In the foregoing year we left G. Fox in Lancaster prison, where at the sessions, the oath of allegiance being tendered to, and refused by him, he was brought to his trial in the month called March, which begins the year 1664. Being brought to the bar before judge Twisden, he said, ‘Peace be amongst you all.’ At which the judge looking upon him, said, ‘What! do you come into the court with your hat on?’ Whereupon the jailer taking it off, G. Fox said, ‘The hat is not the honour that comes from God.’ Then said the judge, ‘Will you take the oath of allegiance?’ G. Fox answered, ‘I never took any oath in my life.’ ‘Well,’ said the judge, ‘will you swear or no?’ G. Fox replied, ‘I am a Christian, and Christ commands me not to swear; and so doth the apostle James likewise; and whether I should obey God or man, do thou judge.’ ‘I ask you again,’ said the judge, ‘whether you will swear or no?’ To which he made answer, ‘I am neither Turk, Jew, nor Heathen, but a Christian, and should show forth Christianity. Dost thou not know, (thus he went on,) that Christians in the primitive times, under the ten persecutions, and some also of the martyrs in queen Mary’s days, refused swearing, because Christ and the apostle had forbidden it? Ye have experience enough, how many men have sworn first to the king, and then against him. But as for me, I have never taken an oath in all my life; and my allegiance doth not lie in swearing, but in truth and faithfulness: for I honour all men, much more the king. But Christ, who is the great Prophet, who is the King of kings, the Saviour of the world, and the great Judge of the whole world, he saith, I must not swear. Now the point is, whether I must obey Christ, or thee. For it is in tenderness of conscience, and in obedience to the command of Christ, that I do not swear. And we have the word of a king for tender consciences.’ G. Fox having spoken thus much, asked the judge, if he did own the king? To which he said, ‘Yes, I do own the king.’ ‘Why then,’ said he, ‘dost thou not observe his declaration from Breda, and his promises made since he came into England, that no man should be called in question for matters of religion, so long as they lived peaceably? Now if thou ownest the king, why dost thou call me into question, and put me upon taking an oath, seeing thou, nor none, can charge me with unpeaceable living?’ The judge looking angry, said, ‘Sirrah, will you swear?’ To which G. Fox told him, ‘I am none of thy sirrahs; I am a Christian; and for thee, who art an old man and a judge, to sit there and give nicknames to the prisoners, doth not become either thy grey hairs or thy office.’ The judge being a little more cool, after some words to and fro, said, ‘G. Fox, say whether thou wilt take the oath, yea, or nay?’ To which he replied, ‘If I could take any oath at all, I should take this: for I do not deny some oaths only, or on some occasions, but all oaths, according to Christ’s doctrine, who said, “Swear not at all.” Now if thou, or any of you, or any of your ministers or priests here, will prove that ever Christ or his apostle, after they had forbidden all swearing, commanded Christians to swear, then I will swear.’ None of the priests offering to speak, the judge said, ‘I am a servant to the king, and the king sent me not to dispute with you, but to put the laws in execution; and therefore I tender the oath of allegiance.’ G. Fox continuing to refuse swearing, was sent again to prison. Two days after, being brought again before the judge, it was asked him, whether he would traverse or submit? To which G. Fox said, he desired he might have liberty to traverse the indictment, and try it. Then order was given to take him away, and he was kept in prison till the next assizes.
Being prisoner in Lancaster castle, there was much talk of the Turk’s great progress in Hungary, there being at that time a war between the Emperor and the Turks; and many being afraid, he said to some, that walking once in his chamber, he saw the Lord’s power turn against the Turk, and that he was turning back again. And within a month after news came that he was defeated. Another time, as he was walking in the room, with his mind upon the Lord, he saw an extraordinary great light, and looking up, he beheld an angel of the Lord, with a glittering sword stretched southward, which shone so bright, as if the court had been all on fire. Of which I have for proof what he mentions of it in his journal, and also another small book he gave out with the title of a Warning to England. Not long after a war broke out between England and Holland, and some time after the pestilence appeared at London, (which lies southwardly from Lancaster,) and after two years that city by the fire was turned into rubbish.
But I return to the Lancaster assizes. Margaret Fell, who was now a widow, was also under confinement for refusing the oath of allegiance. And G. Fox being in prison, wrote several papers to the magistrates, in which he manifested the evil of persecution, and exhorted to virtue and piety.
