THE FIFTH BOOK. 1659-1660. (continued 2)

At length, betimes in the morning, he was hauled out, and chained to a wheelbarrow, and commanded to work: to which he answered, he was never brought up, nor used to such a work. Upon which they made a negro to take a pitched rope, nigh four inches about, and to beat him; who did so, till Robert fell down. Then they took him up again, and caused the negro to beat him with the said rope, until he fell down the second time, and it was believed that he received about one hundred blows. Thus he was kept all that day in the heat of the sun, chained to the wheelbarrow; and his body being much bruised and swelled with the blows, and he kept without food, grew very faint, and sat upon the ground, with his mind retired to the Lord, and resigned to his will, whereby he felt himself supported. At night he was locked up again in the dungeon, and the next morning he was chained again to the wheelbarrow, and a sentinel set over him, that none might come so much as to speak with him. On the third day he was had forth, and chained in like manner; and no wonder that he still refused to work, for besides the unreasonableness of requiring such a servile work of him who had committed no evil, he was not in a condition to perform it, being made altogether unable by the cruel blows given him. In this weak state he was brought before the governor, who demanded him to work, otherwise he said, he should be whipt every day. Robert asked him what law he had broken? And called for his accusers, that he might know his transgression. But instead of an answer he was chained to the wheelbarrow again, and threatened, that if he spake to any one, he should be punished worse. Yet he did not forbear to speak to some that came to him, so as he saw meet, and thought convenient. Then seeing they could not keep him silent, they put him into the dungeon again, and kept him close there several days, and two nights; one day and a half of it, without bread or water.

After this, he was brought very early in the morning, into a private room, and stript to the waist, and hung up by his hands, and a great log of wood tied to his feet, so that he could not turn his body; and then a strong negro was set to whip him with rods, who laid many stripes upon him, which cut his flesh very much. Then he was let down again, and put into the dungeon as before, and none suffered to come to him. Two days after he was had forth again, and hung up as before, and many more stripes were laid upon him by another negro. He almost fainting, and not knowing but his life might be taken away, desired that some English might be suffered to come to him: which was granted, and an English woman came and washed his stripes, finding him brought so low that she thought he would not live till the next morning. And she telling this to her husband, it made such an impression upon him, that he went to the fiscal and proffered him a fat ox, to suffer Robert to be at his house until he was well again. But the fiscal would not permit this, unless the whole fine was paid. And though there were some that would willingly have paid the fine for him, yet he could not consent to it; but within three days after he had thus been whipped, he was made whole, and as strong as before, and was free to labour, that he might not be burdensome to any. Some others of those called Quakers, (who came thither from the plantations in New England to enjoy liberty of conscience, and whose names and sufferings I pass by for brevity’s sake,) met also with hard measure from the governor, by the instigation of the aforesaid Captain Willet. Robert now though guiltless, being kept like a slave to hard work, it raised compassion in many, and the governor’s sister, who was much affected with his sufferings, became instrumental in obtaining his liberty; for she so plied her brother, that he at length set him free without paying one penny, or any body for him; by which the governor showed, that though he had been too easily wrought upon to commit evil, yet he was not come near to that height of malice as the New England persecutors; who increased in their hard-heartedness, and became inured to cruelty, insomuch that if any one amongst them would not give his vote for persecution, he was counted unworthy to be a magistrate: as appears by a letter of one James Cudworth, written some time before to one of his friends in Old England, wherein I meet with these words:

‘As for the state and condition of things amongst us, it is sad. The antichristian persecuting spirit is very active, and that in the powers of this world. He that will not whip and lash, persecute, and punish men that differ in matters of religion, must not sit on the bench, nor sustain any office in the commonwealth. Last election Mr. Hatherly and myself left the bench, and myself was discharged of my captainship, because I had entertained some of the Quakers at my house, that thereby I might be the better acquainted with their principles. I thought it better to do so, than with the blind world to censure, condemn, rail at, and revile them, when they neither saw their persons, nor knew any thing of their principles. But the Quakers and myself cannot close in divers things; and so I signified to the court I was no Quaker, but must give my testimony against sundry things that they held, as I had occasion and opportunity. But withal, I told them, that as I was no Quaker, so I would be no persecutor.’

Now shall I enter upon the narrative of their putting some to death, who died martyrs; for this was yet wanting to complete the tragedy, which it seems could not be done to the satisfaction of the actors, without playing a murdering part.

The two first that sealed their testimony with their blood, were William Robinson, merchant of London, and Marmaduke Stevenson, a countryman of Yorkshire. These coming to Boston in the beginning of September, were sent for by the court of assistants, and there sentenced to banishment on pain of death. This sentence was passed also on Mary Dyar, mentioned heretofore, and Nicholas Davis, who were both at Boston. But William Robinson, being looked upon as a teacher, was also condemned to be whipt severely; and the constable was commanded to get an able man to do it. Then Robinson was brought into the street, and there stript; and having his hands put through the holes of the carriage of a great gun, where the jailer held him, the executioner gave him twenty stripes with a three-fold cord whip. Then he and the other prisoners were shortly released, and banished; which that it was for no other reason but their being Quakers, may appear by the following warrant:

‘You are required by these, presently to set at liberty William Robinson, Marmaduke Stevenson, Mary Dyar, and Nicholas Davis, who by an order of the court and council, had been imprisoned, because it appeared by their own confession, words, and actions, that they are Quakers; wherefore a sentence was pronounced against them, to depart this jurisdiction on pain of death, and that they must answer it at their peril, if they, or any of them after the 14th of this present month, September, are found within this jurisdiction, or any part thereof.

EDWARD RAWSON.’

Boston, September 12, 1659.

Now though Mary Dyar and Nicholas Davis left that jurisdiction for that time, yet Robinson and Stevenson, though they departed the town of Boston, could not yet resolve, (not being free in mind,) to depart that jurisdiction, though their lives were at stake. And so they went to Salem, and some place thereabout to visit and build up their friends in the faith. But it was not long before they were taken, and put again into prison at Boston, and chains locked to their right legs. In the next month Mary Dyar returned also. And as she stood before the prison, speaking with one Christopher Holder, who was come thither to inquire for a ship bound for England, whither he intended to go, she was also taken into custody. Thus they had three persons, who, according to their sanguinary law, had forfeited their lives. And on the 20th of October, these three were brought into the court, where John Endicot and others were assembled. And being called to the bar, Endicot commanded the keeper to pull off their hats: and then said, that they had made several laws to keep the Quakers from amongst them; and neither whipping, nor imprisoning, nor cutting off ears, nor banishing upon pain of death, would keep them from amongst them. And further he said, that he or they desired not the death of any of them. Yet notwithstanding, his following words without more ado, were, ‘Give ear, and hearken to your sentence of death.’ W. Robinson then desired that he might be permitted to read a paper, giving an account of the reason why he had not departed that jurisdiction. But Endicot would not suffer it to be read, and said in a rage, ‘You shall not read it, nor will the court hear it read.’ Then Robinson laid it on the table. He had written this paper the day before, and some of the contents were, that he being in Rhode Island, the Lord had commanded him to go to Boston, and to lay down his life there. That he also had felt an assurance that his soul was to enter into everlasting peace, and eternal rest. That he durst not but obey, without inquiring further concerning it; believing that it became him as a child, to show obedience to the Lord, without any unwillingness. That this was the cause, why after banishment on pain of death, he staid in their jurisdiction: and that now with sincerity of heart he could say, Blessed be the Lord, the God of my life, who hath called me hereunto, and counted me worthy to testify against wicked and unjust men, &c. This paper being handed to Endicot, he read it to himself, and after he had done, said to Robinson, ‘You need not keep such ado to have it read; for you spoke yesterday more than here is written.’ Yet this was not so; for it contained a circumstantial relation of the divine operations on his mind; and that he was not come there in his own will, but in obedience to his Creator: and that travelling in Rhode Island, on the 8th of the Eighth month, he had been moved thereto from the Lord, and therefore had submitted to his divine pleasure without murmuring. W. Robinson desired again that the paper might be read, that so all that were present might hear it, it was denied him, and Endicot said, ‘W. Robinson hearken to your sentence of death; you shall be had back to the place from whence you came, and from thence to the place of execution, to be hanged on the gallows till you are dead.’ This sentence was not altogether unexpected to W. Robinson; for it was four months now that he had believed this would be his share.

