THE FOURTH BOOK. 1656-1658.

1656.

Near the beginning of the year 1656, G. Fox went from London to Surry, Chichester, Portsmouth, and Pool; where William Baily, a Baptist teacher, and some others, were convinced by G. Fox’s ministry, and entered into the society of those called Quakers; among whom, Baily afterwards became an eminent minister. From Pool, G. Fox went to Southampton, and Dorchester, where he desired of the Baptists to have their meeting-house to meet in; but they refusing, he sent them word, that they might come to his inn, if they pleased. Many of them came, with their teacher, and they fell into a discourse about water-baptism. G. Fox asked them, whether they could say they were sent of God to baptize people, as John was; and whether they had the same spirit and power, that the apostles had. They said they had not. Then he asked them, how many powers there are. Whether there are any more than the power of God, and the power of the devil; and they said, there was not any power than those two. Then said G. Fox, ‘If you have not the power of God, that the apostles had, then you act by the power of the devil.’ And his speaking was of such effect, that many substantial people were convinced that night. Next morning when he was passing away, the Baptists began to shake the dust from off their feet after him. ‘What, said he, in the power of darkness? We who are in the power of God, shake off the dust of our feet against you.’

Leaving Dorchester, he came to Weymouth, where, inquiring after the sober people, about fourscore of them gathered together at the priest’s house, and most of them were turned to Christ Jesus, who had enlightened them with his divine light, by which they were reproved of their sins. There was at that time a captain of horse in the town, who rode about seven miles out of town with G. Fox. This captain was of such a merry temper, and so exceedingly given to laughter, that G. Fox several times spoke very seriously to him about it; but it was become so customary to him that he would laugh almost at any thing he saw. But G. Fox still admonished him to gravity, and the fear of the Lord; and of this he spoke to him again when they parted. The next time G. Fox saw him, the captain told him, that when he spoke to him at parting, the power of the Lord so struck him, that before he got home he was serious enough, and had left his laughing. He indeed became a serious and good man; and being convinced of the Truth, died in the real profession thereof.

For brevity’s sake I do not intend to mention all the places G. Fox passed through, much less all his occurrences. At Kingsbridge he had good service; and returning in the evening to his inn, and there being many people drinking, he was moved to go amongst them, and to direct them to the light which Christ, the heavenly man, had enlightened them withal; by which light they might see all their evil ways, words, and deeds; and by the same light they might also see Christ Jesus their Saviour. But this discourse did not please the innkeeper, seeing it hindered his guests from drinking: and hearing G. Fox speak so much of the light, he snatched away the candle, and said, ‘Come, here is light for you to go into your chamber.’

The next day, G. Fox went to Plymouth, and from thence to Cornwall; and travelling through the country, he came to Market-Jew. Being there at an inn, he met with some trouble from the magistrates: and he writ a paper to show, that the Lord was come to teach his people himself, by Jesus Christ, &c. This paper came accidentally to the hands of Peter Ceely, a major in the army, and also a justice of peace at Ives, whither G. Fox came. Here Edward Pyot and William Salt, who were G. Fox’s fellow-travellers, were hauled before the said major, whilst G. Fox was walking down to the sea-side; but he hearing this, followed them, and came also into the justice’s house, where the aforesaid paper being produced, it was asked him, whether he would own it: and he said, ‘Yes.’ Then the major tendered them the oath of abjuration, G. Fox thereupon putting his hand in his pocket, drew forth the answer to it, which had been given to the protector. A priest being present there, found fault with his hair, which then was pretty long, and asked to have cut it; but G. Fox told him, he had no pride in it. It happened also at other times, that because of his long hair he was spoken to, as I have seen myself; but of this I am fully persuaded, that he had not the least pride in it; but it seems to me not improbable, that he, seeing how some would make it a kind of holiness to wear short hair, did the contrary to show that, in some things, there was a Christian liberty, for which we ought not to judge one another. But to proceed, G. Fox and his companions were taken into custody, and with a guard of horse sent to prison with this mittimus.

By this mittimus it appears under what odd pretences the Quakers, so called, were committed to prison; for such reasons as are mentioned therein, might be found and picked up at any time. Thus G. Fox and his companions were carried through Redruth, Falmouth, and Bodmin, to Launceston. By the way they suffered great insolences, both from the soldiers that conducted them, and from others, by the connivance of captain Keat; but I will not detain my reader with all those particulars. Being come to Launceston, Keat delivered the prisoners to the jailer. And though many were greatly enraged against them, and expected that these prisoners, who thou’d and thee’d all, and did not put off their hats to any man, should at the assizes be condemned to be hanged if they did not pay that respect to the bench; yet there were many friendly people, out of several parts of the country, that came to visit them; for it was about nine weeks from the time of their commitment to the assizes: by reason of which several got opportunity to speak with them, which had that good effect, that many were convinced of the truth of the doctrine held forth by them.

