1 fi 1 1 1 1 1 I 1 THE LIBRARIES 1^ COLUMBIA UNIVERSITY i i 1 i i 1 1 i m EfrJJilffini rnnJiiuunugrrinJiruiin^ i 1 i ^• '^1 MEMOIRS ot THE LIFE GP ISAAC PENINOTON; TO WHICH IS ADDED A REVIEW ORMIS WRITIJ^VS: JY JOSEPH GURNEY SEVAN. ION DON : PRINTED AND SOLD BY WILLIAM PHILLIPS, Ceor^e-'lTard, Lombard-Streett 1807.. ^i>g.% r -^ aOA 4^ ^\j ty J^ ^ INTRODUCTION'. THE character of a man may be known by his writings; and it must be allowed of greater importance to inspect the thoughts of a virtuous man^ than simply to know the outward circum- stances of his life. But when we are pleased or edified with the writings of an author of dis- tinction^ we become naturally curious to know the manner in w^hich he passed his time ; and, on the other hand, if we are led from the perusal of biography^ to believe that the subject of it was a person qualified to please or to edify, we are disposed to continue our acquaintance, by perusing also the memorials of his ^visdom which he has left behind him. It is chiefly on the former account that a collection of the few scattered accounts of the a 2 IV '^ INTRODUCTION. life of Isaac Feninoton would be^ if well exe- ciited^ a useful work. His numerous tracts have been three times edited, and lie open to the ac- cess of every one. They are generally grateful and consolatory to that class of readers which is composed of persons who feel their own feeble State^ with respect to religious concerns; and desire to be, so far as it is right they should be, assisted by the experience of others. But two quartOj or four octavo volumes^ closely printed, are, to many, formidable things; and it is certain too, that considerable attention of mind is a re^ quisite qualification, and considerable calmness of mind a very desirable one, to sit down to the perusal of the valuable remains of this eminent W\Q:nA. Cursory readers, also, have imputed to Isaac Penington the charge of mysticism : a term, as generally used, of not the most definite im- port, but sometimes sufilcient to deter the impa- tient from examining for themselves into the justice of the charge. It is then worth the attempt, to introduce, by a short memorial, so excellent a waiter as Isaac Penington, to the knowledge of such as are not likely otherwise to undertake to know him for themselves ; and there is the more reason to hope that ths account which I have compiled, may occasion a desire to know more of him. INTRODUCTION. because it must necessarily include many ex- tracts, in which he will be permitted to relate, in his own terms, his own history. In the narrative considerable use is made of a manuscript Account of many particular events m the life of Mary Penington, wife of Isaac Pening- ton, written by herself. Recourse has also been had to a manuscript Collection of letters written on various occasions by Isaac Penington, lately presented by John Kendall, of Colchestsr, to the library belonging to Friends in London. However, beside the many specimens of hi^ temper and manner, which are interspersed throughout this biographical sketch, I have pro- vided a slight epitome of his written labours, in the Reviewt which follows it. By the perusal of both, I believe the reader will form an idea, not very far from the truth, of the character of this our predecessor in profession. I hope that + In the. second part of the Review the reader will fre^ fluently observe mention made of Whiting's Catalogue. The title at length is, ' A Catalogue of Friends' Books ; written. ' by many of the people called Quakers, from the beginnnig ' or first appearance of the said people, collected for a <> general service, by J. AV. London, 1708:' about 23a pa^'ges, 8vo. It is the prime book for such as wish to make 3, cqli^ction of our ancient Friends' writings. a:> Vl INTRODUCTION. it may induce him occasionally to have immediate recourse to his instructive page; and I heartily desire that an acquaintance with it may be bene- ficial : as it will be, if it prove the means of leading him to a more intimate acquaintance with his own wants, and with the power and love of his Redeemer. / CONTENTS CHAP. I. His birth — education — station of his father- some hints at his political sentiments^ and his moderation, taken from his early writings — his marriage — the reproof given to him and his wife, for their gaiety, by a friend — further discourse with this person — interview with T, Curtis and W. Simpson, by which Mary Pen- ington is convinced — Isaac at J. Crook's in Bed- fordshire, there fully convinced by George Fox — his account of his spiritual travail, taken from his treatise ' Concernins: God's teachings ^ and Christ's law* — further account from T. Ellwood's testimony — further account from Works, vol. 2. p. 49 — further account from his Address to the Rulers, Teachers, and Peo- ple of New-England, Works, vol. 1. p. cclvi. page L ■-♦ CHAP. IT. Recount of Mary Penington — her desire to be ^ble to perforin true prayer — her written, and a 4 . . VUl CONTENTS, extemporaneous prayer — marries Colonel iSpringett — her husband's death — refuses to have her child sprinkled — seeks solitude, for prayer — yet attends diversions— a dream — her habit of trust — cannot pray — another remark- able dream — her marriage with I. PeningtoH;, and its motives — some previous knowledge of Friends — her state of mind when Curtis and Simpson visited the family — her conflicts — her. joy at the first meeting held in I. Penington's house — further account of her spiritual state, jpage 35. ' CHAP, IIL Reproaches and insults bQstowed on I. and M. Penin^ton — extract of a letter to his father — a visit, from the family of Ellwood — the al- teration in that of I. P.: — its effects — a second visit, at which the younger Ellwood is con- vinced — M. Penington pleads for him with his father, and takes him to Chalfont. First im- prisonment of Isaac Penington — his letter from prison to T. Ell\vood — the manner of his confinement — his employment — his piece ^ Concerning the Magistrate's protection of ' the innocent' — release — apprehended again but not imprisoned — is the means of intro- ducing Ellwood, as reader, to Milton — engages him as tutor, to his children — some extracts from his writings — second imprisonment — third imprisonment, having been taken into CONTENTS. iX custody whilst attending the burial of a friend —his cheerfulness in prison— release— fourth imprisonment— plague in the gaol— released —soon imprisoned a fifth time— his letter to the Earl of Bridgewater— his health impaired —his release— letter to a friend — to George fox— to Friends of Amersham, page 51. CHAP. IV. Loss of his estate— attachment to his friends in Bucks — goes to board at Waltham-Abbey, Essex— by the assistance of his wife purchases a house at Amersham Woodside— she super- intends the alterations — Conventicle-act— 5ixth imprisonment, at Reading— released by patent with many others— his constancy in suffering— death of his son at sea— his tract entitled ' Flesh and blood of Christ/ &c.— its occasion— a review of it— letter to a friend, j^age 91, CHAP, V, ' Goes to Astrop Wells— writes to the resorters to that spot— also hi^ tract called ^ The everlast^ - ing Gospel; &c.— also to the O^^ford scholars- goes into Kent— at meeting in Canterbury- taken ill— dies at Goodnestone-^Court— buried at Jordan's, Bucks— register^some account of those who wrote testimonies of him— G. White- head— S. Jennings— A. Rigge— T. Zachary— X CONTENTS, R.Jones — T. Evernden — C.Taylor — A.Parker — copy of his son's testimony — of his wife's. page 115, CHAP. VI. Account of his widow — her state of mind — her daughter Guliehna Penn — laid up with a fever at Edmonton — her state of mind when ill, and ailing — her fear of death removed — dies at; Worminghurst^ Sussex. page 134, REVIEW. Part I. Review of the writings of Isaac Penington, , before he joined the Society of Friends. Page 1. A Touchstone, or trial of Faith, &:c. 1648. 145 2. The great and sole Troubler of the Times, re- presented in a map of misery, &c. 1649. - 14^ 3. A Voice out of the thick darkness, &c. 1650. 148 4. Light or Darkness, displaying or hiding itself, as it pleaseth, &c. 1650. - _ _ 7'^/^, 5. Several fresh inward Openings, &c. 1650, 149 6. An Echo from the great deep, &c. 1650. ibid, 7. The fundamental right, safety, and liberty of the people, &c. 1651. - - - 151 8. The life of a Christian, which is a lamp kindled and lighted from the love of Christ, &c. 1653. ^^^ . CONTENTS. Xi ^ . • • Pag, g. A considerable question about Government briefly discussed, &c. 1653. - - 153 10. Divine Essays, or considerations about several things in Religion, &c. 1654. - 155 11. Expositions, with observations sometimes, on several scriptures, &c. 1656. - - 157 REVIEW. Part IL Review of the writings of Isaac Penington, after he joined the Society of Friends. Page 1. The way of life and death made manifest, &c. 1658. - - - - - 167 2. The scattered sheep sought after, &c. 1659. 169 3. Babylon the Great described, &c. 1659. 171 4. The Jew outward, being a glass for the pro- fessors of this age, &c. 1659. ■ ' ^7^ 5. The Axe laid to the root of the old corrupt tree, &c. 1659. - - - ^73 6. To the Parliament, the Army, and all the well- afie£i:ed in the nation. 1659. - 176 7. Abrief account of som.e Reasons, &c. No date, ibid, 8. Some considerations, proposed to the city of London, &c. No date. - - 177 9. Some considerations proposed to the distracted nation of England. 1659. - - ihid. 10. To the Army. - - - 178 11. A question propounded to the rulers, &c» of England, 1659. _ - - ilfid. 12. The root of Popery struck at, &c. 1660. ihid. Xll CONTENTS. Page 13. An examination of the grounds or causes, &c, respecting the persecution in New-England. 1660. - - - 180 14. A warning of love, &c. 1660. - 181 15. Where is tlae wise? Where is the scribe? &c, 1660. - ■ - - - 182 16. An Epistle to all such as observe the seventh day of the week for a sabbath. 1660. - ibid. 17. The new covenant of the gospel distinguished from the old covenant of the law, &c. 1660. ibid^ 18. Seme few queries, &c. proposed to the Cava- liers, &c. No date, - - - 183 19. Some queries concerning the work of God in the world, &c. i66o. - - 184 20. The consideration of a position concerning the book of Common Prayer. 1660. - 185 21. An answer to that common objection against the Quakers, that they condemn all but them- selves. 1660. -I r 187 22. The great question concerning Swearing, &c. 1661, - - - 188 23. Somewhat spoken to a weighty question, con^ cerning the magistrate's protection of the in^ nocent, &c. i66i. - - ibid. 24. Concerning Persecution, &c. 1661. - 189 25. Some directions to the panting soul, &c. 1661 190 26. Concerning the worship of the living God, &c. No date. - - - 191 27. To all such as complain that they want power, &c. 1 66 1. - - ^. ibid, 28. Some questions and answers for the opening of the eyes of the Jews natural, &c. i66r. 192 29. Some questions and answers showing m^n his duty, &c. 1662. - - 193 30. Some observations oh that portion of scrip- ture, Rom. xlv. 20. 1662. - - .X9.4: CONTENTS. Xiii Page 3 1 . Three queries propounded to the Khig and Parliament. No date. - - 195 32. A salutation of love and tender good-will to the Commissioners of the Peace for the county of Bucks. No date. - - 196 33. A weighty question propounded to the King and both Houses of Parliament. 1663. ^^^^' 34. Some of the Mysteries of God's kingdom glanced at, &c. 1663. *" " ^9^ 35. Some deep considerations, concerning the state of Israel, past, present, and to come, &c. No date. - - - - 201 36. Concerning God's seeking out his Israel, 8cc. 1663. * - - 203 37. Some queries concerning the order and govern- ment of the church of Christ. No date. - 206 38. To Friends in England, Ireland, &c. 1666. 207 39. One more tender visitation to this generation, &c. 1666. - - - 208 40. Concerning the Church, under the Gospel, &c. 1666. - - - ihid. 41. Concerning the sum or substance of our Reli- gion, who are called Quakers. No date, 209 42. "Some things of great weight and concernment to all, &c. 1667. - - 210 43. A question to the professors of Christianity, &c. 1667. - - - 212 44. To such as are not satisfied with a profession, &c. 1668 . - - - 215 45. Observations on some passages of Lodowick Muggleton, &c. 1668. - - ibid. 46. Some things relating to Religion, proposed to the Royal Society, &c. 1668. - 216 47. Of the Church in its .first and pure state, in its declining state, &c. 1668. - 219 XiV ' CONTENTS Page 48. An inquiry after Truth and Righteousness, &:c. 1671. - . - 221 49. The holy Truth and People defended, &c. 1672* - - _ - 222 50. The ancient principle of Truth, &c. 1672 223 51. Naked Truth, &c. 1674. - - 225 52. The flesh and blood of Christ testified to, &c. 1675. - - -■ - 228 53. To the Jews natural and spiritual, &c. 1(577. 230 54. The everlasting Gospel testified to, &c. 1678. 233 55. A further testimony to Truth. Posthumous, ibid. 56. Life and Immortality brought to light through the Gospel. Posth. - - 236 57. A reply to queries and animadversions. Posth, 243 58. A fevi^ experiences, &c. Posth. - 247 59. A treatise concerning God's teachings, &c. " Pofth. - - - * 249 60. A question answered, concerning reading the Scriptures aright. Posth. - - 252 Ci. Somewhat relating to Church-government. Posth. - - - - 254 62. Some misrepresentations of Me, concerning church-government, cleared. Posth. - 256 63. The Seed of God, and of his kingdom, treated of, &c.- Posth. - - 258 64. An epistle to all sgrious professors. Posth. 261 65. A reply to an answer of some queries. Posth. 265 Also, the following short pieces, scarcely to be called books. a. Five Epistles to Friends in Chalfont. - ibid h. Some queries concerning compulsion in Religion, ibid c. Concerning the dispensation of the Gospel ibid d. Some experiences, &c. - - 266 f. Concerning the times and seasons, ^c. - 267 ADVERTISEMENT. In the second part of the Review^ may be found some observations on the following important subjects; inmost of which the sense of our author on them is plainly apparent. Atonement - Page 264 Love - - Page 199 Christ - - 245 Perfection - 246 248 Co-essence - 238 ibid Peter's 2d Ep. i. 19. 