Robinson being taken away, M. Stevenson was called, and Endicot said to him, ‘If you have any thing to say, you may speak.’ He knowing how they dealt with his companion, was silent, though he had also written in prison a paper, containing the cause of his being come there; but he kept it with him, and found afterwards occasion to deliver it to somebody. Then Endicot pronounced sentence of death against him, saying, ‘M. Stevenson, you shall be had to the place from whence you came, and from thence to the gallows, and there be hanged till you are dead.’ Whereupon M. Stevenson spoke thus: ‘Give ear, ye magistrates, and all who are guilty; for this the Lord hath said concerning you, and will perform his word upon you, that the same day ye put his servants to death, shall the day of your visitation pass over your heads, and you shall be cursed for evermore. The mouth of the Lord of hosts hath spoken it. Therefore in love to you all, I exhort you to take warning before it be too late, that so the curse may be removed. For assuredly if you put us to death, you will bring innocent blood upon your own heads, and swift destruction will come upon you.’

After he had spoken this, he was taken away, and Mary Dyar was called: to whom Endicot spoke thus: ‘Mary Dyar, you shall go to the place from whence you came, (to wit, the prison,) and from thence to the place of execution, and be hanged there until you are dead.’ To which she replied, ‘The will of the Lord be done.’ Then Endicot said, ‘Take her away, marshal.’ To which she returned, ‘Yea, joyfully I go.’ And in her going to the prison, she often uttered speeches of praise to the Lord; and, being full of joy, she said to the marshal, he might let her alone, for she would go to the prison without him. To which he answered, ‘I believe you, Mrs. Dyar: but I must do what I am commanded.’ Thus she was led to prison, where she was kept a week, with the two other, her companions, that were also condemned to die.

The paper of Marmaduke Stevenson, mentioned before, which he gave forth after he had received sentence of death, was thus:

‘In the beginning of the year 1655, I was at the plough, in the east parts of Yorkshire, in Old England, near the place where my outward being was, and as I walked after the plough, I was filled with the love and presence of the living God, which did ravish my heart when I felt it; for it did increase and abound in me like a living stream, so did the love and life of God run through me like precious ointment, giving a pleasant smell, which made me to stand still; and as I stood a little still, with my heart and mind stayed on the Lord, the word of the Lord came to me in a still small voice, which I did hear perfectly, saying to me, in the secret of my heart and conscience,—I have ordained thee a prophet unto the nations.—And at the hearing of the word of the Lord, I was put to a stand, being that I was but a child for such a weighty matter. So at the time appointed, Barbadoes was set before me, unto which I was required of the Lord to go, and leave my dear and loving wife, and tender children: for the Lord said unto me immediately by his Spirit, that he would be as a husband to my wife, and as a father to my children, and they should not want in my absence, for he would provide for them when I was gone. And I believed that the Lord would perform what he had spoken, because I was made willing to give up myself to his work and service, to leave all and follow him, whose presence and life is with me, where I rest in peace and quietness of spirit, (with my dear brother,) under the shadow of his wings, who hath made us willing to lay down our lives for his own name sake, if unmerciful men be suffered to take them from us; and if they do, we know we shall have peace and rest with the Lord for ever in his holy habitation, when they shall have torment night and day. So, in obedience to the living God, I made preparation to pass to Barbadoes, in the Fourth month, 1658. So, after I had been some time on the said island in the service of God, I heard that New England had made a law to put the servants of the living God to death, if they returned after they were sentenced away, which did come near me at that time: and as I considered the thing, and pondered it in my heart, immediately came the word of the Lord unto me, saying, ‘Thou knowest not but that thou mayest go thither.’ But I kept this word in my heart, and did not declare it to any until the time appointed. So, after that, a vessel was made ready for Rhode Island, which I passed in. So, after a little time that I had been there, visiting the seed which the Lord hath blessed, the word of the Lord came unto me, saying, ‘Go to Boston with thy brother William Robinson.’ And at his command I was obedient, and gave up myself to do his will, that so his work and service may be accomplished: for he hath said unto me, that he hath a great work for me to do; which is now come to pass: and for yielding obedience to, and obeying the voice and command of, the ever-living God, who created heaven and earth, and the fountains of waters, do I, with my brother, suffer outward bonds near unto death, and this is given forth to be upon record, that all people may know, who hear it, that we came not in our own wills, but in the will of God. Given forth by me, who am known to men by the name of

MARMADUKE STEVENSON.

But having a new name given me, which the world knows not of, written in the Book of Life.

‘Written in Boston prison, in the 8th Month, 1659.’

Mary Dyar being returned to prison, wrote the following letter, which she sent to the rulers of Boston.

To the General Court in Boston.

‘Whereas I am by many charged with the guiltiness of my own blood; if you mean in my coming to Boston, I am therein clear, and justified by the Lord, in whose will I came, who will require my blood of you, be sure, who have made a law to take away the lives of the innocent servants of God, if they come among you, who are called by you, cursed Quakers; although I say, and am a living witness for them and the Lord, that he hath blessed them, and sent them unto you; therefore be not found fighters against God, but let my counsel and request be accepted with you, to repeal all such laws, that the Truth and servants of the Lord may have free passage among you, and you be kept from shedding innocent blood, which I know there are many among you would not do, if they knew it so to be; nor can the enemy that stirreth you up thus to destroy his holy seed, in any measure countervail the great damage that you will, by thus doing, procure. Therefore seeing the Lord hath not hid it from me, it lieth upon me, in love to your souls, thus to persuade you. I have no self-ends the Lord knoweth; for if my life were freely granted by you, it would not avail me, nor could I expect it of you, so long as I should daily hear or see the sufferings of these people, my dear brethren, and the seed with whom my life is bound up, as I have done these two years; and now it is like to increase, even unto death, for no evil doing, but coming among you. Was ever the like laws heard of among a people that profess Christ come in the flesh? And have such no other weapons but such laws to fight against spiritual wickedness withal, as you call it? Wo is me for you! Of whom take ye counsel? Search with the light of Christ in you, and it will show you of whom, as it hath done me and many more, who have been disobedient and deceived, as now ye are: which light as ye come into, and obeying what is made manifest to you therein, you will not repent that you were kept from shedding blood, though it were by a woman. It is not mine own life I seek, (for I choose rather to suffer with the people of God, than to enjoy the pleasures of Egypt,) but the life of the seed, which I know the Lord hath blessed, and therefore seeks the enemy thus vehemently to destroy the life thereof, as in all ages he ever did. O hearken not unto him, I beseech you, for the seed’s sake, which is one and all, and is dear in the sight of God, which they that touch, touch the apple of his eye, and cannot escape his wrath; whereof I having felt, cannot but persuade all men that I have to do withal, especially you who name the name of Christ, to depart from such iniquity as shedding blood, even of the saints of the Most High. Therefore let my request have as much acceptance with you, if you be Christians, as Esther’s had with Ahasuerus, whose relation is short of that that is between Christians; and my request is the same that her’s was: and he said not that he had made a law, and it would be dishonourable for him to revoke it; but when he understood that those people were so prized by her, and so nearly concerned her, as in truth these are to me, you may see what he did for her. Therefore I leave these lines with you, appealing to the faithful and true witness of God, which is one in all consciences, before whom we must all appear; with whom I shall eternally rest, in everlasting joy and peace, whether you will hear or forbear. With him is my reward, with whom to live is my joy, and to die is my gain, though I had not had your forty-eight hours warning, for the preparation of the death of Mary Dyar.

‘And know this also, that if through the enmity you shall declare yourselves worse than Ahasuerus, and confirm your law, though it were but by taking away the life of one of us, that the Lord will overthrow both your law and you, by his righteous judgments and plagues poured justly upon you, who now, whilst ye are warned thereof, and tenderly sought unto, may avoid the one, by removing the other. If you neither hear, nor obey the Lord, nor his servants, yet will he send more of his servants among you, so that your end shall be frustrated, that think to restrain them ye call cursed Quakers, from coming among you, by any thing you can do to them. Yea, verily, he hath a seed here among you, for whom we have suffered all this while, and yet suffer; whom the Lord of the harvest will send forth more labourers to gather, out of the mouths of the devourers of all sorts, into his fold, where he will lead them into fresh pastures, even the paths of righteousness, for his name’s sake. Oh, let none of you put this good day far from you, which verily in the light of the Lord I see approaching, even to many in and about Boston, which is the bitterest and darkest professing place, and so to continue so long as you have done, that ever I heard of. Let the time past, therefore, suffice, for such a profession as brings forth such fruits as these laws are. In love, and in the spirit of meekness, I again beseech you, for I have no enmity to the persons of any; but you shall know, that God will not be mocked; but what ye sow, that shall ye reap from him, that will render to every one according to the deeds done in the body, whether good or evil. Even so be it, saith

MARY DYAR.’

A copy of this was given to the general court after Mary Dyar had received sentence of death, about the 8th or 9th month, 1659.

