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

1670.

G. Fox stayed not long in London; but the year 1670 being now come, he travelled through Hertfordshire, Cambridgeshire, Huntingdonshire, and Leicestershire, where he expected to have met with his wife; for he had wrote her word, if she found it convenient, to meet him there; but instead thereof he understood she was hauled out of her house and carried to Lancaster prison, upon the old premunire, which was executed upon her five years before, from which she was discharged by order of the king and council the last year. Wherefore, after he had visited friends in those counties, he returned to London, where he found two of his wife’s daughters, whom he hastened to go to the king, to acquaint him how their mother was dealt with, which they did, but met with much difficulty; yet they diligently attended the same, as it behoved them for their mother, who was a mother or overseer of the church also, and therefore of the greater concern; but at last through assiduous application, they got to the speech of the king, to whom one of them said, that instead of their waiting upon him to return him thanks for the discharge of their mother, they were now necessitated to make complaint of their mother’s being cast into prison a second time! Whereupon the king gave command to sir John Otway, to write to the sheriff of Lancashire, to set her at liberty, which letter G. F. accordingly hastened his daughters with into the country.

The parliament now sitting, made a law, entitled, An Act to prevent and suppress seditious conventicles, which is as follows:

By this very law many an honest family was impoverished; for the Quakers did not leave off meeting together publicly, but the most sincere amongst them were the more zealous, and they were the more winnowed from the chaff, which in time of ease gets in amongst religious professors; and none need wonder at it, since the Quakers having gained the repute of an upright-hearted people, some, for by-ends, might creep in amongst them.

At London, as well as at other places, many were spoiled of their goods very unmercifully, and many times people of good substance brought to mere poverty, seeing not only the shop goods of some, but also their household goods have been seized, insomuch that the very sick have had their beds taken from under them, and they themselves laid upon the floor; nay, they have been so cruel, as to leave them nothing; insomuch that when the child’s pap hath stood in a pannikin, they have thrown out the pap to take the pannikin away.

Should I sum up all the particulars I have received, and the account I could give, it would make a volume of itself; for the informers were generally poor, and sometimes also the justices, so that they knew how to part their booty belonging to the king, as well as to the poor; and thus the king and the poor got but little of their plunder. Nevertheless it so happened sometimes, that those who were finable, were freed by the justices; for they knew very well, that these informers, who were also witnesses, were cunning sharkers, who were also concerned to get their thirds of the booty, and therefore found out a way by which they showed that they were knavish and unjust in their office, therefore not fit to give evidence; so that it hath sometimes fallen out, that an honest justice hath cleared those informed against, when the informer missed in his evidence, either in the day of the month, or the like, in the complaint.

At London there once appeared before the lord mayor, sitting at a court of aldermen, an impudent informer having such a quantity of informations for fines as would have wronged the parties to the value of 1500l. but the mayor abominating such a practice, adjourned the court, and went away. But this hardy informer was not content to let the matter fall thus, but appeared before the court from time to time, to make a booty of honest people’s goods; but they still put him off, until at last he was himself arrested for debt, and carried to prison, where he ended his days.

Although now the law against seditious conventicles had passed, upon a supposition that the Presbyterians were ready to rise, considering the bustle and tumult occasioned by John Fox in Gloucestershire, which was much taken notice of, as I have mentioned before, yet nevertheless the Quakers’ meetings became the chief object in the execution of this law. Whereupon G. Fox being in London, set forth in print the injustice of this law, in order, if possible, to moderate the government not to put the same in execution. Nevertheless, being also sensible that a great storm hung over the heads of friends, he also wrote an epistle to them, to exhort them to faithfulness, and to encourage them to stand fast in their testimony, and hear with Christian patience the suffering that was come upon them. Now the First-day that this law took place, he went to the meeting of friends at Gracechurch-street in London; but being come to the place, he found the street full of people, and a guard to keep them out of their meeting-house; whereupon he went to Lombard street, (out of which there was also a passage to the meeting-house,) and there he also found a guard; but there being a court before the door, which was full of people, one of the Quaker ministers was there preaching to the people, and when he had ended, G. Fox stood up and said, “Saul, Saul, why persecutest thou me; it is hard for thee to kick against the pricks.” Which words he thus explained: that it was Saul’s nature that persecuted; and that they persecuting Christ in his members, were kicking against the pricks; and that it was the birth of the flesh that persecuted the birth of the Spirit; and that it was the nature of dogs to tear and devour the sheep, but that they suffered like sheep, who did not bite again; but were a peaceable people, who loved even their persecutors. While G. Fox was thus preaching, there came a constable and an informer, with soldiers, who pulled him down from the place he stood on. Then, said he, “Blessed are the peace-makers,” but the commander of the soldiers ordered them to secure him: ‘For,’ said he, ‘you are the man I looked for.’ Wherefore he with two more of his friends, John Burnet and another, were had before the lord mayor; and as they were going, the informer said, ‘It will never be a good world, until all people come to the good old religion that was two hundred years ago.’ G. Fox hearing this, said, ‘Art thou a Papist? What! a Papist informer? For two hundred years ago there was no other public profession of religion but that of the Papists in this nation.’ It vexed the informer that G. Fox heard him speak thus; for he now saw he was ensnared in his own talk. When he came into the court before the lord mayor’s house, some people who were there asked G. Fox, why he was brought thither prisoner? ‘Pray,’ said he, ‘ask that informer, and ask him his name;’ but he would not tell his name. Then one of the mayor’s officers looking out at a window, told him, he should tell his name before he went away: ‘For,’ said he, ‘the lord mayor will know by what authority you have intruded yourself with soldiers in the execution of those laws which it belongs to the civil magistrate to execute, and not the military.’ The informer understanding this, got away, but not without some difficulty, because they would not then let him out of the court; but he forcibly pulling open the door, and being got into the street, the people gave a great shout, crying out, ‘a Papist informer! a Papist informer!’ and he would have come off but badly, had not G. Fox advised the constable and soldiers to keep him out of the hands of the common people. Whereupon he went into the house and changed his perriwig, and so got away.

