1663-1666.—George Fox visits London—taken up at Tenterden and examined by the magistrates, but liberated—travels to the S. W. of England—precious meetings in Wales—at Derwentwater meets with an old woman whose husband was aged 122 years—apprehended and taken before the magistrates at Holker Hall, but liberated on his parole to appear at the sessions—appears accordingly, and is committed to Lancaster jail—many poor friends imprisoned there at the same time, whose families become chargeable in consequence—one of them (Oliver Atherton) dies in jail, where he was immured by the Countess of Derby for tithes—George Fox has the oath tendered him at the assizes, and is re-committed—Margaret Fell is also imprisoned there—the prisoners in Lancaster jail to Justice Fleming—a brief warning to the same by George Fox—George Fox disputes with Major Wiggan (who was also a prisoner), and confutes him—writes to the judges against giving nicknames—writes a warning to all high professors—also a warning against the spirit of John Perrot—at the assizes he points out many fatal errors in his indictment, and it is quashed in consequence, but the judge ensnares him with the oath, and he is again remanded to prison—suffers much from the badness of the prison—at the next assizes he again points out fatal errors in his indictment, and is immediately hurried away to jail, and sentence is passed on him in his absence—a testimony against tithes—he is removed to Scarbro’ Castle—has several conferences and disputes with divers persons there—writes to the king respecting his imprisonment, and is set at liberty—copy of his discharge and passport—the day after George Fox’s liberation the great fire broke out in London, a vision of which he had in Lancaster Castle—the hand of the Lord turned against persecutors.
Having passed through Norfolk, Suffolk, Essex, and Hertfordshire, we came to London again; where I stayed awhile, visiting Friends in their meetings, which were very large, and the Lord’s power was over all. After some time I left the city again, and travelled into Kent, having Thomas Briggs with me. We went to Ashford where we had a quiet, and a very blessed meeting; and on First-day we had a very good and peaceable one at Cranbrook. Then we went to Tenterden, and had a meeting there, to which many Friends came from several parts, and many other people came in, and were reached by the truth. When the meeting was over, I walked with Thomas Briggs into a field, while our horses were got ready; and turning my head, I espied a captain coming, and a great company of soldiers with lighted matches and muskets. Some of them came to us, and said, “We must go to their captain.” When they had brought us before him, he asked, “Where is George Fox? which is he?” I said, “I am the man.” Then he came to me and was somewhat struck, and said, “I will secure you among the soldiers.” So he called for them to take me. He took Thomas Briggs, and the man of the house with many more; but the power of the Lord was mightily over them all. Then he came to me again, and said, “I must go along with him to the town;” and he carried himself pretty civilly, bidding the soldiers bring the rest after. As we walked, I asked him, “Why they did thus;” for I had not seen so much ado a great while, and I bid him be civil to his peaceable neighbours.
When we were come to the town, they had us to an inn that was the jailer’s house; and after a while the mayor of the town, and this captain, and the lieutenant, who were justices, came together and examined me, “why I came thither to make a disturbance?” I told them, I did not come to make a disturbance, neither had I made any since I came. They said, “there was a law against the Quakers’ meetings, made only against them.” I told them, I knew no such law. Then they brought forth the act that was made against Quakers and others. I told them, that was against such as were a terror to the king’s subjects, and were enemies, and held principles dangerous to the government, and therefore that was not against us, for we held truth; and our principles were not dangerous to the government, and our meetings were peaceable, as they knew, who knew their neighbours were a peaceable people. They told me, “I was an enemy to the king.” I answered, We loved all people and were enemies to none; that I, for my own part, had been cast into Derby dungeon, about the time of Worcester fight, because I would not take up arms against him, and that I was afterwards brought by Colonel Hacker to London, as a plotter to bring in King Charles, and was kept prisoner there till set at liberty by Oliver. They asked me, “whether I was imprisoned in the time of the insurrection?” I said, yes; I had been imprisoned then, and since that also, and had been set at liberty by the king’s own command. I opened the act to them, and showed them the king’s late declaration; gave them the examples of other justices, and told them also what the House of Lords had said of it. I spoke also to them concerning their own conditions, exhorting them to live in the fear of God, to be tender towards their neighbours that feared him, and to mind God’s wisdom, by which all things were made and created, that they might come to receive it, be ordered by it, and by it order all things to God’s glory. They demanded bond of us for our appearance at the sessions; but we, pleading our innocency, refused to give bond. Then they would have us promise to come no more there; but we kept clear of that also. When they saw they could not bring us to their terms, they told us, “we should see they were civil to us, for it was the mayor’s pleasure we should all be set at liberty.” I told them their civility was noble, and so we parted.
Then leaving Tenterden we went to Newick in Sussex, where we visited some Friends. Thence we passed through the country, visiting Friends, and having great meetings; all quiet and free from disturbance, except by some jangling Baptists, till we came into Hampshire. After a good meeting at Southampton, we went to Pouner, in the parish of Ringwood, where was a monthly meeting next day, to which many Friends came from Southampton, Poole, and other places; and the weather being very hot, some of them came pretty early in the morning. I took a friend and walked out with him into the orchard, inquiring of him how the affairs of truth stood amongst them; (for many of them had been convinced by me, before I was a prisoner in Cornwall.) While we were conversing, a young man came and told us the trained bands were raising, and he heard they would come and break up the meeting. It was not yet meeting-time for about three hours, and there being other Friends walking in the orchard, the Friend that I was discoursing with before, desired me to walk into a corn-field adjoining it, which we did. After a while the young man that spoke of the trained bands left us, and when he was gone some distance, he stood and waved his hat. Whereupon I spoke to the other young man that was with me, to go and see what he meant. He went, but did not return; for the soldiers were come into the orchard. As I kept walking I could see the soldiers, and some of them, as I heard afterwards, saw me, but had no mind to meddle. Coming so long before the meeting-time, they did not tarry; but took what Friends they found at the house, and some whom they met in the lane coming, and led them away. After they were gone, it drew towards eleven, Friends began to come in apace, and a large and glorious meeting we had; for the everlasting Seed of God was set over all, and the people were settled in the new covenant of life, upon the foundation, Christ Jesus.