In the month called August, the assizes were held again at Lancaster. G. Fox being brought thither, (judge Turner then sitting on the crown-bench,) and being called to the bar, the judge asked the justices, whether they had tendered him the oath at the foregoing sessions? They saying they had, and having sworn it, the jury were sworn too. Then the judge asked him, whether he had not refused the oath at the last assizes? To which he answered, ‘I never took an oath in my life; and Christ the Saviour and Judge of the world said, “Swear not at all.” The judge seeming not to take notice of this answer, asked him whether or no he had not refused to take the oath at the last assizes? G. Fox maintaining the unlawfulness of swearing, the judge said, he was not at that time to dispute whether it was lawful to swear, but to inquire whether he had refused to take the oath, or no. G. Fox then signifying that he did not disapprove the things mentioned in the oath, said, ’Plotting against the king, and owning the Pope’s, or any other foreign power, I utterly deny.’ ‘Well,’ said the judge, ‘you say well in that: but did you deny to take the oath; what say you.’ ‘What wouldest thou have me to say?’ replied he, ‘I have told thee before what I did say.’ After some more words from both sides, the indictment was read. G. Fox having informed himself of the errors that were in it, said, he had something to speak to it, for there were many gross errors in it. The judge signified that he would not hear him, but when he was at the point of giving judgment, the jury going out, soon returned, and brought him in guilty. Whereupon he told them, that both the justices and they too had forsworn themselves; which caused such confusion in the court, that the pronouncing judgment was delayed. Margaret Fell being next brought to the bar, was also declared guilty.
The next day she and G. Fox were brought up again to receive sentence. Her counsel pleading many errors in her indictment, she was set by; and G. Fox then being called, showed himself unwilling to let any man plead for him; which seemed to make some stop; yet he was asked by the judge, what he had to say, why he should not pass sentence upon him. At which he told him, ‘I am no lawyer, but yet I have much to say, if thou wilt but have patience to hear?’ Thereupon those on the bench laughed, and said, ‘Come what have you to say?’ Then he asked the judge whether the oath was to be tendered to the king’s subjects, or to the subjects of foreign princes. To which the judge said, ‘To the subjects of this realm.’ ‘Then,’ said George, ‘look on the indictment, and ye may see that ye have left out the word subject: and not having named me in the indictment as a subject, ye cannot premunire me for not taking the oath.’ They then looking to the statute, and the indictment, saw that it was as he said, and the judge confessed that it was an error. Next G. F. told him, he had something else to stop judgment; and he desired them to look what day the indictment said the oath was tendered to him at the sessions there? They looking, said it was the eleventh of January. Then he asked, ‘What day of the week was that sessions held on?’ ‘On a Tuesday,’ said they. To which G. F. said, ‘Look in your almanac, and see whether there was any session held at Lancaster on the eleventh of January.’ They looking, found that the eleventh day was the day called Monday, and that the sessions were on the day called Tuesday, which was the twelfth day of the said month: ‘Look ye now,’ said he, ‘ye have indicted me for refusing the oath in the quarter-sessions held at Lancaster on the eleventh day of January last, and the justices have sworn that they tendered me the oath in open sessions here that day, and the jury upon their oath have found me guilty thereupon; and yet ye see there was no sessions held at Lancaster that day.’ The judge, to cover the matter, asked, whether the sessions did not begin on the eleventh day? To which some in the court answered, ‘No; the sessions held but one day, and that was the twelfth.’ Then the judge said, this was a great mistake, and an error. Some of the justices grew so angry at this, that they seeming ready to have gone off the bench, stamped, and said, ‘Who hath done this? Somebody hath done this on purpose.’ Then said G. F. ‘Are not the justices here that have sworn to this indictment, forsworn men? But this is not all; I have more yet to offer why sentence should not be given against me, in what year of the king was it, that the last assizes, which was in the month called March, was holden here?’ To this the judge said it was in the sixteenth year of the king. ‘But,’ said G. Fox, ‘the indictment says it was in the fifteenth year.’ This was also acknowledged to be an error: but both judge and justices were in such a fret, that they knew not what to say; for it had been sworn also, that the oath was tendered to G. Fox at the assize mentioned in the indictment, viz. in the fifteenth year of the king, whereas it was in the sixteenth; which made G. Fox say, ‘Is not the court here forsworn also, they having sworn a whole year false?’ Some other remarkable errors he showed, which I, having no mind to be tedious, pass by with silence.
G. Fox then desiring justice, and saying, that he did not look for mercy, the judge said, you must have justice, and you shall have law: which made him ask, ‘Am I now free from all that hath been done against me in this matter?’ ‘Yes,’ said the judge; but then starting up in a rage he said, ‘I can put the oath to any man here; and I will tender you the oath again.’ G. Fox then telling him, that he had examples enough of yesterday’s swearing and false swearing; ‘For I saw before my eyes,’ said he, ‘that both justices and jury forswore themselves;’ yet the judge asked him if he would take the oath? But he replied, ‘Do me justice for my false imprisonment all this while;’ for he had been locked up, as was well known, in a wet and cold room, and therefore he said, ‘I ought to be set at liberty.’ At which the judge said, ‘you are at liberty, but I will put the oath to you again.’ G. Fox then turning himself about, said to the people, ‘Take notice, this is a snare; but I ought to be set free from the jailer, and from this court.’ But the judge instead of hearkening to that, cried, ‘Give him the book.’ G. Fox then taking the book, and looking in it, said, ‘I see it is a bible, and I am glad of it.’ In the meanwhile the jury being called by order of the judge, they stood by; for though they had desired, after they had brought in their former verdict, to be dismissed, yet he told them, he could not dismiss them yet, because he should have business for them; and therefore they must attend, and be ready. G. Fox, perceiving his intent, looking him in the face, which made him blush: nevertheless he caused the oath to be read, and then asked G. Fox whether he would take the oath or no; to which he said, ‘Ye have given me a book here to kiss, and to swear on; and this book says, kiss the Son; and the Son says in this book, “Swear not at all,” and so says also the apostle James: now I say, as the book says, and yet ye imprison me, for doing as the book bids me. How chance ye do not imprison the book for saying so? How comes it that the book is at liberty amongst you, which bids me swear not? Why do not ye imprison the book also?’ Whilst he was speaking thus, he held up the bible open, to show the place where Christ forbids swearing. But the book was taken from him, and the judge said, ‘No, but we will imprison George Fox.’
