1665.

In the month called January, in the year 1664-5, thirty-six of that persuasion, among which were eight women, were condemned to be transported to Jamaica. The jury not being so forward to declare the prisoners guilty as the court desired, were persuaded however by the threatenings of judge Keeling, the recorder Wild, and the boisterous Richard Brown, to do what was demanded of them.

On the 18th and 22d of the next month, thirty-four of the said people were sentenced to be carried to Jamaica, and five to Bridewell. The manner of their trial I pass by with silence, to avoid prolixity. Those that were tried on the 18th were sentenced by judge Wharton; and those on the 22d by judge Windham, who said to Anne Blow, who declared, that the fear of the Lord being upon her heart, she durst not conform to any thing that was unrighteous, ‘Anne Blow, I would show you as much favour as the court will allow you, if you will say that you will go no more to that seditious meeting,’ meaning the Bull-and-Mouth. To which she answered, ‘Wouldest thou have me sin against that of God in my own conscience? if I were set at liberty to day, if the Lord required it of me, I should go to the Bull-and-Mouth to-morrow.’

Concerning one John Gibson, the said judge spoke to the jury in this manner: ‘Gentlemen, although it is true, as this Gibson saith, that it cannot be proved that they were doing any evil at the Bull-and-Mouth; yet it was an offence for them to be met there, because in process of time there might be evil done in such meetings: therefore this law was made to prevent them.’ By this we may see with what specious colours the persecutors cloaked their actions. I find among my papers, a letter of John Furly, and Walter Miers, (both of whom I knew well,) mentioning, that some of the jury, for refusing to give such a verdict as was required of them, were fined in great sums, and put into prison, there to remain till they should pay the fine.

Having now said thus much of sentencing, it grows time to speak of the execution thereof.

Some of the persons ordered for banishment, fell sick, and died in prison; some became apostates, and some were redeemed by their relations that were not Quakers; but yet a considerable number was, though with great pains, brought on ship-board, to be transported to the West Indies. We have seen already how those that were sentenced at Hertford, by judge Orlando Bridgman, having been put ashore by the master of the ship, returned. And it was not long after, that three of their friends, being on board the ship the Many-fortune of Bristol, were also set on shore with a certificate from the master of the ship, signed by him and seven of his men, wherein they complained of their adversity, and said, that God had said as it were in their hearts. “Accursed be the man that separates husband and wife; and he who oppresseth the people of God, many plagues will come upon him.”

But the first of those called Quakers, who really tasted banishment, were Edward Brush, and James Harding, who were banished, not only out of London, where they as citizens had as much right to live as the chiefest magistrates, but also out of their native country, contrary to the right of a free-born Englishman: these, with one Robert Hays, were on the 24th of the month called March, early in the morning fetched from Newgate in London, and brought to Blackfriars’ stairs, where they were put into a boat, and so carried down to Gravesend, and there had on board a ship. Hardly any warning had been given to these prisoners; and Robert Hays being sickly, had taken some physic, which had not done working; and since it was very cold that morning, and he had got nothing to eat before he came to Gravesend, he was seized in the ship with so severe sickness, that he died of it, and then his corpse was carried to London, and there buried. The other two were carried to Jamaica, where, by the providence of God, in time it fared well with them, and Edward Brush lived to return into England. It was remarkable, that not long after these persons were banished, the pestilence broke out at London, first of all in the house of a meal-man in Bearbinder lane, next door to the house where the said Edward lived, which by some was thought worthy of being taken notice of; since that house was the first which was shut because of the sickness.

With the other prisoners they had more trouble and pains, because no shipmasters could be found that would carry them: wherefore an embargo was laid on all merchantmen, with order that none should go down the river without having a pass from the Admiral; and this they would give to no master going to the West Indies, unless he made promise to carry some Quakers along with him to the place to which they were banished. Whatever any masters spoke against this, intimating that there was a law, according to which no Englishman might be carried out of his native country against his mind, was in vain. At length by force they got one to serve their turn; and then seven persons that were sentenced to banishment, were, on the 18th of the month called April, carried from Newgate to Blackfriars’ stairs, and so in a boat to Gravesend. But in the meantime the pestilence increased, and not long after judge Hide, who had been very active in persecuting, was, with many others, suddenly taken away out of this life; for he having been seen in the morning at Westminster in health, as to outward appearance, it was told in the afternoon that he was found dead in his chamber; being thus summoned to appear and give account of his deeds before a higher court than ever he presided in.

