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

1666.

I return now to the ship with the banished prisoners, which I left lying in the Thames; but the owners having put in another master, whose name was Peter Love, the ship, after long lingering, left the river, and came into the Downs. In the month called January of the year ensuing, Luke Howard wrote from Dover, that of fifty-four banished persons, who almost half a year ago had been brought on ship-board, but twenty-seven remained, the rest being dead. By this long stay the ship several times wanted a fresh supply of provision, and the ship’s crew grew so uneasy, that two of them having gone ashore with the boat, ran away, leaving the boat floating, by which it was staved to pieces. At length the master, though he had but few, and those mostly raw sailors, and was ill provided with victuals, yet resolved to set sail. And so they weighed anchor, and went down the channel as far as Plymouth, where after some stay, they set sail again, which was on the 23d of the month called February, but the next day being advanced as far as the Land’s End, a Dutch privateer came and took the ship; and to avoid being retaken, went about the backside of Ireland and Scotland, and so after three weeks came with some of the banished to Horn, in North Holland, and some days after the prize, with the rest of them, entered also into that port. Here they were kept some time in prison, but the commissioners of the admiralty having understood, that there was no likelihood to get the banished Quakers exchanged for Dutch prisoners of war in England, resolved to set them at liberty, and gave them a letter of passport, and a certificate, that they had not made an escape, but were sent back by them. They coming to Amsterdam, were by their friends there provided with lodging and clothes; for their own had been taken from them by the privateer’s crew; and in process of time they all returned to England, except one, who not being an Englishman, staid in Holland. Thus the banished were delivered, and the design of their persecutors was brought to nought by an Almighty hand.

In the meanwhile G. Fox continued prisoner in Scarborough Castle, where the access of his friends was denied him, though people of other persuasions were admitted. Once came to him one doctor Cradock with three priests, accompanied with the governor and his wife, and many besides. Cradock asked him, what he was in prison for? He answered, for obeying the command of Christ and his apostle in not swearing: but, if he, being both a doctor and a justice of peace, could convince him, that after Christ and the apostle had forbidden swearing, they commanded Christians to swear, then he would swear. ‘Here’s a bible,’ continued he, ‘show me any such command if thou canst.’ To this Cradock said, ‘It is written, ye shall swear in truth and righteousness.’ ‘Aye,’ said G. Fox, ‘it was written so in Jeremiah’s time, but that was many ages before Christ commanded not to swear at all: but where is it written so since Christ forbade all swearing? I could bring as many instances out of the Old Testament for swearing as thou, and it may be more too, but of what force are they to prove swearing lawful in the New Testament, since Christ and the apostles forbade it? Besides, where it is written, “Ye shall swear,” was this said to the Gentiles or to the Jews?’ To this Cradock would not answer; but one of the priests said, it was to the Jews. ‘Very well,’ said G. Fox, ‘but where did God ever give a command to the Gentiles to swear? For thou knowest that we are Gentiles by nature.’ ‘Indeed,’ said Cradock, ‘in the gospel-time every thing was to be established out of the mouths of two or three witnesses, and there was to be no swearing then.’ ‘Why then,’ returned G. Fox, ‘dost thou force oaths upon Christians, contrary to thine own knowledge in the gospel-times? And why dost thou excommunicate my friends?’ Cradock answered, ‘For not coming to church.’ ‘Why,’ said G. Fox, ‘ye left us above twenty years ago, when we were but young, to the Presbyterians, Independents, and Baptists, many of whom made spoil of our goods, and persecuted us because we would not follow them: now we being but young, knew little then of your principles, and those that knew them should not have fled from us, but ye should have sent us your epistles or homilies; for Paul wrote epistles to the saints, though he was in prison: but we might have turned Turks or Jews for ought we had from you for instruction. And now ye have excommunicated us, that is, ye have put us out of your church, before ye have got us into it, and before ye have brought us to know your principles. Is not this madness in you to put us out, before we were brought in? But what dost thou call the church?’ continued he, ‘That which you,’ replied Cradock, ‘call the steeple-house.’ Then G. Fox asked him, whether Christ’s blood was shed for the steeple-house, and whether he purified and sanctified it with his blood; ‘And seeing,’ thus continued he, ‘the church is Christ’s bride and wife, and that he is the head of the church, dost thou think the steeple-house is Christ’s wife and bride; and that he is the head of that old house, or of his people?’ ‘No,’ said Cradock, ‘Christ is the head of the people, and they are the church.’ ‘But,’ replied G. Fox, ‘ye have given that title to an old house, which belongs to the people, and ye have taught people to believe so.’ He asked him also why he persecuted his friends for not paying tithes; and whether God did ever give a command to the Gentiles, that they should pay tithes; and whether Christ had not ended tithes, when he ended the Levitical priesthood that took tithes; and whether Christ when he had sent forth his disciples to preach, had not commanded them to preach freely, as he had given them freely; and whether all the ministers of Christ were not bound to observe this command of Christ. Cradock said, he would not dispute that: and being unwilling to stay on this subject, he turned to another matter; but finding G. Fox never to be at a loss for answer, and that he could get no advantage on him, he at length went away with his company.