224 Imputation - - 242 Reading the Scriptures 253 Infallibility - - 266 Scripture - - 244 John's I St Epistle, v. 7 262 The Seed - - 258 Joy - - - 228 Silent worship - 251 The Lord's Prayer - 239 Trinity - - 263 MEMOIRS, &c. CHAP. L His hirtJi — education— station of his father — some hints at his political sentiments, and his modera- tion, taken from his early writings — his mar^ riage — the reproof given to him and his wife, for their gaiety, by a friend— further discourse -with this person — interview with T. Curtis and W. Simpson — hy which Mary Fenington is con- -i^inced — Isaac at J. Crook's in Bedfordshire, there fully convinced hy George Fox — his ac- count of his spiritual travail, taken from his treatise ' Concerning God's teachings, andClirist's ( law'— further account from T.Ellwood's Testi- mony— ^fm^ther account from Works, Vol, 2. p^ 4:9— further account from his Address to the Rulers, Teachers, and Feople of New England^ Works, Vol, 1. p. cclvi. I SAAC PENINGTON was born about the year 1616, heir, to use the words of his son-in-law* William Penn, to a fair inheritance. It would * By marriage with Gulielma Maria Springett, daughter of Isaac Peningtott's wife by a foriner husband. A { 2 ) be gratifying to trace the steps of the childhood of a man^ in whom the simplicity of the child so long survived the weakness ; but until further search can be made^, it must suffice to learn from the same author, that his education was suitable to his quality among men, and that he had all the advantages that the schools and universities of his own country could bestow; as well as such as arose from the conversation of some of the most knowing and considerable men of the time. He arrived at manhood at a period when England was agitated with the tem_pest of civil commotion^ by means of the discord between Charles I. and his parliament ; and as the father of Penington was himself a violent partisan, the son, had his temper inclined him to enter the lists, might probably soon have arisen to eminence in the republic. But he seems early to have set his mind on another contest than the one for worldly power; and ""to have chosen a life dedicated to an ' inquiry after God, and a holy fellowship with *" his despised' people. He chose, he sought, he strove, and he obtained ; but had his choice been to follow the- path into which his father had entered, disappointment would most likely have been the ultimate consequence. The elder Penington had been chief magistrate of the me- tropolis, he had raised the forces of the city to join the parliament's army, he had been intrusted with the charge of the Tower, and had been one of the council of state; but the Restoration re- versed the condition of public affairs, and he died .0 ( 3 ) a prisoner in the fortress^ which he had formerly commanded. But though Isaac Penington forbore to enter into the contests which rent the nation^ he was far from being an unconcerned spectator of the misery of his country. To this some of the tracts which he published long before he joined the Society of Friends^ bear ample testimony. But he looked for the cause of the evil rather in the depraved stale of man's heart in general^ than in any particular party or set of men. In the pre- face to one tracts published in 1650^ entitled^, according to the fashion of titles in those days^ ' A Voice out of the thick Darkness/ he men* tions an intention he had before conceived of publishing something concerning the state of affairs. ' I should have expressed/ says he, ^ ill will to none, but onlv have uttered that *■ deep affection that w^^s then in me^ towards the ' soldering and healing the distempers of such ' spirits as are made more miserable by their ' own discontents, than they could be by any *■ thing else that can^ in probability^ befall ' them' — ' There are one sort of men whom I * should more especially have applied myself * unto ; who are "vvonderoiis eager after making ' the nation happy; waiose spirits can be no *■ w^ays satisfied till they see the attainment of * that universal freedom, and the flowing forth ' of that universal^ speedy justice, which is easy ' to be desired, but hard to be met with/ To persons of this description, he gives the folio w» A 2 ( 4 ) ing advice. ' Be content to pass tlirough your ' pilgrimage without the full enjoyment of that ' freedom ye have desired^, and pressed so hard * after. There is a power above^ whose will may ^ cross yours in this ; which may as well find ' fault with your untow^ardness to be governed, ' as with the self-seeking of such as have been ^ governors/ — ' It is a brave thing sometimes ' to oppose the yoke; but a braver, from judg- ^ ment to submit unto it. It is, in many cases ' better for particular persons, yea for societies^ ' to bear, than avoid the yoke/ — ' It is the stiff- ' ness of the neck, and unbrokenness of the spirit ' that chiefly makes all our yokes so harsh/ But he subjoins, ' Groan, pant after, and in a just * way pursue, the attainment of perfect freedom. *^ Lie not down as a slave, wuth a base, abject *■ spirit, counting slavery best ; but with a sweet ^ spirit submit to it for necessity's sake ; and let ' 2i sense appear of your prizing and desiring of ' liberty. And what way of attaining it is made ' out to you plainly and evidently justifiable^ ' forbear not to fall in with; vet not in such a *■ violent and irrational manner, as to make your '■ more noble parts far worse slaves to brutish ^ passions within, to avoid a more inferior slavery ' of the outward and more ignoble part/ It is probable that notwithstanding the mild- ness and moderation of his temper, and his great preference of peace to contention, Penington in his judgment inclined to a commonwealth. For in the following year he published a pamphlet ( 5 ) entitled, ^ The fundamental rights safety, and 11- *" berty, of the people (which is radically in ' themselves, derivatively in the parliament, their *" substitutes or representatives) asserted/ ''This ' right,' saith he, ^ lieth chiefly in these three *■ things — in the people's choice of their govern- ^ ment and governors — in the establishment of ' that government and governors whom they *■ shall choose— and in the alteration of either as *■ they shall find cause/ These principles are de- mocratical, and accordingly the Salus popuUj su- prema lex, is the prominent feature of the book. But it is at most a representative, not a pure, democracy at which the author aims. He show^s the impossibility of the people acting for them- selves; and the impropriety of a parliament as- suming both legislative and administrative power. He seems even not averse to the latter being placed in the hands of a king. ^ Though* these are his words, ' I shall not plead for the re- *" settlement of kingly government (for I am ^ not s^ far engaged in my affections to it, as it ^ yet hath been) yet I would have a fair and ^ friendly shaking hands with it, and not any ' blame laid upon it beyond its desert. For ^ doubtless it is both proper, good, and useful ' in its kind ; and hath its advantages above any ' other government on the one hand, as it hath ^ also its disadvantages on the other hand.* In short, though the desire of Penington seems \o have been the general welfare of the people | A3 ( « ) he only expected it (so far as civil policy can effect it), from the preservation of every rank in the state within itz own limits. ' Kingly *" power/ thus he writes in his prefatory address to the parliam.ent^ ' did pass its limits^ we may ^ now speak it/ The times of Charles I. the late stretches of prerogative by that monarchy and the attempts at power independent of the parlia- ment^ were of course fresh in his mernorv : but Penington im.mediately subjoins, ' Doth parlia- *" mentary power keep within its iimuts ? — ' And • if things should yet devolve lovvcr^ into the ^ great and confused body of the people, is it ' likely they would keep their limits ?' — ' Man *■ cannot be free in himself, nor free from himself, • (while self is in him it will make him selfish) ^ and vrhile it is so, others under his power or ^ within his reach cannot be free/ Another short extract from, the body of the work may close the description of the political part of the character of Isaac Penington, and show that universal benevolence formed its basis. • There is not one sort of men upon the face of the ' earth, to whom I bear any enmity in my spirit ^ (though in some respect I must confess my- *■ self an enemy to every sort of m^en); but wish;, ' vv^ith all my heart, they might ail attain and ' enjoy as much peace, prosperity, and happiness ' as their state will bear. There are not any to ^ v/hom I should envy government ; but, who- '^ ever they are^. they should have my vote oU ( 7 ) ' ,their behalf, whom I saw fitted for it and called ' to it.'* At the time of these publications Penington was more than thirty years of age : they are not, therefore, to be considered as the mere effusions of an ingenuous youthful mind; but as the result of observation and judgment, operating on a mind amply endued with philanthropy and piety. Nor can his attachment, at a much later period, to the principles of Friends, be ascribed oS course to the ardency of a youthful imagination, for ne had then arrived at least at his fortieth year ; an acre at which the manly cliaracter is, if ever, fully developed ; and he appears, besides, by hu writings, to have been a man of unusual calmness * The following e:ttract of a letter written many years after may further show how little of a politician as the word is conm/only used, was Penington. See Kendall's IIS. Coll. Vol. 1. p. 331.—' Now as to his relation of the affairs of the late times, I was observed by all sorts to be one of a retired spirit and conversation, not meddling with affairs . covenants, or engagements ; nor taking any advantage of < preferment, gain, or honour, in those times, when thrust < unon F-.e ; but mourned with those that suffered in those ' times ; not expecting much happiness from outward ' changes ; nor satisfied with any of the changes that then ' were! I would I could yet see the change which I have, ' all along, longed to see, which was not of the outward ' form of government, but from unrighteousness to nght- « eousness. This is the plain truth of my heart m thesq ' things, and I coulcT wish from my heart that the Lord God of beaten and earth had taught thee to fear and lov-e God and the king, as he hath done me, in trutn and r.g... < eousness.' A 4 < 8 ) of mind. He had married^ in what year I do not find*, Mary, the v^idow of Colonel Springett ; and at the time of his adopting the profession of Friends lived on his estate at Chalfont^ called St. Peter'Sj in Buckinghamshire. The ground of their union was a coincidence in religious sentiments: Each had long been dissatisfied with many of the forms in use, even in those times of supposed re- formation; each was earnestly seeking after a re- ligion that could bring assurance with it; and each was in no small degree already acquainted with spiritual exercises, and devotions. One day, as they were walking together in a park, a man v^ho had lately attached himself to the people called Quakers, rode by; and remarking their gay ap- parel, reproved them aloud for their pride. Mary Penington replied with disdain, ' You are *" a public preacher indeed, thus to preach on the *■ high-way.' The stranger^ who, having said what appeared so far sufficient for him, was pro- bably riding on, now turned back; for he said that he again felt a love for Isaac Penington, as he saw grace in his veiy countenance. He there- fore drew- up close to the pales, and spoke to them of the light and grace of God, which had appeared to all men. Isaac Penington engaged hun in discourse, and the occupier of the pre- mises invited him in ; but as he perceived Penmgton to be superior to him in argument, by means of his natural and acquired abilities, » Probably not later than 1654, stat. 38, ( 9 ) and as he knew himself to be but vounp- in religious experience^, he declined the debate ; but said that he would the next dav brings with him a man, who should answer all the questions and objections of his learned disputant. The person thus intended to be produced was George Fox ; but the zealous stranger was disappointed of his assistance ; and our pious couple were vi- sited by two other friends^ namely Thomas Curtis of Reading, and William Simpson from Lanca- shire. I do not find any particulars of their conversation so far as it related to Isaac. Mary has left an account of the effect of the visit on her mind, as tending to her fully giving up her heart to the doctrines and practices of Friends. It is also not to be doubted that Isaac received in this conference some inducements X.Q make trial of their doctrines; but he was not hasty to adopt their manners; and indeed those of the persons who had declared to him these doctrines, appeared very mean and contemptible. It is not easy to fix with precision the date of the convincement of Isaac Penins^ton. Alex- ander Parker, an eminent friend, in his testi- mony prefixed to Peningtcn's works, savs that he first saw him at a meetino^ at Readinir in the year 1656 (probably attracted thither by ac- quaintance with Thomas Curtis); and that though Penington did not then bear the garb and ap- pearance of a friend, his soul cleaved to him m the bowels of the love of truth. William Penn, ivi. a similar testimony, but in his cv^n peculiar ( io ) style, say.s ^ About the year 1657 it pleased the ^ Lord to send him a Peter^ to declare to him ' that the time of the pouring forth of the Holy * Spirit^ and breaking forth of the heavenly '' work of God^ in the souls of men and women, ' w^as come ; and many Aquilas and Priscillas ' came after^ w^ho instructed him in the way of ' God more perfectly.' It seems, however, to have been at a meetino- held at the house of John Crooks who had been in the commission of the peace^ in Bedfordshire, and by means of the preaching of George Fox, that Isaac Pening- ton became fully satisfied. Of this meeting, Vnich was held about the time called Whitsun- tide, 1658, and of the doctrine preached in it, there is a large account in the Journal, or rather Annals, of George Fox. — ' At this meeting/ says Alexander Parker before mentioned, *" the mys- ' tQvy of iniquity was so opened, and the mys- ' tery of the gospel of peace so plainly mani'^- ' fested, that he (Penington) was fully satisfied; ' and from that time gave up himself to the -' obedience of Truth — took up the cross — and ' suffered with us for the name and testimony ''lof Jesus.' These dates bespeak him to have been from forty to forty-two years of age when he joined the rising and persecuted society of Friends. The steps which led to this event, and the peaceful establishment of the mJnd of Isaac Penington in the adoption of this despised pro- fession, let his own w^ords declare. ( 11 ) •^ I was acquainted/ says he, ' with a spring of ^ life from my childhood;, which enlightened me * in my tender years, and pointed my heart to- ' wards the Lord, begetting true sense in me, ' and faith, and hope, and love, and humility, ' and meekness^ &c. so that indeed I was a won- ' der to some that knew me, because of the "^ savour and life of religion w^hich dwelt in my * heart, and appeared in my conversation. But ^ I never durst trust the spring of my life, and *■ the springings up of life therefrom ; but in ' reading the scriptures, gathered