Yet transportation was not come to a stand; first, as hath been said, three persons, next seven, and on the 16th of the month called May, eight were carried down the river to Gravesend, and put on ship-board; but as the number of those that were carried away was heightened, so also the number of those that died of the pestilence much more increased. But notwithstanding this scourge from Heaven, transportation continued; for a master of a ship was found at length, who had said, as was reported, that he would not stick to transport even his nearest relations. And so an agreement was made with him, that he should take between fifty and sixty Quakers into his ship, and carry them to the West Indies. Of these eight or ten at a time were brought to the water-side, and so with boats or barges carried to the ship, which lay at anchor in the Thames, in Bugbey’s-hole, a little beyond Greenwich. Many of these prisoners, among which several women, not showing themselves ready to climb into the ship, lest it should seem as if they were instrumental to their transportation, were hoisted up with the tackle; and the sailors being unwilling to do this work, and saying, that if they were merchants’ goods, they should not be unwilling to hoist them in, the officers took hold of the tackle, and said, ‘They are the king’s goods.’ This was on the 20th of the month called July, and on the 4th of the next month, when, according to the bill of mortality, three thousand and forty died in one week, the rest of the banished prisoners were carried with soldiers to the said ship, in which now were fifty-five of the banished Quakers, and among these eighteen women. But something adversely hindered this ship from going away, and the pestilence also entered into it, which took away many of the prisoners, and so freed them from banishment. But though the pestilence grew more hot at London, and that a war was risen between England and Holland, yet the fire of persecution continued hot, and great rejoicings were made when the Dutch were beaten at sea, and their admiral Obdam was blown up with his ship. Neither did the persecutors leave off to disturb the meetings of those called Quakers, and imprison many of them; nay, so hardened and unrelenting were some, that when at London more than four thousand people died in one week, they said, that the only means to stop the pestilence, was to send the Quakers out of the land. But these fainted not, but grew emboldened against violence. In September some meetings were still disturbed at London, though the number of the dead in one week was heightened to above seven thousand, being increased in that time nigh two thousand. Now such as intended to have met at the Bull-and-Mouth, were kept out from performing worship there; but yet meeting in the street, they were not disturbed; for there seemed to be some fear of the common people, who grew discontented because there was little to be earned by tradesmen; and the city came to be so emptied, that grass grew in the streets that used to be most populous, few people being seen by the way. Thus the city became as a desert, and the misery was so great, that it was believed some died for want of attendance.

It was about this time that Samuel Fisher, who first had been a prisoner in Newgate at London, and afterwards in Southwark, since the beginning of the year 1663, till now, being about a year and a half, died piously.

It is reported that the king, in the time of this great mortality, once asked, whether any Quakers died of the plague? And having been told, yes, he seemed to slight that sickness, and to conclude, that then it could not be looked upon as a judgment or plague upon their persecutors. But certainly his chaplains might well have put him in mind of what Solomon saith, “There is one event to the righteous and to the wicked:” and of this saying of Job, “He destroyeth the perfect and the wicked:” as also that of the prophet, “That the righteous is taken away from the evil to come.”

Now travelling in the country was stopped, which made some people go with boats along the coast, and so went ashore where they had a mind. Thus did Stephen Crisp, who came about this time to York, where the duke of York was then, with many of the great ones. About this time Alexander Parker, and George Whitehead came to London, where they had good service in preaching the truth.

Great fires were now kindled in the streets to purify the contagious air; but no relief was found by it; for in the latter end of September there died at London above eight thousand people in one week, as I remember to have seen in one of the bills of mortality at that time. In the meanwhile the ship in which the banished prisoners were, could not go off, but continued to lie as a gazingstock for those ships that passed by; for the master was imprisoned for debt.

Now the prediction of George Bishop was fulfilled, and the plagues of the Lord fell so heavily on the persecutors, that the eagerness to banish the Quakers, and send them away, began to abate. The same G. Bishop about Midsummer, wrote from the prison at Bristol, (where he made account that he also should have been banished,) a letter to his friends to exhort them to steadfastness, foretelling them, that if they happened to be banished, God would give them grace in the eyes of those among whom they should be sent, if they continued to adhere to him; and that when he should have tried them, he should bring them again into their native country; and that none should root them out; but they should be planted and built up there; and that the Lord should visit their enemies with the sword and pestilence, and strike them with terror. This is but a short hint of what he wrote at large.

