CHAPTER XIV (7)

Then I passed through the country, visiting Friends in Wiltshire and Berkshire, till I came to London, having great meetings amongst Friends as I went. The Lord’s power was over all, and a blessed time it was for the spreading of his glorious truth. It was indeed his immediate hand and power that preserved me out of their hands at Bristol, and over the heads of all our persecutors; and the Lord alone is worthy of all the glory, who did uphold and preserve for his name and truth’s sake.

At London I did not stay long, being drawn in spirit to visit Friends northward, as far as Leicestershire, John Stubbs being with me. So we travelled, having meetings amongst Friends as we went; at Skegby we had a great one. Thence passing on, we came to a place called Barnet-Hills, where lived Captain Brown, a Baptist, whose wife was convinced of truth. This Captain Brown, after the act for breaking up meetings came forth, being afraid lest his wife should go to meetings, and be cast into prison, left his house at Barrow, and took one on these hills, saying, “his wife should not go to prison.” And this being a free place, many, both priests and others, got thither as well as he, But he who would neither stand to truth himself, nor suffer his wife, was, in this place where he thought to be safe, found out by the Lord, whose hand fell heavy upon him for his unfaithfulness; so that he was sorely plagued, and grievously judged in himself for flying, and drawing his wife into that private place. We went to see his wife, and being come into the house, I asked him, “how he did?” “How do I?” said he, “the plagues and vengeance of God are upon me, a runagate, a Cain as I am. God may look for a witness for me, and such as me; for if all were not more faithful than I, God would have no witness left in the earth.” In this condition he lived on bread and water, and thought it was too good for him. At length he returned again with his wife to his own house at Barrow, where he afterwards came to be convinced of God’s eternal truth, and died in it. A little before his death he said, “though he had not borne a testimony for truth in his life, he would bear a testimony in his death, and would be buried in his orchard;” and he was so. He was an example to all the flying Baptists in the time of persecution, who could not bear persecution themselves, yet persecuted us when they had power.

From Barnet-Hills we came to Swannington in Leicestershire, where William Smith and some other Friends came to me; but they went away towards night, leaving me at a Friend’s house in Swannington. At night, as I was sitting in the hall, speaking to a widow woman and her daughter, there came one called Lord Beaumont with a company of soldiers, who, slapping their swords on the door, rushed into the house with swords and pistols in their hands, crying, “Put out the candles, and make fast the doors.” Then they seized upon the friends in the house, and asked, “if there were no more about the house?” The Friends told them, there was one man more in the hall. There were some Friends out of Derbyshire, one of whom was named Thomas Fauks; and this Lord Beaumont, after he had asked all their names, bid his man set down that man’s name Thomas Fox; but the Friend said, his name was not Fox, but Fauks. In the meantime some of the soldiers came, and brought me out of the hall to him. He asked me my name; I told him, my name was George Fox, and that I was well known by that name. “Ay,” said he, “you are known all the world over.” I said, “I was known for no hurt, but for good.” Then he put his hand into my pockets to search them, and pulled out my comb-case, and afterwards commanded one of his officers to search further for letters, as he pretended. I told him, I was no letter-carrier, and asked him, Why he came amongst a peaceable people with swords and pistols, without a constable, contrary to the king’s proclamation, and to the late act? For he could not say there was a meeting, I being only talking with a poor widow woman and her daughter. By reasoning thus with them, he came somewhat down; yet sending for the constables, he gave them charge of us, and to bring us before him next morning. Accordingly the constables set a watch of the town’s-people upon us that night, and had us next morning to his house, about a mile from Swannington.

When we came before him, he told us “we met contrary to the act.” I desired him to show us the act. “Why,” says he, “you have it in your pocket.” I told him, he did not find us in a meeting. Then he asked us, “whether we would take the oaths of allegiance and supremacy?” I told him, I never took any oath in my life, nor engagement, nor covenant. Yet still he would force the oath upon us. I desired him to show us the oath, that we might see whether we were the persons it was to be tendered to, and whether it was not for the discovery of Popish recusants. At length he brought a little book; but we called for the statute-book. He would not show us that, but caused a mittimus to be made, which mentioned, “that we were to have had a meeting.” With this he delivered us to the constables to convey us to Leicester jail. But when they had brought us back to Swannington, being harvest time, it was hard to get anybody to go with us; for the people were loath to go with their neighbours to prison, especially in such a busy time. They would have given us our mittimus, to carry it ourselves to the jail; for it had been usual for constables to give Friends their own mittimuses (for they durst trust Friends,) and they have gone themselves with them to the jailer. But we told them, though our Friends had sometimes done so, yet we would not take this mittimus, but some of them should go with us to the jail. At last they hired a poor labouring man to go with us, who was loath to go, though hired. So we rode to Leicester, being five in number; some carried their Bibles open in their hands, declaring the truth to the people, as we rode, in the fields, and through the towns, and telling them, “we were prisoners of the Lord Jesus Christ, going to suffer bonds for his name and truth’s sake.” One woman Friend carried her wheel on her lap to spin on in prison; and the people were mightily affected.