Vvhat know- ' ledge I coi'ld therefrom, and set this over the *" spring and springings of life in m^e ; and indeed •^ judged that I ought so to do. Notwithstand- *^ ing which, the Lord was very tender and mer- * ciful to me, helping me to pray^, and helping *■ me to understand the scriptures, and opening '^ and w^arming my heart every day. And truly, ^ my soul was very near the Lord, and my heart ^ was made and preserved very low and humble ^ before him, and very sensible of his rich love ' and mercy to me in the Lord Jesus Christ : as ' I did daily from my heart cry grace, grace^, ' unto him, in every thing m.y soul received and ' partook of from him.' ' Indeed I did not look to have been so broken, ^ shattered, and distressed, as I afterwards was, *■ and could by no means understand the mean- * ing thereof, my heart truly and earnestly de- ^ siring after the Lord, and not having the sense * of any guilt upon me.' — ' At that time^ vrhen ( 12 ) ^ I was broken and dashed to pieces in my re- ' ligion^ I was in a congregational way ; but ^ soon after parted with them^ yet in great love, ' relating to them how the hand of the Lord ' was upon me, and how I was smitten in the ^ inwai*d part of my religion;, and could not now ' hold up an outward form of that which I in- ' w^ardly wanted : having lost my God, my ' Christ, my faith, my knowledge, my life, my *■ all. And so we parted very lovingly, I wish- "■ ing them well, even the presence of that God '* whom I wanted, promising to return to them "' again, if ever I met with that which my soul ' wanted, and had clearness in the Lord so to ' do.' ' After I was parted from them, I never joined *■ to anv way or people; but lay mourning day ^ and night, pleading with the Lord, why he had ' forsaken me, and why I should be made so ' miserable through my love to him, and sin- ^ cere desires after him. For truly, I can say, ' I had not been capable of so mucb misery as " my soul lay in for many years, had not my ' love been so deep and true towards the Lord ' my God, and my desires so great after the ' sensible enjoyment of his Spirit, according to ^ the promise and way of the gospel. Yet this *" I can also say in uprightness of heart. It was ' not gifts I desired, to appear and shine before ' men in; but grace and holiness, and the Spirit ' of the Lord dwelling in me, to act my heart by * his grace, and to preserve me in holiness/ ( IS ) ' Now indeed the Lord at length had compas- ' sion on me^, and visited me ; though in a time ^ and way wherein I expected him not ; nor * was I willing (as to the natural part) to have ' that the way, which God shov;ed me to I'z the ' way; but the Lord opened mine eye, and that * which I know to be of him in me closed w^ith ' it, and Owned it ; and the pure seed was raised ' by his power, and my heart taught to know and * own the seed, and to bow and worship before the * Lord in the pure power, which was then in my ' heart. So that of a truth I sensibly knew and ' felt my Saviour, and was taught by him to take ' up the cross, and to deny that understanding, ^ knowledge, and wisdom, which had so long ^ stood in my way : and then I learned that lesson * (being really taught it of the Lord), what it is ' indeed to become a fool for Christ's sake. I ' cannot say but I had learned somewhat of it ' formerly; but I never knew how to keep to ' what I had learned till that day.'* In this extract there is not any express decla- ration that the way which was at length cast up before the view of Isaac Penington, and in which he was enabled steadily to proceed through life, was the way pursued by Friends. The following is more explicit on that head. It is entitled ' A ' true and faithful relation, in brief, concerning ^ myself, in reference to my spiritual travails, ."^ and the Lord's dealings with me. I say true ^ and faithful, because it is of the Truth, and nos * Penington's Works^ 2d Edit. VoL IL p. 511, 512, ■( 1* ) *■ given forth in my own will^ but in the Lord's *■ will and requirings of me at this time^ for his f service/ There wilL doubtless, be found in it some of the same kind of matter as forms a part of the extract already cited. To the spiritual traveller^, however, this similarity will not be in- sipidj and it is possible that even critical readers may allow that the following piece is not un- aptly selected, to fill up the more general out- line of the preceding one. ' I have been;,* says our amiable author, ' a *" man of sorrow and affliction from my child- ' hood, feeling the want of the Lord, and mourn- ' ing after him ; separated by him from the love, '' nature, and spirit of this world ; and turned in '^ spirit towards him, almost ever since I could ^ remember/ The Christian reader, probably, will not re- volt at this exordium, or call it a gloomy por- trait. He will call to mind the prophetic decla- ration concerning the Redeemer, ^' He is a "^ man of sorrows and acquainted with grief;'* and will by no means forget his Master's own consolatory sentence, ^' Blessed are they that " mourn; for they shall be comforted/' ' In the sense of my lost estate,' thus Pening- ton proceeds, ' I sought after the Lord ; I read " the scriptures ; I watched over mine own heart; * I cried unto the Lord for what I felt the want ' of; I blessed his name in what he mercifully * did for me, and bestowed on me. Whatever f I read in the scriptures, as the way of God to { 1» ) ' my understanding, I gave myself to the faith- - fill practice of: being contented to meet with ' all the reproach, opposition, and several kinds ' of sufferings, v/hich it pleased the Lord to mea- ^ sure out to me therein. And I cannot but say ' that the Lord was good unto me, did visit me, did ' teach me, did help me, did testify his accept- ' ance of me many times, to the refreshing and ' joy of my heart before him/ *" But my soul was not satisfied v/ith what I *■ met with;, nor indeed could be, there bein^ ' further quickenings and pressings in my spirit^ ^ after a more full, certain, and satisfactory knovv- *■ ledge; even after the sense, sight, and enjov- ^ ment of God, as was testified in the scriptures ' to have been felt and enjoyed in the former *■ times : for I saw plainly that there was a stop ' of the streams, and a great falling short of the *■ power, life, and glory, which they partook oL ' We had not so the Spirit, nor were so in the *" faith^ nor did so v/alk and live in God, as thev ' did. They were come to Mount Sion, and the *■ heavenly Jerusalem, &c. which we had hardly . *" so much as the literal knowledge or apprehen- ^ sion what they were. So that I saw t\\Q whole *" course of religion among us v.as, for the most ^ part, but a talk, to Vv'hat they felt, enjoyed^ ^ possessed, and lived in/ * This sense made m.e sick at heart indeed^ *■ and set me upon deep crying to God, close ^ searching the scriptures, and waiting on Gcd^ * that I ifiiight receive the pure sense and under- ( 16 ) ' Standing of them;, from and in the light, and by ' the help of his Spirit. And what the Lord did ' bsstow on me in that state, with thankfulness * I remember before him at this very day : for * he was then my God, and a pitier and watcher * over me; though he had not then pleased to * direct me how to stay my m^ind upon him. * And then I was led (indeed I was led, I did not ^ run of myself) into a way of separation from * the worship of the world, into a gathered so- *■ ciety : for this both the scripture, and the Spirit ' of God in me gave testimony unto ; and what *■ we then met with, and w^hat leadings and help ' we then felt, there is a remembrance and testi- ' mony in my heart to this day. But there ' was somewhat wanting, and we mistook our ' way, for whereas we should have pressed for- ^ ward into the spirit and power, we ran too ' much outward into the letter and form : and *^ though the Lord in many things helped us, ' yet therein he was against us, and brought * darkness, confusion, and scattering upon us. /■ I was sorely broken and darkened, and in this ' darkened state sometimes lay still for a long ' season, secretly mourning, and crying out to ' the Lord, night and day. Sometimes I ran about, * hearkening after what might appear or break *■ forth in others ; but never met with any thing ' whereto there was the least ans'vver in my heart, ' save m one people, v/ho had a touch of Truth; ' but I never expressed so much to any of them, ' nor indeed felt them at all able to reach my ( 17 ) ^ condition. At last, after all my distresses/ ' wanderings, and sore travails, I met with some ' ^mtings of this people called Quakers, which ' I cast a slight eye upon and disdained, as fal- ' ling very short of that wisdom, light, life, and ' power which I had been longing for, and *■ searching after. I had likewise, some pretty ' distance of time after this, opportunity of ' meetinsr with some of them; and divers of ' them were by the Lord moved ( I knovr it to *" be so since) to come to me. As I remember, ' at the very first, they reached to the life of God *■ in me; v/hich life answered their voice, and ' caused a great love in me to spring to them; ' but still in my reasonings v/ith them, and dis- ' putes alone (in my mind) concerning them, ' I was very far off from owning them as so ' knowing the Lord, or so appearing in his life ' and power, as my condition needed, and as my ' soul waited for. Yea, the more I conversed *■ with them, the more I seemed in my under- ' standing and reason to gel over them, and to *■ trample them under my feet, as a poor, weak, *■ silly, contemptible generation, who had some ' smatterings of Truth in them, and some honest ' desires towards God ; but very far off from the ' clear and full understanding of his way and ' will. And this was the effect almost of every ' discourse with them : they still reached my ' heart, and I felt them in the secrets of my ' soul ; w^hich caused the love in me always to - continue, yea, sometimes to increase towards s ( 18 ) ^ them ; but daily my understanding got more ^ and more over them, and therein I daily more ' and more despised them. After a long time ^ I was invited to hear one of them (as I had ' been often, they in tender love pitying me, ' and feeling my want of that which they pos- ' sessed ) ; and there w^as an answer in my hearty ^ and I went with fear and trembling, with de- ^ sires to the Most High who was over all and ' knew all, that I might not receive any thing ' for truth which was not of him, nor withstand *■ any thing which w^as of him ; but might bow •^ before the appearance of the Lord my God, ' and none other. And indeed, when I came, ' I felt the presence and power of the Most High ' among them, and words of truth from the ^ Spirit of truth reaching to my heart and con- •^ science, opening my state as in the presence ^ of the Lord. Yea, I did not only feel words ' and demonstrations from without ; but I felt * the dead quickened, the Seed raised; inso- ' much that my heart (in the certainty of light, Vand clearness of true sense) said. This is he, ' this is he, there is no othei^ : this is he whom I ° haze waited for and sought after from my child- " hood; who was always near me, and had often ^ begotten life in my heart ; hut I knew him not ^ distinctly, nor how to receive him or dwell with *■ him. And then, in this sense (in the meltin^- ' and breakings of my spirit) was I given up to *" the Lord, to become his, both in waiting for ' the further revealing of his Seed in me, and • ( 19 ) ' to serve him in the life and power of his ' Seed/ ' Now what I met with after this, in my tra- ' vails, in my waitings, in my spiritual exer- ' cises, is not to be uttered ; only in general *■ I may say this, I met with the very strength ' of hell. The cruel oppressor roared upon ' me, and made me feel the bitterness of his ' captivity, while he had any power: yea, the ' Lord was far from my help, and from the voice * of my roaring. I also met with deep subtil- ' ties and devices to entangle me in that wis- * dom, which seemeth able to make wise in the ' things of God ; but indeed is foolishness, and ^ a snare to the soul, bringing it back into cap- ' tivity, where the enemy's gins prevail. And ^ what I met with outwardly from my own dear ^ father, from my kindred, from my servants, ' from the people and powei*s of the world, for ' no other cause but fearing my God, worship- ' ping him as he hath required of me, and bow- ' ing to his Seed, which is his Son, who is to be ' worshipped by men and angels for evermore, ^ the Lord my God knoweth, before whom my ^ heart and ways are ; who preserved me in love ^ to them, in the midst of all I suffered from * them, and doth still so preserve m.e; blessed ^ be his pure and holy name. But some may ' desire to know what I have at last met with. ' I answer, I have met with the Seed. Under- ' stand that word, and thou wilt be satisfied, and * inquire no further. I have met v/ith my God ; B 2 ( 20 ) ' I have met with my Saviour; and he hath n©f ' been present with me without his salvation ; /but I have felt the healings drop upon my / soul from under his wings. I have met w^ith ' the true knowledge^ the knowledge of life, f| the living knowledge^ the knowledge which is ,r.life^ and this hath .had the true virtue in it, / w^hich my soul hath rejoiced in, in the presence ' of the Lord. I have met with the Seed's / Father, and in the Seed I have felt him my / Father. There I have read his nature, his love, / his compassions, his tenderness, which have ^ melted, overcome, and changed my heart be- *■ fore him. I have met with the Seed's faith, / which hath done and doth that, which the faith *" of man can never do. I have met with the ' true birth, w^ith the birth which is heir of the ' kingdom, and inherits the kingdom. I have ' met w^ith the true spirit of prayer and suppli- ' cation, wherein the Lord is prevailed with, and / which draws from him whatever the condition ' needs: the soul alw^ays looking up to him in ' the will, and in the time and w^ay, which is ac- ' ceptable with him. What shall I say ? I have ' met with the true peace, the true righteous- ' ness, the true holiness, the true rest of the *■ soul, the everlasting habitation, which the re- *■ deemed dw^ll in : and I know all these to be *■ true, in him that is true ; and am capable of ' no doubt, dispute, or reasoning in my mind ' about them ; it abiding there w^here it hath re- /■ ceived the full assurance and satisfaction. And ( 21 ) *■ also I know very well and distinctly in spirit ' where the doubts and disputes are, and where ' the certainty and full assurance is; and in the ' tender mercy of the Lord am preserved out of [ the one, and in the other/ ' Now, the Lord knows, these things I do not ' utter in a boasting way; but would rather be ' speaking- of my nothingness, my emptiness, ' my weakness, my manifold infirmities, which ' I feel more than ever. The Lord hath broken ' the man's part in me, and I am a worm and ^ no man before him. I have no strength to do ' any good or service for him; nay, I cannot ' watch over or preserve myself. I feel daily ' that I keep not alive my own soul ; but am ' weaker before men, yea weaker in my spirit, as ' in myself, than ever I have been. But I cannot ' but utter to the praise of my God, and I feel ' his arm stretched out for me ; and my weak* ' ness, which I feel in myself, is not my loss, ' but advantage before him. And these thino-s ' I write, as having no end at all therein of my ' own, but felt it this morning required of me ; ' and so in submission and subjection to my God ' have I given up to do it, leaving the success "^ and service of it v/ith him.' 