At the time of the assizes, abundance of people came from far and near, to hear the trial of the Quakers; who being guarded by the soldiers, and the sheriff’s men to the court, had much ado to get through the multitude that filled the streets: besides the doors and windows were filled with people looking out upon them. Being brought into the court, G. Fox after all was quiet, said, ‘Peace be amongst you.’ The judge, (Glyn,) who was then chief justice of England, said to the jailer, ‘What be these you have brought here into the court?’ ‘Prisoners, my lord,’ said he. ‘Why do you not put off your hats?’ said the judge to them. They saying nothing; ‘Put off your hats,’ said the judge again; and they still continuing silent, the judge said, ‘The court commands you to put off your hats.’ Then G. Fox began to speak, and said, ‘Where did ever any magistrate, king, or judge, from Moses to Daniel, command any to put off their hats, when they came before them in their courts, either amongst the Jews, (the people of God,) or amongst the heathen? And if the law of England doth command any such thing, show me that law either written or printed.’ The judge, then growing angry, said, ‘I do not carry my law books on my back.’ ‘But,’ said G. Fox, ‘where is it printed in any statute-book, that I may read it?’ At this the judge said, ‘Take him away, prevaricator! I’ll ferk him.’ Then the prisoners were taken away, and put among the thieves. But presently after the judge called to the jailer, ‘Bring them up again.’ This being done, ‘Come,’ said he, ‘where had they hats from Moses to Daniel? Come, answer me; I have you fast now.’ To this G. Fox replied, ‘Thou mayest read in the third of Daniel, that the three children were cast into the fiery furnace, by Nebuchadnezzar’s command, with their coats, their hose, and their hats on.’ This plain instance stopped him: so that not having any thing else to say, he cried again, ‘Take them away jailer.’ Accordingly they were taken away, and being thrust among the thieves, they were kept there a great while, and at length carried again to prison; but in the afternoon they were brought up again into the court.

G. Fox seeing the jurymen there, gave them a paper, which he had written against swearing. This paper passing from the jury to the justices, they presented it to the judge; and he bid the clerk give G. Fox that paper, and then asked him whether that seditious paper was his: to which he said if they would read it in open court, that he might hear it, if it was his, he would own it, and stand by it. The judge would have G. Fox to have taken it, and looked upon it in his own hand. But he desired again that it might be read, that all in the court might hear it, and judge whether there was any sedition in it, or no; for if there were, he was willing to suffer for it. At length the clerk of the assizes read it with an audible voice; and when he had done, G. Fox said it was his paper, and he would own it; and so might they too, except they would deny the Scripture; for was it not Scripture language, and the words and commands of Christ and the apostles, which all true Christians ought to obey? Then they let fall that subject, and the judge speaking again about the hats of the prisoners, bid the jailer take them off. Then they asked what they had lain in prison for these nine weeks, seeing now nothing was objected against them, but what concerned their hats: ‘And,’ said G. Fox, ‘as for putting off our hats, that was the honour which God would lay in the dust, though they made so much ado about it: the honour which is of men, and which men seek one of another, is the mark of unbelievers: for, “How can ye believe,” saith Christ, “who receive honour one of another, and seek not the honour that cometh from God only?” And Christ saith also, “I receive not honour from men.” And all true Christians should be of his mind,’ Then the judge made a speech, how he represented the lord protector’s person; and how he made him lord chief justice of England, and sent him to come that circuit, &c. Thereupon the prisoners desired him, that he would do them justice for their false imprisonment, which they had suffered nine weeks.