With such kind of people G. Fox was often troubled whilst he was prisoner there; for most that came to the castle would speak with him, and many disputes he had with them. But as to his friends, he was as a man buried alive, for very few of them were suffered to come to him. Josiah Coale once desiring admittance, the governor told him, ‘You are an understanding man, but G. Fox is a mere fool.’ Now, though the governor dealt hardly with him, yet in time he altered, for having sent out a privateer to sea, they took some ships that were not their enemies, which brought him in some trouble; after that he grew somewhat more friendly to G. Fox: to whom the deputy-governor said once, that the king knowing that he had a great interest in the people, had sent him thither, that if there should be any stirring in the nation, they should hang him over the wall. And among the Papists, who were numerous in those parts, there was much talk then of hanging G. Fox. But he told them, if that was it they desired, and it was permitted them, he was ready, for he never feared death nor sufferings in his life; but was known to be an innocent peaceable man, free from all stirrings, and plottings, and one that sought the good of all men. But the governor now growing kinder, G. Fox spoke to him when he was to go to the parliament at London, and desired him to speak with esq. Marsh, sir Francis Cob, and some others, and to tell them, how long he had lain in prison, and for what. This the governor did, and at his coming back told him, that esq. Marsh said, he knew G. Fox so well, that he would go an hundred miles barefoot for his liberty; and that several others at court had spoken well of him.

After he had been prisoner in the castle there above a year, he sent a letter to the king, in which he gave an account of his imprisonment, and the bad usage he had met with, and also that he was informed, that no man could deliver him but the king. Esq. Marsh, who was a gentleman of the king’s bed-chamber, did whatever he could to procure his liberty, and at length obtained an order from the king for his release; the substance of which order was, ‘That the king being certainly informed that G. Fox was a man principled against plotting and fighting, and had been ready at all times to discover plots, rather than to make any, &c. that therefore his royal pleasure was, that he should be discharged from his imprisonment, &c.’ This order being obtained, was not long after brought to Scarborough, and delivered to the governor, who upon the receipt thereof, discharged him, and gave him the following passport:

G. Fox being thus released, would have given the governor something for the civility and kindness he had of late showed him; but he would not receive any thing; and said, whatever good he could do for him and his friends, he would do it, and never do them any hurt: and so he continued loving to his dying day; nay, if at any time the mayor of the town sent to him for soldiers, to disperse the meetings of those called Quakers, if he sent any, he privately charged them, not to meddle with the meeting.

The very next day after G. Fox was released, the fire broke out at London, and the report of it came quickly down into the country, how that city was turned into rubbish and ashes, insomuch that after an incessant fire which lasted near four days, but little of old London was left standing, there being about thirteen thousand and two hundred houses burnt; the account whereof hath been so circumstantially described by others, that I need not treat of it at large; but I cannot omit to say, that Thomas Briggs, some years before passing through the streets of London, preached repentance to the inhabitants; and coming through Cheapside, he cried out, that unless London repented, as Nineveh did, God would destroy it.

Now I may relate another remarkable prediction.

Thomas Ibbitt, of Huntingdonshire, came to London a few days before the burning of that city, and, as hath been related by eye witnesses, did upon his coming thither, alight from his horse, and unbutton his clothes in so loose a manner, as if they had been put on in haste just out of bed. In this manner he went about the city on the sixth, being the day he came thither, and also on the seventh day of the week, pronouncing a judgment by fire which should lay waste the city. On the evening of these days some of his friends had meetings with him, to inquire concerning his message and call, to pronounce that impending judgment: in his account whereof he was not more particular and clear, than that he said he for sometime had the vision thereof, but had delayed to come and declare it as commanded, until he felt, as he expressed it, the fire in his own bosom: which message or vision was very suddenly proved to be sadly true, as the foregoing brief account doth in part declare. The fire began on the 2d of September, 1666, on the first day of the week, which did immediately follow those two days the said Thomas Ibbitt had gone about the city declaring that judgment.