'Aylesbury, 15th 3d Mo. 1667,'* Though the two preceding papers will serve io show many of the toilsome steps, which were • * In Ellwood's Test, prefixed to Penington's Worksj^ Ycl. I. p, XXXV. ( 22 ) trodden by Isaac Penington in pursuit of truth; yet the following will probably be an acceptablCj and not an unsuitable addition. It is both de- scriptive and exhortatory ; it is^ in its tenour, consistent with the others^ yet not tautologous. One occasion of his sorrows^ it more fully de- scribes: the tendency of one tenet on a depressed and ingenuous mind^ it more particularly dis- plays. ' My heart from my childhood/ says he^ ' was '^ pointed towards the Lord^ whom I feared^ and ' longed after^ from my tender years; wherein ' I felt, that I could not be satisfied with ( nor ^ indeed seek after) the things of this perishing ^ w^orld;, which naturally pass away ; but I de- ^ sired true sense of, and unity with^ that which ^ abideth for ever. There was somewhat indeed ^ then still within me (even the Seed of eter- ' nity ) which leavened and balanced my spirit ^ almost continually ; but I knew it not distinct- *^ ly, so as to turn to it, and give up to it, en- ^ tirely and understandingly.' ' In this temper of mind I earnestly sought ^ after the Lord, applying myself to hear serr ^ mons, and read the best books I could meet ^ with, but especially the scriptures, which were ^ very sweet and savoury to me. Yea, I very ^ earnestly desired and pressed after the know- ' ledge of the scrijDtures, but was much afraid ^ of receiving men*s interpretations of them, or ' of fastening any interpretation upon them^ my- ^ self; but waited much, and prayed much, that. ( 23 ) ' from the Spirit of the Lord^ I might receive * the true understanding of them^, and that he ' would chiefly endue me with that knowledge, ^ which I might feel sanctifying and saving/ ^ And indeed I did sensibly receive of his love, ' of his mercy, and of his grace, which I felt ' still freely to move towards me; and at seasons ^ when I was most filled with the sense of my ^ own unworthiness, and had least expectations * of the manifestation of them. But I was ex- ^ ceedingly entangled about Election and Repro- *■ bation (having drunk in that doctrine, accord- ' ing as it was then held forth by the strictest of ' those that were termed Puritans ; and as then ^ seemed to be very manifest and positive, from ^ Rom ix. &c.), fearing lest, notwithstanding all ' my desires and seekings after the Lord, he might *■ in his decree have passed me by; and I felt ^ it would be bitter to me to bear his wrath^ ' and be separated from his love for evermore : ' yet, if he had so decreed, it would be, and I ^ should (notwithstandino; these fair beffinnin^s ' and hopes) fall away, and perish at the last.* ' In this great trouble and grief (which was ' much added to by not finding the Spirit of ^ God so in me and with me, as I had read and '^ believed the former Christians had it), and in ^ mourning over and grappling with secret cor- ^ ruptions and temptations, I spent many years,, ^ and fell into great weakness of body; and, * often casting myself upon my bed, did wrino- ^ my hands ^nd weep bitterly ; begging ear- 5 4 ( 24 ) ^ nestly of the Lord daily^ that I might be pitied ' by him, and helped against my enemies^ and ' be made conformable to the Image of his Son^ *" bv his own renewing power/ * And indeed at last (when my nature was al- ' most spent, and the pit of despair was even ' closing its mouth upon me)^ mercy sprang, ' and deliverance came, and the Lord my God ' owned me, and sealed his love unto me, and light *■ sprang within me : which made not only the * scriptures, but the very outward creatures glo- *•' rious in my eye; so that every thing was sweet ^ and pleasant, and lightsome round about me. * But I soon felt that this estate was too high ' and glorious for me, and I was not able to ^ abide in it, it so overcame my natural spirits. ' Wherefore, blessing the name of the Lord for * his great goodness to me, I prayed unto him * to take that from me which I was not able to *■ bear; and to give me such a proportion of his ^ li^ht and presence, as was suitable to my pre- ' sent state, and m.ight fit me for his service. ^ Whereupon this was presently removed from ^ me ; yet a savour remained with me, wherein ^ I had sweetness, and comfort, and refreshment ^ for a long season.' '^ But mv mind did not then know how to turn ^ to, and dwell vvith that which gave me the ' savour ; nor rightly to read what God did daily ^ write in my heart ; which sufficiently mani- * fested itself to be of him, by its living virtue* ^ and pure operation upon me/ ( 25 ; ^ But I looked upon the scriptures to be my * rule, and so would weigh the inward appear- ' ances of God to me, by what w^as outwardly ' written ; and durst not receive any thing from ^ God immediately, as it sprang from the foun ' tain, but only in that mediate w^ay. Herein ' did I limit the Holy One of Israel, and exceed- * ingly hurt my own soul, as I afterwards felt, * and came to understand.' *" Yet the Lord was tender to me, and-condc- ' scended exceedingly, opening scriptures to me ' freshly every day, teaching and instructing, ' warming and com.forting my heart thereby. ^ And truly he did help me to pray, and to be- *" lieve, and to love him and his appearances in ' any; yea, to love all the sons of men, and all *^ his creatures, wdth a true love. Eut that in *■ me which knew not the appearances of the Lord ' in my spirit, but would limit him to words of ' scriptures formerly written, — that proceeded ' yet further, and would be raising a fabrick of ' knowledge out of the scriptures, and gatherin^r ' a perfect rule (as I thought) concerning my ' heart, my wcrds^ my ways, my worship ; and ' according to what I thus drank in (after this ' manner from the scriptures), I practised; and ' with much seriousness of spirit, and prayer to *' God, fell a helping to build up an Inde- ' pendent congregation, wherein Xh^ savour of ' life and the presence of God was fresh with ' me: as I believe there are yet some alive of - that congregation can testify.' M// ■( 23 ) ^ This was my state^ when I was smitten^ ' broken, and distressed by the Lord, confounded ' in my worship, confounded in my knowledge, '^ stripped of all in one day (which it is hard to ' utter), and v/as matter of amazem.ent to all ' that beheld me. I lay open and naked to all ' that would inquire of rne, and strive to search •^ out w4iat might be the cause the Lord shbuld ' deal so with me. They vrould at first be jea- ' lous that I had sinned and provoked him so to ' do ; but when they had scanned things tho- ' roughly, and I had opened my heart nakedly * to them, I do not remember any one that ever ^retained that sense concerning m,e. My soul ' remembereth the wormwood and gall, the ex- '■ ceedinsT bitterness of that state, and is still ^ humbled in m.e in the remembrance of it before ' the Lord. Oh! how did I wish, with Job, that *■ I might come before him, and bowingly plead ' with him ; for indeed I had no sense of any guilt ' upon me, but was sick of love towards him, and '' as one violently rent from the bosom of his ^ beloved ! Oh, hovv gladly would I have met ^ with death ! For I was weary all the day long, * and afraid of the night ; and weary also of the *^ night-season, and afraid of the ensuing day.' "^ I remember my v*^ith it, and ' not going before its leadings. But he that * feels life, and begins in life, doth he not begin ^ safely ? And he that waits and fears, and goes ' on no further than his captain goes before him^ ' doth he not proceed safely } Yea, very safely^ ' even till he cometh to be so settled and esta- ' blished in the virtue, demonstration, and power ' of Truth, as nothing' can prevail to shake him.' ' Now, blessed be the Lord, tliere are many at ' this day who can truly and faithfully witness^ ' that they have been brought by the Lord to * this state. And thus have w^e learned of the ' Lord; to wit, not by the high, striving, aspiring ' mind ; but by lying low, and being contented ' with a little. If but a crumb of bread (yet if ' bread), if but a drop of water (yet if v.ater), ' we have been contented with it, and also thank- ' ful to the Lord for it : nor by thouo^htfulness, ' and wise searching and deep considering v;ith ' our own wisdom and reason have we obtained ' it ; but in the still, meek, and humble v/ait- ' ing, have we found that brought into the *■ death, which is not to know the mysteries of ' God's kingdom ; and that which is to ' made alive, and increase in life/ ( 30 ) * Therefore he that v/oiild truly know the Lord^ let him take heed of his own reason and understanding. I tried this way very far^ for I considered most seriously and uprightly. I prayed;, I read the scriptures^ I earnestly de- sired to understand and find out whether that which this people^ called Quakers, testified of, v/as the only way and truth of God (as they seemed to me but to pretend) ; but for all this, prejudices multiplied upon mCj, and strong rea- sonings against them^ ^vhich appeared to me as unanswerable. But w^hen the Lord revealed his Seed in me, and touched my heart there- with, which administered true life and virtue to me, I presently felt them there the children of the Most High, and so grown up in his life, power, and holy dominion (as the inward eye, being opened by the Lord, sees), as drew forth from me great reverence of heart, and praises to the Lord, who had so appeared among men in these latter days.* ' And as God draweth, in any respect, oh! give up in faithfulness to him. Despise the shame, take up the cross : for indeed it is a way which is very cross to man, and which his wisdom will exceedingly be ashamed of; but that must be denied and turned from, and the secret, sensible drawings of God's Spirit waited for and given up to. Mind, people. He that will come into the new covenant, must come into th€ obedience of it. The light of life, which God hath hid in the hearty, is the cove- ( 31 ) *■ nant ; and from this covenant God doth not ' give knowledge^ to satisfy the vast^ aspiring, ' comprehending wisdom of man ; but living ^ knowledge^ to feed that which is quickened by ' him ; which knowledge is given in the obedi- ^ encG, and is very sweet and precious to the ' state of him that knows how to ^e^-l upon it. ' Yea^ truly^ this is of a very excellent^ pure, '^ precious nature ; and a little of it weighs down ' that great;, vast knowledge in the comprehend- ' ing part^ w^hich the man's spirit and nature so ' much prizeth;, and, presseth after/ "^ And truly^ friends, I w^itness at this day a ' o-reat difference between the sweetness of com- ^ prehending the knowledge of things, as ex- ^ pressed in the scriptures (this I fed nv.ich on ' formerly); and tasting the hidden life, the hid- *■ den manna in the heart (w^hich is my food ' now, blessed for ever be the Lord my God ' and Saviour). Oh ! that othei*s had a true^ ^ certain and sensible taste of the life, \irtue, "^ and goodness of the Lord, as it is revealed ' there ! Surely it could not but kindle the true * hunger ; and inflame the true thirst ; which * can never be satisfied but by the true bread, ' and by water from the living fountain. This ' the Lord (in the tenderness of his love, and in *■ the riches of his erace and mercv ) hath brought ' us to ; and this we earnestly and uprightly de- ' sire and endeavour, that others mtiy be brought ' to also; that they may rightly (in the true ' silence of the flesh, and in the pure stillness oi ( S2 ) ' spirit) wait foi% and in the Lord^s due time ' receive^ that which ansv/ers the desire of the ^ awakened mind and soiil^ and satisfies it with ' the truCj precious substance for evermore. ' Amen/* More to the import of the three preceding nieces may be seen in the preface to Isaac Penino-ton's tract entitled ' Babylon the Great ' described/ published 1659^ and in another tract the following year respecting the Nev/ England persecution, both of which are reprinted in his works. It may not be advisable to insert them here at length ; yet an extract from the latter will sum up the evidence already produced, and show him in an amiable view\ ' At firit acquaintance wdth this rejected peo- ' xAe, that which w^as eternal of God in me open- ' ed, and I did immediately in my spirit own ' them as children of my Father, truly begotten * of his life by his own Spirit. But the wise^ ' reasoning part presently rose up, contending ' against their uncouth way of appearance ; and ' in that I did disown them, and continued a *^ stranger to them, and a reasoner against them^ » for above twelve months ; and by weighing ' and considering things in that part, was still ' further and further off from discerning their ' leadings by the life and Spirit of God into ' those things. But at length it pleased the ' Lord to draw out his sword against that part * Penington's Worts^ Vol. II. p. 49. ( 33 ) ' in me, turning the wisdom and strength thereof ^ backward ; and to open that eye in me again^ ^ wherewith he had given me to see the things of ' his kino-dom in some measure from a child. ' And then I saw and felt them grown in that ^ life and Spirit, which I, through the treachery "■ of the fleshly- wise part, had been estranged to^ *" and had adulterated from.. And now, what bit- ' ter days of mourning and lamentation ( even for ' some years since) I have had over this, the '^ Lord alone fully knows. Oh! I have known ' it to be a bitter thing to follow this wisdom, ^ in understanding of scriptures, in remember- ' ing of scriptures, in remembering of experi- ' ences, and in many more inward ways of work- ' ings, that manv cannot bear to hear.' ' The Lord hath judged me for that, and I ' have borne the burden and condemnation of ' that, which many at this day w^ear as their *" crown. And, now, what am I at length ? A. ' poor worm ! Whom can I warn effectually ? ^ Whom can I help ? Wliom can I stop from run- ' ning into the pit ? But though I am nothing^ *" I must speak, for the Lord draweth and moveth •' me ; and how unserviceable soever my pity ^ be, yet my bowels cannot but roll, both to- ' wards those that are in miserv, and those that ' are runnino^ into miserv.'