The History of the Rise, Increase, and Progress of the Christian People Called Quakers. William Sewel
is yet alive,) was trained up to learning, and though but a youth, instructed others in literature, and continued in that calling sometime after he came to be convinced of that Truth which was preached by the professors of the light; and he strove to bring up children in the fear of the Lord. But before this change he was a diligent hearer of the world’s teachers, and usually frequented the steeple-house at Orton in Westmoreland: yet the singing of David’s psalms became so burdensome to him, that sometimes he could not join therewith; for he saw that David’s conditions were not generally suitable to the states of a mixed multitude; and he found himself to be short of what they sung. This consideration brought him into such a strait, that often he durst not sing those psalms the priests gave their hearers to sing, lest he should have told lies unto God. Now also he began to see that the priests’ lives and practices did not agree with their doctrine; for they themselves spoke against pride and covetousness, and yet lived in them. This likewise made him go to hear some that were separated from the national church, and got into a more specious form of godliness; but he soon saw, that, though there was a difference in the ceremonial part, and that these had a more true form of words than the priests, yet they were such as ran before they were sent by God, speaking peace to that nature in him, wherein he felt no true peace. And when he was about seventeen years of age, which was in the year 1652, he first heard the doctrine of Truth preached by those that were reproachfully called Quakers; and their testimony wrought so powerfully on his mind, that he received it, and so entered into their communion. Now he found, that to grow up in the true wisdom, and to become wise in the living knowledge of God, he must become a fool to that wisdom, wherein he had been feeding upon the tree of knowledge, having in that state no right to the tree of life: and he continuing in faithfulness, it pleased the Lord to ordain him a minister of the gospel: in which service he acquitted himself well, to the convincing of others, and the edification of the church.
But now leaving him, let us go and see what happened at Oxford in the year 1654. At the latter end of the month called June, there came two women, named Elizabeth Heavens, and Elizabeth Fletcher. These spoke in the streets to the people, and in the college they exhorted the scholars, who wickedly requiting their zeal, violently pushed Elizabeth Fletcher against a grave-stone, and then threw her into the grave; and their malice grew to that pitch, that they tied these two women together, and drove them under the pump: and after their being exceedingly wetted with pumping water upon them, they threw them into a miry ditch, through which they dragged Elizabeth Fletcher, who was a young woman, and so cruelly abused her, that she was in a painful condition till her death, which fell out not long after. Some short time after this rude encounter, she and her companion, on a First-day of the week, went into the steeple-house at Oxford, and when the priest had ended, they began to admonish the people to godliness: but two justices there present, commanded them to be taken into custody, and carried to the prison called Bocardo, where none but felons were used to be lodged. The justices desiring the magistrates to meet on this account, the mayor would not meddle with it, but said, ‘Let those who have committed them deal with them according to law, if they have transgressed any;’ adding that he had nothing to say against them; but that he would provide them with victuals, clothes, or money, if they wanted any. Yet he came into the assembly where these women were examined, and whither the vice-chancellor of the university was also required to come, who charged them, that they blasphemed the name of God, and did abuse the Spirit of God, and dishonoured the grace of Christ: and asking them whether they did read the Scriptures, they answered yea they did. Then he asked whether they were not obedient to the power of the magistrate; to which their answer was, they were obedient to the power of God, and to the power that was of God they were subject for conscience-sake. ‘Well,’ said the vice-chancellor, ‘you profane the word of God, and I fear you know not God, though you so much speak of him.’ Then the women being made to withdraw, it was concluded that there was matter enough for their commitment and punishment, and agreed that a paper should be drawn up for their being whipped out of the city. When this was done, it was presented to the mayor to set his hand to it; but he refused, and said he was not willing to do so. Then one of the justices said, that it was the privilege of the city, that if any vagrant was taken within the franchises and liberties thereof, a paper must be drawn up, that such a one, mayor, had committed such and such persons; and that then it was to be sealed with the office seal. But the mayor refused this as well as the other. Which made some say, that if he would not, it should be done by them. And then it was agreed upon, that they should be whipped soundly; which was performed the next morning, though with much unwillingness in the executioner: and the mayor had no hand in it.
But leaving these, I will turn to another, one Barbara Blaugdone, of whom mention hath already been made, that she was one of those that received the Truth, by the ministry of John Audland and John Camm. She was from her youth inclined to godliness, and her employment was to instruct children. But being entered into the society of those called Quakers, she became plain, both in speech and habit, and thereupon the children she taught, were taken from her; and, going sometimes into the steeple-houses, to bear testimony against their formalities, she was put in prison, and kept there a quarter of a year at a time. Afterwards she led a very severe life, and abstained from all flesh, wine, and beer, drinking only water for the space of a whole year. In the meanwhile she grew up and prospered in true piety. Once it happened, that coming from a meeting that was at George Bishop’s house at Bristol, a rude fellow ran a knife, or some sharp instrument, through all her clothes, into the side of her belly, which if it had gone but a little further, might have killed her. Then she went to Marlborough, where, exhorting people, in the steeple-houses and other places, to fear God, she was put into prison for the space of six weeks, and there she fasted several days and nights. When she was released, she went to Isaac Burges, the man that committed her, and discoursing with him, he was really convinced of the Truth, but could not resolve to take up the cross; yet he was afterwards very loving to her friends, and stood by them upon all occasions, never more persecuting any of them: and coming some time after to Bristol, he went to her house and confessed, that he knew her doctrine was Truth, but that he could not take up the cross to walk in that way. A while after she went into Devonshire, to Moulton, Barnstable, and Bediford, in all which places a prison was her lot. She went also to him, that after was earl of Bath, where, being acquainted, she had formerly vainly spent much time, but now she was moved to call this family to leave off their vanity. And she asked to speak with the lady; but one of the servants that knew her, bid her to go to the back door, and their lady would come forth that way, to go into the garden. Barbara being come thither, a great mastiff dog was set loose upon her; and he running fiercely, as if to devour her, turned suddenly, and went away crying and halting, whereby she clearly saw the hand of the Lord in it, to preserve her from this danger. The lady then came and stood still, hearing what Barbara spoke, and gave her thanks for her exhortation, yet did not invite her to come in, though she often had been lodged there, and had eaten and drank at her table.
Then Barbara went to Great Torrington, and, going into the steeple-house, spoke somewhat to the people by way of exhortation; but not having sufficient opportunity to clear herself, went to her lodging, and sat to writing. After noon the constables came to her, and took away what she had written, and commanded her to go along with them to their worship. To which she answered, that they would not suffer her to speak there, and that she knew no law that could compel her to go thither twice in a day; and that they all knew she was there in the morning. Being thus unwilling to go, the next day the mayor sent for her; when come, she found him moderate, and loth to send her to prison; but the priest being present, was very eager, and said she ought to be whipped for a vagabond. She then bid him prove where ever she asked any one for a bit of bread; but he said she had broken the law by speaking in their church; and he so pressed the mayor, that at length he made him write a mittimus, and send her to Exeter prison, which was twenty miles distant: there she remained for some time, until the assizes came, but was not brought forth to a trial. And after the sessions were over, she was put to lodge one night among a great company of gypsies, that were then in prison; and the next day the sheriff came with a beadle, who brought her into a room, where he whipped her till the blood ran down her back, and she never startled at a blow; but sang aloud, and was made to rejoice that she was counted worthy to suffer for the name of the Lord; which made the beadle say, ‘Do ye sing? I will make you cry by and by;’ and with that he laid on so hard, that one Ann Speed seeing this began to weep; but Barbara was strengthened by an uncommon and more than human