1660-1662.—George Fox writes an epistle of consolation to Friends unjustly imprisoned in consequence of the insurrection of the Fifth-Monarchy Men—Friends’ declaration against war and plots—John Perrot and Charles Bailey create a schism—some Friends in New England are put to death, a sense whereof is given to George Fox at the time—the King’s mandamus to the Governor of New England and others, to restrain them from executing Friends—the Battledore is published, showing, by examples from thirty languages, that “Thou” and “Thee” are proper to one person—on true worship—George Fox disputes with some Jesuits, and with all other sects—John Perrot’s heresy condemned—on judicial swearing—George Fox and Richard Hubberthorn write to the King, showing the number of Friends imprisoned prior to, and during the first year of, the Restoration, and the number who died in prison during the Commonwealth—Thomas Sharman, jailer at Derby, convinced, and writes to George Fox—George Fox applies to Lord D’Aubigny on behalf of two Friends imprisoned in the Inquisition at Malta, who procures their liberation—the ground and rise of persecution set forth—great service at Bristol, where also he has a vision—visits Captain Brown and his wife; the former had lied from persecution, and was judged in himself, but afterwards convinced—George Fox and several others are arrested by Lord Beaumont, and sent to Leicester jail—they are suddenly liberated—to Friends on the death of Edward Burrough—escapes from persecutors—Friends established on Christ, the Rock of Ages.

When it was known I was discharged from Lancaster Castle, a company of envious, wicked spirits were troubled, and terror took hold of Justice Porter; for he was afraid I would take advantage of the law against him for my wrong imprisonment, and thereby undo him, his wife, and children. Indeed I was pressed by some in authority to make him and the rest examples; but I said, “I should leave them to the Lord; if the Lord forgave them, I should not trouble myself with them.”

Now did I see the end of the travail which I had had in my sore exercise at Reading; for the everlasting power of the Lord was over all, and his blessed truth, life, and light shone over the nation, and great and glorious meetings we had, and very quiet; and many flocked in unto the truth. Richard Hubberthorn had been with the king, who said, “None should molest us, so long as we lived peaceably,” and promised this to us upon the word of a king, telling him we might make use of his promise.^[65] Some Friends also were admitted into the House of Lords, and had liberty to declare their reasons, why they could not pay tithes, swear, or go to the steeple-housesteeple-house worship, or join with others in worship, and they heard them moderately. And there being about seven hundred Friends in prison in the nation, who had been committed under Oliver’s and Richard’s government, upon contempts (as they call them), when the king came in, he set them all at liberty. There seemed at that time an inclination and intention in the government to grant Friends’ liberty, because they were sensible that we had suffered as well as they under the former powers. But still, when anything was going forward in order thereto, some dirty spirits or other, that would seem to be for us, threw something in the way to stop it.

It was said, there was an instrument drawn up for confirming our liberty, and that it only wanted signing; when, suddenly, that wicked attempt of the Fifth-monarchy-people broke out, and put the city and nation in an uproar. This was on a First-day night, and very glorious meetings we had had that day, wherein the Lord’s truth shone over all, and his power was exalted above all; but about midnight, or soon after, the drums beat, and the cry was, “Arm, Arm!” I got up out of bed, and in the morning took boat, and landing at Whitehall-stairs, walked through Whitehall. They looked strangely at me there, but I passed through them, and went to Pall-Mall, where divers Friends came to me, though it had now become dangerous passing the streets; for by this time, the city and suburbs were up in arms, and exceedingly rude the people and soldiers were; insomuch that Henry Fell,^[66] going to a Friend’s house, the soldiers knocked him down, and he would have been killed, had not the Duke of York come by. Great mischief was done in the city this week; and when the next First-day came, as Friends went to their meetings, many were taken prisoners.

I stayed at Pall-Mall, intending to be at the meeting there; but on the Seventh-day night, a company of troopers came and knocked at the door. The servant letting them in, they rushed into the house, and laid hold of me; and there being amongst them one that had served under the parliament, he put his hand to my pocket, and asked, “whether I had any pistols?” I told him he knew I did not carry pistols, why therefore ask such a question of me, whom he knew to be a peaceable man? Others of the soldiers ran into the chambers, and there found in bed Esquire Marsh, who, though he was one of the king’s bedchamber, out of his love to me, came and lodged where I did. When they came down again, they said, “Why should we take this man away with us? We will let him alone.” “O,” said the parliament soldier, “he is one of the heads, and a chief ringleader.” Upon this the soldiers were taking me away, but Esquire Marsh hearing of it, sent for him that commanded the party, and desired him to let me alone, for he would see me forthcoming in the morning.