* And here we may pause ; and, having, by the medium of his ovvn declaration, surveyed the * Vol. 1. p. ccl vi. ( 3* ) State of Isaac Peiiington's mind^ we scarcely need hesitate to acknowledge that he had at- tained in no small degree to the possession of the grand qualifications of a Christian. '' Now " abideth Faith, Hope^ Love, these three ; but ^' the s^reatest of these is Love/'* Even in his political character, in vrhich men otherwise amiable, are too apt to give way to animosity and rancour; even in this, and at a time when he had not so deeply penetrated the mysteries of the Christian religion, we have seen him invested with its spirit of forbearance and good-will. * I have sometimes wondered why the same word (aya^r^) which in the apostle John's writings is by our translators rendered love^ should in Paul's be translated charitij. It doubtless conveys to some readers the idea of almsgiving. Let any one read the 13th chap, of 1st to Corinthians, sub- stituting the word love for charity^ and he will probably see the superior aptness of the term ; and be almost ready to think that Love is not only the perfection of the Law, but of the Gospel also. C H A p. IL .Account of Mary Pemngton—'her desire to he able to perform true 'prayer — her ivritten, and ex- temporaneous prayer — marries Col, Springett— her. husland's death—refuses to have her child sprinkled— seeks solitude, for prayer— yet at- tends diversions — a dream — her haUt of trust — cannot pray — another remarkaJjle dream— her marriage to I. Penington, and its motives- some previous knowledge of Friends — her state of mind zvhen Curtis and Simpson visited the family — her conflicts — her joy at the first meet- ing held in I. Penington's house— further ac- count of her spiritual state. EFORE we proceed to investigate the further operation of religion on the conduct of Isaac Penington, hy collecting the few and scattered accounts of the scenes in which he was engaged, scenes, for the greater part, of suffering, it may be desirable to trace a few of the steps by which his faithful companion arrived at her qualifica- tions to be his help-meet. Mary Penington also had been religiously in- clined from her childhood, and had been brought c ^ C 5(3 ) 11 D in a family in which the forms^ at least, of reliijion were observed with c:rcat strictness. While yet a child she r/as one day much struck with hearing a sermon read^ on the text, '' Pray ^' continually." The writer^ among other bene- fits of praver^ had observed t\\-:sX it was an ex- ercise in which the saints v/ere distinguished from the world; for^ though the world could in many things hypocritically imitate themi;, yet in prayer it could not This forcibly wrought on her mind, for she knew that the printed prayers which she used, were such as the world also could use; and' she therefore, with sorrow^, concluded herself to be'yet unacquainted with true prayer. "When the reader had finished, and she was left alone in the room, she threw herself on the bed, crying out aloud. Lord, what is prayer? At this time, she had -not long learned to wTite, and could scarcely join her letters; but, having heard that .some persons wrote prayers for their ov/n use, she penned one to serve her as a morning supplica- tion. The subject of it vvas, that ''as the Lord ' had commanded the Israelites to oiTer up a ' morning sacrifice, so she oflered the sacrifice *" of prayer, and desired preservation for the / dav.' She rested a w^hile in this practice, and wrote two other prayers ; but doubt crept in here also : and f?he be^an to think. true prayer was exteinporaneous. Extemporaneous prayer, there- fore, she attempted, but found that she could not alw^ays pray. vSometimes she kneeled long, but could not utter a word. At len^q-th one day, she ( 37 ) ^ heard of the sentence* of Prynne, Bastwick, and Burton, three eminent sufferers in the persecu- tion under Archbishop Laud, in tfie reio-n of Charles I. The sad relation of the lot of thase men sunk deep into her mind, and cries were raised in her for them and all the innocent people in tlie nation. She went into a private room, and shutting the door, poured out her soul to the Lord (they are her own words) in a vehement manner for a considerable time, bein w^onderfully melted. In this, she felt ease^ £5 * T^iis seems to have been the second sentence on those persecuted men, in the year 1637. Prynne, for writino- a » book entitled Hhtriomastix against Plays, Masques Danc- ing, &e. was condemned by the Court of Star-Chamber to be degraded from his profession of the law, to be pilloried at "Westminster and in Cheapside, at each place to lose an ear to be fined ^5000, and to suffer perpetual imprisonment. Bastwick, a physician, for writing a book called i:/e/zc/iz/^ religionis papistica^ with an appendix called Flafrellmn pontijlcis et episcoporum Lafialiicm^ Avas degraded excom- municated, lined ^1000, and imprisoned til! he should re- cant. Burton, a parish priest in London, having published two sermons against the late innovations, was committed a close prisoner to the Gatehouse. In 1637, all three were again cited to the Star-Cliamber for writing as was alleo-ed in prison, seditious, schismatical, and libellous books. They were then condemned to have their ears cut off, each fined ^5000, and each ordered to perpetual imprisonment. Prynne had the additional sentence of stigmatizing on both cheeks, and the court took care he should a^riMn suffer the pain of amputation, by ordering the remainder of his stumps to be cut off. Abp. Laud was present at passing the sen- tence, Neal, Hist. Purit Vol. 2. c 3 ( 38 ) peace^ ajid acceptance^ knowing assuredly fhat this was true prayer. Soon after this she entirely refused to ioin in the comnion prayer read in the family^ or to kneel in the place of public worship ; but went on foot two or three miles, rcgardJess of wea- ther, to hear a puritan minister, who prayed extempore. About this time also she avoided vain company, declined the use of cards and si- milar amusements, was strict in observance of what w\as termed the Sabbath, and would not even eat on that day such things as took up much time to prepare. As she advanced in life she rejected several offers of marriage, on account of the want of re- ligion which she perceived in her suitors; and at length miarricd a voung man of respectable family, named Springett ; intent, like herself, to avoid superstition in religion, and one whom long acquaintance had proved Avorthy of her ac- ceptance. She did not live long with her first husband, who, being a colonel of foot in the parliament-army, died of a calenture at his quar- ters near Arundel. Mary Springett was with child, at the time of her husband's death, of her daughter Gulielma Maria, afterwards the vrife of William Pcnn, and on her birth the usual cere- mony of what passes for baptism, appeared so objectionable^ that she refused to suffer the .infant to be sprinkled : which brought some reproach on her, and made her as a by-word among people of her own rank. Her relations ( S9 ) also and acquaintance sent such as vrere ac- counted able ministers^ and such as she had for- merly delighted to hear, to pei-suade her to comply; but they s'^nt in vain. Thus she stood her ground against that which appeared forma] ; but not being herself fully settled in religious opinion^ she swerved from simplicity^, roved from one notion to another^ and findinof no assurance in anv^ at leno:th g:ave over her religious exercises. '^ Indeed/ she says of herself, ^ I left them not in a loose mind, as *" some judged ; for had I found that I did per- ^ form Vt^hat the Lord required of me — I should *■ gladly have continued in them^ being zealously ^ affected this way^ in fasting often, in private ' prayer very frequent, rarely less than three ' times a day, many times oftener, a daily hearer ' of sermons upon all occasions, both lectures, *■ fasts, and thanksgivings. Most of the day was *^ spent in reading the scriptures, or in praying-^ ^ hearing, and such like, — and so great was my *■ delight in these things, that while I believed it '^ my duty, I have many times in the day sought *■ solitary places to pray in, as gardens, fields^ "^ and out-houses, when I could not be private in ^ the house, — for so vehement was my spirit, *" that I could not forbear being loud and ear^. ^ nest in pouring out niy soul.' Thus, after her long research, and zeal in whatsoever the professors of the day recom- mended, she did not find in herself that real change of heart Vvhich she aspired after, nor ac- c 4 ( 40 ) ceptance with the Lord. She therefore began to conclude, that although the Lord and his Truth were unchangeable, yet it was not in her day made known to any on the earth. And for some time she gave no attention to religion ; but de- voted herself to the diversions and pleasures of the world, both in public and private. But in the midst of such pursuits her heart was still sad ; and she would often retire from all com- pany for several days together. Lideed her mind was not captivated by the dissipating amusements of the age ; for she would often say Avithin herself, of the career in which she had engaged, ' What is all this to me ? I could easily •^ leave those things. They have not my heart. " My delight is not in them. I had rather serve ' the Lord, if indeed I could feel that which per- *" formeth acceptably to him.' About this time^ having retired into the country with her daughter and a maic!^ she went to bed one night very sad and disconsolate, through her deep conflict of mind respecting religion. She dreamed that she saw a book of hieroglyphics of religious things, or of a state that was to come in the church ; but -she thought that she had no delight in them^ thouo-h they were maonified bv those who shov/ed them ; but she turned from them greatly op- pressed, and going apart into a yard sorrowing, ^nd lifting up her eyes to heaven, she cried out^ Lord, suffer me no more to fall into false ways^, but show me thy Truth. Immediately the sky seemed to open, and bright lights like fire^, to fall ( 41 ) on he'r hand. She cried aloud and awoke, and the maid coming at her cries, found her trem- bling. Notwithstanding the state of uncertainty and sorrow, she so long experienced (Oh ! saith my soul, that the actual uncertainty which thousands are in, about the welfare of their souls, might induce them to be sorrowful also), she had learned in outward matters to be careful for no- thing, but in all things, as saith the apostle, to let her reauests be made know^n to God. And J. she frequently received help ; and a confidence in the Lord was given to her in that day, when she durst not own herself to have any religion that could be called true. ' If,' says she, ' I was ' to take a servant, or remove to any place, or ' do any thing that concerned my outward af- ' fairs, I never contrived, but retired to see what ' the day would bring forth, and waited in a firm ' belief that such things would be offered rne as ' I should embrace : so that I was not anxious *■ about any worldly accommodation ; but as ' things presented, I closed in with them, if I ' felt my heart answer : but in things of ever- '^ lasting concern continually hurried and dis- * satisfied/ For some years she durst not kneel down, or go to prayer, because she thought she could not call God Father, in truth, and she feared to mock him by formal devotion. Some- times she w^as melted into tenderness aid tears, iDUt not knowing whence it came, and being ( 42 ) read}^ to condemn all appearances of religion^ she concluded herself under planetary influence, and that one planet made her tender^ and ano- ther hardened her. She ventured not to suppose that she felt any influence of God's Spirit on her heart; although so great was her thirst after hj that she seemed to herself to resemble the parclved heathy or the hunted hart panting for water. In this state another remarkable dream was her lot, a part of which in her own words^ is as follows : ' I one night dreamt that as I ' was sitting in a room alone, retired and sad^ * I heard a very loud noise, some screaming^ ' yelling, and roaring in a doleful manner ; *•' som^e casting up" their caps, and hallooing in ^ way of triumph and joy. And as I listened ' to learn what was the cause, I thought that *' Christ v/as come, and that this was the different ' state of the people at his coming : some in ' joy, and smiie in extreme sorrow and amaze- ' ment. Thus I waited in much dread, for un- ' certainty about this thin^. At last I found ^ that neither the joy nor the sorrow of this con- ' fused multitude did arise from a certain know- ' ledge of his coming, but it was the effeft of a ' false rumour, So I abode in the room solitary, ' for I found I was not to join with either, but ' to wait in the stillness, and not to go forth to ' inquire concerning the tumult of the multi- ' tude. While I sat thus, all was whist, and it f was manifest to me that they were m-istaken. ( 43 ) • So I remained cool and low in my mind, until ' one came and said in a low voice, Christ is come ■- indeed and is in the next room, and with ' the Lamb's wife. At which my heart secretly ' leaped within me, and I was in haste to go, ' and express my love to him, and joy at his .