The day appointed to execute the bloody sentence, was the 27th of October, when in the afternoon the condemned prisoners were led to the gallows by the marshal Michaelson, and captain James Oliver, with a band of about two hundred armed men, besides many horsemen; as if they were afraid that some of the people would have rescued the prisoners: and that no actors on the stage might be wanting, the priest Wilson joined the company, who, when the court deliberated how to deal with the Quakers, said, ‘Hang them, or else’ (drawing his finger athwart his throat,) as if he would have said, ‘Dispatch ’em this way.’ Now the march began, and a drummer going next before the condemned, the drums were beaten, especially when any of them attempted to speak. Glorious signs of heavenly joy and gladness were beheld in the countenances of these three persons, who walked hand in hand, Mary being the middlemost, which made the marshal say to her, who was pretty aged, and stricken in years, ‘Are not you ashamed to walk thus hand in hand between two young men?’ ‘No,’ replied she, ‘this is to me an hour of the greatest joy I could enjoy in this world. No eye can see, nor ear can hear, no tongue can utter, and no heart can understand, the sweet incomes, or influence, and the refreshings of the spirit of the Lord, which now I feel.’ Thus going along, W. Robinson said, ‘This is your hour, and the power of darkness.’ But presently the drums were beaten; yet shortly after the drummers leaving off beating, Marmaduke Stevenson said, ‘This is the day of your visitation, wherein the Lord hath visited you.’ More he spoke, but could not be understood, by reason of the drums being beaten again. Yet they went on with great cheerfulness, as going to an everlasting wedding feast, and rejoicing that the Lord had counted them worthy to suffer death for his name’s sake.

When they were come near the gallows, the priest said in a taunting way to W. Robinson, ‘Shall such jacks as you come in before authority with their hats on?’ To which Robinson replied, ‘Mind you, mind you, it is for the not putting off the hat we are put to death!’ Now being come to the ladder, they took leave of each other with tender embraces, and then Robinson went cheerfully up the ladder, and being got up, said to the people, ‘This is the day of your visitation, wherein the Lord hath visited you: this is the day the Lord is risen in his mighty power, to be avenged on all his adversaries.’ He also signified, that he suffered not as an evil-doer: and desired the spectators to mind the light that was in them; to wit, the Light of Christ, of which he testified, and was now going to seal it with his blood. This so incensed the envious priest, that he said, ‘Hold thy tongue; be silent; thou art going to die with a lie in thy mouth.’ The rope being now about his neck, the executioner bound his hands and legs, and tied his neckcloth about his face: which being done, Robinson said, ‘Now ye are made manifest;’ and the executioner being about turning him off, he said, ‘I suffer for Christ, in whom I live, and for whom I die.’ He being turned off, Marmaduke Stevenson stepped up the ladder, and said, ‘Be it known unto all this day, that we suffer not as evil-doers, but for conscience sake.’ And when the hangman was about to turn him off, he said, ‘This day shall we be at rest with the Lord;’ and so he was turned off.

Mary Dyar seeing her companions hanging dead before her, also stepped up the ladder; but after her coats were tied about her feet, the halter put about her neck, and her face covered with a handkerchief, which the priest Wilson lent the hangman, just as she was to be turned off, a cry was heard, ‘Stop, for she is reprieved.’ Her feet then being loosed, they bade her come down. But she whose mind was already as it were in heaven, stood still, and said, she was there willing to suffer as her brethren did, unless they would annul their wicked law. Little heed was given to what she said, but they pulled her down, and the marshal and others taking her by the arms, carried her to prison again. That she thus was freed from the gallows, this time, was at the intercession of her son, to whom it seems they could not then resolve to deny that favour. She, now having heard why she was reprieved, wrote the next day, being the 28th of October, the following letter to the court.

The 28th of the Eighth month, 1659.

‘Once more to the general court assembled in Boston, speaks Mary Dyar, even as before. My life is not accepted, neither availeth me, in comparison of the lives and liberty of the Truth, and servants of the living God, for which in the bowels of love and meekness I sought you: yet, nevertheless, with wicked hands have you put two of them to death, which makes me to feel, that the mercies of the wicked are cruelty. I rather choose to die than to live, as from you, as guilty of their innocent blood: therefore seeing my request is hindered, I leave you to the righteous Judge, and searcher of all hearts, who, with the pure measure of light he hath given to every man to profit withal, will in his due time let you see whose servants you are, and of whom you have taken counsel, which I desire you to search into: but all his counsel hath been slighted, and you would none of his reproofs. Read your portion, Prov. i. 24 to 32. For verily the night cometh on you apace, wherein no man can work, in which you shall assuredly fall to your own master. In obedience to the Lord, whom I serve with my spirit, and pity to your souls, which you neither know nor pity, I can do no less than once more to warn you, to put away the evil of your doings; and kiss the Son, the light in you, before his wrath be kindled in you; for where it is, nothing without you can help or deliver you out of his hand at all; and if these things be not so, then say, there hath been no prophet from the Lord sent amongst you; though we be nothing, yet it is his pleasure, by things that are not, to bring to nought things that are.

When I heard your last order read, it was a disturbance unto me, that was so freely offering up my life to him that gave it me, and sent me hither so to do, which obedience being his own work, he gloriously accompanied with his presence, and peace, and love in me, in which I rested from my labour; till by your order and the people, I was so far disturbed, that I could not retain any more of the words thereof, than that I should return to prison, and there remain forty and eight hours; to which I submitted, finding nothing from the Lord to the contrary, that I may know what his pleasure and counsel is concerning me, on whom I wait therefore, for he is my life, and the length of my days; and as I said before, I came at his command, and go at his command.

MARY DYAR.’

The magistrates now perceiving that the putting William Robinson and Marmaduke Stevenson to death, caused great discontent among the people, resolved to send away Mary Dyar, thereby to calm their minds a little. And so she was put on horseback, and by four horsemen conveyed fifteen miles towards Rhode Island, where she was left with a horse and a man, to be conveyed the rest of the way: which she soon sent back, and so repaired home. By the style of her letters, and her undaunted carriage, it appears that she had indeed some extraordinary qualities; I find also, that she was of a comely and grave countenance, of a good family and estate, and a mother of several children: but her husband it seems was of another persuasion.

Whilst I now leave her at home, I am to say that one John Chamberlain, an inhabitant of Boston, having seen the execution of W. Robinson and M. Stevenson, was so reached by their pious speeches, that he received the doctrine of the Truth, for which they died: but his visiting those in prison was so ill resented, that afterwards he was whipped several times severely; as was also Edward Wharton, an inhabitant of Salem: who having said that the guilt of Robinson and Stevenson’s blood was so great and heavy, that he was not able to bear it, was, for this his pretended sauciness, whipped with twenty lashes, and fined twenty pounds.

But before I quite leave the persons that were hanged, I must say, that being dead, their countenances still looked fresh; (for the terror of death had not seized them.) But being cut down, they were very barbarously used, none taking hold of their bodies: which so fell down on the ground, that thereby the scull of W. Robinson was broken: and even their shirts were ripped off with a knife, and their naked bodies cast into a hole which was digged, without any covering. And when some of their friends would have laid their bodies into coffins, it was denied them. Neither would they suffer the place where the bodies were cast, to be fenced with pales, lest ravenous beasts might prey upon them.

When the people returned from the execution, many seemed sad and heavy; and coming to the drawbridge, one end of it fell upon some, and several were hurt, especially a wicked woman, who had reviled the said two persons at their death; but now she was so bruised, that her flesh rotted from her bones, which made such a noisome stink, that people could not endure to be with her: in which miserable condition she remained till she died. But the magistrates, instead of taking notice of this, grew more hardened; and priest Wilson did not stick to make a ballad on the executed.

1660.

Now I return again to Mary Dyar, who being come to Rhode Island, went from thence to Long Island, where she staid the most part of the winter: and then coming home again, she was moved to return to the bloody town of Boston, whither she came on the 21st of the Third month, 1660, and on the 31st she was sent for by the general court. Being come, the governor, John Endicot, said, ‘Are you the same Mary Dyar that was here before?’ And it seems he was preparing an evasion for her, there having been another of that name returned from Old England. But she was so far from disguising, that she answered undauntedly, ‘I am the same Mary Dyar that was here the last general court.’ Then Endicot said, ‘You will own yourself a Quaker, will you not?’ To which Mary Dyar said, ‘I own myself to be reproachfully called so.’ Then the jailer, (who would also say something,) said, ‘She is a vagabond.’ And Endicot said, the sentence was past upon her the last general court, and now likewise: ‘You must return to the prison, and there remain till to-morrow at nine o’clock; then from thence you must go to the gallows, and there be hanged till you are dead.’ To which Mary Dyar said, ‘This is no more than what thou saidst before.’ And Endicot returned, ‘But now it is to be executed; therefore prepare yourself to-morrow at nine o’clock.’ She then spoke thus: ‘I came in obedience to the will of God the last general court, desiring you to repeal your unrighteous laws of banishment on pain of death; and that same is my work now, and earnest request; although I told you, that if you refused to repeal them, the Lord would send others of his servants to witness against them.’ Hereupon Endicot asked her, whether she was a prophetess? And she answered, ‘she spoke the words that the Lord spoke in her; and now the thing was come to pass.’ And beginning to speak of her call, Endicot cried, ‘Away with her; away with her.’ So she was brought to the prison house where she was before, and kept close shut up until the next day.