But instead thereof, an indictment was read against them, but so full of untruths, that G. Fox thought it had been against some of the thieves: for it contained, that they came by force of arms, and in a hostile manner, into the court; whereas they were brought there as prisoners; which made him say it was all false. And still they cried for justice for their false imprisonment, being taken up in their journey without cause, by major Ceely. Then this Peter Ceely, who, as a justice of peace, sat also on the bench, said to the judge, ‘May it please you, my lord, this man, (pointing to G. Fox,) went aside with me, and told me how serviceable I might be for his design; that he could raise forty thousand men at an hour’s warning, and involve the nation in blood, and so bring in king Charles; and I would have aided him out of the country, but he would not go. And if it please you, my lord, I have a witness to swear it.’ And so he called upon his witness, who, without question, was one that was bribed. But the judge, perceiving this palpable lie, was not forward to examine the witness: then G. Fox desired the judge that he would be pleased to let his mittimus be read, in which the pretended crime was signified, for which he was committed to prison. But the judge said it should not be read: G. Fox still insisting to have it read, said, ‘It ought to be; for if I have done any thing worthy of death, or of bonds, let all the country know it.’ Seeing then they would not read it, he said to one of his fellow-prisoners, ‘Thou hast a copy of it; read it up.’ ‘It shall not be read,’ said the judge; ‘jailer, take him away; I will see whether he or I shall be master.’

Then G. Fox was taken away, and awhile after called for again. He still cried to have the mittimus read; and the people being eager to hear it, he bid his fellow-prisoner read it up; which being done, and read according to the copy already mentioned, G. Fox said to the judge and justices, ‘Thou that sayest thou art chief justice of England, and you that be justices, ye know, that if I had put in sureties, I might have gone whither I pleased, and have carried on the design, if I had one, which major Ceely hath charged me with. And if I had spoken these words to him, which he hath declared, then judge ye, whether bail or mainprize could have been taken in that case.’ Then directing his speech to major Ceely, he said, ‘When or where did I take thee aside? Was not thy house full of rude people, and thou as rude as any of them at our examination, so that I asked for a constable, or other officer, to keep the people civil? But if thou art my accuser, why sittest thou on the bench? That is not a place for thee to sit in; for accusers do not use to sit with the judges: thou oughtest to come down, and stand by me, and look me in the face. Besides, I would ask the judge and justices this question, whether or no major Ceely is not guilty of this treason, which he charges against me, in concealing it so long as he hath done? Doth he understand his place, either as a soldier or a justice of the peace? For he tells you here, that I went aside with him, and told him what a design I had in hand; and how serviceable he might be for it: that I could raise forty thousand men in an hour’s time, and bring in Charles, and involve the nation in blood. Moreover, that he would have aided me out of the country, but I would not go; and therefore he committed me to prison for want of sureties for the good behaviour, as the mittimus declares. Now do not you see plainly, that major Ceely is guilty of this plot and treason that he talks of, and hath made himself a party to it, by desiring me to go out of the country, and demanding bail of me; and not charging me with this pretended treason till now, nor discovering it? But I deny and abhor his words, and am innocent of his devilish design.’

The judge by this seeing clearly that Ceely, instead of ensnaring G. Fox, had ensnared himself, let fall that business. But then Ceely got up again, and said to the judge, ‘If it please you, my lord, to hear me: this man struck me, and gave me such a blow, as I never had in my life.’ G. Fox smiling at this, said, ‘Major Ceely, art thou a justice of peace, and a major of a troop of horse, and tells the judge here in the face of the court and country, that I, who am a prisoner, struck thee; and gave thee such a blow, as thou never hadst the like in thy life? What! art thou not ashamed? Prithee, major Ceely, where did I strike thee; and who is thy witness for that? Who was by?’ To this Ceely said it was in the castle-green, and that captain Bradden was standing by when G. Fox struck him; who then desired the judge to let him produce his witness for that: and he called again upon Ceely, to come down from off the bench; telling him it was not fit that the accuser should sit as judge over the accused. Ceely then said, captain Bradden was his witness: which made G. Fox say to captain Bradden, who was present there, ‘Didst thou see me give him such a blow, and strike him as he saith?’ Bradden made no answer, but bowed his head. G. Fox then desired him to speak up, if he knew any such thing: but he only bowed his head again. ‘Nay,’ said G. Fox, ‘speak up, and let the court and country hear, and let not bowing of the head serve the turn. If I have done so, let the law be inflicted on me. I fear not sufferings, nor death itself; for I am an innocent man concerning all his charge.’ But Bradden would not testify to it. And the judge, finding those snares would not hold, cried, ‘Take him away, jailer;’ and fined the prisoners twenty marks apiece, for not putting off their hats, and to be kept in prison till they paid their fine: and so they were brought back to jail again.