When the lord mayor came home, and G. Fox was brought before him, he said, ‘Mr. Fox, you are an eminent man among those of your own profession, pray will you be instrumental to persuade them from meeting in such great numbers: for,’ said he, ‘seeing Christ hath promised, where two or three are met in his name, he will be in the midst of them; and the king and parliament are graciously pleased to allow of four to meet together to worship God, why will not you be content to partake both of Christ’s promise to two or three, and the king’s indulgence to four?’ To which G. Fox answered, that Christ’s promise was not to discourage many from meeting together in his name; but to encourage the few, that the fewest might not forbear to meet, because of their fewness. But if Christ hath promised to manifest his presence in the midst of so small an assembly, where but two or three were gathered in his name; how much more would his presence abound where two or three hundred are gathered in his name. G. F. wished him to consider, whether this act would not have taken hold of Christ, with his twelve apostles and seventy disciples, (if it had been in their time,) who used to meet often together; and that with great numbers? However, he told him, this act did not concern us; for it was made against seditious meetings, of such as met under pretence and colour of religion, to contrive insurrections, as, the act says, late experience had shown; but we had been sufficiently tried and proved, and always found peaceable: and therefore he should do well to put a difference between the innocent and the guilty. He said the act was made against meetings, and a worship not according to the liturgy. G. F. told him, [according to,] was not the very same thing; and asked him, whether the liturgy was according to the Scriptures? And whether we might not read Scriptures, and speak Scriptures? he said Yes. And told him, that this act took hold only of such as meet to plot and contrive insurrections, as late experience had shown; but they had never experienced that by us. Because thieves are sometimes on the road, must not honest men travel therefore? And because plotters and contrivers have met to do mischief, must not an honest, peaceable people, meet to do good? If we had been a people that did meet to plot and contrive insurrections, &c. we might have drawn ourselves into fours; for four might do more mischief in plotting, than if there were four hundred; because four might speak out their minds more freely one to another, than four hundred could: therefore we being innocent, and not the people this act concerns, we keep our meetings as we used to do; and said, he believed that he knew in his conscience we were innocent.

After this and more discourse, the lord mayor, whose name was Samuel Starling, let them go, seeing the informer was gone before, and now nobody accused them. The treatment this informer met with, made others scrupulous, yet several of their meetings in London were disturbed, and some of their preachers cast into prison; but though the Baptists and other dissenters ceased their public meetings, yet the Quakers continued to keep theirs, as they used to do, whereby it happened that some of their meeting-houses were pulled down, and amongst others that at Ratcliffe, which was a substantial building, almost new.

After some time, the heat of persecution in the city began to abate, but in other places it raged more fiercely; this engaged G. Fox to leave the city, and travel about the country in divers places to visit his friends.

This year G. Fox, had a very great fit of sickness, to such a degree, that he became both blind and deaf, insomuch that his recovery was despaired of by some; but after a time he grew better.

In the meanwhile persecution in many places grew very dismal; for many of the friends were beaten with swords, and pikes, and muskets, to that degree, that their blood ran along the ground, and the informers were so very eager to hunt after their prey, that they informed of meetings when there was none. Amongst others, this following was an instance. A Droitwitch, John Cartwright came to a friend’s house there, who sitting down to supper, he prayed before they ate, which being heard by an informer, the room being next to the street, he thereupon went immediately and informed that there was a meeting in the house, and so got a warrant to distrain the goods; and when he came riding with them in the evening, he fell from his horse, and brake his neck, thereby getting his death instead of his prey, which he hunted after.

Now, although persecution was not so hot in London, as in other places in the country, yet sometimes even there it was very severe, as may be seen by the instance of William Penn, and William Mead, who were taken from a meeting and imprisoned, and tried for the same in the month of September.

The indictment contained, ‘That William Penn, and William Mead, with divers other persons, to the number of three hundred, at Gracechurch-street, in London, on the 15th of August, with force and arms, had tumultuously assembled together, and that William Penn, by agreement between him and William Mead, had preached there in the public street, whereby was caused a great concourse and tumult of the people,’ &c. That there was a public meeting in the street, proceeded from necessity; because a guard was placed in the passage to hinder friends from going into their meeting-house; but it was a great untruth that they met with force and arms, which were never used by the Quakers. This indictment being read before the court, the prisoners were demanded, according to custom, whether they were guilty, or not guilty? Whereupon W. Penn said, ‘It is impossible that we should be able to remember the indictment verbatim, and therefore we desire a copy of it, as is customary on the like occasions.’ The recorder, John Howel said hereupon, ‘You must first plead to the indictment before you can have a copy of it.’ Then W. Penn said, that he first desired that no advantage might be taken against him, nor he deprived of any benefit, which he might otherwise receive, and that the court would promise him a fair hearing, and liberty of making his defence. Upon which the court said, that no advantage should be taken against him, and that he should have liberty, and should be heard. W. Penn then said, he pleaded not guilty in manner and form. Then W. Mead was demanded, whether he was guilty, or not guilty, and he answered the same as W. Penn. The court then proceeded with the business of trying thieves and murderers, making the prisoners stay waiting five hours, and then returned them to prison; and after two days brought them again before the court. And the officers of the court having taken off the prisoners’ hats, the lord mayor, Samuel Starling, showed himself displeased with it, and ordered the officers to put on their hats again, which being done, the recorder John Howel, who upon all occasions showed his fierceness, accused him, that they showed no respect to the court, and condemned them for it, in a fine of forty marks each, because they had not taken off their hats. Thereupon W. Penn said, that he desired it might be observed, that they came into court with their hats off, (that is, taken off,) and if they had been put on since, it is by order from the bench, and therefore not the prisoners, but the bench should be fined. The jury then being sworn, and the indictment read again, the witnesses were called, who declared that they saw W. Penn speaking to the people, who were assembled in a great number in Gracechurch-street, but they could not hear what he said.