About the appointed time the marshal Michaelson came, and called her to come hastily; and coming into the room where she was, she desired him to stay a little; and speaking mildly, said, she should be ready presently. But he being of a rough temper, said he could not wait upon her, but she should now wait upon him. One Margaret Smith, her companion, being grieved to see such hard-heartedness, spoke something against their unjust laws and proceedings; to which he said, ‘You shall have your share of the same.’ Then Mary Dyar was brought forth, and with a band of soldiers led through the town, the drums being beaten before and behind her, and so continued, that none might hear her speak all the way to the place of execution, which was about a mile. With this guard she came to the gallows, and being gone up the ladder, some said to her, that if she would return, she might come down and save her life. To which she replied, ‘Nay, I cannot, for in obedience to the will of the Lord I came, and in his will I abide faithful to the death.’ Then captain John Webb said, that she had been there before, and had the sentence of banishment upon pain of death, and had broken the law in coming again now; and therefore she was guilty of her own blood. To which she returned, ‘Nay, I came to keep blood-guiltiness from you, desiring you to repeal the unrighteous and unjust law of banishment upon pain of death, made against the innocent servants of the Lord; therefore my blood will be required at your hands, who wilfully do it: but for those that do it in the simplicity of their hearts, I desire the Lord to forgive them. I came to do the will of my Father, and in obedience to his will, I stand even to death.’ Then priest Wilson said, ‘Mary Dyar, O repent, O repent, and be not so deluded, and carried away by the deceit of the devil.’ To this Mary Dyar answered, ‘Nay, man, I am not now to repent.’ And being asked by some, whether she would have the elders pray for her, she said, ‘I know never an elder here.’ Being further asked, whether she would have any of the people to pray for her? She answered, she desired the prayers of all the people of God. Thereupon some scoffingly said, ‘It may be she thinks there is none here.’ She looking about, said, ‘I know but few here.’ Then they spoke to her again, that one of the elders might pray for her. To which she replied, ‘Nay, first a child, then a young man, then a strong man, before an elder in Christ Jesus.’ After this she was charged with something which was not understood what it was, but she seemed to hear it; for she said, ‘It is false, it is false; I never spoke those words.’ Then one mentioned that she should have said, she had been in paradise. To which she answered, ‘Yea, I have been in paradise several days.’ And more she spoke of the eternal happiness into which she was now to enter. In this well-disposed condition she was turned off, and died a martyr of Christ, being twice led to death, which the first time she expected with undaunted courage, and now suffered with Christian fortitude.

Thus this honest, valiant woman finished her days: but so hardened were these persecutors, that one of the court said scoffingly, ‘She did hang as a flag for others to take example by.’ And putting to death for religion did not yet cease, as will be related hereafter: but first I will take a turn again to Old England, where there was now great division, and a revolution in the state.

About the beginning of this year, E. Burrough wrote the following letter to the parliament, which then had the power again in their hands.

‘Friends,

‘All these overturnings, and almost wonderful changings, were effected through the justice of the Lord’s hand. You are now again at the stern of government, and on the throne; and I dare not but say it is of and by the Lord, and that he hath done it contrary to the expectations of many; and what his end is in it, remains with him. But I am sure one cause is, that you may execute part of his wrath upon that treacherous generation of hypocritical and deceitful men, some of the army I mean. I need not say to you, how that many of them were raised up from a low estate; and, instead of serving the nation, became their lords and oppressors; they have abused the Lord’s mercy to them, and exalted themselves, and became as great oppressors, and as grievous to the nation, as ever they were that went before them; and some of them took the very tithes and estates of their enemies, and followed their evil spirit also, though the Lord was long-suffering to them, and gave them a day, and put opportunity into their hands, wherein they might have done good; but they also neglected to serve God and the nation, to themselves; and because of the ambition and pride of some of them, the Lord suffered them to make this last interruption upon you, which was great treachery in man’s account, that thereby their measure might be filled up, and that he might give you occasion against them, and suffer you to be filled with indignation towards them, to break them to pieces: and what you do to some of them, in casting them out, and afflicting them, you are but God’s executioners therein; you are the executioners of his anger, in what you do to them; and who shall prevent you, or forbid him to go on? For they have long enough dissembled with this nation, in professing more than others, and doing less, and their downfall is now. And God hath looked upon you, to be hard-hearted and cruel enough, and very fit executioners of vengeance upon such men, as I have mentioned.

‘But now concerning you, and your present state, as you are in present place and power, I have something to say to you; though they are fallen, and you yet stand, and you have a little time after them; but this I say, do not glory over their fall, neither glory as though you should stand for ever; for they were not greater sinners than you are, neither are you one whit more righteous than some of them; but you are as sure to fall, as they are fallen, with no less measure of dishonour and affliction than is come upon them; and you are in your last hour; and I dare not say, that God expects much more from you, than for the end aforesaid, viz. to be the executioners of justice upon men as sinful as yourselves; so do not glory over them that are fallen: but know that your time also is but short, and your fall may prove to your destruction, and theirs may prove to make them better, and refine them: and if God hath chosen you to execute some part of his wrath upon them, for their wickedness, he will doubtless find instruments to execute his wrath upon you, else he will do it with his own hands; for he purposeth not to spare you; for your sins cry as loud as any other people’s, and the oppressions are as great under you, as under them whom you condemn. And I desire, if there be any good men amongst you, that such who are wise may consider, and mind the hand of the Lord in and through all these things that are come to pass; for God is working as well as you, he is seeking to set up a kingdom as well as you, and his government and your’s cannot stand together; and he will make you know that he is stronger, and his government of more force, and your kingdom cannot stand in place with his.

‘Therefore, Oh that you would take heed! Oh that you would be wise, if so be some of you may be spared! and be not too zealous in your way, nor too furious in your proceedings; do but to others as you intend to receive from others, and from the Lord; and go not beyond your commission; for a permission at least you have had from God, even to scourge hypocrites, and to be a judgment upon that hypocritical, seeming religious generation of men aforesaid, which have many a time as it were mocked God, and pretended love to him with their lips, when their hearts have yearned after self-honour, and treasures of this world: I say, your present hour and permission is for this end, but not to persecute the people of the Lord, nor to destroy God’s heritage; but if you shall extend your power unto such a work, and if you do persecute the innocent without cause, and make war against the Lamb and his followers, and make laws, and execute them to the oppression of the saints of the Most High, then you go beyond your commission; for God hath not called you unto this, but to be instruments in another cause. And the children of Zion, they trust in the living God, and fear not the terror of mighty men, neither can they be afraid at the roaring of the sea, nor at the present threatening of the heathen, for God is with them. And I say unto you, the servant of the Lord hath pondered and considered all these proceedings, and viewed the present state of things at this day, and there is no vision from God unto you of peace and comfort, nor of a happy and lasting government, as you stand: if any prophet shall divine this unto you, he speaks what he hath not from the Lord, but the vision of his own heart, and he deceives you and himself; for you are not established upon a right foundation, neither are you acted by a right spirit, which can truly govern for God; but the spirit of wrath and fury is put into you, for the work to which you are called. And I know not how to warn you, that you do not persecute the people of God. For why? It may be you must fill up your measure of wickedness thereby, that God may break you perpetually; yet the less will be your judgment, if you do it not: but and if you do it, the Lord will take occasion against you, to wound you, and you shall never be healed, and as you do afflict others, so and much more shall it be done unto you from the Lord.

‘Wherefore, consider what I have said; for this is the vision of the Almighty unto you, that shall not go unfulfilled: and what you do, you must do it quickly; for your time is short, and your power will God subdue; and his kingdom and power will he speedily exalt over your heads, and make you and the nations know that he is God, and that all power is with him, and that he can do whatsoever he will; and it is his right alone to reign, and his children’s portion to possess the kingdom with him. Let the whole earth, and all the powers thereof, bow and tremble before him: let not your hearts be stout and rebellious against him, for he can grind you to powder, and sink you into confusion and misery, as a stone into the sea.’