This case was so singular, that it was spread over all the country, as a by-word, that they gave G. Fox a book to swear on, that commanded him not to swear at all, and that this book, viz. the Bible, was at liberty, and he in prison, for doing as the Bible said. But the judge urged him still to swear; to which G. Fox said, ‘I am a man of a tender conscience; consider therefore, that it is in obedience to Christ’s command that I cannot swear: but if any of you can convince me, that after Christ and the apostle had commanded not to swear, they did alter that command, and commanded Christians to swear, then ye shall see I will swear.’ And he seeing there several priests, said, ‘If ye cannot do it, let your priests do it.’ But none of the priests said any thing; and the judge said, ‘All the world cannot convince you.’ To which he replied, ‘How is it like the world should convince me? For the whole world lies in wickedness: but bring out your spiritual men, as ye call them, to convince me.’ Then the sheriff and the judge said, that the angel swore in the Revelations. To which G. Fox replied, ‘When God bringeth in his first-begotten Son into the world, he saith, “Let all the angels of God worship him;” and he said, “Swear not at all.”’—‘Nay,’ said the judge, ‘I will not dispute.’ Then he told the jury, it was for Christ’s sake that he could not swear; and therefore he warned them not to act contrary to that of God in their consciences, because they must all appear before his judgment seat. After some more words spoken, the jailer took him away.
In the afternoon he was brought up again: and the jury having brought him in guilty of what he was charged within the indictment, viz. his not taking the oath, the judge asked him, what he had to say for himself. He then desired the indictment to be read; since he could not answer to that which he had not heard. The clerk reading it, the judge said, ‘Take heed it be not false again.’ But the clerk read it in such a manner, that G. Fox could hardly understand what he read. And when he had done, the judge asked G. Fox what he had to say to the indictment. To which he said, ‘At once hearing so large a writing read, and that at such a distance, that I could not distinctly hear all the parts of it; I cannot well tell what to say to it: but if you will let me have a copy of it, and give me time to consider, I shall answer it.’ This put the court to a little stand; but at length the judge asked him, what time he would have? And he answered, ‘Till the next assize.’ ‘But,’ said the judge, ‘What plea will you make now; are you guilty, or not guilty?’ To which he replied, ‘I am not guilty at all of denying swearing obstinately and wilfully: and as for those things mentioned in the oath, as jesuitical plots, and foreign powers, I utterly deny them in my heart: and if I could take any oath, I should take this; but I never took any oath in all my life.’ To this the judge returned, ‘You say well; but the king is sworn, the parliament is sworn, I am sworn, the justices are sworn, and the law is preserved by oaths.’ On which G. Fox told him, they had had sufficient experience of men’s swearing, and had seen how the justices and jury swore wrong the other day: and continued he, ‘If thou hast read in the book of Martyrs, how many of them did refuse to swear, both within the time of the ten persecutions, and in bishop Bonner’s day, thou mayest see that to deny swearing in obedience to Christ’s command, is no new thing.’ To this the judge said, he wished the laws were otherwise. G. Fox said then, ‘Our yea is yea, and our nay is nay: and if we transgress our yea and our nay, let us suffer as they do, or should do, that swear falsely. This I have offered to the king, and the king said it was reasonable.’
After some further discourse, G. Fox was committed to prison again, and Colonel Kirby ordered the jailer to keep him close, and to suffer nobody to come to him, as one that was not fit to be discoursed with. The jailer did not scruple to follow this order, for he locked him up in a smoky tower, where the smoke of the other prisoners came up so thick, that sometimes one could hardly see a burning candle; so that there seemed to have been an intent to choke him; for the turnkey could hardly be persuaded to unlock one of the upper doors a little to let out the smoke. Besides this hardship, in wet weather it rained in upon his bed to that degree, that his shirt grew wet. In this pitiful condition he lay during a long cold winter, which so afflicted him, that his body swelled, and his limbs were much benumbed. Here we will leave him till he was brought again to his trial, which was not before the next year.