At night captain Bradden came with seven or eight justices to see them: and they being very civil, said, they did not believe that either the judge, or any in the court, believed those charges which major Ceely had made upon G. Fox. And Bradden said, major Ceely had an intent to have taken away G. Fox’s life, if he could have got another witness. ‘But,’ said G. Fox, ‘captain Bradden, why didst not thou witness for me, or against me, seeing major Ceely produced thee for a witness, that thou sawest me strike him? and when I desired thee to speak either for me, or against me, according to what thou sawest or knewest, thou wouldest not speak.’ ‘Why,’ said he, ‘when Major Ceely and I came by you, as you were walking in the castle-green, he put off his hat to you, and said, how do you do, Mr. Fox? Your servant, sir. Then you said to him, major Ceely, take heed of hypocrisy, and of a rotten heart; for when came I to be thy master, or thou my servant? Do servants use to cast their masters into prison? This was the great blow he meant that you gave him.’ G. Fox hearing this, called to mind, that they walking by, Ceely had spoken the aforesaid words, and that he himself indeed made such an answer, as is mentioned; and he thought he said nothing amiss, since Ceely so openly had manifested his hypocrisy and rotten-heartedness, when he complained of this to the judge in open court, and would have made all believe, that G. Fox gave him a stroke outwardly with his hand. A report of this trial being spread abroad, divers people, of whom some were of account in the world, came far and near to see him and his friends in prison, which tended to the convincement of some.

Being settled in prison upon such a commitment, that they were not likely to be soon released, they forebore giving the jailer seven shillings a week apiece for themselves, and as much for their horses, which he had in a manner extorted from them: but upon this he grew so very wicked, that he turned them down into a nasty stinking place where they used to put persons condemned for witchcraft and murder. This place was so noisome, that it was observed few who went into it, did ever come out again in health: for there was no house of office in it, and the excrements of the prisoners that from time to time had been put there, had not been carried out for many years; so that it was all like mire, and in some places to the top of the shoes; and the jailer would not suffer them to cleanse it, nor let them have beds or straw to lie on. At night some friendly people of the town brought them a candle and a little straw; of which they were about to burn a little to take away the stink. The thieves lay over their heads, and the head jailer in a room by them, over their heads also. But it seems the smoke went up into the room where he lay, which put him into such a rage, that he took the pots of the thieves’ excrements, and poured them down through a hole upon their heads; whereby they were so bespattered, that it was loathsome to touch themselves, or one another: besides the stink so increased, that by it, and the smoke, they were almost in danger of being suffocated. And all this could not satisfy the rage of this cruel jailer, but he railed against them so hideously, and called them such horrible nicknames, that they never had heard the like before. In this manner they were forced to stand all night, for they could not sit down, the place being so filthy. Thus he kept them a great while, before he would let them cleanse it, or suffer them to have any victuals brought in, but what they got through the grate. And even this could not be done without difficulty; for a lass one time having brought them a little meat, he sued her in the town-court for breaking the prison; perhaps, because she had a little bent an half-broken bar of the grate, to get a small dish through it. That this jailer was so desperately wicked, is not so much to be wondered at, since, as they were informed, he had been a thief, and was on that account burnt both in the hand and on the shoulder; and the under-jailer in like manner: their wives had also been burnt in the hand. It was not at all strange, then, that the prisoners suffered most grievously from such a wicked crew; but it was more to be wondered at, that colonel Bennet, a Baptist teacher, having purchased the jail and lands belonging to the castle, had there placed this head-jailer.

It was much talked of, that spirits haunted this dungeon, and walked there, and that many had died in it; some thinking to terrify the prisoners therewith. But G. Fox told them, that if all the spirits and devils in hell were there, he was over them in the power of God, and feared no such thing; for Christ, their priest, would sanctify the walls and the house to them; he who bruised the head of the devil; as the priest was to cleanse the plague out of the walls of the house under the law.

Now the time of the sessions at Bodmin being come, the prisoners drew up their suffering case, and sent the paper thither; upon reading of which, the justices gave order, that the door of Doomsdale, (thus the dungeon was called,) should be opened, and that they should have liberty to cleanse it, and to buy their meat in the town. Having obtained this liberty, they writ to London, and desired Anne Downer, a young woman already mentioned in this work, to come down, and to buy and dress their meat: which she being very willing to do, was therein greatly serviceable to them; for she was a good writer, and could take things in shorthand. They also sent up a relation of their sufferings to the protector; who thereupon sent down an order to the governor of Pendennis Castle, to examine the matter. On which occasion Hugh Peters, one of the protector’s chaplains, told him they could not do George Fox a greater service for the spreading of his principles in Cornwall than to imprison him there. This was not altogether untrue, for he was much visited, and many were turned from darkness to the light; notwithstanding the mayor of Launceston was a fierce persecutor, casting in prison all he could get; and he did not stick to search substantial grave women, for letters, as supposed.