G. Fox, the younger, had also in the year 1661 given forth a little book, of which some small mention hath been made before, in which he lamented England, because of the judgments that were coming upon her inhabitants for their wickedness and persecution; saying among the rest, that the Lord had spoken in him concerning the inhabitants, ‘The people are too many, the people are too many, I will thin them, I will thin them.’ Besides that the spirit of the Lord had signified unto him, that an overflowing scourge, yea even an exceeding great and terrible judgment, was to come upon the land, and that many in it should fall, and be taken away. And that this decree of the Lord was so firm, that though some of the Lord’s children and prophets should appear so as to stand in the gap, yet should not that alter his decree. This with much more he wrote very plainly; and though he was deceased long ago, yet this paper was reprinted, to show the inhabitants how faithfully they had been warned.

What Isaac Pennington, being a prisoner, wrote about this time to the king and parliament, and published in print, was also very remarkable, being designed with Christian meekness to dissuade them if possible from going on with this mischievous work of persecution. In this paper, containing some queries, among many weighty expressions, I find these also:

This the author concludes with a postscript, containing a serious exhortation to forsake evil. Besides this he gave forth another paper, wherein he proposed this question to the king and both houses of parliament.

‘Whether laws made by man, in equity, ought to extend any further than there is power in man to obey. And if it was not cruel to require obedience in such cases, wherein the party hath not a capacity in him of obeying.’ And to explain this a little further, he said, ‘In things concerning the worship of God, wherein a man is limited by God, both what worship he shall perform, and what worship he shall abstain from, here he is not left at liberty to obey what laws shall be made by man contrary hereunto.’ Thus Pennington strove by writing to show the persecutors the evil of their doings: but a fierce party prevailed then: and the clergy continually blew the fire of persecution; nay, many presumed the time was now come totally to destroy the Quakers; and in December twelve more were condemned to transportation.

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Concerning those banished that were now in the ship which lay in the Thames, I will yet leave them there, and take again a view of George Fox, whom in the foregoing year we left in a hard prison at Lancaster. In the month called March this year he was brought again to his trial before judge Twisden; and though judge Turner had given charge at the assize before, to see no such gross errors were in the indictment as before, yet in that respect this was not much better than the former, though the judge examined it himself. The jury then being called to be sworn, and three officers of the court having deposed, that the oath had been tendered to him at the last assizes, according to the indictment, the judge said, it was not done in a corner: and then asked him, what he had to say to it; and whether he had taken the oath at the last assizes? George Fox thereupon gave an account of what had been done then, and that he had said, that the book they gave him to swear on, saith. “Swear not at all.” And repeating more of what he spoke then, the judge said, ‘I will not dispute with you but in point of law.’ George Fox offering to speak something to the jury concerning the indictment, he was stopped by the judge; and then George Fox asked him, whether the oath was to be tendered to the king’s subjects only, or to the subjects of foreign princes? The judge replied, ‘To the subjects of this realm.’ ‘Well,’ said he, ‘look to the indictment, and thou mayest see that the word subject is left out of this indictment also.’ Several other great errors as to time, &c. he had observed in the indictment, but no sooner had he spoke concerning the errors, but the judge cried, ‘Take him away jailer, take him away.’ Then he was hurried away; yet the people thought he should have been called again; but that was not done. After he was gone, the judge asked the jury, whether they were agreed? They said, ‘Yes,’ and found for the king against him. The reason why George Fox was led away so suddenly, seemed to be that they expected he would have proved the officers of the court to have sworn falsely, seeing the day on which the oath had been tendered to him at the assizes before, was wrong in the indictment; and yet they had sworn, that on that day he had refused to take the oath. Before George Fox was brought before the judge, he had passed sentence of premunire against Margaret Fell, for having refused to take the oath. And though this sentence had not been passed against George Fox, yet he was recorded as a premunired person; though it had not been asked him what he had to say why sentence should not be pronounced against him. And thus he continued prisoner in Lancaster castle.