But before I part with him, I must mention, that some time before he had written several papers to the emperor, the kings of France and Spain, and also to the pope. These writings were by somebody else turned into Latin, and so given out in print. In these he levelled chiefly against persecution for religion’s sake. He reproved the king of Spain more especially, because of the inquisition, and the burning of people: and he did not spare the pope, as being the spring of these evils, saying, ‘Innocent blood hath long cried for vengeance to the Lord: the earth almost swims with innocent blood; and the cry of it is heard. Your frozen profession, and your cold winter images being set up in your streets, the Lord God of power and death, and of heaven and earth, will be avenged on thee, and you all; his day is approaching. Ye great and rich cardinals and pope, ye have been fed like fat hogs; and seeing that thou wouldest not receive the Lord’s messengers, but threw them in prison, and in your inquisition, it may be the Lord may give you a visit another way, for his dread is gone out, and his zeal is kindled against you.—The fields are sprinkled with the blood of the innocent, and ye are the aceldama, or the field of blood. But the Lord is coming to take vengeance upon you; his hand is stretched over your heads, and his power is gone over you; with that he will rule you, and smite you down, and bring you that are lofty from your seats, and abase your pride, and take the glory to himself.—How much blood, which is unmeasurable, and cannot be measured here, have ye drank since the days of the apostles, and made yourselves drunk with it! But now is the indignation and wrath of the Almighty come and coming upon you; and thou pope must feel it. Tremble therefore, thou pope, tremble, fear, and quake thou pope, tremble ye cardinals, tremble ye jesuits, tremble ye priors, tremble ye monks and friars, of what rank soever, for the army of the Lord God is coming over you, by whom ye shall be taken, and dashed to pieces.’ These are but small sparkles of that flame which G. Fox blew against the pope, intermixing his writings with many demonstrations, that the Romish church was the whore of Babylon, and that she it was that had defiled herself with idolatry and superstition, and had bathed herself in the blood of the saints, having furiously attacked them with sword and fire. This he concluded with these words: ‘The plagues of God will be thy portion, O pope, who hath deceived the nations: and all ye jesuits and cardinals, howl, for your misery is coming, the mighty day of the Lord God upon you all; the Lord God, who will be worshipped in spirit and in truth, and with none of your inventions.’ Thus G. Fox wrote in that day to the pope and his counsellors; and no wonder that he paid dear for this sharp language against the head of the church of Rome; for it may be believed, that a great many of the court party, in those days, were either concealed Papists, or favourers of them: and yet among the national clergy, and even those of other persuasions, many branded the Quakers with the odious name of secret Papists, thereby to make them incur the hatred of the people.
Now I return to Francis Howgill, whom in the foregoing year we left in prison at Appleby. It was in the forepart of this year that he was brought to his trial. Being come into court before the judges sat, he spoke to the clerk of the assizes, and told him, he did not know whether they expected his appearance then or not: the clerk said, ‘You have done well,’ and that he would acquaint the judge, and he should only engage to him to appear the next assizes, to answer the indictment against him, and that he should not appear in court; Francis bid him do what he would. In the meantime Sir Philip Musgrave, (so called,) a great adversary to the Truth, and the great and chief prosecutor of Francis, had informed the judges against him, that he was a dangerous person, a ringleader, and a keeper up of meetings of dangerous consequence, and destructive of the peace of the nation; so then they concluded he should appear in court; and so the clerk informed him, and told him about what time he should be called. So the court began; judge Twisden gave the charge to the grand jury, in which he said, there was a sort of people, who under pretence of conscience and religion, seemed to build upon the king’s declaration from Breda, and under colour of this hatched treasons and rebellions, and gave the jury charge to inquire and present such, that the peace of the nation might be preserved; so they impanneled the jury, and Francis was called to the bar, and the judge spake as followeth:
Judge, speaking calmly to him, said, the face of things was much altered since the last assizes, and made a large speech to him and the country, telling him, that all sects under pretence of conscience did violate the laws, and hatched rebellions, ‘Not, (saith he,) that I have any thing to charge you with; but seeing the oath of allegiance was tendered to you the last assizes, and you refused to take it, it was looked upon that such persons were enemies to the king and government;’ and said, ‘I will not trouble you now to answer to your indictment, but I must do that the next assizes; in the meantime you must enter into recognizance for your good behaviour.’
To which F. H. answered, I desire liberty to speak, which he had without interruption, and said as followeth:
F. H. Judge Twisden, thou very well knowest upon how slender an account, or none, I was brought before thee the last assizes, where thou wert pleased to tender me the oath of allegiance, though I believe both thou and the rest of the court, did know it was a received principle among us not to swear at all; many reasons I gave thee then, many more I have to add, if I may have audience; for it may appear to you an absurd thing, and obstinacy in me to refuse it, if I should not tender a reason; I am, (said he,) none of those that make religion a cloak of maliciousness, nor conscience a cloak to carry on plots or conspiracies, the Lord hath redeemed me and many more out of such things, and seeing I am engaged to appear at the next assizes, I desire no further thing may be required of me.