The recorder then asked William Mead, whether he was there? Who answered, that ‘It is a maxim in your own law, nemo tenetur accusare seipsum, which if it be not true Latin, I am sure it is good English. That no man is bound to accuse himself; why then dost thou offer to ensnare me with such a question?’ Hereupon the recorder showed himself so displeased, that he said, ‘Sir, hold your tongue, I did not go about to ensnare you.’ Then William Penn said, ‘we confess ourselves to be so far from recanting, or declining to vindicate the assembling of ourselves, to preach, pray, or worship the Eternal, Holy, Just God, that we declare to all the world, that we do believe it to be our indispensable duty, to meet incessantly, upon so good an account; nor shall all the powers upon earth be able to divert us from reverencing and adoring our God who made us.’ The sheriff, Richard Brown, said. ‘You are not here for worshipping of God, but for breaking the law. You do yourselves a great deal of wrong in going on in that discourse.’ Hereupon W. Penn answered, ‘I affirm I have broken no law, nor am I guilty of the indictment that is laid to my charge: and to the end, the bench, the jury, and myself, with these that hear us, may have a more direct understanding of this procedure, I desire you would let me know by what law it is you prosecute me, and upon what law you ground my indictment?’ The recorder answered, ‘Upon the common law.’ ‘Where is,’ asked W. Penn, ‘that common law?’ ‘You must not think,’ said the recorder, ‘that I am able to run up so many years, and over so many adjudged cases, which we call common law, to answer your curiosity.’ ‘This answer,’ replied W. Penn, ‘I am sure is very short of my question, for if it be common, it should not be so hard to produce.’ The recorder replied, ‘Sir, will you plead to your indictment?’ ‘Shall I,’ answered W. Penn, ‘plead to an indictment that hath no foundation in law? If it contain that law ye say I have broken, why should you decline to produce that law, since it will be impossible for the jury to determine, or agree to bring in the verdict, who have not the law produced, by which they should measure the truth of this indictment, and the guilt or contrary of my fact.’ The recorder being angry, said, ‘You are a saucy fellow, speak to the indictment.’ W. Penn replied, ‘I say, it is my place to speak to matter of law; I am arraigned a prisoner, my liberty, which is next to life itself, is now concerned,’ &c.

At this time several upon the bench urged hard upon the prisoner to hear him down. W. Penn said, ‘You are many mouths and ears against me, and if I must not be allowed to make the best of my cause, it is hard; I say again, unless you show me and the people the law you ground your indictment upon, I shall take it for granted your proceedings are merely arbitrary.’ The recorder then replying, said, ‘The question is, whether you are guilty of this indictment.’ ‘The question,’ said W. Penn, ‘is not whether I am guilty of this indictment, but whether this indictment be legal: it is too general and imperfect an answer, to say it is the common law, unless we know both where, and what it is: for where there is no law, there is no transgression; and that law which is not in being, is so far from being common, that it is no law at all.’ The recorder snapped him hereupon, with, ‘You are an impertinent fellow, will you teach the court what law is? It is lex non scripta, that which many have studied thirty or forty years to know, and would you have me tell you in a moment.’ ‘Certainly,’ replied W. Penn, ‘if the common law be so hard to be understood, it is far from being very common; but if the lord Coke in his institutes, be of any consideration, he tells us, that common law is common right; and that common right is the great charter privileges confirmed, 9 Hen. 3. 29. 25 Edw. 1. 1. 2 Edw. 3. 8. Coke’s Institutes, 2. p. 56.’ The recorder taking no pleasure in that speech, said, ‘Sir, you are a troublesome fellow, and it is not for the honour of the court to suffer you to go on.’ ‘I have,’ replied W. Penn, ‘asked but one question, and you have not answered me; though the rights and privileges of every Englishman be concerned in it.’ ‘Well,’ said the recorder, ‘if I should suffer you to ask questions till to-morrow morning, you would be never the wiser.’ ‘That is,’ said W. Penn, ‘according as the answers are.’ ‘But,’ says the recorder, ‘we must not stand to hear you talk all night.’ Whereupon W. Penn replied, ‘I desire no affront to the court, but to be heard in my just plea; and I must plainly tell you, that if you deny me the oyer of that law, which you suggest I have broken, you do at once deny me an acknowledged right, and evidence to the whole world your resolution to sacrifice the privileges of Englishmen, to your sinister and arbitrary designs.’ This so enraged the recorder, that he called out to the officers, ‘Take him away.’ And to the lord mayor he said, ‘My lord, if you take not some course with this pestilent fellow, to stop his mouth, we shall not be able to do any thing to-night.’ Then the lord mayor cried, ‘Take him away; take him away; turn him into the bail-dock.’

W. Penn seeing how force and violence prevailed, said, ‘These are but so many vain exclamations; is this justice or true judgment? Must I therefore be taken away because I plead for the fundamental laws of England?’ Then addressing himself to the jury, he said, ‘However, this I leave upon your consciences who are of the jury, and my sole judges, that if these ancient fundamental laws which relate to liberty and property, and are not limited to particular persuasions in matters of religion, must not be indispensably maintained and observed, who can say he hath right to the coat upon his back? Certainly our liberties are openly to be invaded, our wives to be ravished, our children enslaved, our families ruined, and our estates led away in triumph, by every sturdy beggar and malicious informer, as their trophies, by our pretended forfeits for conscience-sake. The Lord of heaven and earth will be judge between us in this matter.’ The hearing of this emphatical speech was so troublesome to the recorder, that he cried, ‘Be silent there.’ At which W. Penn returned, ‘I am not to be silent in a cause wherein I am so much concerned, and not only myself, but many ten thousand families besides.’