In the morning before they could fetch me, and before the meeting was gathered, there came a company of foot soldiers to the house and one of them drawing his sword, held it over my head. I asked him, “why he drew his sword at an unarmed man?” at which his fellows being ashamed, bid him put up his sword. These foot soldiers took me away to Whitehall, before the troopers came for me. As I was going out, several friends were coming in to the meeting, whose boldness and cheerfulness I commended, and encouraged them to persevere therein. When I was brought to Whitehall, the soldiers and people were exceedingly rude, yet I declared truth to them; but some great persons coming by, who were very full of envy, “What,” said they, “do ye let him preach? Put him into such a place, where he may not stir.” So into that place they put me, and the soldiers watched over me. I told them, though they could confine my body and shut that up, yet they could not stop the Word of Life. Some came and asked me, “What I was?” I told them, “A preacher of righteousness.” After I had been kept there two or three hours, Esquire Marsh spoke to Lord Gerrard, and he came and bid them set me at liberty. The marshal, when I was discharged, demanded fees. I told him I could not give him any, neither was it our practice; and asked him how he could demand fees of me, who was innocent.

Then I went through the guards, the Lord’s power being over them; and after I had declared truth to the soldiers, I went up the streets with two Irish colonels that came from Whitehall, to an inn, where many Friends were at that time prisoners under a guard. I desired these colonels to speak to the guard to let me go in to visit my friends, that were prisoners there; but they would not. Then I stepped to the sentry, and desired him to let me go up; and he did so. While I was there, the soldiers went to Pall-Mall again to search for me there; but not finding me, they turned towards the inn, and bid all come out that were not prisoners; so they went out. But I asked the soldiers that were within, “Whether I might not stay there a while with my friends?” They said, “Yes.” I stayed, and so escaped their hands again. Towards night I went to Pall-Mall, to see how it was with the Friends there; and after I had stayed a while, I went up into the city. Great rifling of houses there was at this time to search for people. I went to a private friend’s house, and Richard Hubberthorn was with me. There we drew up a declaration against plots and fightings, to be presented to the king and council; but when finished, and sent to print, it was taken in the press.

On this insurrection of the Fifth-monarchy men, great havoc was made both in city and country, so that it was dangerous for sober people to stir abroad for several weeks after; men or women could hardly go up and down the streets to buy provisions for their families without being abused. In the country they dragged men and women out of their houses, and some sick men out of their beds by the legs. Nay, one man in a fever, the soldiers dragged out of bed to prison, and when he was brought there he died. His name was Thomas Pachyn.

Margaret Fell went to the king, and told him what sad work there was in the city and nation, and showed him we were an innocent, peaceable people, and that we must keep our meetings as heretofore, whatever we suffered; but that it concerned him to see that peace was kept, that no innocent blood might be shed. The prisons were now everywhere filled with Friends, and others, in the city and country, and the posts were so laid for the searching of letters, that none could pass unsearched. We heard of several thousands of our Friends being cast into prison in several parts of the nation, and Margaret Fell carried an account of them to the king and council. Next week we had an account of several thousands more being cast into prison; and she went and laid them also before the king and council. They wondered how we could have such intelligence, having given strict charge for the intercepting of all letters: but the Lord so ordered it, that we had an account, notwithstanding all their stoppings.

