and persecutors, David’s conditions to sing? And if such were set up that took tithes, though the apostle said that the priesthood was changed, and the law also, Heb. vii. Whether by the setting up of such, they did not set up such as did not labour in the Lord’s vineyard.’

This paper being set up, people came to read it. G. Whitehead being there, and laying hold of this opportunity, spoke a few words to the people, and exhorted them to turn to the Lord from the vanities and wickedness they lived in. And when G. Whitehead and his fellow-travellers were passing away, there came a constable who staid them, and carried them before Herbert Pelham, justice of peace. He asking several vain questions, and behaving himself rudely, G. Whitehead began to speak to him concerning his rage: but Pelham said he did not send for him to preach. And not being able to lay the transgression of any law to their charge, he sent them by the constable, to Thomas Walgrave, justice of peace at Smalbridge, in Suffolk. Being come into his house, Richard Clayton was first examined, of his name and country, and where he had been. The same and some other frivolous questions were asked of G. Whitehead. Then Walgrave asked John Harwood, if he would answer him all the questions he would demand of him; but J. Harwood refused to be limited thus to his will. Justice Pelham now being come thither also, J. Harwood told justice Walgrave, that Pelham, who had before examined him, had his examination in writing. Then the two justices consulted together what to do in the case; and not long after Thomas Walgrave asked G. Whitehead, if he would work at hay? But he denied to be bound to such task-masters, as being in that calling whereunto God had called him, and wherein he was chargeable to no man. The conclusion of their consultation was, that they caused R. Clayton to be whipped, under pretence of having fastened a seditious paper to the steeple-house; and the other two were imprisoned.

It was about this time that William Dewsbury, and several other of his friends were put into prison at Northampton. It happened that he being at Wellingborough, and going along the streets, the priest, Thomas Andrews, called to him in these words, ‘Give over deceiving the people, lest the plagues of God fall on thee.’ To this Dewsbury returned, ‘Dost thou say I deceive the people? Make it manifest wherein I deceive them.’ Then Andrews said, ‘Thou sayest there is not any original sin;’ to this Dewsbury replied, ‘Didst thou hear me say so?’ But the priest, unwilling to answer that question, went away. Afterwards Dewsbury went into the steeple-house in the said town, and after the sermon was done, he demanded of the priest that he would prove there before the people, what he had openly accused him of, viz. that he had said there was no original sin. Yet the priest would not answer, but went away. There was also information given, that Dewsbury had said, ‘The priests preach for hire, and the people love to have it so: but what will ye do in the end thereof?’ But that this was really so, I do not find.