He being now hauled into the bail-dock, it was W. Mead’s turn to plead, who spoke thus, ‘Ye men of the jury, I now stand here to answer to an indictment against me, which is a bundle of stuff full of lies and falsehoods: for therein I am accused, that I met vi & armis, illicite & tumultuose. Time was when I had freedom to use a carnal weapon, and then I thought I feared no man: but now I fear the living God, and dare not make use thereof, nor hurt any man, nor do I know I demeaned myself as a tumultuous person. I say, I am a peaceable man; therefore it was a very proper question that W. Penn demanded in this case, an oyer of the law, on which our indictment is grounded.’ To this the recorder said, ‘I have made an answer to that already.’ W. Mead then turning his face to the jury, said, ‘Ye men of the jury, who are my judges, if the recorder will not tell you what makes a riot, a rout, or unlawful assembly, Coke, he that once they called the lord Coke, tells us what makes a riot, a rout, or unlawful assembly. A riot is when three or more are met together to beat a man, or to enter forcibly into another man’s land, to cut down his grass, his wood, or break down his pales.’ The recorder interrupting him, and scornfully pulling off his hat, said, ‘I thank you, sir, that you will tell me what the law is:’ and Richard Brown, that inveterate enemy of the Quakers, said, ‘He talks at random, one while an Independent, another while of some other religion, and now a Quaker, and next a Papist.’ Mead, not being minded openly to affront this alderman, told him this well-known Latin verse.

Turpa est doctori cum culpa redarguit ipsum,

for Brown himself formerly had been an Independent, though now he belonged to the church of England, and was of the court party. But the lord mayor, who it seems was a great friend of Brown’s, said to Mead, ‘You deserve to have your tongue cut out.’ ‘And,’ added the recorder, ‘if you discourse on this manner, I shall take occasion against you.’ To which Mead returned, ‘Thou didst promise me I should have fair liberty to be heard. Why may I not have the privilege of an Englishman? and you might be ashamed of this dealing.’ At this the envious recorder said, ‘I look upon you to be an enemy to the laws of England, which ought to be observed and kept; nor are you worthy of such privileges as others have.’ Mead well seeing that force and violence prevailed, and that his speaking could not avail him, said with a composed mind, ‘The Lord be judge between me and thee in this matter.’

Upon which he was taken away into the bail-dock, and the recorder gave the jury the following charge: ‘You have heard what the indictment is; it is for preaching to the people, and drawing a tumultuous company after them; and Mr. Penn was speaking. If they should not be disturbed, you see they will go on; there are three or four witnesses that have proved this, that he did preach there; that Mr. Mead did allow of it; after this, you have heard by substantial witnesses what is said against them. Now we are upon the matter of fact, which you are to keep to, and observe, as what hath been fully sworn, at your peril.’ That the recorder spoke this to the jury in the absence of the prisoners, was indeed irregular; wherefore W. Penn, who heard this from afar, spoke with a very raised voice, that so he might be heard by those on the bench, after this manner, ‘I appeal to the jury, who are my judges, and to this great assembly, whether the proceedings of the court are not most arbitrary, and void of all law, in offering to give the jury their charge in the absence of the prisoners. I say it is directly opposite to, and destructive of the undoubted right of every English prisoner, as Coke in the 2 Inst. on the chap. of Magna Charta, speaks.’ The recorder being thus unexpectedly lashed for his extra-judicial procedure, said with a disdainful smile, ‘Why, ye are present; you do hear, do you not?’ To which Penn returned, ‘No thanks to the court, that commanded me into the bail-dock: and you of the jury take notice, that I have not been heard, neither can you legally depart the court, before I have been fully heard, having at least ten or twelve material points to offer, in order to invalidate their indictment.’ This plain speaking of W. Penn, so enraged the recorder, that he cried, ‘Pull that fellow down; pull him down.’ For Penn it seems, to be heard the better, was clambered up a little by the rails of the bail-dock. Then W. Mead said, ‘Are these according to the rights and privileges of Englishmen, that we should not be heard, but turned into the bail-dock for making our defence; and the jury to have their charge given them in our absence? I say, these are barbarous and unjust proceedings.’ The recorder yet more incensed, cried, ‘Take them away into the hole: to hear them talk all night as they would, that I think doth not become the honour of the court.’

The prisoners being kept in a stinking hole, the jury were commanded up, to agree upon their verdict; and after an hour and half’s time, eight came down agreed, but four remained above: the court then sent an officer for them, and they accordingly came down; but the court used many indecent threats to the four that dissented, and after much menacing language, and a very imperious behaviour against the jury, the prisoners being brought to the bar, the foreman was asked, ‘How say you; is William Penn guilty of the matter whereof he stands indicted in manner and form, or not guilty?’ Foreman: ‘Guilty of speaking in Gracechurch-street.’ The next question was, ‘Is that all?’ Foreman: ‘That is all I have in commission.’ This answer so displeased the recorder, that he said, ‘You had as good say nothing.’ And the lord mayor, Starling, said, ‘Was it not an unlawful assembly? You mean he was speaking to a tumult of people there?’ To which the foreman returned, ‘My lord, this was all I had in commission.’ Some of the jury seemed now to buckle to the questions of the court; but others opposed themselves, and said they allowed of no such word as an unlawful assembly in their verdict: at which some of the bench took occasion to vilify them with opprobrious language. And because the court would not dismiss the jury before they gave a more satisfactory verdict, they called for pen, ink, and paper, and so went up again: and after half an hour returning, delivered the following verdict in writing.

This verdict the mayor and recorder resented at so high a rate, that they exceeded the bounds of all moderation and civility; and the recorder said, ‘Gentlemen, you shall not be dismissed till we have a verdict, that the court will accept; and you shall be locked up, without meat, drink, fire, and tobacco: you shall not think thus to abuse the court; we will have a verdict by the help of God, or you shall starve for it.’