- coming. But I was rebuked for my haste, and ' instructed to be sober, and come cool and ' softly into the next roonv. which I did. Then ' I came into a spacious hall, but stood at the ' bottom, trembling : for though I was joyed at ' the thing, yet I durst not go near him ; for it ' was said in me. Stay, and see whether he owns ' thee, and takes thee to be such as thou takest ' thyself to be. Christ stood at the upper end ' of the hall in the appearance of a fresh, lovely ' youth, clad in gray cloth, very neat and plain ' (at this time, 1 had not heard of a Quaker, or ' their o-arb). He was of a sweet, affable, court- ' eous carriage ; and I saw him embrace seve- ' ral poor, old, simple persons, whose appear- ' ance was very contemptible and mean, v.ith- ' out wisdom or be'suty : from which I judged ' that his wisdom and discretion was great, that ' he can, thought I, behold the hidden worth of ■■ these people, who to me appeared so unlovely ' and simple. At last he beckoned to me to ' come to him, at which I was very glad, but ' went lo%vly, and trembling, in much solidity, = and weightiness of spirit. Then I beheld a ' beautiful young virgin, slender, modest, and ' ..rave, in plain apparel, becoming and grace- ( ii ) ' h\\, iivA her image Av^as fully answering his '^ as a brother and sister/* Before the termination of the state of con- Hict^ which she had sustained so long,, Mary Springett w^as married to Isaac Penington. Her regard was attracted to him^, because, as has been hinted, she perceived that he had dis- ' covered the deceit of all mere notions; that,, like herself, he refused to be comforted by any form of religion, and was unwilling to rest satis- fied short of a heart-felt experience of the power. In this concern they united, and on her part there was a sincere desire to be ser- viceable to him, in his disconsolate condition. Thus they lived together, until the visit from the stranger already mentioned. But previously to this, Mary Penington had heard of a people which had lately arisen in the North, and were called Quakers. Consistently, however, with her plan of doubting all professions, she re- solved not to inquire after them or their prin- ciples; so that it was a year or more before she knew any thing of them, except that they used t\ie singular number in speaking to a single per- son. She had also seen a book of George Fox written iii the plain stile, which she accounted ridiculous; and she had likewise heard some false * Three things are remarkable in this dreara, and parti- cularly so ill one of a person whose future allotment was v/ith Friends. The stillness proper for coming to Christ, his simplicity of appearance, and the strict resemblance which the virgin (the Church) bore to him. ( « ) and calumnious reports. She held this people therefore in contempt; nevertheless she often had a secret desire to be with them when they prayed. The reader may recollect that to be acquainted with the genuine spirit of prayer^ was one of her earliest desires ; and she now thought that if she were present in the time of prayer^ she could feel whether they were of the Lord or not. But she forbore to gratify this inclination, because she knew not how to attend their meetings undiscovered; and if it should be known, she feared that it w^ould be reported^ she was inclined to their way, while she herself had no such intention. It has been already mentioned that Mary Penington has left some account of the parti- culars, so far at least as they affected herself, of the conference with. Thomas Curtis and Wil- liam Simpson. Her own words will best deli- neate the situation of her mind at that junc- ture. ' My mind,' says she, '^ was iomewhat af- *^ fected with the man who had discoursed' [with] ' us the night before (that is, the man who had spoken to her husband and herself over the park-pales) : for though I judged him weak *" in managing what he pretended tp, yet he '^ mentioned many weighty scriptures, which ^ dvvelt with me, proving from them manv ' things to be right, which I was not in the *" practice of; and others to be wrong, which I ' was practising ; and indeed it made me very sc^ " rious, and cRiite disposed to hear with attention ( 46 ) ' what these men* ( Curtis and wSinipson ) ' should ^ say. Their v/eighty and solid carriage brought ' a dread over me. for they came in the autho- «' rity and power of the Lord : insomuch that all ^ that were in the room were sensible of the * Lord's power manifested in them. Thomat ' Curtis mentioned this scripture, which at once * stopped all m.y inquiries and objections. ^''He ^' that doeth my w^ill shall know of my doctrine ^^ whether it be of God."* It immediately arose * in my mind. If I will know whether this is the ' truth which they have spoken, I must do what- * soever is manifested to be the will of God, "" And what was contrary to the Lord in me was '' clearly set before me, and I saw that it must * be removed, before I could be capable of ' judging rightly of their principles. This ^ v/rought much in me to obey what I knew was ' my present business. I now found that my ' vain inclinations and propensities were m.uch *■ stronger than I imagined, and that those things ' v^hich I thought I had treated with indiffe- *■ rence, had yet great powder over me. Terrible ' was the day of the Lord against all my vain ' and evil imaginations. This made me con- ' tinually cry out and mourn, both day and *■ night; and if I did cease a little, then I was, ' on the other hand, distressed with fears, lest I * This is not correctly quoted. '^ My doctrine is not ^' mine, but his that sent me,' If any man will do his will, " he shall know of the doctrine, whether it be of God, or ^* xi^hcther I speak of myself." John yii. 16, 17. ( 47 ; * should be again reconciled to those things ' which I felt the judgment of God was upon, ' and which I had a detestation of. Then I cried ' to the Lord that I might not be left in a quiet * and secure state^, till all the evil that lodged in *" my heart was wrought out. Many times hath ' this scripture been revived in my remem- ' brance^ '^ Ye will not come to me^ that ye *' might have life/* Then vvas the sense of my ' own unwillingness to bear the cross of Christ *" so strongly impressed on nfy m-ind^ that I was "' ready to say^ It is true I am undone if I come ' not unto thee; but I will not come^ for if I ^ Ao, I must leave that which cleaveth close to *' me^ and I cannot part vrith it/ ' I clearly ^ saw miy unwillingness to forsake my beloved * lusts that I might come unto him for life; but ' still upon every painful conflict this was in ' my mind. That although such severe discipline ^ seemed more than I could bear, vet that the ' wrath of God was greater^ and would be more * intolerable. I set myself against taking up ^ the cross to the language, fashions, customs, ' and honours of the %vorld ; for indeed my sta- ^ tion and connexions in life made it verv ' hard ; but I never had peace or quiet in my '^ mind till the Lord, by the stroke of hi:: judg- *■ ments, brought me off from all these things^ * which I found the light to manifest deceit and ^ bondage in. Yet thus to become a fool, and "^ lose my reputation in the world, cost me many ^ tears, many wakeful nights and sorrowful days; T ( 48 ) ^ but as I at length gaVe iip^ and laid aside my *" reasonings with fiesh and bloody I received ^ strength, and went to the meetings of those ' people' (Quakers) ' and found them truly of ' God. And my heart honoured them, and ' longed to be one of them : judging it worth ' my cost and pains, if I could witness such a ' change as I saw in them, and such a powder * over their corruptions/ ' As I continued * to take up the cross,- 1 received strength against ' many things that I had not thought possible to ' deny/ — ' But O! the joy that filled my soul * at the first meeting wx had at our then habi- ' tation at Chalfont, w^hich I still retain -k fresh ' and living sense of. That the Lord had given ' me to live, and worship him in that Spirit that ' was undoubtedly his own, that I needed not to ' put a stop to my spirit in it; hut swim in the life ' and give up my own strength to that which then ' melted and overcame me. O how long, and "^ how earnestly had I desired thus to worship ^ God, in full assurance of acceptance, and lift ' up m^y hands without doubting ! That day^, *■ and in the assembly, my spirit acknowledged ' to the Lord the greatness, and wonderful- '. ness of his rich mercy; and 1 was enabled to ' say, 27? z^" is what I have iv ait ed fur ; though I *' feared 1 never should have seen that w^hich the * Lord ovv^ned, and witnessed his blessed accept- * ance in assem.blinor together. ' Many are the trials 1 h:.ve met wath ; but as ^ they came by the Lord's ordering, they have ( 49 ) * not hurt me, but rather tended to strengthen ' me in the divine life. Once my mind sus- ' tained great hurt by running out into pre- ' judice against some friends ; nevertheless, after ' a time of deep and unknown sorrow, the Lord ' removed this thing, gave me a clearness in his *■ sight, and restored me to love and acceptance * with his beloved ones. And he hath many ' times refreshed my soul in his presence, and ' given me an assurance that I knew that state, ' in which he would never leave me, nor suffer / me to be dra^vn from him. And thouQ-h in- * firmities beset me; yet my heart cleaveth to the ^ Lord, in the bond of everlasting love which ' cannot be broken; and his divine streno-th ' supports me. Being sensible of my infirmities * I bemoan myself unto him, feeling that faith ' which gives victory, and keeps me low in a sense of my own weakness ; yet quickens me * in a lively hope of seeing satan trodden under ' my feet, by the grace of God, which is all-suf- *■ ficient. For I feel and know where my help ' lieth ; and when I slip in word or thought, I ' know my Advocate ; and, having recoiirse to * him, feel pardon and healino; : aoincr on to * overcome, watching against that which easily ' besets m.e. And I do believe the enemv can- ' not prevail over me; although he is suffered ' to prove me, that I might keep continually on ' the watch, and place my whole dependence on *■ the Lord, who only can make war with the dra- * gon. And by this discovery of my own weak- 9f ( so ) *■ ness, I am also taught to be tender of the ' tempted. Sweet is this state, though low: for ' m itl receive my daily breads which is given ' of the Lord ; for I cannot live to him^ but as ' he breatheth the breath of life upon me every ^ moment/ CHAP. III. Rcproachcr, and insults Jjestowed on I. and M. PeningtQii — extract of a letter to his father — a visit from the familij of Ellzvood — the altera- tioji in that of I. P. — its effects — a second visit at which the younger Elhcood is convinced — M. Penington pleads for him vcith his father, and takes him to Chcdfont, First imprison- mnent of Isaac Penington — Ids letter from prison to T. Ellxvood — the manner of his confinement — Jiis employ meiit — his piece *" Concerning the Ma- gistrate's protection of the innocenf — release- — apprehended again hut not inrprisoned — is the means of introducing Elluoood, as reader, to IS'Jilion — engages him as tutor to his children — some extracts from his writings — second im- •prisonment — third imprisonment^ having been taken into custody whilst attending the huricd of a friend — his cheerfnlness in prison-, — release — fourth imprisonment — plague in the gaol — re- leased — soon imp>risoned a fifth time — his letter to the earl of Bridgewater- — his health impaired — his release — letter to a friend — to George Fox— to Friends of Amershanu o N the cliange thus wrought in the outward demeanour, as well as in the inward principles^, of this pious pair, they had to endure many D 2 ( 52 ) cruel reproaches from their relations^ acquaint-^ ancC;, neighbours, and even from their servants. They became, to use the strong phrase of scrip- ture, '' a wagging of the head/' and were account- ed as fools, mad, or bewitched. They were even stoned and abused, in towns whither they went to attend meetings : and this too, at a time when the nation was enjoying (or rather rioting in) that liberty of conscience which had been so much restrained in the reign of Charles I. and by the power of his persecuting prelates. The few particulars of the domestic economy of Isaac Penington, and of his sufferings on ac- count of his new profession, not obtained from the manuscript of his wife, from which the sketch of her conversion has been drawn, are chiefly to be found in the journal of Thomas Ellwood (a work remarkable for its lively narration, which almost depicts as well as describes) ; and in the testimony of the same friend to the memory of Penington, prefixed to the collection of his works. There is, however, in a manuscript col- lection of the letters of Isaac Penington, taken from a larger collection copied out by his son, one written not far from the time of his joining with the Society of Friends, namely, in the year 1558, and addressed to the alderman his father. From this I propose to make a copious extract, seeing so far as it shows the kind of opposition, which be met with, from a parent whom he ap- pears to have tenderly loved, it mpy be con= sidered as a part of his history. ( 53 ) ^ Ah ! dear father> ^ Why dost thou so often give me occasion of ' mourning before the Lord^ of hard and un- ' ritrhteous charo^es from thee ? How often have ' I solemnly professed that there never was any ' desire in me, nor endeavours uised by me, to ' draw my father into this isoay? which my father ^ will not equally consider; but will have his ' own apprehension go for granted ! All that ' is in my soul is this, that my father might *^ have the true knowledge of Christ, and not ^ set up another thing in the stead of it' he amplifies this wish, which I abbreviate ' My ' father lays down three reasons why he cannot ^ believe this v^ay to be of God. ' 1. God's way is a way of love, peace, and ^. unity,* ' Answer. If my father had that eye which ^ can see the things of God, and did apply him- ' self to look therewith, he might see that ' peace, that love, that unity, among this people, ' which other men do but talk of; but if he • take things by the report of the enemies both ' to God and them, he shall be sure to hear and *^ believe bad enough. They have no war with ' any thing but unrighteousness ; and with that ^ they cannot have peace, no, not in their ' dearest relations. They love the souls of their ' enemies, and think no pains or hazard too ' great for the saving of them. Being per- * secuted, they bless; being reviled, they en-- ' treat, and pray for their persecutors. They D 3 - ( 54 ) ' are at unity with whatever is of God; but with ' the seed of the serpent, they cannot be at ' unity for the spirit of the scribes and pha- ' risees is now in the world ; and the spirit of ' Christ and his apostles is also in the world; and ' they cannot but fight, each with their [its] ' proper weapons : the one with stocks, whips^ ' fines, prisons, &c. ; the other with the spi- *" ritual armour of Christ. Thus the one of these ' wrestles with flesh and blood, fights with the ' creature, hurts that; the other loves the crea- ' ture, seeks the saving of it, and fights only with ' the power of darkness, which rules the creature.' ' And this peace, this love, this unity, they *■ attain, not by their own strivings after it, but ■^ by receiving it from above. Indeed all our ' religion lies in receiving a gift : without which, ' we are nothing, and can do nothing ; and in ' which, nothing is too hard for us.' ' 2. GocVs waij is a way of liumiliiij .