Towards the latter part of the meeting, there came a man in gay apparel, and looked in while I was declaring, and went away again presently. This man came with an evil intent; for he went forthwith to Ringwood, and told the magistrates “they had taken two or three men at Pouner, and had left George Fox there preaching to two or three hundred people.” Upon this the magistrates sent the officers and soldiers again; but the meeting being nearly ended when the man looked in, and he having about a mile and a half to go with his information, to fetch the soldiers, and they as far to come, after they had received their orders, before they came our meeting was over; ending about three o’clock peaceably and orderly. After the meeting I spoke to the Friends of the house where it was held (the hostess lying then dead in the house,) and then some Friends conducted me to another Friend’s at a little distance; where, after we had refreshed ourselves, I took horse, having about twenty miles to ride that afternoon to one —— Fry’s house in Wiltshire, where a meeting was appointed for the next day.
After we were gone, the officers and soldiers came in a great heat, and when they found they were too late, and had missed their prey, they were much enraged; and the officers were offended with the soldiers, because they had not seized my horse in the stable the first time they came. But the Lord, by his good providence, delivered me, and prevented their mischievous design. For the officers were envious men, and had an evil mind against Friends; but the Lord brought his judgments upon them, so that it was taken notice of by their neighbours. For “whereas before they were wealthy men, after this their estates wasted away; and John Line, the constable, who was not only very forward in putting on the soldiers to take Friends, but also carried those that were taken to prison, and took a false oath against them at the assize, upon which they were fined and continued prisoners, was a sad spectacle to behold. For his flesh rotting away while he lived, he died in a very miserable condition, wishing he had never meddled with the Quakers, and confessing that he had never prospered since he had had a hand in persecuting them; and that he thought the hand of the Lord was against him for it.”
At —— Fry’s in Wiltshire, we had a very blessed meeting, and quiet, though the officers had purposed to break it up, and were on their way in order thereunto. But before they got to it, word was brought them, that there was a house just broken up by thieves, and they were required to go back again with speed, to search after and pursue them; by which means, our meeting escaped disturbance, and we were preserved out of their hands.
We passed through Wiltshire into Dorsetshire, having large and good meetings. The Lord’s everlasting power was with us, and carried us over all; in which we sounded forth his saving truth and word of life, which many gladly received. Thus we visited Friends, till we came to Topsham in Devonshire, travelling some weeks eight or nine score miles a week, and had meetings every day. At Topsham we met with Margaret Fell and two of her daughters, Sarah and Mary, and with Leonard Fell and Thomas Salthouse.[1] Thence we passed to Totness, where we visited some Friends, then to Kingsbridge, and to Henry Pollexfen’s, who had been an ancient justice of peace. There we had a large meeting. This old Justice accompanied us to Plymouth, and into Cornwall to Justice Porter’s, and thence to Thomas Mount’s, where we had another large meeting. After which we went to Humphrey Lower’s, where also we had a large meeting, and thence to Loveday Hambley’s, where we had a general meeting for the whole country; and all was quiet.
A little before this, Joseph Hellen and G. Bewley, had been at Loo to visit Blanch Pope, a Ranting woman, under pretence to convince and convert her; but before they left her, she had so darkened them with her principles, that they seemed to be like her disciples, especially Joseph Hellen; for she had asked them, “who made the devil; did not God?” This idle question so puzzled them, that they could not answer her. They afterwards asked me that question. I told them, no; for all that God made was good and was blessed; so was not the devil. He was called a serpent before he was called a devil and an adversary, and then he had the title of devil given to him. Afterwards he was called a dragon, because he was a destroyer. The devil abode not in the truth, and by departing from the truth, he became a devil. So the Jews, when they went out of the truth, were said to be of the devil, and were called serpents. Now there is no promise of God to the devil, that ever he shall return to truth again; but to man and woman, who have been deceived by him, the promise of God is, that “the Seed of the woman shall bruise the serpent’s head,”—shall break his power and strength to pieces. Now when these things were opened more at large to the satisfaction of Friends, those two who had yielded to the spirit of that ranting woman, were judged by the truth; and one of them, Joseph Hellen, ran quite out, and was disowned by Friends; but George Bewley was recovered, and afterwards became serviceable.
We passed from Loveday Hambley’s to Francis Hodges’s, near Falmouth and Penryn, where we had a large meeting. Thence we went to Helstone that night, where some Friends came to visit us; and next day passed to Thomas Teage’s, where we had another large meeting, at which many were convinced. I was led to open “the state of the church in the primitive times, the state of the church in the wilderness, and the state of the false church that was got up since, and to show that now the everlasting gospel was preached again over the head of the whore, beast, false prophets, and antichrists, which had got up since the apostles’ days; and now the everlasting gospel was received and receiving, which brought life and immortality to light, that they might see over the devil that had darkened them.” The people received the gospel and the word of life gladly, and a glorious blessed meeting we had for the exalting of the Lord’s everlasting truth and his name. After the meeting was over I walked out, and as I was coming in again I heard a noise in the court, and coming nearer, I found the man of the house speaking to the tinners and others, and telling them, “it was the everlasting truth that had been declared there that day;” and the people generally confessed to it.