This was directed for the hands of the speaker in parliament, and accordingly was given to William Lenthal, being inclosed to him with these lines following

‘Friend,

‘The inclosed I do commend unto thee to present unto the house, and to endeavour sincerely the reading of it in your assembly; for it is of special concernment to you all; and in the name of the Lord, and by his Spirit, I do charge thee not to be negligent in this matter, as though it were not of worth to you; and I do lay it upon thee, as thou wilt answer the contrary at the dreadful day of God, when the King of Righteousness shall judge thee and all mankind.

E. BURROUGH.’

The 24th of the Eleventh month, 1659.

This parliament did so lord it, that about fifteen hundred military officers were cashiered, and others put into their places.

About this time George Fox the younger wrote also a letter to the parliament and the army, which was as followeth:

‘Your day into darkness is turned; the sun is gone down over you. You have had a large day, and power given unto you, to have done the will of God, but you have abused the power, and slighted your day; and you have refused to do the Lord’s work, and have sought to serve yourselves, and not the Lord; therefore in justice and righteousness, is the day wherein you might have wrought for God, taken from you; and the thick dark night of confusion is come upon you, wherein you are groping and stumbling, and cannot work; the decree is gone out, and sealed against you, and it cannot be recalled; you are not the men, (as ye stand,) in whom God will appear to work deliverance for his people, and creatures; and yet deliverance shall come, but not according to man’s expectations. But as for you, ye have rejected the counsel of the Lord, and grieved his Spirit, and he hath long borne you; yea, you are departed from the Lord, and his presence is departed from you; indeed he hath hewed with you, and if you had been faithful to the end, he would have honoured and prospered you, and would have been your sufficient reward: ye were his axe, but you have boasted yourselves against him; therefore as you have beaten, and hewed, and broken others, even so must you be beaten, hewed, and broken; for you have grievously provoked the Lord; and if he should now suffer that tree, which ye have cut, to fall upon you, and to break part of you, it were just.

‘O ye treacherous, wilful, proud, self-seeking people, who have despised the counsel of the Lord, and would not take warning, though he hath sent his prophets and servants early and late among you, some of whom you have imprisoned and despitefully used; what will ye do now? Whom will ye now flee unto for help; seeing ye are departed from the Lord, and are now rending and tearing, biting and devouring one another, for proud, ambitious, self ends? (Mark.) If you would now build again the thing that you once destroyed, that shall not be able to hide or shelter you from the wrath of the Lamb; that way whereby you think to strengthen yourselves, thereby shall you make yourselves much weaker, and help forward your own destruction; you are now but a rod, remember your end, which hastens greatly. Now breach upon breach, insurrection upon insurrection, overturning upon overturning, heaps upon heaps, division upon division shall there be, until he come to reign, whose right it is; and all nations must bow before him, else he will break them with his iron rod.

‘They that trust in, or lean upon you for help, it is as if they leaned upon a broken reed, which is not able to help itself, nor others; indeed you have been made to do many good things, but you would not go through with the work which God will have accomplished, and therefore are these things come upon you; therefore tremble and dread before the Lord, ye who have been as strong oaks, and tall cedars, for now shall your strength fail you, and you shall be weak, even as the weakest of men; but if you would yet believe in the light, and truly submit to God’s righteous judgments, many of you might come to witness your souls saved, in the day of the Lord; though many of your bodies are to be thrown by, because of your grievous backslidings, as not counted worthy to be the Lord’s workmen.

‘There is a small remnant yet among you, for whom my soul breathes, who may be winnowed out; and if they will own the judgments of the Lord, and truly and thoroughly deny themselves, and follow his leadings, he will heal their backslidings, and purge them, that so they may be instruments in his hand: but they that will continue with you in your sins, shall partake with you of your judgments.

‘The rod of the wicked shall not always rest upon the back of the righteous; yet even as gold is tried, so shall they be, that they may be white, and without spot before the Lamb; but God will avenge their cause, and wo then will be to their oppressors; and then shall the majesty and the glory of the Lord fill his people, who have long been trodden under, and they shall be the dread of all nations; the zeal of the Lord of Hosts shall perform this.

GEORGE FOX, the younger.’

11th Month, (59.)

This letter being printed, a copy of it was given to each parliament man, before Monk with his army came into London; and how soon the predictions contained therein, as well as those of E. Burrough, in the foregoing year, came to be fulfilled, when many of the great ones were hanged and quartered, we shall see in the sequel.

General Monk came now, with part of the army he commanded, out of Scotland; into England, and made great alterations among the officers, putting in such as were believed to be no enemies to Charles Stuart; for whatsoever Monk said of his resolution to be true and faithful to the parliament, and to promote the interest of a commonwealth; yet it appeared ere long that he aimed at something else; which he could do the easier, because he wanted not adherents in the parliament; though he did not stick to say to Edmund Ludlow, ‘We must live and die for, and with, a commonwealth:’ and to others he declared, that he would oppose to the utmost the setting up of Charles Stuart. In the meanwhile he so ordered it, that many members of the parliament, that had been long excluded as unqualified, took session again in that assembly; and these brought it about, that sir George Booth, who was confined to the Tower, for having carried on a design for Charles Stuart, was set at liberty. Neither was the city of London in a condition to oppose Monk; for he caused the port-cullies, and doors of the city gates, and the posts to be pulled down; and the royalists were now become so bold, that they printed a list of the names of the judges that condemned king Charles the First to death; and some of them were secured, whilst others fled away. General Lambert was also sent to the Tower, and Monk, whose authority now increased, sent for the lords, who until the year 1648, had sat in parliament, and bade them return to the house where they formerly used to sit.

In these overturnings G. Fox came to London, to wit, in the time when they were breaking the city gates. He then wrote a paper to those that were now sinking, and told them, that now the prophecies were fulfilling upon them, which had been spoken to them; and that they who used to call the Quakers fanatics, and giddyheads, now seemed themselves giddy, and fugitives or wanderers.

From London G. Fox went to Sussex, and from thence to Dorsetshire. At Dorchester he had a great meeting in the evening at the inn where he lodged, and there came many soldiers, who were pretty civil. But the constables and officers of the town came also, under pretence to look for a Jesuit, whose head, they said, was shaved. So they took off G. Fox’s hat, but not finding any bald place on his head, they went away with shame. This was of good service among the soldiers and others, and it affected the people, who were turned to the Lord Jesus Christ.

Then he passed into Somersetshire, where his friends meetings were often disturbed. One time there came a wicked man, who having a bear’s skin on his back, played ugly pranks in the meeting; and setting himself opposite to the person that was preaching, lolled his tongue out of his mouth, and so made sport for his wicked followers, and caused great disturbance in the meeting. But as he went back from thence, an eminent judgment overtook him; for there being a bull-baiting in the way, he staid to see; and coming within his reach, the bull pushed his horn under the man’s chin, into his throat, and forced his tongue out of his mouth, so that it hung out in the same manner as before he lolled it out in derision in the meeting: and the bull running his horn into the man’s head, swung him about in a most fearful manner.

G. Fox travelling through Somersetshire, came into Devonshire, and so went into Cornwall, till he came to the Land’s End. Whilst he was in Cornwall, there were great shipwrecks about the Land’s End. Now it was the custom of that country, that at such times both rich and poor went out to get as much of the wreck as they could, not caring to save the people’s lives; and this custom so prevailed, that in some parts of the country they called shipwrecks, God’s grace. This grieved G. Fox not a little, considering how far these professed Christians were below the heathen at Melita, who courteously received Paul, and the others that had suffered shipwreck with him, and made him a fire. On this consideration, he was moved to write a paper to the magistrates, priests, and others, both high and low; in which he showed them the wickedness of their deeds, and reproved them for such greedy actions, telling them how they were ready to fight with one another for the spoil, and spend what they got in taverns or ale-houses, letting those that escaped drowning, go a begging up and down the country. Therefore he seriously exhorted them, to do unto others, what they would have done to themselves.