Dewsbury then being committed to prison, and kept there above half a year, was at last brought to his trial at Northampton, with other prisoners, his friends; and being set to the bar, the judge, Atkins, said to the jailer, ‘Do you use to bring prisoners before the court in this manner? You deserve to be fined ten pounds, for bringing them before the court covered.’ The jailer answered, ‘If you command me, I will take off their hats.’ To which the judge gave command, and the jailer’s man took them off. Then the judge said to Dewsbury, ‘What art thou here for?’ Dewsbury answered, ‘The mittimus will express what I was committed for; but a copy of it I am denied by the keeper of the jail.’ The next query of the judge was, ‘What is thy name?’ And the answer was, ‘Unknown to the world.’ ‘Let us hear,’ said the judge, ‘what name that is, that the world knows not.’ ‘It is,’ quoth Dewsbury, ‘known in the light, and none can know it, but he that hath it; but the name the world knows me by, is William Dewsbury.’ Then said the judge, ‘What countryman art thou?’ Dewsbury answered, ‘Of the land of Canaan.’ ‘That is far off,’ replied the judge; ‘Nay,’ said Dewsbury, ‘for all that dwell in God, are in the holy city, New Jerusalem, which comes down from Heaven, where the soul is in rest, and enjoys the love of God in Jesus Christ, in whom the Union is with the Father of light.’ To this the judge returned, ‘That is true; but are you ashamed of your country? Is it a disparagement for you to be born in England?’ ‘Nay,’ said Dewsbury, ‘I am free to declare that my natural birth was in Yorkshire, nine miles from York, towards Hull.’ Then the judge said, ‘You pretend to be extraordinary men, and to have an extraordinary knowledge of God.’ To which Dewsbury replied, ‘We witness the work of regeneration to be an extraordinary work, wrought in us by the Spirit of God.’ ‘But,’ said the judge, ‘the apostles wrought with their hands in their callings.’ ‘They had,’ answered Dewsbury, ‘callings in the world, some were fishermen, Paul, a tent-maker: but when they were called to the ministry of Christ, they left their callings to follow Christ, whither he led them by his Spirit, to preach the word: and I had a calling in the world, as they had, and in it did abide, until the Father revealed his Son in me, and called me from my calling I had in the world, to preach the eternal word he had made known to me in the great work of regeneration.’ ‘Why,’ queried the judge, ‘didst thou not abide in thy own country, and teach people in those parts?’ ‘There I did stay,’ returned Dewsbury, ‘until I was called from thence to go to where I was led by the Spirit of the Lord; and as many as are led by the Spirit of God, are the sons and daughters of God; and they that have not the Spirit of Christ are none of his.’ To this the judge said, ‘You say well; for we must in charity conclude, that every one in this place hath the Spirit of God in him: but how do you know that you are guided by the Spirit of God?’ ‘They that have the Spirit of God,’ replied Dewsbury, ‘are known by their fruits: and he that believeth in Jesus Christ, and is guided by his Spirit, hath the witness in himself.’ ‘That is true,’ said the judge, ‘yet notwithstanding, I see by your carriage, that what my brother Hale did at the last assizes, in requiring bond for your good behaviour, he might justly do it; for you are against magistrates and ministers.’ But Dewsbury returned, ‘Make that manifest wherein we are against them.’

Then said the judge to the clerk, ‘Robert Guy, what have you against these men?’ And he gave relation of what Dewsbury had said to priest Andrews in the steeple-house. Dewsbury then giving an account of the matter of fact, and how the thing happened; and that it was not any breach of the law of the nation; the judge resumed, ‘But in that you are found wandering in the country, you break the law; for there is an old law, that if any did go from their dwellings to travel in the country without a certificate from some justice, they were to be taken as wandering persons.’ To this Dewsbury said, ‘If there be any such law, read it to us; and if there be such a law, thou knowest in thy conscience it is contrary to the scripture; for the apostles and ministers of Christ went to and fro in the country, preaching the word of eternal life; and there were added to the church daily such as should be saved; and the number of the saints and brethren daily increased; and the law that is in force in this nation, doth allow all who profess faith in Jesus Christ, to have free liberty to walk in the faith, which is according to Scripture.’ To this the judge said, ‘Thou hast an eloquent tongue, and thou art proud of it.’ ‘Pride I deny,’ replied Dewsbury, ‘but the Truth I witness, which will judge pride, and torment all that live in it, until it be destroyed.’ The judge then spoke to the other prisoners; and though he behaved himself moderately, yet he could not resolve to set them at liberty; but they were continued in prison, though they had been kept there above twenty-nine weeks.

One of these prisoners was John Huchin, whom they had nothing else to charge with, but that being come into the steeple-house at Wellingborough, he stood there peaceably in silence, but before half the sermon was over, priest Andrews commanded to have him taken away; which was done by the church-warden, Henry Hensnan, who carried him to an alehouse, where it was told him by the constable, that if he would not come into the church in the afternoon he should be set free. But he refusing to make such a promise, though they let him alone then, yet some days after, a constable came to his master’s shop, where he was working, and took him away without showing any warrant.

Another of the prisoners was Michael Pattison, who having been in the same steeple-house, and stood peaceably in silence until priest Andrews had done, and the people were going away, said to him, ‘Friend, canst thou witness this to be the word of the Lord, that thou hast spoken here before the people?’ But this so offended the priest, that he commanded the officers to take Michael away, which the constable, John Brown, did.