Whilst he was there, though weak of body, he wrote several papers; but the neighbouring justices laboured much to get him removed from thence to some remote place; for it was pretty well known among the people, how the court at the assizes had dealt with him. So about six weeks after, they got an order from the king and council to remove him from Lancaster; and they received also a letter from the earl of Anglesey, wherein it was written, that if these things which he was charged with, were found true against him, he deserved no clemency or mercy: and yet the greatest matter they had against him, was his refusal of the oath. His persecutors now having prepared for his removal, the under sheriff, and the head sheriff’s men, with some bailiffs, came and fetched him out of the castle, when he was so weak, by lying in that cold, wet, and smoky prison, that he could hardly go or stand. So they brought him down into the jailer’s house where justice William Kirby, and several others were. They called for wine to give him, but he well knowing their malice against him, told them, he would have none of their wine. Then they cried, ‘Bring out the horses.’ G. Fox therefore desired, that if they intended to remove him, they would first show him their order, or a copy of it. But they would not show him any but their swords. He then told them, there was no sentence passed upon him, neither was he premunired, that he knew of; and therefore he was not made the king’s prisoner, but was the sheriff’s: for they and all the country knew that he was not fully heard at the last assizes, nor suffered to show the errors that were in the indictment, which were sufficient to quash it. And that they all knew there was no sentence of premunire passed upon him; and therefore he not being the king’s prisoner, but the sheriff’s, desired to see their order. But instead of showing him their order, they hauled him out, and lifted him upon one of the sheriff’s horses; for he was so very weak, that he was hardly able to sit on horseback. Riding thus along the street, he was much gazed upon by the people, and had great reason to say, that he received neither Christianity, civility, nor humanity, for how ill and weak soever he was, yet they hurried him away about fourteen miles to Bentham in Yorkshire; and so wicked was the jailer, one Hunter, a young fellow, that he lashed the horse on which G. Fox rode, with his whip, to make him skip and leap, insomuch that he had much ado to sit him; and then would this wanton fellow come, and looking him in the face, say, ‘How do you Mr. Fox?’ To which he answered, it was not civil in him to do so. Yet this malicious fellow seemed little to regard it; but he had not long time to delight in this kind of insolence; for soon after he was cut off by death.

G. Fox being come to Bentham, was met by a marshal and several troopers, and many of the gentry, besides abundance of people, come thither to stare at him. Being entered the house, and very much tired, he desired they would let him lie down on a bed, which the soldiers permitted; and the marshal, to whom he was delivered, set a guard upon him. After having staid there a while, they pressed horses, and sending for the bailiff and the constables, they had him to Giggleswick that night. And there they raised the constables, who sat drinking all night in the room by him, so that he could get but little rest. The next day coming to a market town, several of his friends came to see him, and at night he asked the soldiers, whither they intended to carry him? To which some said, beyond sea, and others to Tinmouth Castle. And there was a fear amongst them, lest some should rescue him; but there was not the least reason for it. The next night he was brought to York, where the marshal put him into a great chamber, where many of the troopers then came to him. He then speaking something by way of exhortation to the soldiers, many of them were very loving to him. A while after the lord Frecheville, who commanded those horse, came to him, and was civil and loving, and G. Fox gave him an account of his imprisonment.

After a stay of two days at York, the marshal and five soldiers were sent to convey him to Scarborough Castle: these behaved themselves civilly to him. On the way they baited at Malton, and permitted his friends to see him. Afterwards being come to Scarborough, they brought him to an inn, and gave notice of it to the governor, who sent six soldiers to guard him that night. The next day they had him into the castle, and there put him into a room, with a sentinel to watch him. Out of this room they soon brought him into another, which was so open, that the rain came in, and it smoked exceedingly; which was very offensive to him. One day the governor, sir John Crosland, came into the castle with one sir Francis Cob. G. Fox desired the governor to come into his room, and see how it was, and so they did: and G. Fox having got a little fire made in the room, it was so filled with smoke, that they could hardly find the way out again. And he being a Papist, G. Fox told him, that was his purgatory which they had put him into. For it plainly appeared that there was an intent to vex and distress him: for after he had been at the charge of laying out about fifty shillings, to keep out the rain, and somewhat to ease the smoke, they put him into a worse room, which had neither chimney nor fire-hearth; and lying much open toward the sea-side, the wind so drove in the rain, that the water not only ran about the room, but also came upon his bed. And he having no fire to dry his clothes when they were wet, his body was so benumbed with cold, and his fingers swelled to that degree, that one grew as big as two. And so malicious were his persecutors, that they would hardly suffer any of his friends to come at him, nay, not so much as to bring him a little food; so that he was forced to hire somebody to bring him necessaries. Thus he spent about a quarter of a year, and afterwards being put into a room where a fire could be made, he hired a soldier to fetch him what he wanted. He then ate almost nothing but bread, and of this so little, that a threepenny loaf commonly served him three weeks: and most of his drink was water, that had wormwood steeped in it; and once when the weather was very sharp, and he had taken a great cold, he got some elecampane beer.