In the deep sense I had of the grievous suffering Friends underwent, and of their innocency towards God and man, I was moved to send the following epistle to them, as a word of consolation, and advised them to send up an account of their sufferings:—

Having lost our former declaration in the press, we hastily drew up another against plots and fighting, got it printed, and sent some copies to the king and council; others were sold in the streets, and at the Exchange. Which declaration was some years after reprinted, and is as follows:—

This declaration somewhat cleared the dark air that was over the city and country. And soon after the king gave forth a proclamation, “That no soldiers should search any house without a constable.” But the jails were still full, many thousands of Friends being in prison; which mischief was occasioned by the wicked rising of the Fifth-monarchy-men. But when those that were taken came to be executed, they did us the justice to clear us openly from having any hand in or knowledge of their plot. After that, the king being continually importuned thereunto, issued a declaration, “That Friends should be set at liberty without paying fees.” But great labour, travail, and pains were taken, before this was obtained; for Thomas Moor and Margaret Fell went often to the king about it.^[67]

Much blood was shed this year, many of the late king’s judges being hung, drawn, and quartered. Amongst them that so suffered, Colonel Hacker was one, who sent me prisoner from Leicester to London in Oliver’s time, of which an account is given before. A sad day it was, and a repaying of blood with blood. For in the time of Oliver Cromwell, when several men were put to death by him, being hung, drawn, and quartered, for pretended treasons, I felt from the Lord God, that their blood would be required; and I said as much then to several. And now upon the king’s return, when several that had been against him were put to death, as the others that were for him had been before by Oliver, this was sad work, destroying people contrary to the nature of Christians, who have the nature of lambs and sheep. But there was a secret hand in bringing this day upon that hypocritical generation of professors, who, being got into power, grew proud, haughty, and cruel beyond others, and persecuted the people of God without pity.

Therefore when Friends were under cruel persecutions and sufferings in the Commonwealth’s time, I was moved of the Lord to write to Friends to draw up accounts of their sufferings, and lay them before the justices at their sessions; and if they would not do justice, then to lay them before the judges at the assize; and if they would not do justice, then to lay them before the parliament, the protector and his council, that they might all see what was done under their government; and if they would not do justice, then to lay it before the Lord, who would hear the cries of the oppressed, and of the widows and fatherless whom they had made so. For that which we suffered for, and for which our goods were spoiled, was our obedience to the Lord in his Power and in his Spirit, who was able to help and to succour, and we had no helper in the earth but him. And he heard the cries of his people, and brought an overflowing scourge over the heads of all our persecutors, which brought a dread, and a fear amongst and on them all: so that those who had nicknamed us (who are the children of light) and in scorn called us Quakers, the Lord made to quake; and many of them would have been glad to have hid themselves amongst us; and some of them, through the distress that came upon them, did at length come to confess to the truth. O! the daily reproaches, revilings, and beatings we underwent amongst them, even in the highways, because we could not put off our hats to them, and for saying Thou and Thee to them! O! the havoc and spoil the priests made of our goods, because we could not put into their mouths and give them tithes; besides casting into prisons, and laying great fines upon us, because we could not swear! But for all these things did the Lord God plead with them. Yet some were so hardened in their wickedness, that when they were turned out of their places and offices, they said, “If they had power, they would do the same again.” And when this day of overturning was come upon them, they said, “It was all on account of us.” Wherefore I was moved to write to them, and ask them, “Did we ever resist them when they took away our ploughs and plough-gears, our carts and horses, our corn and cattle, our kettles and platters from us, whipped us, set us in the stocks, and cast us into prison, and all this only for serving and worshipping God in spirit and truth, and because we could not conform to their religions, manners, customs, and fashions? Did we ever resist them? Did we not give them our backs to beat, and our cheeks to pull off the hair, and our faces to spit on? Had not their priests, that prompted them on to such work, pulled them with themselves into the ditch? Why then would they say, ‘It was all on account of us,’ when it was owing to themselves and their priests, their blind prophets, that followed their own spirits, and could foresee nothing of these times and things that were come upon them, which we had long forewarned them of, as Jeremiah and Christ had forewarned Jerusalem. They had thought to weary us out, and undo us, but they undid themselves. Whereas we could praise God, notwithstanding all their plundering of us, that we had a platter, a horse, and plough still.”

Many ways were these professors warned, by word, by writing, and by signs; but they would believe none, till it was too late. William Sympson^[68] was moved of the Lord to go, several times for three years, naked and barefoot before them, as a sign unto them, in markets, courts, towns, cities, to priests’ and great men’s houses, telling them, “So should they be stripped naked, as he was stripped!” And sometimes he was moved to put on sackcloth, and besmear his face, and tell them, “So would the Lord God besmear all their religion, as he was besmeared.” Great sufferings did that poor man undergo, sore whippings with horse-whips and coach-whips on his bare body, grievous stonings and imprisonments, in three years’ time, before the king came in, that they might have taken warning; but they would not: they rewarded his love with cruel usage. Only the Mayor of Cambridge did nobly to him, for he put his gown about him, and took him into his house.