Now, though the jury had given in their verdict, and signified that they could give no other, yet all was in vain; and W. Penn seeing how they were treated against all reason, said, ‘My jury, who are my judges, ought not to be thus menaced; their verdict should be free, and not compelled; the bench ought to wait upon them, but not forestal them. I do desire that justice may be done me, and that the arbitrary resolves of the bench may not be made the measure of my jury’s verdict.’ This modest speech so incensed the recorder, that he cried, ‘Stop that prating fellow’s mouth, or put him out of the court.’ And the lord mayor said to the jury, ‘You have heard that he preached, that he gathered a company of tumultuous people, and that they do not only disobey the martial power, but the civil also.’ To which W. Penn returned, ‘That is a great mistake; we did not make the tumult, but they that interrupted us. The jury cannot be so ignorant, as to think, that we met there with a design to disturb the civil peace, since, first, we were by force of arms kept out of our lawful house, and met as near it in the street as the soldiers would give leave. And, secondly, because it was no new thing, nor with the circumstances expressed in the indictment, but what was usual and customary with us. It is very well known that we are a peaceable people, and cannot offer violence to any man.’

The court now being resolved to send the prisoners to their jail, and the jury to their chamber, Penn spoke as followeth: ‘The agreement of twelve men is a verdict in law, and such an one being given by the jury, I require the clerk of the peace to record it, as he will answer it at his peril. And if the jury bring in another verdict contradictory to this, I affirm they are perjured men in law.’ And looking upon the jury, said, ‘You are Englishmen, mind your privilege; give not away your right.’ To which E. Bushel, one of them, returned, ‘Nor will we ever do it.’ Another of the jurymen pleaded indisposition of body, and therefore desired to be dismissed; but the lord mayor said, ‘You are as strong as any of them; starve then, and hold your principles.’ To which the recorder added, ‘Gentlemen, you must be content with your hard fate; let your patience overcome it; for the court is resolved to have a verdict, and that before you can be dismissed.’ And though the jurymen said, ‘We are agreed, we are agreed, we are agreed,’ yet the court swore several persons, to keep the jury all night, without meat, drink, fire, or any other accommodation; nay, they had not so much as a chamber-pot, though desired. Thus force and violence prevailed. The next day, though it was the first of the week, vulgarly called Sunday, the court sat again; and the prisoners being brought to the bar, the jury were called in, and their foreman was asked, ‘Is William Penn guilty of the matter whereof he stands indicted, in manner and form aforesaid, or not guilty?’ To which he answered as before, ‘William Penn is guilty of speaking in Gracechurch-street.’ The lord mayor then asking, ‘to an unlawful assembly?’ Edward Bushel answered, ‘No, my lord, we give no other verdict than what we gave last night; we have no other verdict to give.’ ‘You are,’ returned the lord mayor, ‘a factious fellow: I will take a course with you.’ ‘I have,’ said Bushel, ‘done according to my conscience.’ This so displeased the mayor, that he said, ‘That conscience of yours would cut my throat; but I will cut yours so soon as I can.’ To which the recorder added, ‘He has inspired the jury; he has the spirit of divination; methinks I feel him: I will have a positive verdict, or you shall starve for it.’

Then W. Penn said, ‘I desire to ask the recorder one question: do you allow of the verdict given of W. Mead?’ to which the recorder answered, ‘It cannot be a verdict, because you are indicted for a conspiracy; and one being found not guilty, and not the other, it cannot be a verdict.’ This made Penn say, ‘If not guilty be not a verdict, then you make of the jury and Magna Charta but a mere nose-of-wax.’ ‘How!’ asked W. Mead then, ‘Is not guilty no verdict?’ ‘No,’ said the recorder, ‘It is no verdict.’ To which Penn replied, ‘I affirm that the consent of a jury is a verdict in law; and if W. Mead be not guilty, it consequently follows, that I am clear, since you have indicted us of conspiracy, and I could not possibly conspire alone.’ After this, the court spoke to the jury, and caused them to go up again, if possible to extort another verdict from them. Then the jury being called, and asked by the clerk, ‘What say you? is William Penn guilty of the matter whereof he stands indicted, in manner and form aforesaid, or not guilty?’ The foreman answered, ‘Guilty of speaking in Gracechurch-street.’ To which the recorder returned, ‘What is this to the purpose? I say I will have a verdict.’ And speaking to E. Bushel, said, ‘You are a factious fellow, I will set a mark upon you; and whilst I have any thing to do in the city, I will have an eye upon you.’ To this the mayor added, ‘Have you no more wit than to be led by such a pitiful fellow? I will cut his nose.’

Thus the court endeavoured to baffle the jury; and therefore it was not without very good reason that W. Penn said, ‘It is intolerable that my jury should be thus menaced: is this according to the fundamental laws? are not they my proper judges by the great charter of England? what hope is there of ever having justice done, when juries are threatened, and their verdict is rejected? I am concerned to speak, and grieved to see such arbitrary proceedings. Did not the lieutenant of the tower render one of them worse than a felon. And do you not plainly seek to condemn such for factious fellows, who answer not your ends? unhappy are those juries, who are threatened to be fined, starved, and ruined, if they give not in their verdicts contrary to their consciences.’ These plain expressions so troubled the recorder, that he said to the lord mayor, ‘My lord, you must take a course with this fellow.’ And then the mayor cried, ‘Stop his mouth; jailer, bring fetters, and stake him to the ground.’ To which W. Penn said, ‘Do your pleasure; I matter not your fetters.’ The recorder then ventured to say, ‘Till now I never understood the reason of the policy and prudence of the Spaniards in suffering the Inquisition among them. And certainly it never will be well with us, till something like the Spanish Inquisition be in England.’ The jury being required to find another verdict, and they saying they could give no other, the recorder grew so angry, that he said, ‘Gentlemen, we shall not be at this pass always with you; you will find the next sessions of parliament there will be a law made, that those that will not conform, shall not have the protection of the law. Your verdict is nothing, you play upon the court. I say, you shall go together, and bring in another verdict, or you shall starve, and I will have you carted about the city, as in Edward the third’s time.’