In Devonshire it was not much better; for many of those called Quakers, that travelled through the country, were taken up and whipped, under pretence of being vagabonds: nay, some clothiers, that were going to mill with their cloth, and other substantial men, were seized and whipped; and Henry Pollexfen, who had been a justice of peace for the most part of forty years before, was cast into prison, under pretence of being a Jesuit.

In the meanwhile Edward Pyot, who had been a captain, and was a man of good understanding in the laws and rights of the nation, writ a large letter to the lord chief justice John Glyn, wherein he plainly set before him his unlawful dealings; and queried with him, whether his saying if ye will be uncovered, (or put off your hats,) I will hear you, and do you justice, was not an overthrow of the laws that were made to maintain right and justice. Many other particulars, and among the rest, that of G. Fox’s striking major Ceely were also mentioned in this letter. G. Fox himself writ also several papers, wherein the odiousness of persecution was plainly set forth.

Among those that came to visit him was Thomas Lower, a doctor of physic at London; who, whilst I am writing this, is yet alive: and he, asking many questions concerning religious matters, received such satisfactory answers from G. Fox, that he afterwards said his words were as a flash of lightning, they ran so through him; and that he never met with such wise men in his life, &c. Thus he came to be convinced of the Truth, and so entered into the communion of the despised Quakers. While G. Fox was still in prison, one of his friends went to Oliver Cromwell, and offered himself body for body, to lie in Doomsdale prison in his stead, if he would take him, and let G. Fox go at liberty. But Cromwell said he could not do it, for it was contrary to law: and turning to those of his counsel, ‘Which of you,’ quoth he, ‘would do so much for me, if I were in the same condition?‘

Thus G. Fox continued in prison, and it was yet a good while before he and his fellow-prisoners were released. The next year the wicked jailer received a recompense of his deeds; for he was turned out of his place, and for some wicked act was cast into jail himself; and there his carriage was so unruly, that he was, by the succeeding jailer, put into Doomsdale, locked in irons, and beaten, and bid to remember how he had abused those good men, whom he had wickedly, without any cause, cast into that nasty dungeon; but that now he deservedly should suffer for his wickedness; and the same measure he had meted to others, he should have meted out to himself: and this mischievous fellow, who might have grown rich if he had carried himself civilly, grew now very poor, and so died in prison.

About the same time that G. Fox was released, Cromwell called a parliament, which met for the first sitting, in the painted chamber at Westminster, on the 17th of the month called September. Samuel Fisher got an opportunity to come into this assembly, where he heard the protector’s speech, and in it these words, ‘that he knew not of any one man that had suffered imprisonment unjustly in all England.’ And after he had got the conveniency of a standing, he said that he had a word to speak from the Lord to the protector, to the parliament, and the people, and then he began thus:

‘The burden of the word of the Lord God of heaven and of earth, as it came unto me on the 22d day of the last month, and as it now lieth upon me to declare it in his name, even unto thee, Oliver Cromwell, protector, (so called,) of these three nations, England, Scotland, and Ireland; and also to all you who are chosen out of the several parts thereof to sit in parliament this day, to consider of such things as concern the commonwealth thereof; and likewise to the three nations themselves, and all the people thereof, whose rulers and representatives ye are: which word of the Lord, as ye do not deem yourselves too high, or too great, or too good, to be spoken to from the Lord; and as you will not fall under the guilt of that sin of saying to the seers, See not, and to the prophets, Prophesy not, prophesy not unto us right things, prophesy smooth things, prophesy deceits; I charge you all, in the name of the living God, that without interruption or opposition, whether you like it, or like it not, you stand still and hear it: and when I have done, you may do with me as the Lord shall give you leave, or leave me under the power of your hands to do; no law of equity condemning any man before he be heard, especially when he speaks on so high an account as from the God of heaven himself, though to such as are no less than God’s under him here on earth.’

