Chapter 1 (4)

Indeed I could not but take notice, how the hand of the Lord turned against those persecutors, who had been the cause of my imprisonment, or had been abusive or cruel to me in it. The officer that fetched me to Holker-Hall wasted his estate, and soon after fled into Ireland. And most of the justices that were upon the bench at the sessions when I was sent to prison, died in a while after; as old Thomas Preston, Rawlinson, Porter, and Matthew West, of Borwick. And Justice Fleming’s wife died, and left him thirteen or fourteen motherless children, who had imprisoned two Friends to death, and thereby made several children fatherless. Colonel Kirby never prospered after. The chief constable, Richard Dodgson, died soon after, and Mount, the petty constable, and the wife of the other petty constable John Ashburnham, who railed at me in her house, died soon after. William Knipe, the witness they brought against me, died soon after also. Hunter, the jailer of Lancaster, who was very wicked to me while I was his prisoner, was cut off in his young days: and the under-sheriff that carried me from Lancaster prison towards Scarbro’, lived not long after. And Joblin, the jailer of Durham, who was prisoner with me in Scarbro’ castle, and had often incensed the governor and soldiers against me, though he got out of prison, yet the Lord cut him off in his wickedness soon after. When I came into that country again, most of those that dwelt in Lancashire were dead, and others ruined in their estates; so that, though I did not seek revenge upon them, for their actings against me contrary to the law, yet the Lord had executed his judgments upon many of them.

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Footnote 1:

Thomas Salthouse of Lancashire (but afterwards resided in the South of
England,) was born about 1630, and convinced when George Fox first
came to Swarthmore. He became an eminent minister of the gospel, for
which he suffered much. In 1655 he, and Miles Halhead, being pressed
in spirit to visit the Friends imprisoned at Plymouth, they were taken
up on suspicion of having a hand in an insurrection which broke out a
little before; and though the high Sheriff confessed he did not
believe them concerned in it, he caused them to be kept close
prisoners at Exeter for fourteen days, and then sent them from officer
to officer towards home. In going towards Bridgewater, the officer who
conducted them fell down, and lay grovelling on the ground in the
sight of many people, and was able to go no further. So they returned
to the justice to tell him what had befallen the officer, and to know
what further he would do with them. But he declined to interfere with
them again; set them at liberty, and desired the Lord to be with them.

For further particulars of Thomas Salthouse, the reader is referred to
Whiting’s _Memoirs_, p. 452-460. Whiting concludes his account by
saying, “He was a pleasant man in conversation, which rendered him
acceptable to many others as well as Friends, had a large capacity,
and an excellent gift in the ministry. He wrote some notable books,
and excellent epistles to Friends, though never collected as they
deserve. He died at his own house Cornwall in 1690, about sixty years
of age, in peace with the Lord; and is no doubt at rest with him from
all his labours and sufferings, and his works follow him.”

Footnote 2:

Near Handsworth-Woodhouse.

Footnote 3:

John Whitehead was a very eminent Minister amongst the early Friends,
valiant for the truth, and a great sufferer for it. His life and
writings have been published, to which the reader is referred. He
wrote a very beautiful and encouraging epistle to Friends, dated
Aylesbury prison, 12th month, 1660, which is inserted in _Letters,
&c., of Early Friends_, 382-387. William Penn, in his preface to
_Whitehead’s Works_, says, “He was among the most eminent for his
sound mind and capacity, great zeal and boldness, and as great
humility, patience, and labour in word, doctrine, and charity.”

Footnote 4:

Hugh Tickell was born in Cumberland, about the year 1610, being
convinced by George Fox when he first visited Cumberland in 1653, he
gave up his house for meetings, and entertained the Lord’s messengers.
He became a faithful and eminent minister, travelling up and down in
the service of the Gospel, suffering much for it, both in the spoiling
of his goods and in imprisonments. In 1664 he was cast into Carlisle
jail, with four other Friends, by priest Marshall of Crosthwaite, and
though he kept him in prison three years, yet he took tithe of his
land. But afterwards this priest fell down stairs and broke his skull,
upon which he died. Hugh Tickell was again imprisoned in Carlisle
jail, when about sixty-eight years old, by Richard Lowry, another
priest of Crosthwaite, because he could not pay him tithes, who kept
him prisoner about nine months, part of it in a cold winter, and in a
damp nasty place not fit for men to lie in. This priest Lowry was
suddenly stricken, and had the use of one side of his tongue, and his
understanding much taken from him, and so continued a long time—a
remarkable judgment.