Now, though he desired his friends and acquaintances might be suffered to come to him, yet this was refused; but some others were admitted to come and gaze upon him, especially Papists, of whom a great company once being come, they affirmed, that the pope was infallible, and had been so ever since St. Peter’s time. But G. Fox denied this, and alleged from history, that Marcellinus, one of the bishops of Rome, denied the faith, and sacrificed to idols; and therefore was not infallible. And he said also, ‘If the Papists were in the infallible spirit, they would not maintain their religion by jails, swords, gallows, fires, racks, and tortures, &c. nor want such means to hold it up by: for if they were in the infallible spirit, they would preserve men’s lives, and use none but spiritual weapons about religion.’ He also told them how a certain woman that had been a Papist, but afterwards entered into the society of those called Quakers, having a taylor at work at her house, and speaking to him concerning the falseness of the popish religion, was threatened to have been stabbed by him, for which end he drew his knife at her: since it was the woman said, the principle of the Papists, if any turn from their religion to kill them if they can. This story he told the Papists, and they did not deny this to be their principle, but asked, if he would declare this abroad. And he said, ‘Yes, such things ought to be declared abroad, that it may be known how contrary your religion is to true Christianity.’ Whereupon they went away in a rage. Some time after another Papist came to discourse with him, and said, that all the patriarchs were in hell, from the creation till Christ came; and that when he suffered he went into hell, and the devil said to him, ‘What comest thou hither for; to break open our strong holds?’ And Christ said, ‘To fetch them all out.’ And so, he said, Christ was three days and three nights in hell, to bring them all out. On which G. Fox said to him that was false; for Christ said to the thief, “This day thou shalt be with me in paradise.” He also said, that Enoch and Elijah were translated into heaven; and that Abraham also was in heaven, since the Scripture saith, that Lazarus was in his bosom. And Moses and Elias were with Christ upon the mount, before he suffered. With these instances he stopped his adversary’s mouth, and put him to a nonplus.

Another time there came to him a great physician, called Dr. Witty, being accompanied with the lord Falconbridge, the governor of Tinmouth Castle, and several knights. G. Fox being called to them, this doctor undertook to discourse with him, and asked, what he was in prison for? G. Fox told him, because he would not disobey the command of Christ, and swear. To which the doctor said, he ought to swear his allegiance to the king. Now G. Fox knowing him to be a great Presbyterian, asked him, whether he had not sworn against the king and the house of lords, and taken the Scotch covenant; and whether he had not since sworn to the king. The doctor having no ready answer to this, G. Fox asked him, what then was his swearing good for: telling him further, ‘My allegiance doth not consist in swearing, but in truth and faithfulness.’ After some further discourse, G. Fox was led away to his prison again; and afterwards the doctor boasted, that he had conquered G. Fox; which he having heard, told the governor, it was a small boast in him to say he had conquered a bondman.

A while after, this doctor came again, having many great persons with him, and he affirmed before them all, that Christ had not enlightened every man that cometh into the world; that the grace of God, which brought salvation, had not appeared unto all men; and that Christ had not died for all men. G. Fox asked him, what sort of men those were, which Christ had not enlightened; and whom his grace had not appeared unto. To which the doctor answered, ‘Christ did not die for adulterers, and idolators, and wicked men.’ Then G. Fox asked him, whether adulterers and wicked men were not sinners; and he said, ‘Yes.’ Which made G. Fox say, ‘And did not Christ die for sinners? Did he not come to call sinners to repentance?’ ‘Yes,’ said the doctor. ‘Then,’ replied G. Fox, ‘thou hast stopped thy own mouth.’ And so he proved, that the grace of God had appeared to all men, though some turned it into wantonness, and walked despitefully against it; and that Christ had enlightened all men, though some hated the light. Several of those that were present confessed it was true; but the doctor went away in a rage, and came no more to him.