From thence we passed to the Land’s End, to John Ellis’s, where we had a precious meeting. Here was a fisherman, one Nicholas Jose, that was convinced. He spoke in meetings, and declared the truth amongst the people, and the Lord’s power was over all. I was glad that the Lord had raised up his standard in those dark parts of the nation, where there is since a fine meeting of honest-hearted Friends; many are come to sit under Christ’s teaching; and a great people the Lord will have in that country.
Thence we returned to Redruth, and next day to Truro, where we had a meeting. Next morning, some of the chief of the town desired to speak with me, amongst whom was Colonel Rouse. I went and had much discourse with them concerning the things of God. In their reasoning, they said, “the gospel was the four books of Matthew, Mark, Luke, and John;” and they called it natural. I told them, “the gospel was the power of God, which was preached before Matthew, Mark, Luke, and John, or any of them were printed or written; and it was preached to every creature (of which a great part might never see or hear of those four books,) so that every creature was to obey the power of God; for Christ, the spiritual man, would judge the world according to the gospel, that is, according to his invisible power.” When they heard this, they could not gainsay; for the truth came over them. I directed them to their teacher, the Grace of God, and showed them the sufficiency of it, which would teach them how to live, and what to deny; and being obeyed, would bring them salvation. So to that grace I recommended them, and left them.
Then we returned through the country, visiting Friends, and had meetings at Humphrey Lower’s again, and at Thomas Mount’s. Afterwards at George Hawkins’s, at Stoke, we had a large meeting, to which Friends came from Launceston and several other places. A living, precious meeting it was, in which the Lord’s presence and power was richly manifested amongst us; and I left Friends there under the Lord Jesus Christ’s teaching.
In Cornwall I was informed there was one Colonel Robinson, a very wicked man, who, after the king came in, was made a justice of peace, and became a cruel persecutor of Friends, of whom he sent many to prison. Hearing that they had some little liberty, through the favour of the jailer, to come home sometimes to visit their wives and children, he made great complaint thereof to the judge at the assize against the jailer; whereupon the jailer was fined a hundred marks, and Friends were kept very strictly up for a while. After he was come home from the assize, he sent to a neighbouring justice, to desire him to go to a fanatic-hunting with him. On the day that he intended, and was prepared to go, he sent his man about with his horses, and walked himself on foot from his dwelling-house to a tenement, where his cows and dairy were kept, and where his servants were then milking. When he came there he asked for his bull. The maid-servants said, they had shut him into the field, because he was unruly against the kine, and hindered their milking. Then he went into the field to the bull, and having formerly accustomed himself to play with him, he began to fence at him with his staff. But the bull snuffed at him, and passed a little back; then turning upon him again, ran fiercely at him and struck his horn into his thigh, and heaving him upon his horn, threw him over his back, and tore up his thigh to his belly. When he came to the ground again he gored him with his horns, run them into the ground in his rage and violence, roared, and licked up his master’s blood. The maid-servant, hearing her master cry out, ran into the field, and took the bull by the horns to pull him off from her master. The bull, without hurting her, put her gently by with his horns, but still fell to goring him and licking up his blood. Then she ran and got some men, that were at work not far off, to come and rescue her master; but they could not at all beat off the bull, till they brought mastiff dogs to set on him; and then he fled in great rage and fury. Upon hearing of it his sister came, and said to him, “Alack! brother, what a heavy judgment is this that has befallen you!” He answered, “Ah! sister, it is a heavy judgment indeed. Pray let the bull be killed, and the flesh given to the poor,” said he. They carried him home, but he died soon after. The bull was grown so fierce that they were forced to shoot him; for no man durst come near to kill him. Thus does the Lord sometimes make some examples of his just judgment upon the persecutors of his people, that others may fear, and learn to beware.
After I had cleared myself of Cornwall, and Thomas Lower had brought us over Horsebridge into Devonshire again, we took our leave of him. Thomas Briggs, Robert Widders, and I, came to Tiverton; and it being their fair, and many Friends there, we had a meeting amongst them. The magistrates gathered in the street, but the Lord’s power stopped them. I saw them in the street over against the door, but they had not power to come in to meddle with us, though they had will enough to do it.
After the meeting we passed to Collumpton and Wellington, for we had appointed a meeting five miles off, where we had a large one at a butcher’s house, and a blessed meeting it was. The people were directed to their Teacher, the Grace of God, which would bring them salvation, and many were settled under its teaching. The Lord’s presence was amongst us, and we were refreshed in him, in whom we laboured and travailed; and the meeting was quiet. There had been very great persecution in that country and town a little before, insomuch that some Friends questioned the peaceableness of our meeting; but the Lord’s power chained all, and his glory shone over all. Friends told us how they had broken up their meetings by warrants from the justices, and how by their warrants they were required to carry Friends before the justices; and Friends bid them “carry them then.” The officers told Friends, “they must go:” but Friends said, nay; that was not according to their warrants, which required them to carry them. Then they were forced to hire carts, and waggons, and horses, and to lift Friends into their waggons and carts, to carry them before a justice. When they came to a justice’s house, sometimes he happened to be from home, and if he were a moderate man, he would get out of the way, and then they were obliged to carry them before another, so that they were many days carting and carrying friends up and down from place to place. And when afterwards the officers came to lay their charges for this upon the town, the town’s-people would not pay it, but made them bear it themselves; which broke the neck of their persecution there for that time. The like was done in several other places, till the officers had shamed and tired themselves, and then they were glad to give over.