Thomas Goodyar, who was also one of the prisoners, being come to Northampton, to visit his friends in prison there, it was denied him by the jailer; and he meeting the mayor and some aldermen in the streets, spoke to them about persecution; but one of the aldermen struck off his hat, and said he would teach him better manners, than to stand and talk before the mayor with his hat on. Then they required sureties for his good behaviour; and he told them, that he was bound to good behaviour by the righteous law of God; and refusing to find sureties, he was taken up in the street, and sent to prison without mittimus, or further examination. But I will not detain my reader any longer with these prisoners; for if I should relate all occurrences of this nature that are come to my knowledge, and under what unreasonable pretences, even such that were as yet not fully entered into the communion of those called Quakers, were committed to prison, I must write much more than I might be able to do, though my life should yet be lengthened considerably.

I find among my papers of this time, the names of about an hundred persons, who, for not paying tithes to the priests, and refusing to swear, suffered either by seizure of their cattle and goods, or imprisonment. Thomas Aldam, for not paying of tithes to the priest Thomas Rookby, of Warnsworth, was imprisoned at York in the year 1652, where he was kept above two years and a half, and besides had thirteen beeves and two horses taken from him.

But passing by a multitude of the like cases, I return again to G. Fox, whom I left at London. He, having had there several large meetings, went from thence to Colchester, where, with difficulty he visited James Parnel in prison. From Colchester he went to Ipswich, and so on to Norwich and Yarmouth, finding service every where.

Travelling further, in company with R. Hubberthorn, towards Lynn, and by the way being in bed at an inn, a constable and officers came thither, being sent with an hue and cry from a justice of peace, to search for two horsemen that rid upon grey horses and in grey clothes; a house being broken up at night, as was reported. Now though they said they were honest and innocent men, yet a guard with halberds and pikes was set upon them that night, and in the morning they were carried before a justice of peace about five miles off. The justice grew angry because they did not put off their hats to him: but G. Fox told him, he had been before the protector, and he was not offended at his hat; why then should he be offended at it, who was but one of his servants? The justice, having examined them, said, he believed they were not the men that had broken open the house; but he was sorry that he had no more against them. But G. Fox told him, he ought not to be sorry for not having evil against them; but rather to be glad. The justice, though stirred up by the constable to send them to prison, yet let them go. G. Fox being thus set at liberty, travelled on to Lynn, from whence he went to Sutton, where he had a great meeting, many people from other places being come thither, and also the mayor’s wife of Cambridge; and many hundreds were convinced of the truth he preached. From thence he passed to Cambridge, and though the scholars were exceeding rude, yet he got safe into an inn. In the dark of the evening, the mayor of the town came, and fetched him to his house, whither some friendly people were sent for, and he had a meeting there. Next morning he departed the town and returned to London, where he staid some time.

In this year came out the oath of abjuration against King Charles, whereupon he wrote to the protector, acquainting him, that many of his friends, who could not swear for conscience sake, suffered much on this account.

From London he went to Leicestershire, and coming to Whetstone, where formerly he had been taken by colonel Hacker, he now had a great meeting, to which Hacker’s wife, and his marshal came, and they, besides many more, were convinced of G. Fox’s ministry: who going from thence after having passed through many places, came again to London, where meeting James Nayler, and casting his eyes upon him, he was struck with a fear concerning him; being, as it were, under a sense of some great disaster that was like to befal him.

In this year Edward Burrough writ a letter to the protector, wherein he told him, that the Lord’s controversy was against him, because he had not been faithful in God’s work; but that he had taken his rest and ease upon a lofty mountain of pride and vain glory; having set up himself to be worshipped, and exalting his own horn, without giving glory and honour to God. Moreover, that he had not performed his vows made to the Lord in the day of distress; and that now he suffered grievous oppression, cruelty, and tyranny to be acted in his name, by unjust imprisonments, and persecution of the Lord’s people. That therefore the Lord would bring his judgments upon him, except he did repent. How boldly soever Burrough wrote in this letter to Cromwell, yet I do not find that he showed himself angry because of it; but yet he hearkened too much to the flatteries of those teachers, who, being now entered into the possession of the Episcopalians, exalted him as their idol, by their applause. And he revering them as such who could strengthen his authority with the people, winked at the grievous persecution, by their instigation carried on against the Quakers, so called.