Hugh Tickell patiently bore all his sufferings, and willingly endured
them for the testimony of Jesus and a good conscience. But in his last
imprisonment he contracted a distemper of body, which, increasing upon
him after he came home, he grew weak, but continued in great patience;
and being sensible his end drew nigh, set his house in order, and,
taking leave of friends and neighbours, he sweetly departed in great
peace in 1680, being above seventy years of age.

Footnote 5:

Of the William Wilson here alluded to, the following particulars have
been gathered:—He was a man of an innocent life, and though he had
little outward learning, God was pleased to teach him himself, and
called him to bear a testimony to his name, which he did faithfully,
not only in many parts of England, but in Germany and Scotland, which
he visited several times. He was of a lowly and meek spirit, upright
and just among his neighbours, which caused them often to submit their
differences to his arbitration, in which he was careful to find out
the real truth, and would never countenance deceit. In this service he
was successful, seldom missing his desired end, viz., to restore
peace. He was faithful in his testimony for the truth, and a sufferer
for the same in prison at Kendal, in 1666, and several times
afterwards, as well as by distress on his goods. Besides which he
suffered cruel mockings, stoning, blows, and wounds, both from priests
and people, particularly at Eskdale, where he exhorted the people “to
mind that of God in their consciences, and turn to that holy light and
law which he had put into their inward parts, that by the same they
might come to know the will of God, and do it.” Because of these and
like words, one Parker, a priest, beat and wounded him, and with one
of his crutches broke his head, causing the blood to run down his
shoulders. The priest being lame, and not able as he would to effect
his cruel purpose, caused his horse to be brought, on which he
mounted, and in the sight of the people broke his staff in three
pieces upon William Wilson’s bare head, which made them cry out
against such merciless behaviour. Before the priest got home, he was
overtaken with sickness, and never came more to the steeple-house.
During the time of his sickness he was very loathsome, and so died.

A few weeks after, William Wilson went to the same place at Eskdale,
and for speaking to the people, one Fogo, a priest, took him by the
hair of the head, pulled him to the ground, and drew him out. In rage
and cruelty he also abused his brother Michael Wilson; but a few
months after, this same Fogo, riding over some sands, accompanied by
several people, fell into a quicksand, and was immediately smothered.

William Wilson left behind him a widow and two daughters, to whom he
was a true husband and a tender father, instructing his children “to
keep in the fear of the Lord, and to walk in the way of truth, which
he walked in himself;” often saying to them, “it would be the best
portion that they could enjoy.” His last illness was short. Having
recently returned from a long journey, wherein his body was much spent
and weak, he said, “I have not served the Lord unfruitfully; I have no
trouble upon me; and I am very sensible that all is well with me.”
Again he said, “He was content, whatsoever way the Lord pleased; he
felt as a dove, harmless; and as a lamb, innocent.” A few hours before
he died, at which time he walked several times over the room, he said,
as he had often before, “My peace far exceeds my pain;” and standing
upon his feet before two Friends, he said, “O that every one would
mind the Lord, that they might keep life.” He then sat down and drew
breath no more.

He died at his own house at Langdale, the 10th of the 5th month, 1682.

Footnote 6:

We cannot be surprised at the hard language sometimes used by the
early Friends in protesting against the unchristian conduct of their
persecutors. The rapacity of their enemies in the early periods of the
Society carried their plunder to so great an excess, as not only to
involve many in total ruin, but subjected them to long and cruel
imprisonments, which, in many cases of particular hardship, terminated
in death. It has already been stated that at one time there were 4,500
Quakers in prison in England and Wales at one time. In 1662, twenty
died in different prisons in London, and seven more after their
liberation, from ill treatment. In 1664, twenty-five died, and in
1665, fifty-two more. The number which perished in this way,
throughout the whole kingdom, amounted to 369. But for fuller
particulars of the cruelties practised against the early Quakers, the
reader is referred to the two closely printed folio volumes, entitled
_Besse’s Sufferings_.

Footnote 7:

The word Sirrah must not be confounded with Sir. It was no doubt
made use of strictly in the sense of the only meaning Walker gives
to it in his _Dictionary_, viz., “A compellation of reproach and
insult.”

Footnote 8:

Of Thomas Robertson not much is known, but he appears to have been a
faithful labourer in his day. Ambrose Rigge, in the _Account of his
Life_, states. “A fellow-labourer was prepared for me, which was
Thomas Robertson of Westmorland; who was made willing to leave his
dear wife and tender babes, to go with me into the Lord’s harvest.” In
_Letters, &c., of Early Friends_, p. 226, is a letter from Thomas
Robertson to Margaret Fell, under date 1655.