At one place they warned Friends to come to the steeple-house. Friends met to consider of it, and finding freedom to go to the steeple-house, they met together there. Accordingly when they came thither, they sat down to wait upon the Lord in his power and Spirit, and minded the Lord Jesus Christ, their Teacher and Saviour; but did not mind the priest. When the officers saw that, they came to them to put them out of the steeple-house again; but the Friends told them, it was not time for them to break up their meeting yet. A while after, when the priest had done, they came to the Friends again, and would have had them go home to dinner; but the Friends told them, they did not choose to go to dinner, they were feeding upon the bread of life. So there they sat, waiting upon the Lord, and enjoying his power and presence, till they found freedom in themselves to depart. Thus the priest’s people were offended, because they could not get them to the steeple-house: and when there, they were offended, because they could not get them out again.
From the meeting near Collumpton we went to Taunton, where we had a large meeting. The next day we came to a general meeting in Somersetshire, which was very large; and the Lord’s everlasting word of life and truth was largely declared. The people were refreshed thereby, and settled upon Christ, their Rock and Foundation, and brought to sit under his teaching; the meeting was peaceable. But about the second hour of the night there came a company of men who knocked at the door, and bid us open it, or they would break it open; for they wanted a man that they came to search the house for. I heard the noise, and got up, and at the window saw a man at the door with his sword by his side. When they had let him in, he came into the chamber where I was, and looked on me, and said, “You are not the man I look for:” and went his way.
We came thence to Street, and to William Beaton’s, at Puddimore, where we had a very large general meeting, wherein the Lord’s everlasting truth was declared, the people refreshed, and all quiet. Thence we went to John Dander’s, where we had another large and very precious meeting; and then passed on to Bristol, where we had good service for the Lord, and all quiet. Here we met with Margaret Fell and her daughters again. After some time we went to Slaughterford in Wiltshire, where was a very large meeting in a great barn. Good service we had there: for the truth, as it is in Jesus, was published amongst them, and many were gathered by it into the name of the Lord.
After this I passed into Gloucestershire and Herefordshire, having large meetings in each. In Hereford I had a meeting in the inn. When I was gone, the magistrates, hearing there had been a meeting, came to search the inn for me, and were vexed that they had missed me. But the Lord so ordered it, that I escaped their hands; and Friends were established upon Christ, their Foundation, the Rock of Ages.
Then I went into Radnorshire, in Wales, and had several precious meetings there. The Lord’s name and standard was set up, and many were gathered to it, and settled under the teaching of Christ Jesus, their Saviour, who bought them.
After I was clear of Wales, I came to a market-town between England and Wales, where there was a great fair that day; and several Friends being at the fair, we went to an inn, and they came to us. After we had had a fine opportunity with Friends, we parted from them, and went on our way. The officers of the town took notice, it seems, of our being there, and of Friends gathering to us. They began also to meet together to consult among themselves how to ensnare us, though it was the fair time; but before they could do anything we were gone on our journey, and so escaped them.
Thence we came into Shropshire, where we had a large and precious meeting. After many meetings in those parts we came into Warwickshire, and visited Friends there, and so into Derbyshire and Staffordshire, visiting Friends’ meetings as we went. At Whitehaugh we had a large, blessed meeting, and quiet; after which we rode about twenty miles that night to Captain Lingard’s. We heard afterwards that when we were gone, the officers came to seize us, and were much disturbed that they missed us; but the Lord disappointed them, and Friends were joyful in the Lord that we escaped them.
At Captain Lingard’s we had a blessed meeting, the Lord’s presence being wonderfully amongst us. After this we passed through the Peak-country in Derbyshire, and went to Synderhill-Green,[2] where we had a large meeting. Here John Whitehead[3] and several other Friends came to me. Then I passed through the country, visiting Friends, till I come to the farther end of Holderness, and so passed by Scarbro’, Whitby, and Malton, to York, having many meetings in the way; and the Lord’s everlasting power was over all.
We went from York to Boroughbridge, where I had a glorious meeting. Thence we passed into Durham to one Richmond’s, where there was a general meeting; and the Lord’s power was over all, though people were grown exceedingly rude about this time. After the meeting we went to Henry Draper’s, where we stayed all night. Next morning a Friend came to me, as I was passing away, and told me, “if the priests and justices (for many priests were made justices in that country at that time) could find me, they would destroy me.”
Being clear of Durham, I went over Stainmoor into Yorkshire, and to Sedbergh, where having visited Friends, I went into Westmorland, visiting Friends there also. Thence I passed into Lancashire and came to Swarthmore. Here I stayed but a little while before I went over the Sands to Arnside, where I had a general meeting. After it was ended, there came some men to break it up; but understanding before they arrived that the meeting was over, they turned back. I went to Robert Widders’s, and thence to Underbarrow, where I had a glorious meeting, and the Lord’s power was over all. Thence I passed to Grayrigg, and having visited Friends there, I went to Ann Audland’s, where they would have had me to stay their meeting next day; but I felt a stop in my spirit. It was upon me to go to John Blakelin’s in Sedbergh, and to be next day at the meeting there; which is large, and a precious people there is. We had a very good meeting next day at Sedbergh; but the constables went to the meeting at Ann Audland’s, to look for me. Thus by the good hand and disposing Providence of the Lord, I escaped their snare.
I went from John Blakelin’s with Leonard Fell to Strickland Head, where on First-day we had a very precious meeting on the common. That night we stayed amongst Friends there, and next day passed into Northumberland. After the justices had heard of this meeting at Strickland-Head, they made search for me; but by the good hand of the Lord, I escaped them again, though there were some very wicked justices. We went to Hugh Hutchinson’s house in Northumberland, a Friend in the ministry, whence we visited Friends thereabouts, and then went to Derwentwater, where we had a very glorious meeting. There came an ancient woman to me, and told me her husband remembered his love to me; she said, I might call him to mind by this token, that I used to call him “the Tall White Old Man.” She said, he was six score and two years old, and that he would have come to the meeting, but his horses were all employed upon some urgent occasion. I heard he lived some years after.