Another Friend, Robert Huntingdon, was moved of the Lord to go into Carlisle steeple-house, with a white sheet about him, amongst the great Presbyterians and Independents there, to show them that the surplice was coming up again: and he put a halter about his neck, to show them that a halter was coming upon them; which was fulfilled upon some of our persecutors not long after.

Another, Richard Sale, living near Chester, being constable of the place where he lived, had a Friend sent to him with a pass, whom those wicked professors had taken up for a vagabond, because he travelled in the work of the ministry; and this constable being convinced by the Friend that was thus brought to him, gave him his pass and liberty, and was afterwards himself cast into prison. After this, on a lecture-day, Richard Sale was moved to go to the steeple-house, in the time of their worship, and carry to those persecuting priests and people, a lantern and candle, as a figure of their darkness; but they cruelly abused him, and like dark professors as they were, put him into their prison called Little-Ease; and so squeezed his body therein, that not long after he died.^[69]

Many warnings of many sorts were Friends moved, in the power of the Lord, to give to that generation; which they not only rejected, but abused Friends, calling us giddy-headed Quakers; but God brought his judgments upon those persecuting priests and magistrates. For when the king came in, most of them were turned out of their places and benefices, and the spoilers were spoiled: and then we could ask them, “Who were the giddy heads now?” Then many confessed we had been true prophets to the nation, and said, “Had we cried against some priests only, they should have liked us then; but crying against all made them dislike us.” But now they saw those priests, which were then looked upon to be the best, were as bad as the rest. For indeed, some of those that were counted the most eminent, were the bitterest and greatest stirrers up of the magistrates to persecution; and it was a judgment upon them to be denied the free liberty of their consciences when the king came in, because when they were uppermost, they would not have liberty of conscience granted to others. One Hewes, of Plymouth, a priest of great note in Oliver’s days, when some liberty was granted, prayed “that God would put it into the hearts of the chief magistrates of the nation, to remove this cursed toleration.” Others prayed against it under the name of Intolerable Toleration. But a while after when the king was come in and priest Hewes turned out of his great benefice for not conforming to the Common Prayer, a Friend of Plymouth meeting with him, asked, “Whether he would account toleration accursed now?” and “whether he would not now be glad of a toleration?” To which the priest returned no answer save by the shaking of his head. But as stiff as these men were then against toleration, it is well known many of them petitioned the king for toleration, and for meeting-places, and paid for licenses too. But to return to the present time, the latter end of the year 1660 and beginning of 1661.

Although those Friends that had been imprisoned on the rising of the Monarchy-men were set at liberty, meetings were much disturbed, and great sufferings Friends underwent. For besides what was done by officers and soldiers, many wild fellows and rude people often came in. There came one time, when I was at Pall Mall, an ambassador with a company of Irishmen and rude fellows; the meeting was over before they came, and I was gone up into a chamber, where I heard one of them say, “He would kill all the Quakers.” I went down to him, and was moved in the power of the Lord to speak to him. I told him, “The law said, ‘an eye for an eye, and a tooth for a tooth;’ but thou threatenest to kill all the Quakers, though they have done thee no hurt. But,” said I, “Here is gospel for thee: here is my hair, here is my cheek, and here is my shoulder,” turning it to him. This came so over him, that he and his companions stood as men amazed, and said, if that was our principle, and if we were as we said, they never saw the like in their lives. I told them, what I was in words, I was the same in life. Then the ambassador, who had stood without, came in: for he said that Irish colonel was such a desperate man, that he durst not come in with him, for fear he should do us some mischief; but truth came over him, and he carried himself lovingly towards us; as also did the ambassador; for the Lord’s power was over them all.

At Mile-End, Friends were kept out of their meeting-place by soldiers, but they stood nobly in the truth, valiant for the Lord’s name; and at last the truth gave them dominion.