* ' Answer. If they had not been broken and ' humbled by God, they could never have en- ' tered into this way: which is that which the *' lofty, fleshly part abhors. Nor is this a volun- ' tary humility; but an humility which crosseth ^ and breaketh the will all the day long.' *" 3. That God is a God of order :, not of confu- sion/ ' Answer. Blessed be the Lord, who hath re- ' covered some of the true churches' order for *" us ; and delivered out of the confusion of anti- ' Christ. We know order in the li^ht^ order in ( 65 ) ' the Spirit, order in Christ, the truth; but that ' which man in his wisdom, calls order, is but ' antichrist's order, which, with God, is con- ' fusion. To have man's spirit speak and God's ' Spirit stopt, this is the order of all the anti- ' christian congregations and churches ; but to ' have man's spirit stopt and God's Spirit speak, ' this is the order of Christ's church; and this ' order we know, and rejoice in.' ' My father doth not believe that Mr. Gurdci < (.as the world calls him), or any other godhj ' man, doth persecute them, for their consciences.' ' Answer. I know no godly man can persecute. ' The lamb never did worry the wolf. But the ' grossest persons [qu. if not originally rersecn- ' tors'] will not acknowledge that they persecute ' for conscience ; but accuse those whom they ' persecute, for evil-doers, and say they sufler as ' evil-doers. Cannot my father see the narrow- ' ness of this covering .? Would the Scribes, ' and Pharisees, and zealous among the Jews, ' confess that thev put Christ and Stephen to ' death, for conscience? The eye of that spi- < rit is as blind now, as it was then : it cannot see ' its own deceit.' • ' The last part of the letter consists of very ' harsh and unrighteous charges, mixed with bi^t- ' ter expressions, which I shall pass over— only ' I confess it is somewhat hard to one part of me, ' that my own father should deal thus with me.' ' About having comfort in me, and wishing ' me more, comfort in my son, I m«st needs say n 4 ( 60 ) ^ this. There is a part which God hath struck "^ at^ and is destroying, and I have no comfort ' herC;, and that is able to yield little comfort to ' any one else. If I were in any formal way ^ of religion, I might be a comfort to my father *" (for he could be gratified with that, or at least ^ bear w^ith that); but because the Lord hath ' seized upon my heart by the power of his *" Truthj and I can bow to none but him (no, ' not to my most dear father), now I am no ' comfort. I arn sure I have had little comfort ' all my days, in seeing my father's course of ' religion, which I ever could testify of, as not ' being of God (yea, my late dear mother would ' often bewail it to me); and many times have ^ I poured out my soul before the Lord. Yet ' hear my words, O my father, hear my words. ^ O! pierce into the nature of things. Set not ^ up shadows instead of the truth. Wait for the * gift. Receive the true love, the true peace, ' the true unity, the true humility (which lies ' not in the will, but destroys the will), and wc ' shall soon know one another, and have comfort ' in one another/ ** ' 14th of 12th Month, 1658.' Thomas Elhvood relates that he accompanied his father in a visit to Isaac and Mary Peningtoij, soon after the alteration in their manners, when they lived on their own estate at Chalfont. The commencement of the acquaintance had been some years before, when the elder Ellwood ( 57 ) liad contracted a friendship with Mary, then called Lady Springett. It had afterwards con- tinned with both her and Isaac Penington; and this visit seems to have been the first, since they had come to reside in Buckinghamshire. The visitors were much surprised, on their arrival, to find that their friends were no longer the courtly persons they had known them to be; but had become Quakers, a people of which the Ell- woods had no knowledge, and a name of which they had before scarcely heard. Their recep- tion was with so strict a gravity, as disappointed their expectations of the pleasant visit that they had promised to themselves ; and as there were other visitors in the house, they found no op- portunity of endeavouring to gratify their cu- riosity, by inquiring the occasion of the change. Mary Penington^s daughter Gulielma had also embraced the profession of Friends; and Thomas Ellwood, who had been acquairted with her from childhood, and had been her play-fellow at that age, endeavoured to engage her as usmal m familiar conversation. But the gravity of hei- deportment, though her behaviour to him was still courteous, perplexed him, struck a kind of awe upon him, and induced him to retire with some confusion of mind. When dinner was served, it was still what is termed very hand- some, and wanted nothing to recommend it but mirth and free conversation; which the visitors could not have with their serious entertainers, nor, because of them, with each other. The ( 58 ) weightiness which was on the spirits, and ap- peared on the countenances of the friends, kept down the levity of their visitors. Yet Isaac Penington was far, if we may trust his writings, from being a morose man. But levity is hostile to true religion, and the man who has found and purchased the pearly does not w^ant the trifling joy of convivial gaiety. But the visit, though it turned out so different to expectation, seems to have had the effect of rendering the elder visitor, who w^as then in the commission of the peace, less prejudiced against Friends, when they came in his v;ay. This he soon after evinced, by releasing a voung man,, who had been apprehended for speaking a few words to a priest, after the sermon and prayers were ended, at an adjacent village. It was not very lon^r before the family of Ell- w^ood made another visit at Chalfont. They staid several days, and attended a meeting in the neighbourhood w^ith the familv, at which Thomas Ellwood was convinced; but, as it is not the ob- ject of this work to wTite the history of this friend, vvho has himself done it so ablv and agreeablv, the visit is chiefly mentioned to show the practice of Isaac Penington : namely, in the long evenings of winter, to call in the servants who v/ere friends, and to sit down together in silence. At least this was done at the period of the visit in question. It is natural, for there is that w^hich may be called the nature of spiritual things, it is- na- ( 59 ) tural for the humble mind which has long en- dured conflict, and has been brought through it, not by any inherent strength of its own, to pity those who are still sustaining the warfare; and to be greatly desirous of stretching out to them the hand of support. Thus it was with Mary Penington. In a visit at the house of Ell- wood she observed the sufferings of the son from the temper of the father, on the occasion of re- maining covered before him. vShe remembered what her husband had suffered from his own fa- ther, on a like account ; and she also remxcm- bcr^d that the relation of it to her friend Eliwood had drawn from him, at a time when he did not expect it to be his own case, a heavy censure on the alderman. She had therefore the oppor- tunity of offering some arguments on behalf of the son, not easily to be evaded by the father. Added to this intercession, she desired, and ob- tained the father's permission, that young Ell- w^ood should return with her and her husband in the coach, and remain v;h\\ them a while at Chalfont. Great indeed v/as the love and the kindness of Isaac and Mary Penington to Thomas Ellvrood, while he remained in the family. They wxre as affectionate parents to him, and as tender nurses in his state of religious childhood. Be- sides their seasonable counsels,- and exemplary conversation, they furnished him with the means of soino- to other meetings of Friends in the country, when no meeting Vr^as iieid at then' house.' And ThoiTias Eliwood asserts that the ( 00 ) time he passed in their company was so well spent, that it not only afforded great satisfac- tion to his mindj but in good measure turned to his spiritual advantage, in the truth. If the woe be attached to those who offend the little ones that believe ; surely the blessing will rest on the heads of such as^ through their love to the Lord, are sedulous to comfort them. Hitherto Isaac Penington had escaped what may be termed judicial suffering. It is possible, the rank his father, the alderman, held in the republic might have its share in procuring him this exemption. But en the restoration of Charles II. such a motive, had it ever existed, would fail to operate ; and the frantic insurrec- tion of the Fifth-mxonarchy men soon gave the spirit of persecution a pretext for harassing the dissenters. The first notice we have of any im- prisonment of Isaac Penington is in the Account of Friends' sufferings, in Svo*; where under the head Buckinghamshire, in the year 1660, it is briefly said that ' Five, namely, Isaac Penington, ^ George Salter, Thomas Pewsey, William Sexton, ' and Edward Barton, were apprehended by the ' constables when together, and sent to prison for ' such meeting.* The prison was the county gaol at Aylesbury, in which we find them re- maining on the 30th 11th month (answering to that called January) 1660; together with sixty- two others who were chiefly committed for re- * An Abstract of the Sufferings of the people called Quakers, kc. 1738. Vol. 11. ( 61 ) fusing to swear, the oath of allegiance ; but who had, for the more part, been taken up when meeting peaceably together. There is a short letter which Isaac Penington wrote during this imprisonment to his young friend Ellwood, then also in confinement at Oxford. It may serve in this place as a specimen of Isaac Penington's mind in the estimating of sufferings, and of the unabated care and affection which he bore to Thomas Ellwoocl. ' Dear Thomas, ' Great hath been the Lord's goodness to thee, ' in calling thee out of that path of vanity, and ' death, wherein thou wast running toward de- *■ struction ; to give thee a living name, and * an inheritance of life, among his people : which * certainly will be the end of thy faith in him, *■ and obedience to him. And let it not be a ' lio-ht thins in thine eyes that he now account- ' eth thee worthy to suffer among his choice ' lambs, that he might make thy crown weightier, * and thine inheritance the fuller. O that that ' eye and heart may be kept open in thee, which ' kno^veth th^ value of these things ! and that ' thou mayst be kept close to the feeling of the ' life, that thou mayst be fresh in thy spirit in ' the midst of thy sufferings, and mayst reap the *■ benefit of them : finding that pared oW there- ' by, which hindereth the bubblings of the ever- ' lasting springs, and maketh unfit for th-; break- 5 ing forth and enjoyment of the pure power ' ( 63 ) ^ This is the brief salutation of my dear love to *■ thee^ which desireth thy strength and settle- ' men t in the power; and the utter weakening ^ of thee, as to thyself. My love is to thee^, ^ with dear Thomas Goodyare^ and the rest of *■ the imprisoned Friends/ ^ I remain thine in the Truth, to which "■ the Lord my God preserve me single *■ and faithful/ ' I. P.' ' From Aylesbury Gaol. I4th of 12tli month, 1660.' Isaac Penington remained in prison a part of the following year ; and from Ellwood, who havino^ oained his libertv, sometimes visited him in prison, we learn some of the particulars of his treatment there : to estimate which right- ly, it should be noticed that he was of a tender habit of body; and his education and manner of life had been those of a gentleman. Most of the sixty-three prisoners were kept in an old room behind the gaol, which had once been a malt-house, but, says Ellwood, then decayed, and scarcely fit for a dog-house. It was also so insecure, that the prisoners might have escaped ; and it was, probably, the confidence placed in them, which procured for them this incommodi- ous lodging. Isaac Penington, w^hether his lodg- ing w^ere in this or another room, for Ellwood in his testimony, calls it a cold and very incom- modious room without a chimnev, contracted so ( 63 ) much disease^ his durance being in ^vintei^ that for several weeks after he was unable to turn himself in his bed. There is somethino- ani- mating in the cheerfulness with which our early friends underwent the rigours of confine- ment ; of which, so far as relates to Isaac Pen- ington^ proof will be given as we proceed. In this confinement he wTote his piece entit- led, ' Som.ewhat spoken to a weighty question, ' concerning the Magistrate's Protection of the- * ' Innocent : wherein is held forth theBlessing and ' Peace, which nations ought to wait for and em- *■ brace in the latter days/ 4to, 2 sheets. To un- dertake an outline of Penington's tracts would, be difficult, and yet I am inclined to give some strokes of this, as it first falls in my way to no- tice. Re pleads for an exemption from fioht- ing, for such as are redeemed from the spirit of the world to the spirit of the gospel. ' How ' can he fight v, ith creatures, in whom is love ^ and good-will towards those creatures ; and * whose bow^els are rolling over them, because of * their wanderings in the lusts, in the strife, and ' in the wars }' Yet he asserts the duty of the magistrate to protect not only those who are unable through v/eakness, but such as are for- bidden, by motives of gospel good-will, to. fio-^t for themselves. He thus obviates the fear some have had, that a nation of peaceful Christians W'ould be invaded and ruined. Such a thino- must have a beginning before it can be per- fected. ^Vhoever would see this lavelv thins brought forth in the general, must cherish it in the particular. It is not for a nation coming into the gospel-principle to take care before- hand how it shall be preserved; but the gospel will teach a nation, as well as a particular person to trust the Lord, and wait on him for preser- vation. He condemns not, yea, he appears even to be too liberal in allowing, to the magistrate the use of the sword, in repelling invasion or rebellion ; but he declares there is a better state, yea, saith he, it is far better to know the Lord to be the defender, and to wait on him daily, than to. be ever so strong and skilful in weapons of war. He instances the case of the Egyptians, of Sennach- erib, and of the enemies of Israel, who were re- strained, while Israel went to appear before the Lord. ^ Will he not,' says Penington, ' defend ' that nation whom he teacheth to leave off w^r ?* The work has several divisions. In one of them he states what the Friends desire with reference to government. 1. Universal liberty for all sorts to worship, as Christ shall open men's eyes to see the truth. 