Scarce had he spoken thus much, but some cried, ‘A Quaker, a Quaker; keep him down, he shall not speak:’ yet the protector and the parliament-men were still and quiet. But some others, among whom two justices of peace, had not so much patience; but Fisher, as he related afterwards, believed that the protector and the parliament-men would have given him audience, had not others set him at nought: some saying the protector had spoken long, and was very hot and weary: and that he, [Fisher,] might be ashamed to occasion his stay any longer. Thus Fisher was interrupted, and the protector and parliament-men, rising, went away, though Fisher did not question but the protector would have heard him: for his moderation in hearing what was said, having been experienced before, Fisher was willing to acknowledge his nobility as freely as Paul took notice of the like in Festus; whom he held most noble in that he would hear him, though he thought him mad. Fisher being thus prohibited, published his speech in print, so as he intended to have delivered it, though not one syllable of it was written before. It was pretty long, and contained a sharp reproof to the hypocrisy of those, who, under a show of godliness, made long prayers, kept fasts, and, nevertheless, lived in pride, pomp, and luxury, persecuting those who really were a pious people. And to the protector he said, that unless he took away the wicked from before him, and all flattering false accusers, his throne would never be established in righteousness. In the introduction placed before this speech, he saith that before this burden came upon him, he had prayed God that he might have been excused of this message, thinking that a more unworthy one than himself could not have been singled out; but whatever he did, he could not be rid of it; and though he spent a whole week with fasting, tears, and supplication, yet during the time of that abstinence, he felt a daily supply and refreshment to his spirits, so that he fully resigned to do what he believed was required of him from the Lord; and he felt all fears of the frowns of men removed from him. Some other speeches which he intended to have made to the parliament, but was obstructed therein, he also published afterwards in print.

In the latter part of this year it happened that Humphrey Smith coming to Evesham in Worcestershire, was disturbed in a meeting by the mayor, Edward Young, who said he would break the Quakers’ meetings, or else his bones should lie in the dirt. Thus resolved, he came in the month called October, on a First-day of the week in the morning, into their meeting, in a house where H. Smith was: and several persons after being rudely abused, were hauled out to prison. In the afternoon a meeting being kept in the street, some of the company were by order of the said mayor put into the stocks, and others, of which the aforesaid Smith was one, into a dark dungeon: and though the mayor then said it was an unlawful assembly, but if they would meet in houses he would not molest them; yet on next First-day of the week, he seeing one going to a meeting that was appointed in a house, put him in prison. H. Smith and his friends had some bedding and bed-clothes sent them, but the mayor caused it to be taken away from them; and afterwards when some straw was brought them to lie upon, the jailer would not suffer it; nay, when one came, and asked liberty to fetch out their dung from them, the mayor denied it, and ordered him to be put in the stocks. The place where they were kept, was not twelve feet square, and the hole to take in air, was but four inches wide, so that even by day-light they were fain to burn candle, when they had it. Here they were kept above fourteen weeks, with their own dung in the same room; so that one of them grew sick of the stink; and yet the jailer said, if they had been there for theft or murder, he could have let them have more liberty than now he durst, because of the mayor. James Wall, one of the prisoners, was a freeman of the town, and a shopkeeper, and yet the mayor forbade his wife to stand in the market-place, which for many years she had done. She going to him about it, he began to fawn upon her, and said: ‘I hear that your husband doth abuse you.’ To which she answered, ‘My husband did never abuse me; but as for that judgment which he now holdeth, once I could not own it; but now seeing it is so much persecuted, makes me own it, because the way of God was always persecuted.’ He hearing her speak so, said, she should not have a standing place for five pounds.

About a month after, Margaret Newby and Elizabeth Courton came to this town, and had a meeting at the house of one Edward Pitwayes: but coming in the afternoon to visit the prisoners, the mayor himself laid violent hands on them, and caused them to be put in the stocks, with their legs near a yard one from another; and he would not suffer them to have a block to sit on, though they desired it; yet as one that would seem to have some modesty, he bid the constable fetch a block, and put between their legs, uttering indecent expressions; in this posture they were kept for the space of fifteen hours, and then, in a freezing night sent out of the town, without suffering them to go to any place to refresh themselves. And as to Humphrey Smith, and those with him, they were yet kept a good while in prison.

In this year Alexander Parker was at Radnor in Wales, and bearing there a testimony against the priest Vavasor Powel, he also preached the doctrine of Truth, as occasion offered. It was, I think, about this time, that Ambrose Rigge and Thomas Robinson came to Exeter; from thence to Bristol, and afterwards to Basingstoke in Hampshire. Here, after much trouble, they got a meeting appointed; but before all the people were assembled, the chief priest, with the magistrates, came thither, and causing them to be taken away, tendered them the oath of abjuration. But they denying to swear for conscience sake, were committed to prison: and the jailer nailed planks before the window, to deprive them of the light; neither would he suffer them to have a candle at night. Here they were kept about a quarter of a year; having nothing to lie on but some straw. But this their suffering had such effect, that some of the inhabitants seeing these unreasonable dealings, began to inquire into the doctrine held forth by the sufferers, and so came to be convinced of the truth thereof. They at last being released, Robinson went to Portsmouth, where he preached repentance. Some time after A. Rigge came also thither, and reaped what Robinson in some respect had sowed; though it was not long before he was sent out of town. But returning within a short time, he found opportunity to have a meeting there; and by his preaching some were convinced, and embraced his doctrine.