Judge. You must enter into bond this dangerous time, and therefore consider of it, and tell me now, or before the assizes end.
The second day of the assizes he was called again.
F. H. Seeing thou art pleased to let me answer to the indictment, which I am willing to do, I have been of good behaviour, and shall so continue; but it seems a hard thing to me, and full of severity, that seeing I am obliged to appear to answer an indictment of so high a nature, (if prosecuted against me,) which tends to the loss of my liberty for life, and my estate forever, I hope the court will not envy my liberty for five months.
Judge Turner said, We do not desire your imprisonment, if you will be of good behaviour.
F. H. pressed that they would not put him upon giving bond to be of good behaviour, knowing himself to be bound by the truth, that he could not misbehave himself.
One Daniel Flemming, another persecuting justice, had framed another indictment against him for meeting, and stood up, (fearing the snare of giving bond would not hold,) and said as followeth:
D. Flemming. My lord, he is a great speaker, it may be the Quakers cannot want him.
Judge. Let him be what he will, if he will enter into bond.
F. H. said he had nothing to accuse himself of, for his conscience bore him witness that he loved peace, and sought it with all men.
Judges both spake. What do you tell of conscience? We meddle not with it; but you contemn the laws, and keep up great meetings, and go not to church.
F. H. We are fallen in a sad age; if meeting together peaceably, without arms, or force, or intention of hurt to any man, only to worship God in Spirit, and exhort one another to righteousness, and to pray together in the Holy Ghost, as the primitive Christians of old, that this should be reckoned breach of peace and misbehaviour.
Judge Twisden. Do you compare these times with them? They were heathens that persecuted, but we are Christian magistrates.
F. H. It is a doctrine always held by us, and a received principle which we believe, that Christ’s kingdom could not be set up with carnal weapons; nor the gospel propagated by force of arms, nor the church of God built with violence; but the Prince of Peace was manifested amongst us, and we could learn war no more, but could love enemies, and forgive them that did evil to us.
Philip Musgrave stood up, and said, ‘My Lord, we have been remiss towards this people, and have striven with them, and put them in prison again and again, and fined them, and as soon as they are out they meet again.’
Then stood up John Lowther, called a justice, and said, ‘My Lord, they grow insolent, notwithstanding all laws, and the execution of them, yet they grow upon us, and their meetings are dangerous.’
Philip Musgrave stood up, and produced a paper, (and justice Flemming, so called, seconded him,) in great capital letters, and gave it the judge; he told the judge, that it happened some Quakers were sent to prison, and one of them died at Lancaster, and they carried his corpse through the country, and set that paper upon his coffin, ‘This is the body of such an one, who was persecuted by Daniel Flemming till death.’
Judge. We have spent much time with you; I will discourse no more.
F. H. I acknowledge your moderation towards me, allowing me liberty to speak; I shall not trouble you much longer; I shall be willing to appear to answer to the indictment at the assizes, and in the meantime to live peaceably and quietly, as I have done, if that will satisfy.
Judge. You must enter into bond to come at no more meetings.
F. H. I cannot do that; if I should, I were treacherous to God and my own conscience, and the people and you would but judge me a hypocrite.
They were loth to commit him, yet at last they did.
This was in the latter part of the month called March, and he was kept about five months as before in a bad room, and none suffered to speak with him, but who got secretly to him without the jailer’s knowledge.
It was about this time that John Audland departed this life. He and his bosom friend, John Camm, (whose decease was some years before,) had travelled much together in the ministry of the gospel: therefore I will give an uninterrupted relation of their latter end; but first that of John Camm.
He was of very good parentage, born at Camsgil, in the barony of Kendal in Westmoreland, which seat had been possessed by his ancestors long before him. From his childhood he was inclined to be religious, and seeking after the best things, he joined with those that were the most strict in performing religious duties. And having afterwards heard G. Fox, he embraced as truth the doctrine he preached, and growing up in it, he himself became an eminent minister of the gospel among those called Quakers. He and his bosom friend John Audland, were the first of that society who preached at Bristol, where having been in the meetings of the Baptists and Independents, they also had meetings in several places without the city, where there was a great concourse of people, and many received their doctrine. Since that time these two ministers travelled much together, and many were convinced by their ministry. But at length John Camm, who did not spare himself, began to fall under a kind of consumption, insomuch that through weakness he was fain to stay at home; and then he often called his children and family together, exhorting them to godliness, and praying to the Lord for them. Some weeks before his death, he once expressed himself thus: ‘How great a benefit do I enjoy above many, having such a large time of preparation for death, being daily dying, that I may live for ever with my God, in that kingdom that is unspeakably full of glory. My outward man daily wastes and moulders down, and draws towards its place and centre; but my inward man revives, and mounts upwards towards its place and habitation in the heavens.’ The morning that he departed this life, he called his wife, children, and family, to him, and exhorting them to fear the Lord, to love his truth, to walk in it, and to be loving and kind to one another, telling them that his glass was run, the time of his departure was come; and he was to enter into everlasting ease, joy, and rest: charging them all to be patient and content with their parting with him. And so fainting, he passed into a sweet sleep; but by the weeping and crying of those about him, he awakened, and desired to be helped up a little in his bed, and then he spoke to this effect: ‘My dear hearts, ye have wronged me and disturbed me, for I was at sweet rest; ye should not so passionately sorrow for my departure; this house of earth and clay must go to its place; and this soul and spirit is to be gathered up to the Lord, to live with him for ever, where we shall meet with everlasting joy.’ Then taking leave of his family, he charged them to be content with his departure; and lying down, within a little time deceased.