This paper he sent to all the parishes thereabouts: and after having had many meetings in Cornwall, and several eminent people being convinced of the Truth preached by him, he went to Bristol, where the meetings of his friends were exceedingly disturbed by the soldiers. Having heard this, he desired George Bishop, Thomas Gouldney, Thomas Speed, and Edward Pyot, to go to the mayor and aldermen, and desire them to let his friends have the town-hall to meet in, provided it should not be on such days when the mayor and aldermen had business to do in it; and that for this use they would give twenty pounds a year, to be distributed among the poor. These four persons were astonished at this proposal, and said, the mayor and aldermen would think them mad; for the mayor and the commander of the soldiers had combined together to make a disturbance in their meetings. But G. Fox so encouraged them, that at last they consented to what he desired. Being come to the mayor, he was moderate beyond expectation; and when they had laid the thing before him, he said, for his part, he could consent to it; but he was but one. So they left him in a loving frame of mind; and coming back, G. Fox desired them to go also to the colonel that commanded the soldiers, and to acquaint him of their rude carriage, and how they disturbed the meetings. But the aforesaid four persons were backward to go to him. Next morning being the First day of the week, a meeting was kept in an orchard, where many people came; and after G. Fox had been preaching a pretty while, there came several rude soldiers, some with drawn swords, and some drunk, and among these one that had bound himself with an oath to cut down, and kill the man that spoke. But when he came pressing in through the crowd, and was within two yards of G. Fox, he stopped at those four persons before mentioned, and fell a jangling with them; but at length his sword was put up again. The next day they went and spoke with the colonel, and he having heard how mischievous his soldiers had been, sent for them, and cut and slashed some of them. When this was told G. Fox, he blamed those his friends, thinking they might have prevented the cutting of the soldiers, if they had gone to the colonel when he would have had them. Yet this had such effect, that the meeting there was kept without disturbance a good while after.

G. Fox then also had a general meeting at Edward Pyot’s, near Bristol, at which were several thousands of people; and so many of Bristol, that some said, the city looked naked; and all was quiet.

But in other places, about this time, things were not so quiet; for the soldiers, under general Monk’s command, were often very rude in disturbing of meetings. But when complaint was made to him, who was then at Westminster, he showed that he would not countenance such wickedness, and did in that respect better than several other generals had done, for he gave forth the following order.

‘St. James’s, March 9, 1659-60.

‘I do require all officers and soldiers, to forbear to disturb the peaceable meetings of the Quakers, they doing nothing prejudicial to the parliament or commonwealth of England.

GEORGE MONK.’

Monk having thus long declared for a commonwealth, and against a king, began now to take off the mask; for the old lords had now taken their places again in the House of Peers, out of which they had been kept so many years; and by the advice of Monk, Charles Stuart, (who for several years had lived at Cologne, and, having made a voyage to Spain, was from thence come, by France, to Brussels,) repaired to Breda: and in England it being resolved upon to call him back, and to restore him, he gave forth the following declaration at Breda; thereby to persuade those that were yet backward to acknowledge him.

‘Charles, R.

‘Charles, by the grace of God, king of England, Scotland, France, and Ireland, defender of the faith, &c. To all our loving subjects, of what degree or quality soever, greeting. If the general distraction and confusion which is spread over the whole kingdom, doth not awaken all men to a desire and longing that those wounds which have for so many years together been kept bleeding, may be bound up, all we can say will be to no purpose. However, after this long silence, we have thought it our duty to declare, how much we desire to contribute thereunto; and that as we can never give over the hope, in good time to obtain the possession of that right which God and nature has made our due; so we do make it our daily suit to the Divine Providence, that he will, in compassion to us and our subjects, after so long misery and sufferings, remit, and put us into a quiet and peaceable possession of that our right, with as little blood and damage to our people as is possible. Nor do we desire more to enjoy what is ours, than that all our subjects may enjoy what by law is theirs, by a full and entire administration of justice throughout the land, and by extending our mercy where it is wanted and desired.

‘And to the end that the fear of punishment may not engage any, conscious to themselves of what is past, to a perseverance in guilt for the future; by opposing the quiet and happiness of their country, in the restoration both of king, peers, and people, to their just, ancient, and fundamental rights; we do by these presents declare, that we do grant a free and general pardon, which we are ready upon demand to pass under our great seal of England, to all our subjects, of what degree or quality soever, who, within forty days after the publishing hereof, shall lay hold upon this our grace and favour; and shall by any public act declare their doing so, and that they return to the loyalty and obedience of good subjects; excepting only such persons as shall hereafter be excepted by parliament. Those only excepted, let all our subjects, how faulty soever, rely upon the word of a king, solemnly given by this present declaration, that no crime whatsoever, committed against us, or our royal father, before the publication of this, shall ever rise in judgment, or be brought in question against any of them, to the least endamagement of them, either in their lives, liberties, or estates; or as far forth as lies in our power, so much as to the prejudice of their reputations, by any reproach, or term of distinction, from the rest of our best subjects; we desiring, and ordaining, that henceforward all notes of discord, separation, and difference of parties, be utterly abolished among all our subjects, whom we invite and conjure to a perfect union among themselves, under our protection, for the resettlement of our just rights, and theirs, in a free parliament, by which, upon the word of a king, we will be advised.

‘And because the passion and uncharitableness of the times have produced several opinions in religion; by which men are engaged in parties and animosities against each other, which, when they shall hereafter unite, in a freedom of conversation, will be composed, or better understood; we do declare a liberty to tender consciences, and that no man shall be disquieted, or called in question, for differences of opinion in matter of religion, which do not disturb the peace of the kingdom; and that we shall be ready to consent to such an act of parliament, as, upon mature deliberation, shall be offered to us for the full granting of that indulgence.

‘And because, in the continual distractions of so many years, and so many and great revolutions, many grants and purchases of estates, have been made to, and by, many officers, soldiers, and others, who are now possessed of the same, and who may be liable to actions at law upon several titles, we are likewise willing that all such differences, and all things relating to such grants, sales, and purchases, shall be determined in parliament; which can best provide for the just satisfaction of all men who are concerned.

‘And we do further declare, that we will be ready to consent to any act, or acts of parliament, to the purposes aforesaid, and for the full satisfaction of all arrears due to the officers, and soldiers of the army, under the command of general Monk; and that they shall be received into our service, upon as good pay and conditions as they now enjoy.

‘Given under our sign manual and privy signet at our court at Breda, this 14th day of April, 1660, in the Twelfth year of our reign.’

The original of this declaration was sent to the House of Lords, and a duplicate in a letter to the House of Commons; and repeated and sent in a letter to General Monk, the council of state, and the officers of the army. Hereupon it was resolved by the parliament, to prepare an answer; and both in the House of Lords, and in the House of Commons, it was voted to proclaim king Charles at Whitehall, and in London, as lawful sovereign of his kingdoms, which was done on the 8th of the month called May.

Now the king, who by the Spaniards was invited to return to Brussels, and by the French to come to Calais, chose, at the pressing invitation of the States-general of the United Provinces, to go by Holland: and so he went, with the yachts of the States, to Rotterdam, and from thence with coaches to the Hague; where having staid some days, he took shipping at Schevelinghen for England, and made his entry at London on the anniversary of his birth-day. Thus we see Charles the Second, (who not long after was crowned,) restored, not by the sword, but by the marvellous hand of the Lord.

About this time G. Fox the younger came to Harwich, where he was hauled out of a meeting, and imprisoned under a pretence of having caused a tumult. But to give to the reader a true sight of the matter, I must go back a little.

About four years before this time, some of the people called Quakers, being come into the said town, one of them spoke a few words by way of exhortation to the people that came from the steeple-house; and passing on, he and those with him went to an inn. The mayor hearing thereof, sent to them, commanding that they should depart the town, which they did after a short space; but about night they returned, and lodged at their inn, and the next day passed away peaceably. Not long after, the woman that kept the inn, was commanded to come before the magistrates; who threatened to take away her license, unless she promised to lodge no more such persons. But how eager soever they were for keeping out the Quakers, yet it proved ineffectual; for it seems some of those that had been spoken to in the streets, were so reached, that they came to be obedient to the inward teachings of the Lord they had been recommended to. And so a way was made for meetings there, whereby the number of those of that society began to increase. And because they could no longer comply with superstitious burials, they bought a piece of ground to bury their dead in, but met with great opposition at their burials; and once, when several came along to bury a corpse, it was by force taken from them, and set by the sea side, where having lain above ground part of two days and one night, it was privately covered by some with small stones.