About this time we had an account that John Love, a Friend, that was moved to go and bear testimony against the idolatry of the Papists, was dead in prison at Rome: it was suspected he was privately put to death in prison. John Perrot was also a prisoner there, and being released came over again; but after his arrival here, he with Charles Baily and others, turned aside from the unity of Friends and truth. Whereupon I was moved to issue a paper, declaring how the Lord would blast him and his followers, if they did not repent and return; and that they should wither like the grass on the housetop, which many of them did; but others returned and repented.

Also before this time we received account from New England, “that the government there had made a law to banish the Quakers out of their colonies, upon pain of death, in case they returned; and that several Friends, having been so banished, and returning, were taken, and actually hung; and that many more were in prison, in danger of the like sentence being executed upon them.”them.”^[70] When those were put to death, I was in prison at Lancaster, and had a perfect sense of their sufferings, as though it had been myself, and as though the halter had been put about my own neck; though we had not at that time heard of it.

But as soon as we heard of it, Edward Burrough went to the king, and told him, “There was a vein of innocent blood opened in his dominions, which, if it were not stopped, would overrun all.” To which the king replied, “But I will stop that vein.” Edward Burrough said, “Then do it speedily, for we do not know how many may soon be put to death.” The king answered, “As speedily as ye will. Call,” said he to some present, “the secretary, and I will do it presently.” The secretary being called, a mandamus was forthwith granted. A day or two after, Edward Burrough going again to the king, to desire the matter might be expedited, the king said, “He had no occasion at present to send a ship thither, but if we would send one, we might do it as soon as we chose.” Edward Burrough then asked the king, “if it would please him to grant his deputation to one called a Quaker, to carry the mandamus to New England?” He said, “Yes, to whom ye will.” Whereupon E. B. named Samuel Shattock, who being an inhabitant of New England, was banished by their law, to be hung if he came again; and to him the deputation was granted. Then he sent for Ralph Goldsmith, an honest Friend, who was master of a good ship, and agreed with him for £300, goods or no goods, to sail in ten days. He forthwith prepared to set sail, and, with a prosperous gale, in about six weeks arrived before the town of Boston, in New England, upon a First-day morning. Many passengers went with him, both of New and Old England, Friends, whom the Lord moved to go to bear testimony against those bloody persecutors, who had exceeded all the world in that age in their persecutions.

The townsmen at Boston seeing a ship come into the bay with English colours, soon came on board, and asked for the captain. Ralph Goldsmith told them, he was the commander. They asked him, if he had any letters? He said, “Yes.” They asked, if he would deliver them? He said, “No, not to-day.” So they went on shore, and reported there was a ship full of Quakers, and that Samuel Shattock was among them, who, they knew, was, by their law, to be put to death, for coming again after banishment; but they knew not his errand, nor his authority.

So all being kept close that day, and none of the ship’s company suffered to land, next morning, Samuel Shattock, the king’s deputy, and Ralph Goldsmith, the commander of the vessel, went on shore; and sending back to the ship the men that landed them, they two went through the town to the governor’s (John Endicott’s) door, and knocked. He sent out a man to know their business. They sent him word, their business was from the king of England, and they would deliver their message to none but the governor himself. They were then admitted, and the governor came to them; and having received the deputation and the mandamus, he put off his hat, and looked upon them. Then going out, he bid the Friends follow him. He went to the deputy-governor, and after a short consultation, came out to the Friends, and said, “We shall obey his Majesty’s commands.” After this the master gave liberty to the passengers to land; and presently the noise of the business flew about the town, and the Friends of the town and the passengers of the ship met together, to offer up their praises and thanksgivings to God, who had so wonderfully delivered them from the teeth of the devourer. While they were thus met, a poor Friend came in, who, being sentenced by their bloody law to die, had lain some time in irons, expecting execution. This added to their joy, and caused them to lift up their hearts in high praises to God, who is worthy for ever to have the praise, the glory, and the honour; for he only is able to deliver, to save, and to support all that sincerely put their trust in him.