The jury refusing to give in another verdict, since they had all agreed to that which they had given, and showing themselves unwilling to go up again, the lord mayor bid the sheriff to make them go. The sheriff then coming off his seat, said, ‘Come, gentlemen, you must go up; you see I am commanded to make you go.’ Upon which the jury went up, and several were sworn to keep them without accommodation as aforesaid, till they brought in their verdict: and the prisoners were remanded to Newgate, where they remaining till next morning were then brought to the court again: and being set to the bar, and the jury called, and asked, ‘Is William Penn guilty of the matter whereof he stands indicted in manner and form, &c. or not guilty?’ the foreman answered, ‘You have there read in writing already our verdict, and our hands subscribed.’ Now the clerk who had that paper, was by the recorder stopped from reading it; and it was said by the court, that paper was no verdict. Then the clerk asked, ‘How say you? Is William Penn guilty, &c. or not guilty?’ to which the foreman answered, ‘Not guilty.’ The same question being put concerning W. Mead, the foreman answered likewise, ‘Not guilty.’ The jury then being asked by the clerk, whether they said so all, they answered, ‘We do so.’ The bench still unsatisfied, commanded that every person should distinctly answer to their names, and give in their verdict, which they unanimously did, in saying, ‘Not guilty.’ The recorder, who could not hear this, said, ‘I am sorry, gentlemen, you have followed your own judgments and opinions, rather than the good and wholesome advice which was given you. God keep my life out of your hands: but for this the court fines you forty marks a man, and imprisonment till paid.’

W. Penn then stepping up towards the bench, said, ‘I demand my liberty, being freed by the jury.’ ‘No,’ said the lord mayor, ‘you are in for your fines.’ ‘Fines!’ returned Penn, ‘for what?’ ‘For contempt of the court,’ said the lord mayor. ‘I ask,’ replied Penn, ‘if it be according to the fundamental laws of England, that any Englishman should be fined or amerced, but by the judgment of his peers or jury? since it expressly contradicts the 14th and 29th chapters of the great charter of England, which say, ’No freeman ought to be amerced but by the oath of good and lawful men of the vicinage.‘ Instead of answering to this question, the recorder cried, ’take him away, take him away; take him out of the court.‘ On which W. Penn said, ’I can never urge the fundamental laws of England, but you cry, take him away, take him away. But it is no wonder, since the Spanish Inquisition hath so great a place in the recorder’s heart. God Almighty, who is just, will judge you for all these things.’ W. Penn was not suffered to speak any more, but he and W. Mead were hauled to the bail-dock, and from thence sent to Newgate, and so were their jury. How they came at length to be freed, I do not know.

The trial was afterwards published in print more at large than is set down here, and an appendix subjoined to it; in which are showed not only the invalidity of the evidence, but also the absurdity of the indictment, and the illegal proceedings of the court; and from the great charter, that they had been dealt with contrary to law. The case of the lord chief justice Keeling is also mentioned, who having put restraints upon juries, a committee of parliament, the 11th of December, 1667, came to this resolution, ‘That his proceedings were innovations, in the trial of men for their lives and liberties; and that he had used an arbitrary and illegal power, which was of dangerous consequence to the lives and liberties of the people of England, and tended to the introducing an arbitrary government. Moreover, that in the place of judicature he had undervalued, vilified and condemned Magna Charta. And therefore, that he should be brought to trial, in order to condign punishment, in such manner as the house shall judge most fit and requisite.’ Two days after, viz. Die veneris, the 13th of December, it was resolved, that the precedents and practice of fining or imprisoning jurors for verdicts is illegal. The book containing the fore-mentioned trial of W. Penn and W. Mead was reprinted I think more than once; for it came to be much in request, because the liberties of the people were therein well defended, and arbitrary power controlled. The title of it was, The People’s Ancient and Just Liberties asserted; and underneath was added this well known verse of Juvenal,

Sic volo, sic jubeo; stat pro ratione voluntas.

This matter was more circumstantially treated of in a book in print, by Thomas Rudyard a lawyer, who showed therein at large the right of juries, and the unlawfulness of the proceedings then in vogue; which he made appear plainly, both from law, and by citations from the books of eminent lawyers. And having sometimes vigorously pleaded the cause of the oppressed, he also became the object of persecuting fury, which could not endure his faithful defending of the innocent. And therefore this summer the magistrates of London issued out a warrant to break open his house in the dead of the night, in order to apprehend him; and this warrant was executed by the soldiers of one captain Holford; and the next day he was sent to Newgate by a mittimus under the hands and seals of the lord mayor Samuel Starling, William Peak, Robert Hanson, and several others, under pretence, that he stirred up persons to disobedience of the laws, and abetted and encouraged such as met in unlawful and seditious conventicles, contrary to the late act. But his case being brought before the justices of the court of Common Pleas, at Westminster, by an habeas corpus, that court, after solemn debate, gave their judgment, that Thomas Rudyard was unjustly imprisoned, and unjustly detained. And so he was set at liberty. But the lord mayor Samuel Starling fretting at this discharge, found out new stratagems to compass his ends upon him. For an indictment was formed against him for having hindered due course of law against one Samuel Allingbridge. But Rudyard so well defended himself, that he was acquitted; which so incensed the lord mayor, that not long after he was again committed to Newgate, on a religious account, viz. for having been in the meeting at Whitehart-court in Gracechurch-street. The proceedings against him and others on that account were no less arbitrary than those against W. Penn and W. Mead, already mentioned, and therefore Rudyard exposed his and their trials in print; and seeing he understood the law, he was the more able to show the unjustness of these proceedings, and how inconsistent such prosecutions were with the laws of the land.

But to avoid prolixity I shall relate but little of them, since many things occur therein, which have been mentioned already in other cases. How the recorder Howel was inclined in respect to religion, may be deduced from what hath been said already of his panegyric upon the Spanish Inquisition. And to Rudyard and his fellow-prisoners, he gave no obscure evidence what religion he preferred; for they saying, that they were always quiet and peaceable in their assemblies, and that the laws against riots were never intended against them, but popish, or such like disturbers of the peace. The recorder returned, that the Papists were better subjects to the king, than they were; and that they were a stubborn and dangerous people, and must either be brought under, or there was no safe living by them. The prisoners offering to vindicate themselves from these odious and foul aspersions, were not suffered to say any thing in their own defence; but instead of hearing them, they were by order of the lord mayor and the recorder thrust into the bail-dock, and treated almost at the same rate as W. Penn and W. Mead had been before.