When I had visited Friends in those parts, and they were settled upon Christ, their Foundation, I passed through Northumberland, and came to old Thomas Bewley’s in Cumberland. Friends came about me, and asked, “would I come there to go into prison?” For there was great persecution in that country at that time; yet I had a general meeting at Thomas Bewley’s, which was large and precious, and the Lord’s power was over all.
One Musgrave was at that time deputy-governor of Carlisle. Passing along the country, I came to a man’s house that had been convinced, whose name was Fletcher; and he told me, “if Musgrave knew I was there, he would be sure to send me to prison, he was such a severe man.” But I stayed not there, only calling on the way to see this man; and then I went to William Pearson’s, near Wigton, where the meeting was, which was very large and precious. Some Friends were then prisoners at Carlisle, whom I visited by a letter, which Leonard Fell carried. From William Pearson’s I visited Friends, till I came to Pardshaw-Crag, where we had a general meeting, which was large; all was quiet and peaceable, and the glorious, powerful presence of the everlasting God was with us.
So eager were the magistrates about this time to stir up persecution in those parts, that some offered five shillings, and some a noble a day, to any that could apprehend the speakers amongst the Quakers; but it being now the time of the quarter Sessions in that county, the men who were so hired were gone to the sessions to get their wages, and so all our meetings were at that time quiet.
From Pardshaw-Crag we went into Westmorland, calling on the way upon Hugh Tickell[4], near Keswick, and upon Thomas Laythes, where Friends came to visit us; and we had a fine opportunity to be refreshed together. We went that night to Francis Benson’s, in Westmorland, near Justice Fleming’s house. This Justice Fleming was at that time in a great rage against Friends, and me in particular; insomuch that in the open sessions at Kendal just before, he had bid five pounds to any man that should take me, as Francis Benson told me. And it seems, as I went to this Friend’s house, I met one man coming from the sessions that had this five pounds offered him to take me, and he knew me; for as I passed by him, he said to his companion, that is George Fox; yet he had not power to touch me, for the Lord’s power preserved me over them all. The justices being so eager to have me, and I being so often near them, and yet they missing me, tormented them the more.
I went thence to James Taylor’s at Cartmel, where I stayed First-day, and had a precious meeting; and after it I came over the Sands to Swarthmore.
When I came there, they told me, Colonel Kirby had sent his lieutenant thither to take me, and that he had searched trunks and chests for me. That night as I was in bed, I was moved of the Lord to go next day to Kirby-Hall, which was Colonel Kirby’s house, about five miles off, to speak with him, and I did so. When I came thither, I found the Flemings, and several others of the gentry (so called) of the country, come to take their leave of Colonel Kirby, he being about to go up to London to the parliament. I was shown into the parlour amongst them; but Colonel Kirby was not then within, being gone out; so they said little to me, nor I much to them. But presently he came in, and I told him, that understanding he was desirous to see me, “I came to visit him, to know what he had to say to me, and whether he had anything against me.” He said, before all the company, “As he was a gentleman, he had nothing against me. But,” said he, “Mistress Fell must not keep great meetings at her house, for they meet contrary to the act.” I told him, “that act did not take hold on us, but on such as met to plot and contrive, and to raise insurrections against the king, whereas we were no such people; for he knew that they that met at Margaret Fell’s house were his neighbours, and a peaceable people.” After many words had passed, he shook me by the hand, and said again, “he had nothing against me;” and others of them said, I was a deserving man. So we parted, and I returned to Swarthmore.
Shortly after, when Colonel Kirby was gone to London, there was a private meeting of the justices and deputy-lieutenants at Holker-Hall, where Justice Preston lived; and there they granted a warrant to apprehend me. I heard over-night both of their meeting and of the warrant, and so could have escaped out of their reach if I would; for I had not appointed any meeting at that time, and I had cleared myself of the north, and the Lord’s power was over all. But I considered, there being a noise of a plot in the north, if I should go away, they might fall upon Friends; but if I gave up myself to be taken, it might stop them, and the Friends should escape the better. So I gave up to be taken, and prepared myself against they came.
Next day an officer came with sword and pistols to take me. I told him, “I knew his errand before, and had given up myself to be taken; for if I would have escaped their imprisonment, I could have gone forty miles off before he came; but I was an innocent man, and so cared not what they could do to me.” He asked me “How I heard of it, seeing the order was made privately in a parlour.” I said it was no matter, it was sufficient that I heard of it. I asked him to let me see his order; whereupon he laid his hand on his sword, and said, “I must go with him before the lieutenants, to answer such questions as they should propose to me.” I told him it was but civil and reasonable for him to let me see his order; but he would not. Then said I, I am ready. So I went along with them, and Margaret Fell accompanied us to Holker-Hall.
When we came thither, there was one Rawlinson, a justice, and one called Sir George Middleton, and many more that I did not know, besides old Justice Preston who lived there. They brought Thomas Atkinson, a Friend of Cartmel, as a witness against me, for some words which he had told to one Knipe, who had informed them; which words were, “that I had written against the plotters, and had knocked them down.” These words they could not make much of, for I told them I had heard of a plot, and had written against it. Old Preston asked me, whether I had a hand in that script? I asked him what he meant? He said, in the Battledore. I answered, Yes. Then he asked me, whether I understood languages. I said, sufficient for myself; and that I knew no law that was transgressed by it. I told them also, that “to understand outward languages, was no matter of salvation; for the many tongues began but at the confusion of Babel; and if I did understand anything of them, I judged and knocked them down again for any matter of salvation that was in them.” Thereupon he turned away, and said, “George Fox knocks down all the languages. Come,” said he, “we will examine you of higher matters.”