Another time the governor came to him, with two or three parliament-men, and they asked him, whether he owned ministers and bishops; to which he said, ‘Yes, such as Christ sent forth; such as had freely received, and would freely give; and such as were qualified, and were in the same power and spirit that they were in, in the apostles’ days. But such bishops and teachers as yours are, that will go no further than they have a great benefice, I do not own; for they are not like the apostles: for Christ saith to his ministers, “Go ye into all nations and preach the gospel.” But ye parliament-men, that keep your priests and bishops in such great fat benefices, ye have spoiled them all: for do you think they will go into all nations to preach, or will go any further than they have great fat benefices? Judge yourselves, whether they will or no.’ To this they could say little, and whatever was objected to G. Fox, he always had an answer in readiness; and because sometimes it was simple and plain, his enemies from thence took occasion to say, that he was a fool. But whatever such said, it is certain that he had a good understanding, though he was not educated in human learning. This I know by my own experience, for I have had familiar conversation with him.

In this his prison he was much visited, even by people of note. General Fairfax’s widow came once to him with a great company, one of which was a priest, who began to quarrel with him, because speaking to one person, he said thou and thee, and not you; and those that spoke so, the priest said, he counted but fools. Which made G. Fox ask him, whether they, that translated the Scriptures, and that made the grammar and accidence, were fools; seeing they translated the Scriptures so, and made the grammar so, thou to one, and you to more than one. With these and other reasons he soon silenced the priest; and several of the company acknowledged the truth he declared to them, and were loving to him; and some of them would have given him money, but he would not receive it.

Whilst I leave him yet prisoner, I will go to other matters, and relate the remarkable case of one William Dundas, who being a man of some repute in Scotland, came over to the communion of those called Quakers, in a singular manner. He was a man of a strict life, and observed the ecclesiastical institutions there as diligently as any of the most precise; but in time he saw, that bodily exercise profited little, and that it was true godliness which the Lord required from man. In this state, becoming more circumspect than he was accustomed to be, he did not frequent the public assemblies so much as formerly. But this was soon taken notice of, and being asked the reason why, he said, that there was a thing beyond that, which he looked for. But it was told him, this was a dangerous principle. To which Dundas replied, that he was not to receive the law from the mouth of man. Then the minister, so called, said to him, that he tempted God. To which Dundas returned, that God could not be tempted to evil. Now that which made him more averse to the priests of that nation, was to see their domineering pride: and how they forced some that were not one with them, in their principles, to comply with their institutions, sprinkling the children of parents even without their consent. Add to this, their going from one benefice to another, being always ready to go over from a small church to a great one, under pretence of more service for the church; whereas it plainly appeared, that selfish interest generally was the main cause. This behaviour of the clergy, and their rigid persecution, if any deviated a little from the church ceremonies and the common form, turned Dundas’s affection from them. An instance of this rigidness was, that one Wood, who had some charge in the custom-house of Leith, and approved in some respect the doctrine of those called Quakers, had said, that Christ was the word, and that the letter was not the word. For this he was cited before the ecclesiastical assembly of Lothian, where Dundas was present; and Wood so well defended his saying, that none were able to overthrow his arguments; chiefly drawn from these words of John, “That the word was made flesh, and dwelt among us.” Wood continuing to maintain his assertion, they began to threaten him with excommunication, and would not allow him so much time as to give his answer to the next assembly. Excommunication there was such a penalty, that people under it were very much deprived of conversation with men. The fear of this made Wood comply in a little time; and meeting Dundas about three months after in the street at Edinburgh, he told him, that he had been forced to bow to the assembly against his light: for if he had been excommunicated, he had lost his livelihood. Thus Wood bowed through human fear, but he hardly outlived this two years.

In the meanwhile the priests became more and more jealous of Dundas; for he not having them in such an esteem as they wished, they said that he would infect the whole nation. And they did not stick here, but to know with whom he corresponded in England, they opened, (so great was their power,) his letters at the post-house, and sometimes kept them: but if they found nothing in them, by which they could prejudice him, they caused them to be sealed up again, and delivered to him. By this base practice, they came to know that one Gawen Lawry, merchant of London, sent him a box, with about three pounds sterling worth of books. This box Dundas found afterwards that the priest, John Oswald, had taken away: and whatever he did, he could not get them again, till the English came into Scotland, but then many of them were wanting. Dundas in the meanwhile unwilling to comply with the kirk, was at length excommunicated; but he was generally so well esteemed, that none seemed to regard that sentence, so as to keep at a distance from him; which made this act the more contemptible. Now though Dundas favoured the doctrine of the Quakers, yet they were such a despised people, that he, who was a man of some account in the world, could not as yet give up to join with them.