His beloved friend John Audland, (who often bemoaned the loss of so dear a companion,) died also of a kind of consumption: for his ardent zeal made him strain his voice beyond what his body was well able to hear. In a meeting, which he once had with J. Camm, in a field without Bristol, where Charles Marshall was one of his auditors, after J. Camm had left off speaking, he stood up, with an awful and shining countenance: and lifting up his voice as a trumpet, he said, ‘I proclaim a spiritual war with the inhabitants of the earth, who are in the fall and separation from God, and I prophesy to the four winds of heaven.’ Thus he went on with mighty power, exhorting to repentance; and spoke with such a piercing authority, that some of the auditory fell on the ground, and cried out under the sense of their transgression. And when at Bristol he many times preached in an orchard to a great multitude, he would lift up his voice exceedingly, in order to be heard by all. Thus he spent his natural strength, though he was but a young man. About the twentieth year of his age, he married with one Anne Newby, of Kendal, a virtuous maid, not only of good family, but also excelling in piety, and therefore she freely gave him up to travel in the service of the gospel, notwithstanding his company was very dear to her; which made her say, that she believed few ever enjoyed a greater blessing in a husband so kind and affectionate. And how heartily and tenderly she loved him, may be seen by the following letter she wrote to him.
‘Dear Husband,
‘Thou art dearer to me than ever; my love flows out to thee, even the same love that I am loved withal of my Father. In that love salute me to all my friends, for dear you are all unto me; my life is much refreshed in hearing from you. I received thy letters, and all my soul desireth is to hear from thee in the life; dear heart, in life dwell, there I am with thee out of all time, out of all words, in the pure power of the Lord, there is my joy and strength; O! how am I refreshed to hear from thee, to hear of thy faithfulness and boldness in the work of the Lord. O! dear heart, I cannot utter the joy I have concerning thee; thy presence I have continually in spirit, therewith am I filled with joy; all glory and honour be to our God for ever. O! blessed be the day in which thou wast born, that thou art found worthy to labour in the work of the Lord. Surely the Lord hath found thee faithful in a little, therefore he hath committed much unto thee; go on in the name and power of the Lord Jesus Christ, from whence all strength cometh, to whom be all glory, and honour for ever. O! dear heart, go on, conquering and to conquer, knowing this, that thy crown is sure. So, dear heart, now is the time of the Lord’s work, and few are willing to go forth into it. All the world lieth in wickedness, doing their own work; but blessed be the Lord for ever, who hath called us from doing our own work, into his great work. O! marvellous are his works, and his ways past finding out. O! dear heart, thou knowest my heart, thou mayest read daily how that I rejoice in nothing more than in thy prosperity in the work of the Lord: Oh! it is past my utterance to express the joy I have for thee. I am full, I am full of love towards thee, never such love as this; the mighty power of the Lord go along with thee, and keep thee faithful and valiant, and bold in his pure counsel, to stand single out of all the world. O! dear heart, all my love to thee is purer than gold seven times purified in the fire: O! pure is he that hath loved us, therefore let purity and holiness cover us for ever. A joyful word it was to me, to hear that thou wast moved to go for Bristol: O my own heart, my own life! in that which now stands, act and obey, that thou mayest stand upon thy alone guard; so, dear heart, let thy prayers be for me, that I may be kept pure out of all temptations, singly to dwell in the life: so farewell.
ANNE AUDLAND.’
By this letter it appears, that there was an endeared mutual love between this virtuous couple. He was a man of great knowledge, but when his understanding came to be opened by the preaching of G. Fox, he would say, sometimes, ‘Ah, what have we been doing! Or what availeth our great profession? All our building tumbles down; our profession is high as the wind; the day of the Lord is upon it, and his word, as a fire, consumes it as dry stubble; and puts an end to all empty professions and high notions, without life or substance; to all the wisdom of fallen man. We must forsake the world, and all its glory; it is all but vanity and vexation of spirit: it is a Saviour that I long for; it is him that my soul pants after. O that I may be gathered into his life, and overshadowed with his glory, sanctified throughout by his word, and raised up by his eternal power!’ He continuing in this state of daily supplication and inward travail of soul, it pleased the Lord at length to furnish him with an extraordinary qualification to proclaim his word, which he did some years faithfully, and with great zeal. And though his wife loved him dearly, and preferred his company above what the world could give; yet in regard of his gospel service, she gave him up freely to be much from home; whereby during a great part of the time of their marriage, she had not his desirable company.