Then said George Middleton, “You deny God, and the church, and the faith.” I replied, “Nay, I own God, and the true church, and the true faith. But what church dost thou own?” said I (for I understood he was a Papist.) Then he turned again and said, “You are a rebel and a traitor.” I asked him to whom he spoke, or whom did he call rebel: he was so full of envy that for a while he could not speak, but at last he said, “he spoke it to me.” With that I struck my hand on the table, and told him, “I had suffered more than twenty such as he, or than any that was there; for I had been cast into Derby dungeon for six months together, and had suffered much because I would not take up arms against this king before Worcester fight. I had been sent up prisoner out of my own country by Colonel Hacker to Oliver Cromwell, as a plotter to bring in King Charles in the year 1654; and I had nothing but love and goodwill to the king, and desired the eternal good and welfare of him and all his subjects.” “Did you ever hear the like,” said Middleton. “Nay,”“Nay,” said I, “ye may hear it again if ye will. For ye talk of the king, a company of you, but where were ye in Oliver’s days, and what did ye do then for him? But I have more love to the king for his eternal good and welfare than any of you have.”
Then they asked me, “whether I had heard of the plot?” and I said, “yes, I had heard of it.” They asked me how I had heard of it, and whom I knew in it? I told them, I had heard of it through the high-sheriff of Yorkshire, who had told Dr. Hodgson that there was a plot in the north; that was the way I heard of it; but I had never heard of any such thing in the south, nor till I came into the north. And as for knowing any in the plot, I was as a child in that, for I knew none of them. Then said they, “why would you write against it, if you did not know some that were in it.” I said, “my reason was because you are so forward to mash the innocent and guilty together, therefore I wrote against it to clear the truth from such things, and to stop all forward, foolish spirits from running into such things. I sent copies of it into Westmorland, Cumberland, Durham, and Yorkshire, and to you here. I sent another copy of it to the King and his council, and it is likely it may be in print by this time.”time.” One of them said, “O, this man hath great power!” I said, “yes, I had power to write against plotters.” Then said one of them, “you are against the laws of the land.” I answered, “Nay, for I and my Friends direct all people to the Spirit of God in them, to mortify the deeds of the flesh. This brings them into well-doing, and from that which the magistrate’s sword is against, which eases the magistrates, who are for the punishment of evil-doers. So people being turned to the Spirit of God, which brings them to mortify the deeds of the flesh,—this brings them from under the occasion of the magistrate’s sword; and this must needs be one with magistracy, and one with the law, which was added because of transgression, and is for the praise of them that do well. In this we establish the law, are an ease to the magistrates, and are not against, but stand for, all good government.”
Then George Middleton cried, “Bring the book and put the oaths of allegiance and supremacy to him.” Now he himself being a Papist, I asked him, “whether he had taken the oath of supremacy, who was a swearer? As for us, we could not swear at all, because Christ and the apostle had forbidden it.” Some of them would not have had the oath put to me, but have set me at liberty. But the rest would not agree to that; for this was their last snare, and they had no other way to get me into prison, all other things had been cleared to them. This was like the Papist’s sacrament of the altar, by which they ensnared the martyrs. So they tendered me the oath, which I could not take; whereupon they were about to make my mittimus to send me to Lancaster jail; but considering of it, they only engaged me to appear at the sessions, and so for that time dismissed me. I went back with Margaret Fell to Swarthmore; and soon after Colonel West came to see me, who was at that time a justice of peace. He told us, “he acquainted some of the rest of the justices, that he would come over to see me and Margaret Fell; but it may be,” said he, “some of you will take offence at it.” I asked him, “What he thought they would do with me at the sessions;” and he said, “they would tender the oath to me again.”
Whilst I was at Swarthmore, William Kirby came into Swarthmore meeting, and brought the constables with him. I was sitting with Friends in the meeting, and he said to me, “How now, Mr. Fox! you have a fine company here.” “Yes,” said I, “we meet to wait upon the Lord.” So he began to take the names of Friends, and them that did not readily tell him their names, he committed to the constables’ hands, and sent some to prison. The constables were unwilling to take them without a warrant, whereupon he threatened to set them by the heels; but one of the constables told him, “he could keep them in his presence, but after he was gone, he could not keep them without a warrant.”
The sessions coming on, I went to Lancaster, and appeared according to my engagement. There was upon the bench Justice Fleming, who had bid five pounds in Westmorland to any man that would apprehend me; for he was a justice both in Westmorland and Lancashire. There were also Justice Spencer, Colonel West, and old Justice Rawlinson the lawyer, who gave the charge, and was very sharp against truth and Friends; but the Lord’s power stopped them. The session was large, and the concourse of people great; and way being made for me, I came up to the bar and stood there with my hat on, they looking earnestly upon me, and I upon them for a pretty space. Proclamation being made for all to keep silence upon pain of imprisonment, and all being quiet, I said twice, “Peace be among you.” The chairman asked, “If I knew where I was;” I said, “yes, I do, but it may be,” said I, “my hat offends you; that is a low thing, that is not the honour that I give to magistrates; for the true honour is from above; which I have received, and I hope it is not the hat which ye look upon to be the honour.” The chairman said, “they looked for the hat too,” and asked, “wherein I showed my respect to magistrates, if I did not put off my hat?” I replied, “In coming when they called me.” Then they bid one, “take off my hat.” After which it was some time before they spoke to me, and I felt the power of the Lord to arise.