It happened once that he was riding from Edinburgh to his house, in a winter evening, and hearing a noise of some men as if fighting, he bade his man ride up in haste to see what it was, which he did, and calling out, said, that there were two men on horseback, beating another on foot, Dundas riding up to them, saw the two beating the other man, who said to them, ‘What did I say to you, but bid you fear God?’ By this Dundas presently perceived that the man thus beaten was a Quaker; and asking his name, which the other telling, he knew it, though he did not know the man by sight: and then he fell a beating the two with his rod, and ordered those that were with him, to carry them to the next prison: but the said Quaker intreated him to let them go, which he did, after having asked their names, and dwelling-places. About a week after, the said Quaker told a relation of Dundas what kindness he showed him, and how he had in some manner been saved by him; ‘yet,’ said he, ‘I found the same spirit in him that was in the other two men who beat me.’ Such a saying as this would have offended some men, but with Dundas it had a contrary effect; for these words so reached him, that some time after meeting the said Quaker again, he desired, that as he passed that way, he would make his house his lodging place: which kind invitation he seemed not unwilling to accept of. Dundas had now attained so much experience, that he could discern between the spirits of meekness and rashness; and sufficiently perceive that the said Quaker, by that which he spoke concerning him, had not made himself guilty of the latter; but yet he could not bow so low, as to join in society with the Quakers, though secretly he endeavoured more and more to live up to their doctrine; and therein he enjoyed more peace in his heart than formerly.

But his outward condition in the world not being very forward, he went into France, and settled at Dieppe. Whilst he dwelt there, a certain woman out of England, came thither with her maid, and spread in the town some books of George Fox and William Dewsbury, translated into French; and she herself having written some papers, got them turned into French by Dundas, and so distributed them. But the message she chiefly came for, she hid from him, and that not without reason; for what she acted there, was so singular, that if it had been known before, it is probable she would not have been able to perform it. Though I do not find what her intent was in the thing, yet it seems likely to me, that she, not knowing the language there spoken, would by a sign testify against their apparel and dress, and that on this wise: on the First-day of the week she came to the meeting-house of the Protestants there, where some thousands of people were met: and, having set herself in the most conspicuous place, just over against him that preached, before the service was finished, she stood up, with the maid that was with her, who taking off a mantle and hood she was covered with, she appeared clothed in sackcloth, and her hair hanging down, sprinkled with ashes: thus she turned herself round several times, that all the people might see her. This sight struck both preacher and auditory with no small consternation; and the preacher’s wife afterwards telling somebody how this sight had affected her, said, ‘This is of deeper reach than I can comprehend.’ The said women having stood thus awhile, fell both down upon their knees, and prayed, and then went out of the meeting, many following them, and distributed some books. Then they came to their lodging, which was in a Scotchman’s house; but he refusing them entrance, they came to Dundas’s lodging, who knew nothing of all this. They therefore told him, that the work they came for in that nation, was now done; and he asking what they had done, they told him, and signified that they wanted lodging till they went away. Then he went abroad to see if he could find lodging for them, but in vain; he then offered them his bed, being willing to shift for himself somewhere else, but they refused to accept of his offer; and his landlady not being willing to let them sit up that night in any of her rooms, they were fain to stay that night in an outhouse.

Now this business had made such a stir in the town, that one of the king’s officers coming the next day to Dundas, told him, that he had transgressed the laws of the nation, by receiving persons of another religion to his lodging: for the king tolerated only two religions, viz. Papists and Protestants. To this Dundas said, that he had not transgressed the law of hospitality, and he had been forced to do so, since he could not let them lie in the street, where they would have been in danger of their lives by the rude multitude. Then the women were taken away, and sent to prison; and they not being provided with food, Dundas took care of that. Sometime after, an order being come from the parliament, at Rouen, it was read to them, viz. that they should be transported forthwith back to England, with the first passage-boat, and all their papers and books to be burnt in the market, and themselves also, if ever they should come to that nation again. In pursuance of this they were put into a passage-boat in the night time, and so sent to England. Afterwards the people at Dieppe intended to pursue Dundas as one of their judgment; but he was unwilling to be looked upon as such, though the Protestants had informed against him, that he did not come to their meetings: but of this no crime could be made, and Dundas told them, if they persecuted him, being a merchant, and trafficking there, they might expect the like to be done to their merchants in England. And when the judge affirmed that Dundas was of the judgment of these women, he told them that they were better than he; but that their way was too strait for him to walk in. There fell out two things which Dundas took singular notice of; the one was, that the Scotchman who shut out the women, died within twelve months after; and the other, that the house of his landlady, who refused them a chamber to sit in, was burnt within the said time, without its being known whence the fire came, no house being burnt besides, though it was in the middle of the town.