At Leicester we went to an inn. The master of the house seemed troubled that we should go to the prison; and being himself in commission, he sent for lawyers in the town to advise with, and would have taken up the mittimus, and kept us in his own house, and not have let us go into the jail. But I told Friends, it would be a great charge to lie at an inn; and many Friends and people would be coming to visit us, and it might he hard for him to bear our having meetings in his house besides, we had many Friends in the prison already, and we had rather be with them. So we let the man know that we were sensible of his kindness, and to prison we went: the poor man that brought us thither, delivering both the mittimus and us to the jailer. This jailer had been a very wicked, cruel man. Six or seven Friends being in prison before we came, he had taken some occasion to quarrel with them, and thrust them into the dungeon amongst the felons, where there was hardly room for them to lie down. We stayed all that day in the prison-yard, and desired the jailer to let us have some straw. He surlily answered, “you do not look like men that would lie on straw.” After a while, William Smith, a Friend, came to me, and he being acquainted in the house, I asked him, “what rooms there were in it, and what rooms Friends had usually been put into, before they were put into the dungeon?” I asked him also, Whether the jailer or his wife was master? He said, The wife was master; and though she was lame, and sat mostly in her chair, being only able to go on crutches, yet she would beat her husband when he came within her reach, if he did not do as she would have him. I considered, probably, many Friends might come to visit us, and that if we had a room to ourselves, it would be better for them to speak to me, and me to them, as there should be occasion. Wherefore I desired William Smith to go speak with the woman, and acquaint her, if she would let us have a room, suffer our Friends to come out of the dungeon, and leave it to us to give her what we would, it might be better for her. He went, and after some reasoning with her, she consented; and we were had into a room. Then we were told, that the jailer would not suffer us to have any drink out of the town into the prison, but that what beer we drank, we must take of him. I told them I would remedy that, for we would get a pail of water and a little wormwood once a day, and that might serve us; so we should have none of his beer, and the water he could not deny us.

Before we came, when the few Friends that were prisoners there, met together on First-days, if any of them was moved to pray to the Lord, the jailer would come up with his quarter-staff in his hand, and his mastiff dog at his heels, and pluck them down by the hair of the head, and strike them with his staff; but when he struck Friends, the mastiff dog, instead of falling upon them, would take the staff out of his hand. When the First-day came, I spoke to one of my fellow prisoners, to carry a stool and set it in the yard, and give notice to the debtors and felons, that there would be a meeting in the yard, and they that would hear the word of the Lord declared might come thither. So the debtors and prisoners gathered in the yard, and we went down, and had a very precious meeting, the jailer not meddling. Thus every First-day we had a meeting as long as we stayed in prison; and several came in out of the town and country. Many were convinced, and some received the Lord’s truth there, who have stood faithful witnesses for it ever since.

When the sessions came, we were brought before the justices, with many more Friends sent to prison whilst we were there, to the number of about twenty. Being brought into the court, the jailer put us into the place where the thieves were put, and then some of the justices began to tender the oaths of allegiance and supremacy to us. I told them, I never took any oath in my life, and they knew we could not swear, because Christ and his apostle forbade it; therefore they put it but as a snare to us. We told them, if they could prove, that after Christ and the apostle had forbid swearing, they did ever command Christians to swear, then we would take these oaths; otherwise we were resolved to obey Christ’s command and the apostle’s exhortation. They said, “we must take the oath, that we might manifest our allegiance to the king.” I told them, I had been formerly sent up a prisoner by Colonel Hacker, from that town to London, under pretence that I held meetings to plot to bring in King Charles. I also desired them to read our mittimus, which set forth the cause of our commitment to be, that “we were to have had a meeting;” and I said, Lord Beaumont could not by that act send us to jail, unless we had been taken at a meeting, and found to be such persons as the act speaks of; therefore we desired they would read the mittimus, and see how wrongfully we were imprisoned. They would not take notice of the mittimus, but called a jury, and indicted us for refusing to take the oaths of allegiance and supremacy. When the jury was sworn and instructed, as they were going out, one that had been an alderman of the city, spoke to them, and bid them, “have a good conscience;” and one of the jury, being a peevish man, told the justices, there was one affronted the jury; whereupon they called him up, and tendered him the oath also, and he took it.