In the meanwhile there were many malcontents, who could not bear that Cromwell should force the members of parliament to consent to make no change in the government then established, and would not suffer any one to sit in the house, without having promised by writing, not to oppose, or give his consent there, to the change of the said government. This gave occasion, that even some of those who had been his eminent friends, now did not stick to reprove him sharply.

Among these was lieutenant-colonel John Lilburn, who being an extraordinary bold man, very stiff and inflexible, had more than once showed himself a public asserter of the people’s liberties and freedoms; for which he had been prosecuted at law; viz. once in the year 1645, when he was imprisoned as guilty of treason, but was discharged; and afterwards, in the year 1649, when, having published several books, to expose to the public the arbitrary power he thought was exercised in the government, he was confined in the tower: and, after having been prisoner about seven months, was impeached of high treason. But he so vigorously defended his cause, that though strong persuasions had been used to move the jury to bring him in guilty, yet he so far prevailed, that at length he was set at liberty again: though I find that once he was whipt for a crime laid to his charge, of which he gloried publicly. And when Cromwell had usurped the supreme power, Lilburn made bold to charge him, both by word of mouth, and by writing, with falseness and tyranny; and he went on at that rate, that Cromwell, foreseeing that if this man continued thus to expose his doings, he should not be able to maintain his credit and authority, ordered him to be taken into custody, and impeached of high treason. When Lilburn, thus accused, appeared at the bar, he behaved himself with that undauntedness, and so defended his cause, that he seemed less to plead for his life, than for the freedom of his country; and, boldly answering what was objected to him, said that what he had done was not only no high treason; but the government was such, that no high treason could be committed against it; and that therefore all true Englishmen were obliged to oppose the tyranny that was exercised. He also said that having been once in favour with Cromwell, he might have attained to great preferment, if he would have been quiet; but that he having thought this unlawful, it was now resolved to have his life taken away; which he did not fear, because he asserted a good cause. Thus vigorously Lilburn pleaded, and he defended his cause with such strong arguments, that the jury brought him in not guilty, notwithstanding the endeavours of the judges to the contrary.

Now, though according to law, he must have been set at liberty, yet Cromwell would not consent to it, but kept him prisoner: and because he indeed feared him, as one that would weaken his government, he ordered him to be carried from one prison to another; till at length he came to be confined in the castle of Dover, in which town lived Luke Howard, mentioned before; who thereby having occasion to speak with Lilburn concerning religion, gave him such convincing reasons for his professions, as prevailed upon Lilburn to receive the Truth; as he himself signified in a letter he writ to his wife; who having visited him in prison, afterwards writ to him this following exhortation.

These words were so acceptable to Lilburn, that repeating them in his letter to her, he answered thus, after many other passages.

Whilst Lilburn was prisoner here, Cromwell, as it seemed, would have released him, if he would have signed a declaration that he would never draw a sword against his government. But Lilburn as yet not being fully convinced, that to refrain from the use of the carnal sword, was the duty of a true Christian, refused; thinking that though G. Fox had signed such a declaration, yet this did not become him, because he did not perfectly approve that point of self-denial. But however, continuing in faithfulness, to persevere in respect of that knowledge he had already attained to, he became, in process of time, such an asserter of the true Christian life, that in a paper, which at his desire was given out in print, he expressed himself thus:

It sufficiently appears by this, that Lilburn did not think that this declaration would procure his liberty; and he guessed not wrong; for before he was released, Cromwell died. Lilburn being then discharged from his confinement, continued steadfast to the doctrine of the Truth he had embraced, and died at London in the year 1660. But being advanced in the time, I go therefore back a little, and intend in the sequel to give a more circumstantial description of Cromwell’s death.

And thus I conclude this book with the year 1655, in which year there was a plot of the royalists against Cromwell; and in Nottinghamshire they had already surprised some places; and towards the West the city of Salisbury. The young king, (Charles,) was now come from Cologne into Zealand, to be the nearer if the attempt succeeded. But his time of ruling was not yet come; for the cavaliers were soon forced to give way to the power of Cromwell: and the design being thus squashed, king Charles returned to Cologne. In the meanwhile, Cromwell, to raise his esteem abroad, sent a fleet, under admiral Penn, to the West Indies, and another, under the command of admiral Blake, towards the Mediterranean sea.