In the meanwhile Dundas continued in an unquiet condition; for by reason of human fear, he found himself too weak to profess publicly before men, what he believed to be truth.

Then he went to Rouen, but could get no rest there, being somewhat indisposed in body; and having from England gotten a great many books, treating of the doctrine of those called Quakers, he sent some of them to the judge criminal at Dieppe, and some to the Jesuits’ college there, and at Paris. Afterwards he spread some books also at Caen, where many Protestants lived. But since those books spoke against the Papists, and the Calvinists were in fear that thereby they might be brought to sufferings, they complained to the lieutenant-general of the town, of Dundas, as one that did not come to their meeting. By this he was forced to leave that place, and went to Alencon, where staying a while, the judge criminal sent for him; and after a long discourse, he and Dundas agreed so well, that he invited him to come and see him oftener, and that if he would, he might have an opportunity to discourse with some of the Jesuits. But Dundas told him, that he was not willing to dispute with any; yet he should not be afraid to maintain his principles, against all the Jesuits of the nation. This being told the Jesuits, it so exasperated them against him, that being once out of town, they caused his chamber-door to be broken up, to search his lodging. He complaining of this to the judge criminal, the judge told him, he knew nothing of it, and if there was any thing, it did proceed from the Jesuits, because of his confidence against them. This seemed not improbable, for he found his letters opened at the post-house several times, and when he challenged the post-master, he received for an answer, that they came so to him.

Some time after he returned to Caen, where he was not long; but his correspondent at Alencon sent him word, that the day after he went from thence, the governor of the town had been at his lodging to seek for him.

In the next year, when a war arose between England and France, he came again to Dieppe, in order to return to England; having got passage in company of the lord Hollis, ambassador from England; where being arrived, he frequented the meetings of those called Quakers, yet was not bold enough to own the name of Quaker, but continued in the common way of salutations, &c. Yet at length the truth they professed, had such power over him, that not being able to enjoy peace without yielding obedience to the inward convictions upon his mind, he at length gave up, and so entered into their society, and obtained a true peace with the Lord, which he had long reasoned himself out of. In process of time he published a book in print, from which I have drawn this relation, which he concluded with a poem, in which he thanked God for his singular dealings and mercies bestowed upon him, wishing that others might reap benefit by it.

Thus parting with William Dundas, I am now to say, that in this year, 1665, in December, William Caton died at Amsterdam. He was a man not only of literature, and zealous for religion, but of a courteous and affable temper and conversation, by which he was in good esteem among those he was acquainted with: and as to the respect he had there, this may serve as an instance. Holland at this time being in war with England, there were several English prisoners of war in the prison of the court of admiralty at Amsterdam, who now and then were visited by Caton, and supplied with some sustenance: but in this he was hindered by an officer of that court, who seemed offended because Caton did not give him hat honour. This gave occasion to Caton to complain of it to a burgomaster of the city, I think the lord Cornelius Van Vlooswyh, who at that time was one of the lords of the admiralty; he bid Caton come to his house at such a time as he was to go to the court; which he did, and went with the said burgomaster towards the court, where being come, and entrance denied him by the said officer, the burgomaster charged him not to hinder Caton from visiting the prisoners. About this time a law was made in England, called,

And though this act was chiefly made against the Presbyterians and Independents, who formerly had been employed in the public church, yet they suffered but little by it; but it was cunningly made use of to vex the Quakers, who, because for conscience-sake they could not swear, were on this law prosecuted and imprisoned, &c.

Now since the pestilence had been so fierce this year at London, that about an hundred thousand people were swept away by it and otherwise, and also many of those called Quakers, there must be consequently many poor widows and fatherless children among those of that society. And because the men, who at times kept meetings to take care for the poor, found that this burden grew too heavy for them, they offered part of this service and care to the most grave and solid women of their church, who for this service met once a week at London, and this in time gave rise to the women’s monthly meetings in other places in England.