But violence prevailed now; and the recorder, because of his outrageous behaviour against the Quakers, was so much in favour of the court of justice, that alderman Jo. Robinson did not stick to tell them, that the recorder deserved an hundred pounds for his service done at the Old Bailey, the last sessions. And his proposal so took, that the court consented to pay him for the said service an hundred pounds, by the chamberlain of London. And since this was so well known to T. Rudyard, that in a book he published, he named the date of the said order, viz. the 8th of October, 1670: and that other orders had been given for two hundred pounds more to him, within eight months last past; he, to reprehend such doings in a satirical way, called them, ‘an excellent way to ease the treasury of being over-burdened with orphans’ money,’ by which sinister ends, and dispositions of its cash, the chamber was so deeply in debt, that it was almost incredible.

Now, since Rudyard as a lawyer, had a more full knowledge of these unlawful proceedings against him and his friends, than many others, he composed a treatise of those prosecutions, which he called the Second Part of the People’s Ancient and Just Liberties asserted. And true lovers of their country were pleased with it: for that party which countenanced popery, and therefore endeavoured to violate the people’s rights, strove to get the upper hand.

Persecution was now very hot and fierce all over the country, because a door was opened for all base and wicked fellows to get booty by informing; for by the act against meetings, which, though religious, were branded with the name of seditious, the informer, was to have a third part of the imposed fine. This set on many vile persons, and among these sometimes thieves and infamous fellows, to render any comings together of Quakers, though it was but a visit or a burial, the name of a meeting, and to swear that a meeting had been kept there. Nay, sometimes they swore only by guess, that in such a place a meeting had been kept, though the witnesses had not seen it, as was requisite by law. And this informing came so much in vogue, that some magistrates themselves turned informers.

I might write a large volume of these abominable deeds, if I could find leisure for it; yet now and then I will mention a few instances, by which the reader may make a conjecture of the rest.

This year at Alford in Somersetshire, in the month called August, the corpse of one Samuel Clothier was buried, and though in the burying-place all were silent, yet the justice, Robert Hunt, fined some that had been at the burial, for having assisted at this pretended meeting.

In Nottingham it happened in the latter end of this year, that the justice, Penniston Whaley, who had fined many of those called Quakers, for frequenting their religious meetings, encouraged the people at the sessions to persecute the Quakers without any pity, saying to them, ‘Harden your hearts against them; for the act of the 35th of queen Elizabeth, is not made against the Papists, since the church of Rome is a true church, as well as any other church; but these Quakers are erroneous and seditious persons.’ By these words one may easily judge to what religion this justice of peace was inclined; but such dissemblers feigned to the Protestants, that so they might hear honourable offices. I pass by unmentioned many persons, who by beating, pushing, and trampling, were grievously abused in their meetings, to that degree, that some not long survived the violence committed on them, and felt the painfulness or smart of it till death.

This year about midsummer, Thomas Budd deceased at Ivelchester in Somersetshire, after having been prisoner about eight years and a half, because for conscience-sake he could not swear. Some hours before his death, he was heard to say, that he had renewed his covenant with God, and was well satisfied in it; and that he believed God would sustain him by the right hand of his justice; and that he rejoiced and thanked God that all his children walked in the way of the Lord.

At Warborough in Oxfordshire, those called Quakers were also most grievously abused in their religious meetings, and even aged women not spared; which often caused the cry of innocent children to go up to heaven, when they saw their mothers thus ill treated. For magistrates themselves to break their canes to pieces on those that were met together, was but an ordinary thing; and then sometimes other sticks were made use of: often also women were stripped of their upper garments; and this accompanied with the spoil of goods. That the persecutors were thus enraged was not strange, when we consider that some were stirred up to it by their teachers; an instance of which was given by Robert Priest of the same place, who once said in his sermon, that the king’s laws, though they were contrary to the law of God, yet ought to be obeyed. Quite otherwise was the doctrine of the apostle Peter and John, when they said to the Jewish council, ‘Judge ye whether it be right in the sight of God, to hearken unto you more than unto God.’

In Northamptonshire, where persecution was also very hot, the bishop of Peterborough said publicly in the steeple-house, after he had commanded the officers to put in execution the last act against seditious meetings, ‘Against all fanatics it hath done its business, except the Quakers; but when the parliament sits again, a stronger law will be made, not only to take away their lands and goods, but also to sell them for bond slaves.’ Thus the churchmen blew the fire of persecution.

At York also, the spoiling of goods was fiercely driven on by alderman Richardson; and even boys and girls, that were under sixteen years of age, and therefore not subject to the penalty of the law, were fined; and when the constables showed themselves unwilling to assist in the robbery, they were snarled at, and one persecuted for not performing his duty, because he had refused to take away a man’s cloak. But if I should mention the ill-usage committed in all counties and places, when should I come to a conclusion!

Thomas Green, a grave man, with whom I have been very familiarly acquainted, being in prayer at a meeting at Sawbridgworth in Hertfordshire, was pulled off his knees, and dragged out; and being brought before the justices Robert Joslin and Humphrey Gore, they fined him twenty pounds, for speaking or preaching at the said meeting; and granted a warrant to John Smith and Paul Thomson, constables, to distrain; upon which they went into the said Thomas Green’s shop, in Royston, and took away as much goods as were worth fifty pounds. But this did not quench his zeal; for like a true and faithful pastor, he continued to feed the flock, and to edify the church with his gift: in which he was very serviceable.