In the meanwhile he laboured diligently in the Lord’s harvest, till his bodily strength failing, and meeting with hard imprisonments, he was seized with a most violent cough, which was followed by a fever, so that his sleep was taken from him, which made him grow very weak; but he bore his sickness with great patience, and said once, that in those great meetings in the orchard at Bristol, he often forgot himself, not considering the inability of his body, from a desire to be heard by all: but that his reward was with him, and he content to be with the Lord, which his soul valued above all things. Not long before his departure, being visited by some of his friends, he spoke so comfortably, and with such power, as one that was beyond the feeling of his weakness. To his wife, who was big with child, and nigh her delivery, well knowing how tenderly she loved him, he said, ‘My will is in true subjection, submitting to the will of the Lord, whether life or death; and therefore give me up freely to his disposing.’ And she, how dear soever he was to her, did so; which gave him some ease, seeing her sincere resignedness; and being sometimes overcome with joy, he praised God in his sickness; nay so ardent was his zeal, that once, though very weak, he desired to be helped up in bed upon his knees; and thus he fervently supplicated the Lord in the behalf of his churches, that they might be preserved in the truth, out of the evil of the world, and that his gospel might spread, and be published to the gathering of all that pertain to Israel. His strength now diminishing daily, he sweetly departed at the age of thirty-four years, about three weeks after the fever first seized him. And his widow, who ten days after his decease was delivered of a son, behaved herself discreetly, and said afterwards in a paper concerning him: ‘The eternal God, who by his providence, joined us together in marriage, in our young days, in his blessed counsel also caused his day to spring from on high upon us: in the marvellous light, and bright shining whereof, he revealed his Son Christ in us, and gave us faith to believe in him, the eternal word of life, by which our souls came to be quickened, and made alive in him: and also in and by the quickening of his holy power, were made one in a spiritual and heavenly relation, our hearts being knit together in the unspeakable love of truth, which was our life, joy, and delight, and made our days together exceeding comfortable: as being that whereby all our temporal enjoyments were sanctified, and made a blessing to us. How hard it was, and how great a loss, to part with so dear and tender an husband as he was to me, is far beyond what I can express: the dolour of my heart, my tongue or pen is not able to declare. Yet in this I contented myself, that it was the will of the Lord that he was taken from the evil; and that my loss, though great, was not to be compared to his eternal gain.’ This widow, in process of time, was married to Thomas Camm, son of John Camm, her former husband’s bosom friend. She was indeed a woman of great virtue, but now I part with her, with intention to say more of her when I shall come to the time of her decease.
I return to Francis Howgill, whom we left in prison, and who now appeared again at the assizes, which were holden at Appleby, in the month called August. And he having got liberty to speak with the clerk of the assizes, who told him, that he must prepare himself to come to a trial, answered, he was prepared, but thought that all he could say, would little avail, believing they purposed to prosecute him with all severity: which proved so, as will appear by what follows; for the county justices had incensed the judges against him beforehand. Yet Howgill endeavoured all he could to convince them of his innocency; and to that end drew up the substance of the oath into several heads which he could subscribe to; to this he joined another paper to judge Turner, showing the cause of his first commitment and the former proceedings against him: and how unequal it was to prosecute him upon a statute made against popish recusants. He also signified in that paper, that he was a man of a tender spirit, and feared the Lord from a child, and he had never taken any oath but once in his life, which was twenty years ago; and that his refusing to take the oath of allegiance, was not in any evil intent to the king’s person or government, but merely upon a conscientious account, and that he could not swear, being otherwise persuaded of the Lord, seeing it was against the command of Christ, and the apostle James’s doctrine. Besides, that he was able to make it evident to be against the example of the primitive Christians for divers hundred years, and so no new opinion. That he did neither in wilfulness nor obstinacy refuse it, being sensible of the damage that would come thereby, if they did prosecute him upon that statute, he having a wife and children, and some small estate, which he knew lay at stake in the matter; but that though it were his life also, he could not revolt from, or deny that which he had most certainly believed in; but if any could convince him either by scripture or reason, he had an ear to hear. And therefore all those things considered, he desired he might he dismissed from his bonds, and from their persecution of him upon that account. These papers were delivered to the judges and justices before he appeared in court, and were read by them. He then being called to the bar at the assizes holden at Appleby, judge Turner said to him, ‘Here is an indictment against you for refusing to take the oath of allegiance; so you must plead to it, either guilty or not guilty.’
F. H. with a heart girded up with strength and courage, said, ‘Judge Turner, may I have liberty to speak, and make my defence, for I have none to plead my cause but the Lord?’
Judge. You may.