From thence he went to the Isle of Wight, where some also received the doctrine maintained by him. After some stay he returned to Sussex, where he had great service. And travelling up and down the county, he came to Weymouth and Melcomb-Regis, where speaking in the steeple-house against the priest, he was seized and locked up in a nasty dungeon where there was nothing to lie on but some filthy straw, and a stone to sit on: there was also no house of office; but on the ground lay an heap of dung, where he was also forced to ease himself. But there being an opening at the top of the room, he could see people go along the streets, and thus took occasion, from this subterranean cave, to preach to the passengers with such power and efficacy, that his doctrine entered into the hearts of the hearers and stuck there. This manner of preaching often hath been in England, and I myself, in my young years, have been an eye-witness of it; and have heard the prisoners lift up their voice so, that it could be heard very easily in the streets; which made people that passed by, stand still, and hearken to what was spoken by such zealous preachers. And though these were often hindered of having meetings, yet it was impossible to stop up the fountain from whence their words flowed. Thus it was also with A. Rigge, who, after an imprisonment of eleven weeks, being set at liberty, travelled up and down again; but in many places where he came, a prison was his lot; sometimes even when nothing could be laid to his charge, but that he was gone from his dwelling-place; for the parliament had made a law, that all who were gone from home, and could not give a satisfactory account of their business, should be taken up as vagabonds. Under this pretence, many who travelled to the markets with their goods, were seized by the way; for if it did but appear that such an one was a Quaker, which was presently seen by his not putting off his hat, then there wanted no pretended reason to clap him up in prison.

A. Rigge travelling on, came also to visit some of his friends in prison at Southampton. This was taken so ill, that the mayor, Peter Seal, without examining, caused him to be fastened to the whipping-post, in the market place, where he was severely lashed by the executioner, and then put into a cart, and sent out of the town, in freezing snowy weather; the mayor threatening him, that if ever he returned, he should be whipt again, and burnt in the shoulder with an R. signifying rogue. Notwithstanding this, he was moved to return, and the mayor was very eager to have this executed on him; but the other magistrates would not consent; and not long after the mayor died of a bloody flux. This relation hath carried me a little beyond the course of time. But now I leave A. Rigge for a while, intending to make further mention of him hereafter.

In this year William Caton went again into Scotland, from whence returning, he travelled to Bristol, thence to Plymouth, and so to London; from whence he made a voyage again to Holland, where William Ames and John Stubbs had been, and also found some among the English people at Amsterdam, who had received the doctrine they preached, though afterwards they turned from it again. W. Ames found also some reception among the Baptists there, who at first were pleased with him, but J. Stubbs did not please them so well: as Dr. Galenus Abrahams once told me, who compared Ames to a musician that played a very melodious tune, and Stubbs to a disturber of the harmonious music; though Ames afterwards, for his great zeal, was found fault with also.

W. Caton now arrived at Dort, and from thence repaired to Rotterdam, where, for want of an interpreter that understood English, he was fain to make use of the Latin. But it grieved him exceedingly to meet with some unruly spirits there, that having been in some measure convinced by W. Ames, ran out under the denomination of Quakers, into extremes, both in words and writings. Some of these persons I know, and have seen also some of the books they published in print, in which, under a pretence of plainness, not one capital letter was to be found, even not to proper names, nay, not to names of authors themselves. And since they ran out into several other extravagancies, it was not much to be wondered, that the magistrates clapt them up in Bedlam. The ringleader of these people, was one Isaac Furnier, who formerly, (as I have heard my uncle tell, who had seen it himself,) lived as another Diogenes, using at the fire, instead of a pair of tongs, a split stick; and now conversing among the Quakers, so called, made it a piece of holiness to use the most blunt language, he could think of; how absurd and irregular soever. In fine, he so behaved himself, that the orthodox Quakers rejected his society. He it was, as I have understood, who was the author of that ridiculous saying, ‘My spirit testifieth:’ which, though not approved nor used by the true Quakers, yet hath been so spread among the people in the Low Countries, that it hath been constantly credited, and is not yet quite disbelieved, that the Quakers used to say so of any thing they intend to do; and that if any one, whoever it be, says so, they will give credit to his saying. The abovesaid Dr. Galenus told me, that this man coming to his door, and finding the doctor’s name writ on the post of the door, (as is usual in Holland,) did with his knife, scratch out the letters Dr. signifying doctor. On which the doctor asked him, why he did so? And his answer was, because the spirit did testify so unto him. And being asked farther, if so be that spirit did move him to stab the doctor with the knife, whether he would follow that motion, he answered, (if the relation be true,) as the doctor affirmed to me, ‘Yes.’ But however it be, this is true, that this Furnier was a passionate, and giddy-headed man, whom the true Quakers could not own, though he had translated many of their books out of English into Dutch; and would also preach amongst them. But at length he left them, and turning papist, fell into a dissolute and debauched life.