Footnote 9:

The person whom George Fox here and elsewhere styles Esquire Marsh,
was a gentleman attached to the court of Charles II. He always
remained attached to George Fox, and ever retained a most friendly
interest for the Society in general. From his station at court and
office as a magistrate, he had frequent opportunities of interposing
his authority to protect the early Friends from the unjust oppression
of their persecutors.

Footnote 10:

The sickness here alluded to was the “Plague,” which visited London in
1665. The state of the city during this dreadful visitation seems to
have been most deplorable. The following striking description is from
_Ellis’s Original Letters in the British Museum_. The letter is one
addressed to Dr. Sancroft from J. Tillison, dated Sept. 14, 1665:—

“The desolation of the city is very great. That heart is either of
steel or stone, that will not lament this sad visitation, and will not
bleed for those unutterable woes! What eye would not weep to see so
many habitations uninhabited—the poor sick not visited—the hungry not
fed—the grave not satisfied! Death stares us continually in the face
in every infected person that passes by us, in every coffin which is
daily and hourly carried along the streets. The custom was in the
beginning to bury the dead in the night only; but now both night and
day will hardly be time enough to do it. The Quakers (as we are
informed) have buried, in their piece of ground, a thousand for some
weeks together past.”

George Whitehead relates the satisfaction and comfort many innocent
Friends expressed on their deathbeds, both in Newgate and other
noisome places during the plague. Death was truly gain to these: “it
being through death,” says Whitehead, “that the Lord had appointed the
final deliverance of many from the cruelties and rod of the
oppressors, and from the miseries and evil to come.”—“Whilst the
plague was raging in the city,” he adds, “our persecutors took
fifty-five of our Friends (men and women) out of Newgate, where the
distemper also prevailed, and forced them on board a ship for
banishment, which lay for some time in the river. They were so crowded
on board, and the distemper breaking out amongst them, most of them
were infected, and twenty-seven of them soon died. I visited them, and
had a meeting with them on board, and the Lord my God preserved me,
both from the distemper and also from banishment, wherein I did humbly
confess his power and special providence to his own praise and glory.”

Footnote 11:

See extraordinary occurrences in an attempt to banish a number of
Friends recorded in a note in _Letters, &c., of Early Friends_, p.
142-145.

Footnote 12:

Ellis Hookes was employed in London as a recording clerk to the
Society of Friends. It was he who commenced the _Record of
Sufferings_ (mentioned to George Fox in a letter bearing date
1660, inserted in _Letters, &c., of Early Friends_, p. 86, 87),
which were written out into large folio volumes, still preserved
among the Society’s records in London. These are continued down to
the present day in forty or more of these large volumes. The clear
and excellent writing of Ellis Hookes extends over a large portion
of the first of these bulky folios. To the narratives of
sufferings and persecutions, were added accounts of what were
regarded as judgments upon persecutors; which were, doubtless in
that day, ordered to be recorded, under a sense of the fear of
God, and in testimony unto his overruling power.

Ellis Hookes died in 1681. In the London _Register of Burials_, he
is described “of Horslydown in Southwark, scrivenor;” and “died
the 12th of the 9th month, 1681, of a consumption (having been
clerk to Friends in London about twenty-four years)—he was buried
in Checker Alley.”

Footnote 13:

The great fire of London occurred towards the latter end of 1666.
The narratives given in the Diaries of Evelyn and Pepys, who were
eye-witnesses of it, are sad indeed. Evelyn writes—“Sept. 3. The
fire continued all this night (if I may call that night, which was
light as day for ten miles about), after a dreadful manner—when
conspiring with a fierce eastern wind, in a very dry season. I
went on foot to the Bankside in Southwark, and saw the whole south
part of the city burning from Cheapside to the Thames, and all
along Cornhill, Tower Street, Gracious Street, and so along to
Bainard’s Castle, and was now taking hold of St. Paul’s Church.
The conflagration was so universal, and the people so astonished,
that from the beginning (I know not by what despondency or fate)
they hardly stirred to quench it; so that there was nothing heard
or seen but crying out and lamentation, and running about like
distracted creatures. O! the miserable and calamitous spectacle!
such as happily the world had not seen the like since the
foundation of it, nor to be outdone till the universal
conflagration. All the sky was of a fiery aspect, like the top of
a burning oven, the light [being] seen above forty miles round
about for many nights. The poor inhabitants were dispersed about
St. George’s Fields and Moorfields, as far as Highgate, and
several miles in circle—some under tents, some under miserable
huts and hovels, many without a rag or necessary utensils, bed or
board; who, from delicateness, riches, or easy accommodations in
stately and well-furnished houses, were now reduced to extremest
misery and poverty,” &c., vol. i. p. 372-374.