F. H. I will lay the true state of my case before thee, and of the proceedings against me from the first, seeing judge Twisden is not here, who had knowledge of all the proceedings hitherto. I am a countryman, born and brought up in this country; my carriage and conversation is known, how I have walked peaceably towards all men, as I hope my countrymen can testify. About a year ago being at my neighbouring market-town about my reasonable and lawful occasions, I was sent for by an high constable out of the market to the justices of peace, before whom I went; and when I came there, they had nothing to lay to my charge, but fell to ask me questions to ensnare me about our meetings; and when they could find no occasion, they seemed to tender the oath of allegiance to me, though they never read it to me, neither did I positively deny it, yet they committed me to prison; and so I was brought hither to this assize, and then the mittimus by which I was committed, was called for, and the judge read it, and said to the justices it was insufficient: nevertheless judge Twisden tendered the oath of allegiance to me; many things I did allege then, and many more I have to say now, if time will permit: from that time I was under an engagement to appear at the next assizes, and so was called, and did appear at the last jail-delivery, and a further obligation was required of me for good behaviour, which I could not give, lest I should be brought into a further snare; and since that time I have been committed prisoner these five months, of which time I have been kept under great restraint, my friends not permitted to speak to me: and thus briefly I have given thee an account hitherto. As to the oath, the substance thereof, with the representation of my case, is presented to the court already, unto which I have set my hand, and also shall in those words testify the same in open court, if required; and seeing it is the very substance the law doth require I desire it may be accepted, and I cleared from my imprisonment.
Judge. I am come to execute the law, and the law requires an oath, and I cannot alter it; do you think the law must be changed for you, or only for a few; if this be suffered, the administration of justice is hindered, no action can be tried, nor evidence given for the king, nor other particular cases tried; and your principles are altogether inconsistent with the law and government; I pray you show me which way we shall proceed, show me some reason, and give me some ground.
F. H. I shall: in the mouth of two or three witnesses every truth is confirmed; and we never denied to give, and still are ready to give evidence for the king wherein we are concerned, and in any other matter for the ending of strife between man and man in truth and righteousness, and this answers the substance of the law.
Judge. Is this a good answer, think you? whether to be given with or without oath: the law requires an oath.
F. H. Still evidence is and may be given in truth, according to the substance of the law, so that no detriment cometh unto any party, seeing that true testimony may be borne without an oath; and I did not speak of changing the law: yet seeing we never refused giving testimony, which answereth the intent and substance of the law, I judged it was reasonable to receive our testimony, and not to expose us to such sufferings, seeing we scrupled an oath only upon a conscientious account, in tenderness of conscience, for fear of breaking the command of Christ, the Saviour of the world, which if we do, there is none of you able to plead our cause for us with him.
Judge. But why do not you go to church, but meet in houses and private conventicles, which the law forbids.
F. H. We meet together only for the worship of the true God in Spirit and Truth, having the primitive Christians for our example, and to no other end, but that we may be edified, and God glorified; and when two or three are met together in the name of Christ, and he in the midst of them, there is a church.
Judge. That is true: but how long is it since you have been at church? Or will you go to the church the law doth allow of? Give me some reasons why you do not go.
F. H. I have many to give thee, if thou hast patience to hear me: first, God dwells not in temples made with men’s hands. Secondly, the parish house hath been a temple for idols, to wit, for the mass and the rood; and I dare have no fellowship with idols, nor worship in idols’ temples; for what have we to do with idols, their temples and worship?
Judge. Were there not houses called the houses of God, and temples?
F. H. Yes, under the law; but the Christians, who believed in Christ, separated from these, (and the temple was made and left desolate,) and from the Gentiles’ temples too, and met together in houses, and broke bread from house to house; and the church was not confined then to one particular place, neither is it now; many more things I have to say: the judge interrupted.
Judge. Will you answer to your indictment?
F. H. I know not what it is, I never heard it, though I have often desired a copy.
Judge. Clerk, read it.
So he read it: how that F. H. had wilfully, obstinately, and contemptuously denied to swear when the oath was tendered.
F. H. I deny it.
Judge. What do you deny?
F. H. The indictment.
Judge. Did you not deny to swear? And the indictment convicts you that you did not swear.
F. H. I gave unto the court the substance of the oath, as you all know. Secondly, I told you I did not deny it out of obstinacy or wilfulness, neither in contempt of the king’s law or government; for my will would rather choose my liberty, than bonds; and I am sensible it is like to be a great damage to me; I have a wife and children, and some estate, which we might subsist upon, and do good to others, and I know all this lies at stake; but if it were my life also, I durst not but do as I do, lest I should incur the displeasure of God; and do you judge I would lose my liberty wilfully, and suffer the spoiling of my estate, and the ruining of my wife and children in obstinacy and wilfulness? Surely nay.
Judge. Jury, you see he denies the oath, and he will not plead to the indictment, only excepts against it because of the form of words, but you see he will not swear, and yet he says he denies the indictment, and you see upon what ground.
And then they called the jailer to witness and swear that at the last assizes F. H. did refuse, &c. which he did; and the jury, without going from the bar, gave in their verdict, guilty, and then the court broke up that night.
The next day towards evening, when they had tried all the prisoners, Francis was brought to the bar to receive his sentence.