After some pause, old Justice Rawlinson, the chairman, asked me, “if I knew of the plot?” I told him, “I had heard of it in Yorkshire, by a Friend, that had it from the high-sheriff.” Then they asked me, “whether I had declared it to the magistrates.” I said, “I had sent papers abroad against plots and plotters, and also to you, as soon as I came into the country, to take all jealousies out of your minds concerning me and my friends; for it was and is our principle to declare against such things.“ They asked me then, “if I knew not of an act against meetings.” I said, “I knew there was an act that took hold of such as met to the terrifying of the king’s subjects, and were enemies to the king, and held dangerous principles; but I hoped, they did not look upon us to be such men, for our meetings were not to terrify the king’s subjects, neither are we enemies to him or any man.” Then they tendered me the oaths of allegiance and supremacy. I told them “I“I could not take any oath at all, because Christ and his apostle had forbidden it; and they had had sufficient experience of swearers, first one way, then another; but I had never taken any oath in my life.” Then Rawlinson the lawyer asked me, “whether I held it was unlawful to swear?” This question he put on purpose to ensnare me; for by an act that was made, such were liable to banishment or a great fine that should say, it was “unlawful to swear.” But I seeing the snare, avoided it, and told him, “that in the time of the law amongst the Jews, before Christ came, the law commanded them to swear; but Christ, who doth fulfill the law in his gospel time, commands ‘not to swear at all;’ and the apostle James forbids swearing, even to them that were Jews, and had the law of God.” After much discourse they called for the jailer and committed me to prison.
I had about me the paper which I had written as a testimony against plots, which I desired they would read, or suffer to be read, in open court; but they would not. So being committed for refusing to swear, “I bid them and all the people take notice, that I suffered for the doctrine of Christ, and for my obedience to his command.” Afterwards I understood the justices said, they had private instructions from Colonel Kirby to prosecute me, notwithstanding his fair carriage and seeming kindness to me before, when he declared before many of them “that he had nothing against me.” Several other Friends were committed to prison, some for meeting to worship God, and some for not swearing; so that the prison was very full. Many of them being poor men, that had nothing to maintain their families by but their labour, which now they were taken from, several of their wives went to the justices who had committed their husbands, and told them, “if they kept their husbands in jail for nothing but the truth of Christ, and for good conscience’ sake, they would bring their children to them to be maintained.” A mighty power of the Lord rose in Friends, and gave them great boldness, so that they spoke much to the justices. Friends also that were prisoners wrote to the justices, laying the weight of their sufferings upon them, and showing them both their injustice and want of compassion towards their poor neighbours, whom they knew to be honest, conscientious, peaceable people, that in tenderness of conscience could not take any oath; yet they sent them to prison for refusing to take the oath of allegiance. Several who were imprisoned on that account were known to be men that had served the king in his wars, and had hazarded their lives in the field in his cause, and had suffered great hardships, with the loss of much blood for him, and had always stood faithful to him from first till last, and had never received any pay for their service. To be thus requited for all their faithful services and sufferings, and that by them that pretended to be the king’s friends, was hard, unkind, and ungrateful dealing. At length the justices being continually attended with complaints of grievances, released some of the Friends, but kept divers of them still in prison.
Amongst those that were then in prison, there were four Friends for tithes, who had been sent at the suit of the Countess of Derby, and had lain near two years and a half. One of these, Oliver Atherton, a man of a weakly constitution, was, through his long and hard imprisonment in a cold, raw, unwholesome place, brought so low and weak in his body, that there appeared no hope of his life, unless he might be removed. Wherefore a letter was written on his behalf to the Countess, and sent by his son, Godfrey Atherton, wherein were laid before her “the reasons why he and the rest could not pay tithes; because, if they did, they should deny Christ come in the flesh, who by his coming had put an end to tithes, and to the priesthood to which they had been given, and to the commandment by which they had been paid under the law. His weak condition of body was also laid before her, and the apparent likelihood of his death if she continued to hold him there; that she might be moved to pity and compassion, and also warned not to draw the guilt of his innocent blood upon herself.” When his son went to her with his father’s letter, a servant of her’s abused him, plucked off his cap, and threw it away, and put him out of the gate. Nevertheless the letter was delivered into her own hand, but she shut out all pity and tenderness, and continued him in prison till death. When his son returned to his father in prison, and told him, as he lay on his dying bed, that the Countess denied his liberty, he only said, “She hath been the cause of shedding much blood, but this will be the heaviest blood that ever she spilt;” and soon after he died. Friends having his body delivered to them to bury, as they carried it from the prison to Ormskirk, the parish wherein he had lived, they stuck up papers upon the crosses at Garstang, Preston, and other towns, through which they passed, with this inscription:—“This is Oliver Atherton, of Ormskirk parish, persecuted to death by the Countess of Derby for good conscience’ sake towards God and Christ, because he could not give her tithes,” &c., setting forth at large the reasons of his refusing to pay tithes, the length of his imprisonment, the hardships he had undergone, her hard-heartedness towards him, and the manner of his death.
After his death, Richard Cubban, another of her prisoners for tithes, wrote a large letter to her, on behalf of himself and his fellow-prisoners at her suit, laying their innocency before her; and “that it was not out of wilfulness, stubbornness, or covetousness, that they refused to pay her tithes, but purely in good conscience towards God and Christ; and letting her know that, if she should be suffered to keep them there till every one died, as she had done their fellow-sufferer Oliver Atherton, they could not yield to pay her. And therefore desired her to consider their case in a Christian spirit, and not bring their blood upon herself also.” But she would not show any pity or compassion towards them, who had now suffered hard imprisonment about two years and a half under her. Instead thereof she sent to Garstang, and threatened to complain to the king and council, and bring them into trouble, for suffering the paper concerning Oliver Atherton’s death, to be stuck upon their cross. The rage that she expressed made the people take the more notice of it, and some of them said, “the Quakers had given her a bone to pick.” But she, that regarded not the life of an innocent sufferer for Christ, lived not long after herself; for that day three weeks that Oliver Atherton’s body was carried through Ormskirk to be buried, she died; and her body was carried that day seven weeks through the same town to her burying-place. Thus the Lord pursued the hard-hearted persecutor.