Having gone up and down the city, as hath been said, when afterwards he saw the fire break out, and beheld the fulfilling of his prediction, a spiritual pride seized on him, which, if others had not been wiser than he, might have tended to his utter destruction: for the fire being come as far as the east end of Cheapside, he placed himself before the flame, and spread his arms forth, as if to stay the progress of it; and if one Thomas Matthews, with others, had not pulled him, (who seemed now altogether distracted,) from thence, it was like he might have perished by the fire. Yet in process of time, as I have been told, he came to some recovery, and confessed this error: an evident proof of human weakness, and a notorious instance of our frailty, when we assume to ourselves the doing of any thing, which heaven alone can enable us.

I cannot well pass by without taking notice of it, that about three weeks before the said fire, the English landed in the island of Schelling in Holland, under the conduct of captain Holmes, and setting the town on fire, there were above three hundred houses burnt down, belonging mostly to Baptists that did not hear arms. It may be further observed, that the English were beaten at sea this summer by the Dutch, under the conduct of admiral De Ruyter, in a fight, which lasted four days; so that they had occasion to call to mind how often the judgments of God had been foretold them, which now came over their country, viz. pestilence, war, and fire.

G. Fox being at liberty, did not omit to visit his friends, and in their meetings to edify them with his exhortations, whereby others also sometimes came to be convinced. And coming to Whitby, he went to a priest’s house, who fourteen years before had said, that if ever he met G. Fox again he would have his life, or he should have his. But now his wife was not only become one of G. Fox’s friends, but this priest himself favoured the doctrine professed by his wife, and was very kind to G. Fox, who passed from thence to York, where he had a large meeting, and visited also justice Robinson, who had been loving to him from the beginning. At this time there was a priest with him, who told G. Fox, ‘It is said of you that ye love none but yourselves.’ But he showed him his mistake, and gave him so much satisfaction, that they parted friendly.

In this county G. Fox had many meetings, and one not far from colonel Kirby’s abode, who had been the chief means of his imprisonment at Lancaster and Scarborough castles: and when he heard of his release, said, he would have him taken again: but now when G. Fox came so near him, he himself was caught by the gout, which had seized him so that he was fain to keep his bed; and afterwards he met with adversities, as did most of the justices and others who had been the cause of the imprisonment of G. Fox, who now coming to Sinderhill Green, had a large meeting there, where the priest sent the constable to the justices for a warrant; but the notice being short, the way long, and having spent time in searching for G. Fox in another house, before the officers came where the meeting was, it was ended, though they had almost spoiled their horses by hard riding.

G. Fox passing from thence through Nottinghamshire, Bedfordshire, Buckinghamshire, and Oxfordshire, and visiting his friends in all places where he came, and edifying them in their meetings, gets at length to London: but he was so weak, by lying almost three years in hard and cold imprisonments, and his joints and body were so stiff and benumbed, that he could hardly get on horseback.

Being now at London, he beheld the ruins of the city, and saw the fulfilling of what had been shown him some years before. Notwithstanding this stroke on London, persecution did not cease, which gave occasion to Josiah Coale to write these lines to the king:

About this time, or it may be in the next month, Stephen Crisp published an epistle, containing an exhortation to his friends, and also a prediction concerning succeeding times, which is as followeth:

1667.

In the year 1667 a book came forth in print at London, with this title, Persecution appearing with its open face in William Armorer. This was written by some of the prisoners called Quakers, and contained a relation of the impetuous carriage of the said Armorer, who being a knight and justice of peace, had made it his business many years, one after another, to persecute the Quakers, and from time to time to disturb their religious meetings. From a multitude of cases I meet with in the said book, I will pick out but a few. The aforesaid Armorer came very often to the house of Thomas Curtis, at Reading, to disturb the meeting, taking many persons prisoners from thence, particularly once thirty-four, both men and women, at a time. And when they were brought to their trial, the oath was tendered them as the most ready means to ensnare and to keep them in prison. Among the prisoners taken out of the meeting was one Henry Pizing, who coming to the bar with his hat in his hand, judge Thomas Holt said, here is a man that hath some manners, and asked him, if he would take the oath of allegiance? to which Pizing answered, he had taken it twice already. But said the judge, ‘You were no Quaker then.’ To which the said Henry replied, ‘Neither am I now, but have been many weeks among them, and I never met with any hurt by them, but found them to be an honest and civil people.’ Upon which William Armorer, who had taken him prisoner, said, ‘Why did you not tell me so before?’ to which Henry returned, your worship was so wrathful, that you would not hear me. Then the judge said, ‘He must take the oath again.’ The oath being read, he took it, upon which they let him go free without paying any fees. But they required of him, to go out at a back door, and to come no more among the Quakers. But Pizing told them, he hoped now he was freed, he might go out at which door he would.