In the month called May, G. Fox the younger came to Harwich, to preach the Truth there. The mayor of the town, whose name was Miles Hubbard, having heard of this, stopt several that were going to the meeting. The rude multitude seeing it, grew insolent, and made a hideous noise before the house where the meeting was kept, and some were for pulling it down. G. Fox hearing the noise, whilst he was preaching, grew very zealous, and with a mighty power was made to say, ‘Wo, wo unto the rulers and teachers of this nation, who suffer such ungodliness as this, and do not seek to suppress it.’ Some that heard him thus speaking, went and told the magistrates of it, perhaps not in the self-same words as were uttered by him. The officers then coming, the mayor commanded the constables to take the said G. Fox into custody; who hearing this, said, ‘If I have done any thing worthy of death, or bonds, I shall not refuse either; but I desire thee to show me what law I have transgressed; which thou oughtest to do, before thou sendest me to prison, that I may know for what I am sent thither.’ But the mayor told him, he should know that afterward; and so he was carried to prison. Robert Grassingham, who was shipwright of the admiralty in that port, being at the meeting, out of which G. Fox was hauled, in love went freely along with him to prison. This seemed to please the mayor, who some days before had been heard to say concerning Grassingham, ‘If I could but get him out of the town, I should know what course to take with the other Quakers.’ Some time after G. Fox was imprisoned, a mittimus was sent to the jailer, in which the prisoner was charged with causing a tumult in that borough, and disturbing the peace thereof. This mittimus was signed by Miles Hubbard, mayor, Anthony Woolward, and Daniel Smith; and these magistrates sent notice of what they had done, to the parliament, under a specious pretence, that so they might not fall into disgrace. The parliament receiving this information, issued forth the following order:

‘Monday, May 21, 1660.

‘The house being informed, that two Quakers, that is to say, George Fox and Robert Grassingham, have lately made a disturbance at Harwich, and that the said George Fox, who pretends to be a preacher, did lately in his preaching there, speak words much reflecting on the government and ministry, to the near causing of a mutiny, and is now committed by the mayor and the magistrates there.

‘Ordered that the said George Fox and Robert Grassingham be forthwith brought up in custody; and that the sheriff of the county of Essex do receive them, and give them his assistance for the conveying them up accordingly, and delivering them into the charge of the serjeant at arms attending this house.

‘Ordered, that the thanks of this house be given to the mayor and magistrates of Harwich, for their care in this business.

WILLIAM JESSOP, Clerk of the Common House of Parliament.’

By this it appeared that the magistrates of Harwich had special friends in the parliament. R. Grassingham being at liberty, was gone to London; and when this order came to Harwich, G. Fox was delivered to the sheriff of Essex and his men: these went with him to London, and upon the road they met Grassingham, who was coming from London to Harwich, in pursuance of an order which he had received from the commissioner of the admiralty and navy, for refitting one of the king’s frigates. But notwithstanding Grassingham showed his order to the sheriff, yet he brought him back to London with Fox, and delivered them into the custody of the serjeant at arms attending the house, who committed them to Lambeth house. They having been there about three weeks, wrote a letter to the House of Commons, wherein they gave some account of the manner of their imprisonment, and desired that they with their accusers might be brought face to face before the parliament, saying, that if any thing could be proved against them, worthy of punishment, they should not refuse it. But they thought it to be unjust and unreasonable, that a man should be hauled out of a peaceable meeting, and sent to prison, without being examined, only for declaring against the cursing and the wickedness of the rude people, and against such as suffered such ungodliness, and did not seek to suppress it.

This was the chief contents of their paper, which they enclosed in a letter to the speaker of the House of Commons in these words:

For the Speaker of the House of Commons.

‘Friend,

‘We desire thee to communicate this enclosed to the House of Commons, it being a few innocent, just, and reasonable words to them though not in the eloquent language of man’s wisdom, yet it is in the truth which is honourable.

We are friends to righteousness and truth, and to all that are found therein.

ROBERT GRASSINGHAM, GEORGE FOX.’

But the speaker did not deliver the paper, under pretence that it was not directed with the ordinary title, ‘To the Right Honourable the House of Commons.’ Therefore by the help of their friends they got it printed, that so each member of parliament might have a copy of it. Now after they had lain about fourteen weeks in Lambeth gate-house without being examined, one of the members of parliament moved this business in the house; whereupon the following order was made:

‘Thursday, October 30th, 1660.

’Ordered that George Fox and Robert Grassingham, who by virtue of a former order of this house, were taken into custody by the serjeant at arms attending this house, for some disturbance at Harwich, be forthwith released, and set at liberty, upon bail first given to render themselves, when they shall be in that behalf required.

WILLIAM JESSOP, Clerk of the House of Commons.’

Shortly after this order was issued forth, the serjeant at arms sent his clerk to demand fees and chamber rent of the prisoners, asking fifty pounds for fees, and ten shillings a week for chamber rent. But since no evil was laid to their charge, they could not resolve to satisfy this unreasonable demand, yet offered to pay two shillings and six pence a week, though the chamber where they had lain, was the highest room in a lofty tower, and all the windows open, until they had gotten them glazed, without any charge to the serjeant. Matters standing thus, their cause was referred to the king’s privy council. But it lasted yet a good while before they were released; for several evasions were made use of to keep them in custody.

Whilst G. Fox was prisoner, he wrote a little book, which he called, ‘A Noble Salutation to king Charles Stuart,’ wherein he showed him how matters had gone in England, viz. That his father’s party scorned those that appeared in arms against them because of their meanness; for they were tradesmen, ploughmen, servants, and the like; which contemptible instruments God made use of to bring down the loftiness of the others. But those of the parliament party growing from time to time successful, and prevailing, got into the possessions of those they conquered, and fell into the same pride and oppression which they had cried out against in others; and many of them became greater oppressors, and persecutors than the former had been. Moreover, the author exhorted the king to observe the hand of the Lord in restoring of him. ‘Therefore,’ said he, ‘Let no man deceive thee, by persuading thee that these things are thus brought to pass, because the kingdom was thy own proper right, and because it was withheld from thee contrary to all right; or because that those called royalists are much more righteous than those who are now fallen under thee. For I plainly declare unto thee, that this kingdom, and all the kingdoms of the earth, are properly the Lord’s. And this know, that it was the just hand of God, in taking away the kingdom from thy father and thee: and giving it unto others; and that also it is the just hand of the Lord to take it again from them, and bring them under thee: though I shall not say, but that some of them went beyond their commission against thy father, when they were brought as a rod over you; and well will it be for thee, if thou becomest not guilty of the same transgressions.

The author further exhorts the king to consider, this his station was not without danger, because of the changeableness of the people, a great part of which were perfidious; since one while they had sworn for a king and parliament; and shortly after they swore against a king, single person, or house of Lords; and afterwards again they swore for a single person. Some time after they cried up a parliament again. And when O. Cromwell had turned out the parliament, and set up himself, then the priests prayed for him, and asserted his authority to be just; and when he died, they fawned upon his son Richard, and blasphemously termed his father the light of their eyes, and the breath of their nostrils; and they told him, that God had left him to carry on that glorious work which his father had begun. Nay, some priests compared Oliver to Moses, and Richard to Joshua, who should carry them into the promised land. Thus they continually would flatter those that were at the helm. For when George Booth made a rising, and they thought there would be a turn, then some of the priests cried out against the parliament, and cursed such as would not go out against them. But when Booth was taken, then many began to petition the parliament and to excuse themselves, that they had no hand in that rising.

Next the author set forth the wickedness of the people by excessive drinking and drunkenness, thereby as it were to show their loyalty to the king; and he relates also, how having preached at Harwich, against the grievous wickedness of the people, he was hauled to prison in the king’s name. Finally, he exhorts the king, to take heed of seeking revenge; and to show mercy.

This paper, which was not a small one, for it took up several sheets, was delivered in writing by Richard Hubberthorn, into the king’s hand at Whitehall, and was not long after by the author published in print.