I was kept till the assize; and Judge Turner and Judge Twisden coming that circuit, I was brought before Judge Twisden on the 14th day of the month called March, in the year 1663. When I was set to the bar, I said, “Peace be amongst you all.” The judge looked upon me, and said, “What! do you come into the court with your hat on?” Upon which, the jailer taking it off, I said, “The hat is not the honour that comes from God.” Then said the judge to me, “Will you take the oath of allegiance, George Fox?” I said, “I never took any oath in my life, nor any covenant or engagement.” “Well,” said he, “will you swear or not?” I answered, “I am a Christian, and Christ commands me ‘not to swear,’ and so does the apostle James, and whether I should obey God or man, do thou judge.” “I ask you again,” said he, “whether you will swear or not?” I answered again, “I am neither Turk, Jew, nor heathen, but a Christian, and should show forth Christianity.” And I asked him, “if he did not know that Christians in the primitive times, under the ten persecutions, and some also of the martyrs in Queen Mary’s days, refused swearing, because Christ and the apostle had forbidden it?” I told him also, “they had had experience enough, how many men had first sworn for the king and then against him. But as for me, I had never taken an oath in my life; and my allegiance did not lie in swearing, but in truth and faithfulness; for I honour all men, much more the king. But Christ, who is the great Prophet, and King of kings, who is the Saviour of the world, and the great Judge of all the earth, saith, ‘I must not swear.’ Now, whether must I obey Christ or thee? For it is in tenderness of conscience, and in obedience to the commands of Christ, that I do not swear; and we have the word of a king for tender consciences.” Then I asked the judge, “if he owned the king?” “Yes,” said he, “I do own the king.” “Why then,” said I, “dost thou not observe his declaration from Breda, and his promises made since he came into England, ‘that no man should be called in question for matters of religion, so long as he lived peaceably?’ If thou ownest the king, why dost thou call me into question, and put me upon taking an oath, which is a matter of religion, seeing neither thou nor any else can charge me with unpeaceable living?”
Upon this he was moved, and looking angrily at me, said, “Sirrah, will you swear?” I told him, “I was none of his sirrahs, I was a Christian; and for him, an old man and a judge, to sit there and give nick-names to prisoners, it did not become either his gray hairs or his office.” “Well,” said he, “I am a Christian too.” “Then do Christian works,” said I. “Sirrah!” said he, “thou thinkest to frighten me with thy words.” Then catching himself, and looking aside, he said, “Hark! I am using the word [sirrah] again;” and so checked himself. I said, “I spoke to thee in love; for that language did not become thee, a judge. Thou oughtest to instruct a prisoner in the law, if he were ignorant and out of the way.” “And I speak in love to thee too,” said he. “But,” said I, “love gives no nick-names.” Then he roused himself up, and said, “I will not be afraid of thee, George Fox; thou speakest so loud, thy voice drowns mine and the court’s; I must call for three or four criers to drown thy voice: thou hast good lungs.” “I am a prisoner here,” said I, “for the Lord Jesus Christ’s sake; for his sake do I suffer, for him do I stand this day; and if my voice were five times louder, I should lift it up, and sound it for Christ’s sake, for whose cause I stand this day before your judgment-seat, in obedience to Christ, who commands not to swear; before whose judgment-seat you must all be brought and must give an account.” “Well,” said the judge, “George Fox, say, whether thou wilt take the oath, yea or nay?” I replied, “I say, as I said before, whether ought I to obey God or man, judge thou? If I could take any oath at all, I should take this; for I do not deny some oaths only, or on some occasions, but all oaths, according to Christ’s doctrine, who hath commanded his followers not to swear at all. Now if thou or any of you, or your ministers or priests here, will prove that ever Christ or his apostles, after they had forbidden all swearing, commanded Christians to swear, then I will swear.” I saw several priests there, but not one of them offered to speak. “Then,” said the judge, “I am a servant to the king, and the king sent me not to dispute with you, but to put the laws in execution; therefore tender him the oath of allegiance.” “If thou love the king,” said I, “why dost thou break his word, and not keep his declarations and speeches, wherein he promised liberty to tender consciences? I am a man of a tender conscience, and, in obedience to Christ’s command, I cannot swear.” “Then you will not swear,” said the judge; “take him away, jailer.” I said, “It is for Christ’s sake that I cannot swear, and for obedience to his command I suffer, and so the Lord forgive you all.” So the jailer took me away; but I felt the mighty power of the Lord was over them all.
The sixteenth day of the same month I was brought before Judge Twisden again: he was somewhat offended at my hat; but it being the last morning of the assize before he was to leave town, and not many people there, he made the less of it. He asked me, “whether I would traverse, stand mute, or submit.” But he spoke so fast that it was hard to know what he said. However, I told him, “I desired I might have liberty to traverse the indictment, and try it.” Then said he, “Take him away, I will have nothing to do with him, take him away.” I said, “Well, live in the fear of God, and do justice.” “Why,” said he, “have not I done you justice?” I replied, “That which thou hast done has been against the command of Christ.” So I was taken to the jail again, and kept prisoner till the next assizes.
Some time before this assize, Margaret Fell was sent prisoner to Lancaster jail by Fleming, Kirby, and Preston, justices; and at the assize the oath was tendered to her also, and she was again committed to prison, to lie till the next assize.
Now Justice Fleming being one of the fiercest and most violent justices in persecuting Friends, and sending his honest neighbours to prison for religion’s sake, and many Friends at this time being in Lancaster jail committed by him, and some having died in prison, we that were then prisoners had it upon us to write to him, as follows:—