Thomas Curtis afterwards being called, the judge asked him, if he would take the oath of allegiance? to which he answered, that he did not refuse the oath upon the account of not bearing allegiance to the king, but because Christ had commanded not to swear at all: for he was persuaded that he had manifested himself to be as good a subject to the king as most in the county, since he came into it, and that if he could take any oath, either to save his estate or life, he professed he would begin with that oath. Then he desired, that the court would be pleased to let some of their ministers show him by the Scriptures, how he might take it, and not break the command of Christ. And the judge called to one Worrel, a priest, that was near him, and desired him to satisfy Curtis in that particular. But the priest putting off his hat, and bowing to the court, desired to be excused, saying, he had had to do with some of them already, but they were an obstinate people and would not be satisfied. ‘Aye,’ said Curtis, ‘this is commonly the answer we have from these men, when they are desired to answer us a question according to the Scripture; for when we make it appear that they give no satisfactory answer to the question, they use to say, we are obstinate.’ Curtis, (whose wife Anne was a daughter of a sheriff of Bristol, that had been hanged near his own door, for endeavouring to bring in the king,) was released after some small time; but quickly taken prisoner again by Armorer, who perceiving that he intended to have gone to Bristol fair, caused him to be brought to an inn, where he told him, ‘You are going to Bristol fair, but I will stop your journey.’ And then commanding the constable to carry him to prison, he was compelled thither without a mittimus.

About this time Curtis’s imprisoned friends wrote a paper, and it is like he had a hand in it, to show the hurt and mischief proceeding from swearing. This paper being sent by him to one of the magistrates, and leave being given him to read it in the council chamber, at the reading of these words, ‘Because of swearing the land mourns,’ Alderman Johnson said that was very true.

Sometime after it happened that T. Curtis, his wife and man-servant being all prisoners, Armorer sent his man to inquire if there were any in the house more than the family, to which the maid having answered no, a little after Armorer came himself, and knocked at the door; but the maid being in fear, did not open it. Armorer then pulling an instrument out of his pocket, picked the lock, entered the house, and searching from room to room, came at length where he found one Joseph Coale, who dwelt in the house, and was not well at that time; and Armorer taking him by the arm, and pulling him down stairs, said to him, ‘Will you take the oath of allegiance?’ Which he refusing, was sent to the house of correction, whither the day before seven women, taken from a meeting, had also been brought. This bold act of picking the lock he did at other times also, and once when the maid was gone out to carry some victuals to her master and mistress in prison. In the meanwhile he searched the warehouse, where was much cloth; and to a woman that was there, and spoke against his picking of the locks, he said, ‘What have you to do with it?’ And ‘Where’s that whore?’ meaning the maid servant. The woman answered him, she had to do with it; for she was to see that nobody did steal any thing out of the house. Besides, Armorer continually made it his business to disturb the meeting which commonly was twice a week; and then he used to curse, and to strike those he found there with a great cane, always sending some to prison. Having once caused three women to be brought before him from the house of correction, he would have them pay a fine for having been at a meeting; to which one Anne Harrison said, ‘Thou hast got our house already that we built, and hast taken away our means; and wouldst thou have me pay more money when I have broken no law? We were but four above the age of sixteen years, and the act says, it must be above four.’ To which Armorer said, his man told him there were six: and two of them ran away. ‘It is false,’ said Anne, ‘there was Frances Kent, but she being a midwife, was fetched out of town; and as for the sixth, she was not there.’ But Armorer not regarding whatever Anne said, spoke in a rude manner, ‘I shall have Mrs. Kent, and then let the best lady in the land want her, she shall not go, except the king or court send for her.’

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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