But to return to W. Caton: coming to Amsterdam, he did not find much more satisfaction there than at Rotterdam; for several high-conceited professors, who seemed to approve the doctrine preached by the Quakers, were more apt to take upon them to teach others, than to receive instruction from others. Wherefore W. Caton did not stay long at Amsterdam, but returned to Rotterdam; and from thence went to Zealand, arriving at Middleburgh, accompanied with a certain young man, who went to some of the meeting-places in that city, and was apprehended; which Caton understanding, went to visit him, and they perceiving that he was his companion, secured him also; and after having been kept in prison some days, being weak in body, it was ordered that they should be sent to England; and so they were carried in a coach-wagon to the water-side, being conducted by a guard of soldiers, to protect them against the rude multitude, and brought on board a ship of war, where Caton suffered great hardship; for the seamen were so ill-natured, that they would not allow him so much as a piece of sailcloth, but he was fain to lie upon the bare boards, in very cold and stormy weather. But though thus hardly used, yet he felt his strength increase, and so experienced the mercies of God. It was in November when he arrived at London, where he was kindly received by the brethren: after some stay there, he went to Hampshire, Surry, Sussex, and Kent.

Not long before this, G. Fox came to Exeter, where James Nayler was in prison, and spoke to him by way of reproof; which Nayler slighted, though he offered to kiss G. Fox: but he unwilling to suffer this, said, since he had turned against the power of God, he could not receive his show of kindness. It appeared by letters the magistrates found in his pocket at Bristol, that the Quakers found fault with him, and had reproved him of his high-mindedness, before it launched out into that extravagant act which made so great a noise in the world, and hath been mixed with many untruths, and false turns. I have therefore thought it worth while to inquire narrowly into it, in order to give a true relation of matters of fact.

This James Nayler was born of honest parents,[9] in the parish of Ardesley, near Wakefield in Yorkshire, about the year 1616. He had served in the parliament army, being quarter-master in major-general Lambert’s troop in Scotland; was a member of the Independents; and afterwards, in the year 1651, he entered into the communion of the Quakers, so called.[10] He was a man of excellent natural parts, and at first did acquit himself well, both in word and writing among his friends, so that many came to receive the Truth by his ministry. He came to London towards the latter end of the year 1654, or beginning of 1655, and found there a meeting of friends, which had already been gathered in that city, by the service of Edward Burrough, and Francis Howgill; and there he preached in such an eminent manner, that many admiring his great gift, began to esteem him much above his brethren, which as it brought him no benefit, so it gave occasion of some difference in the society; and this ran so high, that some forward and inconsiderate women, of whom Martha Simmons was the chief, assumed the boldness to dispute with F. Howgill and E. Burrough, openly in their preaching, and thus to disturb the meetings:[11] whereupon they, who were truly excellent preachers, did not fail, according to their duty to reprove this indiscretion. But these women were so disgusted, that Martha, and another woman, went and complained to J. Nayler, to incense him against F. Howgill and E. Burrough; but this did not succeed, for he showed himself afraid to pass judgment upon his brethren, as they desired. Hereupon Martha fell into a passion, in a kind of moaning or weeping, and, bitterly crying out with a mournful shrill voice, said, ‘I looked for judgment, but behold a cry;’ and with that cried aloud in a passionate lamenting manner, which so entered and pierced J. Nayler, that it smote him down into so much sorrow and sadness, that he was much dejected in spirit, or disconsolate. Fear and doubting then entered him, so that he came to be clouded in his understanding, bewildered, and at a loss in his judgment, and became estranged from his best friends, because they did not approve his conduct; insomuch that he began to give ear to the flattering praises of some whimsical people, which he ought to have abhorred, and reproved them for. But his sorrowful fall ought to stand as a warning, even to those that are endued with great gifts, that they do not presume to be exalted, lest they also fall, but endeavour to continue in true humility, in which alone a Christian can be kept safe.