At another time, the justices Peter Soames and Thomas Mead, gave a warrant to distrain twenty pounds worth of goods from the said Thomas Green, for preaching at a meeting in Upper Chissel in Essex. And the officers going to Thomas Green’s shop, took all they could get, leaving nothing in the shop but a skein of thread, which was fallen on the ground, and not observed by them.

Theophilus Green suffered also great spoil of goods: for having preached in a meeting at Kingston-upon-Thames, he was put into the stocks for some hours, and fined twenty pounds. And having preached the three next first-days of the week at Wadsworth, was for each fined at the same rate.

The week following, being at Uxbridge, and visiting some poor children of his friends, whose father and mother died shortly one after another, he took two of them as his own, and looked after the disposing of the rest. And staying there till the first day of the week, he went to the meeting, and exhorted his friends to keep their meetings in the name of Jesus: at the speaking of which words the constable and informer came in, and carried him away to justice Ralph Hawtrey, who fined him twenty pounds, and sent him prisoner to Newgate in London, with a mittimus; wherein he charged him, that he had exhorted the people to keep their meetings in the name of Jesus, notwithstanding the laws of men to the contrary. Warrants being issued forth to make distress for the above mentioned fines, which amounted to one hundred pounds, five shillings, they came and opened his doors, and took away all his goods they found, leaving him neither bed nor stool. And after he had been kept prisoner three months, he with seven more was brought to the session’s-house at Hicks’s Hall, and the oaths of allegiance and supremacy were tendered to them. To which his plea was, ‘As an Englishman, I ought either to be acquitted or condemned, for the cause for which I was committed, before I should answer to any other matter or cause. Besides, I look upon myself to be illegally committed, as being fined and committed for the same fact.’ But they told him, he must answer whether he would swear or no, and then he should be heard. But continuing to refuse swearing, he was remanded to prison with the rest; and afterwards being sent for again, and still unwilling to break Christ’s command, not to swear at all, the sentence of premunire was read against him and his fellow prisoners, and so they continued in jail above two years, till they were discharged by an act of grace from the king.

The meetings of those called Quakers were miserably disturbed in Horslydown in the county of Surry. On the 25th of September several musketeers came into the meeting-house, and hauling those that were met together in the street, the troopers came riding amongst them, and beat and abused them violently, pushing them with their carbines, which the others did with the butt-ends of their muskets, to that degree, that above twenty persons were wounded and sorely bruised; nay, so desperately wicked were these mischievous fellows, that a party of horse sought to ride over these harmless people; but the horses, more merciful than the riders, and not going forward, they turned them, and by curbing and reigning them backward, strove to do what mischief they could. On the 2d of October these peaceable people being kept out of their meeting-place, there came a party of foot, and a party of horse, and abused them no less violently than the week before; insomuch that with beating and knocking they broke several of their muskets and pikes, and one carbine, and above thirty persons were so sorely wounded and bruised, that their blood was spilt in the streets.

On the 9th of the said month the soldiers, both horse and foot, came again to the meeting at the aforesaid place, and one of them having a shovel, threw the dirt and mire from the channels, on both men and women; and after him the horse and foot came, and fell upon them, striking and knocking down, without respect to age or sex, until they drew blood from many; and when some of the inhabitants in pity took them into their houses, and saved their lives, the soldiers forced open the doors, and hauled them into the street again, and plucked off their hats, that they might strike on their bare heads; insomuch that many had their heads grievously broken. Some troopers also tore the women’s clothes off their backs, and hauled them through the mire by their horse sides; and some of the foot soldier’s put their hands in a most shameful manner under the women’s coats: nay, a soldier twice struck a woman that was big with child, with his musket on the belly, and once on the breast, whilst another flung dirt in her face: so that she miscarried. And above fifty persons were this day sorely wounded and bruised. The 16th of the said month these conscientious people meeting again to perform their worship to God, a great party of horse and foot came, and fell to beating them so violently, as if they would have killed all on the spot; so that the blood ran down about the ears of many; and one of the constables endeavouring to stop the wicked crew from shedding more blood, they fell upon him also, and broke his head; and when they were rebuked for their cruel dealing, some said, ‘If you knew what orders we have, you would say we dealt mercifully with you.’ And being asked, ‘How can ye deal thus with a people who make no resistance nor opposition;’ they answered, ‘We had rather, and it would be better for us, if ye did resist and oppose.’ From which it appeared plainly, that this mischief was done to provoke opposition, that they might have imbrued their hands in the blood of these sufferers, and so have had their lives and goods for a prey. It was therefore thought convenient to acquaint the king and his counsel with this barbarous cruelty; which had such effect, that some stop was made to these excessive cruelties, though their abuses did not altogether cease.

About this time it happened that Solomon Eccles came to Cork in Ireland, and went into the cathedral, where the priest, Benjamin Cross, preached in a surplice; and having formerly been a Presbyterian preacher in Dorsetshire in England, had there said, that he had rather go to a stake and be burned, than to put on a surplice. This priest, (now become a turn-coat for gain,) having finished his sermon and concluded with a prayer, Solomon Eccles said, that the prayer of the wicked was an abomination to the Lord. And knowing the deceitfulness of the said priest, and his being an apostate, he added, ‘What shall be done to the man that makes shipwreck of a good conscience?’ For this he was taken, and by the mayor committed to prison, where being kept ten days, he was accused as a vagabond, and without any examination, whipped along the streets of Cork, from North-Gate to South-Gate, and received about ninety stripes, and then was expelled. We have seen heretofore instances of his great zeal; and though in some respect he might by it have been transported a little too far, yet he gave proofs of a sincere heart; for having said some years after to one John Story, who launched out into great haughtiness and arrogancy, that it was the word of the Lord that he should die that year, (which by somebody to set a gloss upon it, was interpreted to be meant of the spiritual death,) yet Eccles himself said afterwards, both at London and Bristol, and elsewhere, that he had not spoken this according to the counsel of the Lord; but that it had been in his own will, and from a forward mind; and that he had felt the anger of the Lord, because he had called these his own words the word of the Lord; which he really repented of.