Here follows a copy of the mandamus:—

Some time after this several New England magistrates came over, with one of their priests. We had several discourses with them concerning their murdering our Friends, the servants of the Lord; but they were ashamed to stand to their bloody actions. On one of these occasions I asked Simon Broadstreet, one of the New England magistrates, “Whether he had not a hand in putting to death those four servants of God, whom they hung for being Quakers only, as they had nicknamed them?” He confessed he had. I then asked him and the rest of his associates that were present, “Whether they would acknowledge themselves to be subject to the laws of England; and if they did, by what laws they had put our Friends to death?” They said, “They were subject to the laws of England; and had put our Friends to death by the same law that the Jesuits were put to death in England.” I asked them then, “Whether they believed those Friends of ours, whom they had put to death, were Jesuits or jesuitically affected?” They said, nay. “Then,” said I, “ye have murdered them, if ye have put them to death by the law that Jesuits are put to death here in England, and yet confess they were no Jesuits. By this it plainly appears ye have put them to death in your own wills, without any law.” Then Simon Broadstreet, finding himself and his company ensnared by their own words, asked, “Did we come to catch them?” I told them, they had caught themselves, and they might justly be questioned for their lives; and if the father of William Robinson, one of them that were put to death, were in town, it was probable he would question them, and bring their lives into jeopardy. Here they began to excuse themselves, saying, “There was no persecution now amongst them:” but next morning we had letters from New England, giving us account that our Friends were persecuted there afresh. We went again, and showed them our letters, which put them both to silence and to shame; and in great fear they seemed to be, lest someone should call them to account, and prosecute them for their lives, especially Simon Broadstreet; for he had at first, before so many witnesses, confessed he had a hand in putting our Friends to death, that he could not get off from it; though he afterwards through fear shuffled, and would have unsaid it again. After this, he and the rest soon returned to New England again.

I went also to Governor Winthrop, and discoursed with him on these matters; he assured me, “He had no hand in putting our Friends to death, or in any way persecuting them; but was one of them that protested against it.” These stingy persecutors of New England were a people that fled thither out of Old England, from the persecution of the bishops here; but when they had got power into their own hands, they so far exceeded the bishops in severity and cruelty, that whereas the bishops had made them pay twelve pence a Sunday (so called) for not coming to their worship here, they imposed a fine of five shillings a-day upon such as should not conform to their will-worship there; and spoiled the goods of Friends that could not (for conscience’ sake) pay it. Besides, many they imprisoned, divers they whipped, and that most cruelly; of some they cut off the ears, and some they hanged; as the books of Friends’ sufferings in New England largely show, particularly that written by George Bishop, of Bristol, entitled, New England Judged. Some of the old royalists were earnest with Friends to prosecute them, but we told them, we left them to the Lord, to whom vengeance belongeth, and he would repay it. And the judgments of God have since fallen heavy on them; for the Indians have been raised up against them, and have cut off many of them.

About this time I lost a very good book, being taken in the printer’s hands; it was a useful teaching work, containing the signification and explanation of names, parables, types, and figures in the Scriptures. They who took it were so affected with it, that they were loth to destroy it; but thinking to make a great advantage of it, they would have let us have it again, if we would have given them a great sum of money for it; which we were not free to do.

Before this, while I was a prisoner in Lancaster castle, the book called The Battledore was published, which was written to show, that in all languages Thou and Thee is the proper and usual form of speech to a single person; and You to more than one. This was set forth in examples or instances taken from the Scriptures, and books of teaching, in about thirty languages. J. Stubbs and Benjamin Furly took great pains in compiling it, which I set them upon; and some things I added to it. When it was finished, copies were presented to the king and his council, to the bishops of Canterbury and London, and to the two universities one each; and many purchased them. The king said, it was the proper language of all nations; and the bishop of Canterbury, being asked what he thought of it, was at a stand, and could not tell what to say to it. For it did so inform and convince people, that few afterwards were so rugged toward us, for saying Thou and Thee to a single person, for which before they were exceedingly fierce against us. Thou and Thee was a sore cut to proud flesh, and them that sought self-honour, who, though they would say it to God and Christ, could not endure to have it said to themselves. So that we were often beaten and abused, and sometimes in danger of our lives, for using those words to some proud men, who would say, “What! you ill-bred clown, do you Thou me?” as though Christian breeding consisted in saying You to one; which is contrary to all their grammars and teaching books, by which they instruct their youth.

Now the bishops and priests being busy and eager to set up their form of worship, and compel all to come to it, I was moved to give forth the following paper, to open the nature of the true worship, which Christ set up, and which God accepts:—