Now one of the most eminent royalists drew up divers queries to the Quakers, desiring them to answer them, and to direct their answer with this superscription, ‘Tradite hanc amico Regis,’ that is, ‘Deliver this to the king’s friend.’ For it was clearly seen, that several of their predictions came to be fulfilled, of which those of Edward Burrough were not the least. And therefore some, (as it seems,) thought that by the Quakers they might get some knowledge whether any stability of the king’s government was to be expected. By the queries it appeared, that the author of them was a man of understanding, and of some moderation also; and though I do not know who he was, yet I am not without thoughts that Edward, earl of Clarendon, and high chancellor, may have been the penman thereof. The tendency of these queries chiefly was to know from the Quakers, what their judgment was concerning the king’s right to the crown; and whether they ever did foresee his return; and also whether they could judge that his reign and government should be blessed or not. Moreover, whether he might justly forgive, or avenge himself: and whether he might allow liberty of conscience to all sorts of people, &c. Edward Burrough answered these queries, and published his answer in print. It was directed to the king and the royalists. In it he showed, that in some of their writings it had been signified, that they had some expectations of the king’s restoration. That the king’s coming to the throne was reasonable and equitable, because through the purpose of the Lord. That his reign and government might be blessed, or not blessed, according to his carriage. And that he might justly forgive his, and his father’s enemies; for though he and his father might have been injured, yet for as much as they had applied to the sword to determine their controversy with the nation, the sword went against them; and by that whereby they thought to stand, they did fall; and who then should they blame for that which befel them, seeing the sword, which they themselves did choose, destroyed them. However, the author signified, that this was not meant of the king’s death; that being quite another case. And if such, who had destroyed kingly government in name and title, and pretended to govern better, and did not make reformation, but became oppressors, having broke their promises, came to be punished on that account with death or otherwise, such could not be said to suffer for a good conscience, nor for righteousness sake; but it was because they were oppressors; and suffering for that cause could not be called persecution. ‘But none of us, (thus ran Edward Burrough’s words,) can suffer for that cause, as not being guilty thereof. If we suffer in your government, it is for the name of Christ; because nothing can be charged against us in this capacity as we now stand, and in this state into which we are now gathered and changed, not in any matter of action or rebellion against the king nor his father; nor in any thing but concerning the law and worship of our God, and the matters of his kingdom, and our pure consciences. And if any that are now amongst us were any way engaged in the parliament service in the wars, it was not in rebellion against the king or his father, as that we sought their destruction as men; but upon sober and reasonable principles, and not for corrupt ends, nor to get honour and riches to ourselves, as some others might do, who went into the war for self ends, and continued in action, after the cause which was once engaged for was utterly lost. And that principle, which some time led some into action to oppose oppression, and seek after reformation, that principle is still justified, though we are now better informed than once we were. For though we do now more than ever oppose oppression, and seek after reformation, yet we do it not in that way of outward warring and fighting with carnal weapons and swords; and you and the king ought to put a difference between such as some time acted in the wars against you, in and upon sober and reasonable principles, and that did not make themselves rich and high in the world through your sufferings, and between such as have acted against you for self ends, and have insulted over you, and have made themselves great and rich in this world through your afflictions and sufferings.’ To the query, whether the great afflictions sustained by the king divers years, from subjects of his own nation, and the guilt thereof, did lie upon all the subjects in general; or whether upon any, or some particular sorts of people, who were such more than others; E. Burrough made this answer, ‘So far as his sufferings were unjust, the guilt thereof doth not lie upon all the subjects in general, but upon some more than others; and such are easy to be distinguished from others, if it be considered who they are that raised the war in this nation against the king, and who first preached and prayed up the war, and prosecuted it against the king’s father, and who cast out the bishops and prelates from their places, and took their revenues and benefices, and are become men as corrupted, as covetous and self-seeking, as proud and ambitious, as unjust persecutors, as ever the men were which they cast out: and who is it that hath gotten great estates in the nation, and worldly honour, and raised themselves from nothing by the wars, and by your sufferings; and who got the estates and titles of their enemies, and pretended to free them from all oppressions, but have not done it; but have continued the old oppressions, and have been striving among themselves who should rule, and who should be great? And as for us, who are called Quakers, we are clear from the guilt of all the king’s sufferings. We have not cast out others, and taken their places of great benefices, neither have we made war with carnal weapons against any, ever since we were a people. Neither have we broken oaths and engagements, nor promised freedom and deliverance, and for self ends and earthly riches betrayed, as others have done, what we have pretended to. And in many particulars it doth appear that we are clear from his sufferings, for we have been a suffering people as well as they, by the same spirit which caused them to suffer, which hath been much more cruel, wicked, and unjust towards us, than it hath been towards them, though our persecution hath been in another manner. But what they have done against us we can freely forgive them, and would have you to follow the same example. And if you could accuse them in many things, so could we: but this is not a time to accuse one another, but to forgive one another, and so to overcome your enemies. When they had gotten the victory, they did not reform, but became oppressors, as well as others, and became cruel towards others, that would not say and do as they: and for this cause the Lord hath brought them down, and may justly suffer others to deal with them as they have dealt with others. Yet notwithstanding I must still say, and it is my judgment, that there was very great oppression and vexation under the government of the late king, and bishops under his power, which the Lord was offended with, and many good people oppressed by; for which cause the Lord might and did justly raise up some to oppose, and strive against oppressions and injustice, and to press after reformation in all things. And that principle of sincerity, which in some things carried them on in opposing oppressions and pressing after reformation, I can never deny, but acknowledge it; though many soon lost it, and became self-seekers, forgetting the cause pretended to,’ &c.

This is but a small part of the queries, and the answers thereunto, which E. Burrough concluded with a bold exhortation to the king, to fear and reverence the Lord.

Now we return again to G. Fox the elder, whom we left about Bristol; from whence he passed to Gloucester, Worcester, Drayton, (the place of his nativity,) and Yorkshire. In that country at that time a Yearly meeting was kept at Balby, in an orchard, where some thousands of people were met together. At York, about thirty miles off, notice being given of this meeting, a troop of horse came from thence; and when G. Fox stood preaching in the meeting on a stool, two trumpeters came riding up, sounding their trumpets pretty near him; and then the captain bid him come down, for he was come, he said, to disperse the meeting. G. Fox then speaking, told him, he knew they were peaceable people; but if he did question that they met in an hostile manner, he might make search among them; and if he found either sword or pistol about any there, such may suffer. But the captain told G. Fox, he must see them dispersed, for he came all night on purpose to disperse them. G. Fox asked him, what honour it would be to him to ride with swords and pistols amongst so many unarmed men and women? But if he would be still and quiet, the meeting probably might not continue above two or three hours; and when it was done, as they came peaceably, so they should part: for he might perceive, the meeting was so large, that all the country thereabouts could not entertain them, but that they intended to depart towards their homes at night. But the captain said, he could not stay so long. G. Fox desired then, that if he himself could not stay to see the meeting ended, he would let a dozen of his soldiers stay. To this the captain said, he would permit them an hour’s time; so he left six soldiers to stay there, and then went away with his troop: he being gone, the soldiers that were left, told those that were met together, they might stay till night, if they would. This they were not for, but parted about three hours after, without any disturbance. But if the soldiers had been of such a temper as their captain, perhaps the meeting would not have ended thus quietly: for he was a desperate man, having once told G. Fox in Scotland, that he would obey his superiors’ command; and if it were to crucify Christ, he would do it; or execute the great Turk’s commands against the Christians, if he were under him.

Now G. Fox went to Skipton, where there was a general meeting concerning the affairs of the church. For many of his friends suffered much, and their goods being taken from them, and some brought to poverty, there was a necessity to provide for them. This meeting had stood several years; for when the justices and captains came to break them up, and saw the books and accounts of collections for relief of the poor, and how care was taken that one county should help another, and provide for the poor, they commended such practice, and passed away in love. Sometimes there would come two hundred poor people, belonging to other societies, and wait there till the meeting was done: and then the Friends would send to the baker’s for bread, and give every one of these poor people a loaf, how many soever there were: for they were taught to do good unto all, though especially to the household of faith.

From hence G. Fox went to Lancaster, and so to Swarthmore, where he was apprehended at the house of Margaret Fell, who was now a widow, judge Thomas Fell, her husband, having been deceased about two years before. Now some imagined they had done a remarkable act; for one said, he did not think a thousand men could have taken G. Fox. They led him away to Ulverstone, where he was kept all night at the constable’s house, and a guard of fifteen or sixteen men were set to watch him; some of which sat in the chimney, for fear he should go up the funnel. Next morning he was carried to Lancaster, but exceedingly abused by the way; and being come to town, was brought to the house of a justice, whose name was Henry Porter, and who had granted the warrant against him. He asked Porter, for what, and by whose order, he had sent forth his warrant; and he complained to him of the abuse of the constables and other officers: for they had set him upon a horse behind the saddle, so that he had nothing to hold by; and maliciously beating the horse, made him kick and gallop, and throw off his rider. But Porter would not take any notice of that, and told G. Fox, he had an order; but would not let him see it, for he would not reveal the king’s secrets. After many words were exchanged, he was carried to Lancaster prison. Being there a close prisoner in the common jail, he desired two of his friends, one of which was Thomas Green, the other Thomas Commings, a minister of the gospel, (with whom I was very familiarly acquainted,) to go to the jailer, and desire of him a copy of his mittimus. They went, but the jailer told them he could not give a copy of it; yet he gave it them to read; and to the best of their remembrance, the matters therein charged against him were, that G. Fox was a person generally suspected to be a common disturber of the peace of the nation, an enemy to the king, and a chief upholder of the Quakers’ sect: and that he, together with others of his fanatic opinion, had of late endeavoured to raise insurrections in these parts of the country, and to embroil the whole kingdom in blood. Wherefore the jailer was commanded to keep him in safe custody, till he should be released by order from the king and parliament. No wonder that the jailer would not give a copy of his mittimus, for it contained almost as many untruths as words. G. Fox then wrote an apology, wherein he answered at large to all those false accusations. And Margaret Fell, considering what injury was offered to her, by hauling G. Fox out of her house, wrote the following information, and sent it abroad.