2. That no laws contrary to equity may remain in force, nor any be made but agreeably to equity. There is also a lively address ' To ' such as have felt the power of the endless life * drawing ; and have faithfully followed the ' Leader of the flock of Israel/ &c. This has the date of his prison-house. ' From Aylesbury ' prison in Bucks, where my life breathes for the ' consolation and redemption of God's Israel, * and for the turning of the captivity of th? ( 65 ) ' whole creation/ The following prayer con- cludes the pamphlet. ' O God of love, who knowest the value and ' price of souls, pity thy poor creatures, and ' put a stop to this course of perishing, wherein ' so many multitudes are overtaken, and pass ' down to the pit unawares. O thy bowels, thy ' bowels, thy wonderful bowels ! Let them roll ' in thee, and work mightily, and, in the ' strenoth of thy compassions, bring forth thy ' judgment and thy mercy among the sons of ' men. Build up the tents of Sem; persuade ^ japhet to dwell therein ; and let Canaan be- ' come a servant. Preserve the feet of thy saints ' for ever. Shut up and silence the wricked ' one in the darkness. Let not his strength or '^ subtiltv prevail against thee or thine any more ; ' but let the fresh power of thy life, and the vir- * tue of thy incomprehensible love, redeem, fill, ' possess, and make glad the heart of thy cre- ' ation for ever. Amen. Amen.' After Isaac Penington was discharged from this imprisonment, he went again to reside at his house at Chalfont, in which there was gene- rally held a meeting twice in the week; but one First-day in four, there was a more general meeting, to which most of the friends of the . neif^hbouring meetings usually resorted. At one of these general meetings were pre- sent, besides the neighbouring friends, a brother of Isaac Penington, named William, who was a merchant of London, and with him a friend of E ( 66 ) Essex: there was also the noted George White« head of Westmoreland^ a man inured to suffer- ing, Thomas Elhvood, and one John Ovy, a bap*- tist-teacher, who had desired to become ac^ quainted with Isaac Penington. These came on the preceding day, and were entertained in his hospitable mansion. The meeting had not long been gathered, and was sitting in great stillness and composure, when a party of horse made its appearance, and the two Peningtons, the Essex -friend, George Whitehead, Thomas Ellwood, and three or four more were taken into custody, and immediately conveyed to a magistrate who re- sided at a considerable distance. The remainder held their meeting without further molestation. This seems to have been an arrest made con- formably to a proclamation forbidding the meet- ings of dissenters; which had been issued in conse- quence of the rising of the Fifth-monarchy men: but neither the commander of the soldiers, Mat- thew Archdale of Wycomb, nor the magistrate, William Boyer of Denham, appear to have been inclined to persecution. One showed his lenity by apprehending so few ; the other by finding, or contriving, means for discharging those few. He considered Isaac Penington as but at home in his own house; his brother and the Essex man, as naturally on a visit, and the neighbouring friends as persons whom he could easily send for. These therefore he dismissed ; but he could find no such excuse for Ellwood and Whitehead, whom therefore he threatened ( 67 ) to commit; but at length suffered them, as it was too late in the day to send them to Ayles- bury, to return home with Isaac Penington, on promise of being ready at his house in the morn- ing : when he took care not to send for them, or molest them any more. It was not long after this event that Isaac Penington found means to introduce Ellwood as a reader to the poet Milton, who had then lost his sight : which circumstance is probably in- teresting to the literary world, as Ellwood was the cause of his writing the poem called Para- dise regained. This fixed Ellwood in London, by which means in the year 1662, he underwent imprisonment both in Bridewell and Newgale : and after his reltase became Latin tutor to the children of Isaac Penington. Penington was esteemed curious and skilful in pronunciation, and was verv desirous to have his children well grounded in their native tongue. For this pur- pose he had procured for them a very accurate teacher, who performed his ofiice to the satis- faction of his employer ; but as he aimed no higher, and a successor more learned had not yet been found, Isaac Penington, who then be- ing in ill health kept his chamber, requested Ellwood to enter his children in^he rudiments of Latin. He complied ; but instead of a tem- porary, became a permanent tutor, and staid near seven years in the family. From the time of Isaac Penington's release in the early part of 1661, it doth not appear that E 2 ( 68 ) he was molested on account of his religious ]3rii1- ciples^ until the year 1664; but though he him- self was at liberty^ he did not lorget his fellow- prisoners whom he had left^ or who had since his release been committed to prison^ at Ayles- bury : for in the 7th month of the year 166 J^ he went to visit them in their confinement ; and whilst with thcni;, wrote the following letter to king Charles II. ' O King, ' The Lord God of heaven and earth is mighty^, ' who hath often and greatly shaken this nation *■ already: and this I have observed^ that the *■ seeming settlements, which hitherto have been^, *^ since the Lord began to shake^ have been but ' preparative to a further shaking and dissettling. ' O ! happy wert thou, if thou couldst wait for^ *^ and receive^ such a guidance from God, as that ^ thy government might be so pure, peaceable, ' and ri2:hteous, as it misfht need no further ' shaking by his hand. God sometime raiseth ' man from a low estate^ and exalteth him ; but " if he forget the Lord, and his heart be lifted ^ up, he is able to bring him down again. O ! ' fear the Lord in the days of thy prosperity, ' and let thy heart be abased before him, and ' sensible of the need of his preservation. In- ' deed;, it is a hard matter to govern these kino;- ^ doms aright, as the state now stands. Thou ' mayst easily err and dash upon the rocks. Othat ' the pure eye were open in thee: whereby thou ( 69 ) ' mightest see that as thou didst not gam these ' kingdoms by policy or strength; so neither canst ^ thou retain them by those m.eans; but only by ' the good pleasure of Him who hath all the *■ earth at his dispose ! I beseech thee, in that ^ tender love I bear to thee, take heed of ooin^; ^ about to plant what the Lord hath plucked up ; "■ or of endeavouring to pluck up what the Lord ' hath planted, If thou lookest with man's eye, ' thou canst not see what God is doing in the ^ world; and so rnayst easily run a course con- ^ trary to his will, and eternal counsel : and O ^ how hazardous must this needs be to thee 1 *■ The eternal peace of thy soul with God for ' ever, and thy prosperity, depend upon thy ^ knowing the counsel of the Lord, and upon ' thy obedience thereunto. O ! retire from this *■ w^orld's baits^ snares, temptations, allurements^ *■ and vanities ; which drav/ out and defile the *■ mind ; and retreat inward, that the Lord may ' teach thee his fear, and preserve thee from ' those lusts and desires of the fleshly mind, ' w^hich, being hearkened to and followed, are *■ very dangerous to the soul, and may prove ' perilous outwardly also. What shall my love ^ say to thee ? O that the Lord would speak to ^ thee in spirit, and give thee an ear to hear, ' that thou mightest be happy now and for ever ! ^ Often have my bowels rolled over thee ex- * ceedingly,, even in the day of thy adversity, ^ and since thy prosperity. O that thou couldest I reinember God daily, and forget this v/orld ! s 3 ( 70 ) ^ Remember the years of thy affliction ; and ' make use of the present day with an humble ' heartj and with a broken spirit. O ! do nothing ^ to provoke the Lord against thee ; for surely ^ his eye is upon thee^ and his heart pondereth ' all thy w^ays. And bow before him for his ' counsel, that thou may est not arise against thy ^ Maker, as the foregoing powers have done : for ^ if he rise up in battle against thee, thou wilt ' no more be able to stand before him than they *" were. Nay, the stronger thou art outwardly *" settled, the greater will the glory of his name ** be in overturning thee. O that thou mightest ' rule under God, and for God! and not with ' that wisdom, and with those self-ends, and in- ' terests, which are not of him, and cannot but ' be against him. I cannot but desire thy good; ^ yea, the very breathings of my heart to the ' Lord have been often for thee ; and upon that ^ account singly do I write thus to thee ; be- *^ seeching the Lord, if it be his pleasure, that *■ when that work which is necessary to be done * is finished, thine eyes may be opened to see ^ the ^vay of righteous government in the true ' light. ' From one who mourns over the misery , , - ''of mankind, longing for the redemp- ^ tion of those that go astray, and a true ' lover of thy soul. ' LP.' • Aylesbury prison, where I am visiting ' some of my dear friends in God's < eternal truth, 17th 7th mo. 1G61.' ( 71 ; There is to this letter a postscript of nearly the same length. The beginning and the con- clusion, with some of the intermediate parts, are as follows : *" Let thy government be like unto God's: *■ even a yoke to the unjust, but libertv to the *■ just. O, when shall the cry of the innocent ^ cease, throughout all thy borders ? Restore un- ■ to the Lord his dominion over men's consci- ' ences, while it is in the power of thine hand ' to do it. O! seek after love, meekness, rioht- * eousness, tenderness, towards all thy subjects : * which hath God's blessing with it, and is the ^ way to win all their hearts towards thee. And *■ do not harden multitudes of them against thee, ^ by unnecessary yokes over their consciences : ' which they that do not eye God in all, and in ' lowliness of spirit bow before him, may be apt ' to kick against and strive to throw off. ^ And I beseech thee, take heed of this * world's pleasures and vanities ; wiiich steal ' awav the heart from God, and make it thick ' and gross, that it cannot hear his voice or know ' his counsel. I am satisfied with what the Lord ' shall do ; but it is the earnest desire of my ^ heart, that thou mightest be spared in the day '■ of God's visitation, which is coming upon this ' nation. This is my desire for thee, that thy ' heart might be brought into, and kept in, that * frame which God loves and delights to be pre- ' sent with, and to instruct, and [that] all such * things might be eschewed and avoided by thee;, E 4 ( 72 ) ^ which may prove dangerous to thy soul for ^ ever^ and to thy government here. For though ^ thou beest a great king here^ yet^ if thou wilt ' attain the blessing and inheritance of eternal ^ life^ and escape eternal misery and destruc- ^ tioU;, thou must take up the cross to thy lusts^, ' and walk in the same path of mortification and ' self-denial^ Vviiich God^ who is no respecter of ^' persons^ hath chalked out to the meanest of * thy subjects. Hear^ O king, turn towards the '^ Lord^ bow before him in soul and spirit, in ' thy whole conversation. It is a greater honour '^ to be a subject to him^ than to reign over '^ men.' In the period of liberty which intervened be- tween the first imprisonment of Isaac Penington already related^, and the second^ an interval of about three years, the number of his writings which issued from the press was thirteen : on va- rious occasions, but all of a religious tendency. The reader is referred to the Review, which forms a large part of this work, for a general catalogue of his writings ; but an extract from two of them exhibits so much of Christian pa- tience and Christian good-will, that it is possible he will not be displeased at the introduction of it in this place. In a short piece, entitled ' Three Queries pro- ' pounded to the King and Parliament,' he thus gives his belief respecting the people with whom he \vas suffering, evinces his patience and cha- ( 73 ) rity, and asserts his faith that the Lord in due time would deliver them. ■ ' 1 I am assured in mv heart and soul, that this ' despised people called Quakers, is of the Lord's ' be<4tting, in his own life and nature. Indeed, ' had I not seen the power of God in them, and ' received from the Lord an unquestionable ' testimony concerning them, I had never looked « towards them ; for they were otherwise very ' despisable in my eyes. And this I cannot but ' testify concerning them, that I have found ' the life of God in my owning them ;. and that ' which God hath begotten in my heart refreshed, ' by the power of life in them. And none but ' the Lord knows the beauty and excellency of ' glory, which he hath hid under this mean ap- ' pearance.' ' 3 The Lord hath hitherto preserved them ' aoainst great oppositions, and is still able to ' preserve them. Every power hitherto hath ' made nothing of overrunning them ; yet they ' have hitherto stood, by the care and tender ' mercy of 'the Lord ; and the several powers ' which have persecuted them, have fallen one ' after another.' ' 3. I have had experience myself of the ' Lord's goodness and preservation of me, in my ' sufferin^g with them for the testimony of his ' truth; who made my bonds pleasant to me; ' and my noisome prison, enough to have des- * troyed my weakly and tender-educated nature, « a place of pleasure and delight ; where I was ( u ) ^ comforted by my God night and day^ and filled ^ with prayers for his people : as also with love *" to^ and prayers for^ those who had been the ^ means of outwardly afflicting me and others^ ^ upon the Lord's account/ ^ 4. 1 have no doubt in my heart that the ^ Lord will deliver us. The strength of man, ' the resolution of man^ is nothing in my eye ^ in [to] compare with the Lord. Whom the ^ Lord lovethj he can save at his pleasure. Hath ^ he beo-un to break our bonds and deliver us. ^ and shall we now distrust him? Are we in a *" worse condition than Israel waS;, w^hen the sea ^ was before them, the mountains on each side, ' and the Egyptians behind pursuing them ? He ^ indeed that looketh with man's eye, can see no ^ ground of hope, nor hardly a possibility of de- * liverance; but, to the eye of faith, it is now ^ nearer, than when God began at first to deliver/ '5. It is the delight of the Lord and his glory, ' to deliver his people, when to the eye of sense "^ it seemeth impossible. Then doth the Lord " delioht to stretch forth his arm, when none else *■ can help ; and then doth it please him to deal ^ with the enemies of his truth and people, when *^ they are lifted up above the fear of Him, and ^ are ready to say in their hearts concerning ^ them, '' Thev are now in our hands. Who can '^^ deliver them ?" ' Well, were it not in love to you, and in pity, •^ in relation to what will certainly befall you, if ^ you go on in this course, I could say in the joy ( 75 ) * of my heart, and in the sense of the good-wili ' of my God to us, who siiffereth these things to ' come to pass. Go on. Try it out zvlththe Spirit '' of the Lord. Come forth -with your laivs, and *■ prisons, and spoiling of our goods, and banish- ' ment, and death (if the Lord please) and see if ' ye can carry it. For we come not forth against *■ you in our own wills, or in any enmity against ^ your persons or government, or in any stub- ^ bornness, or refractoriness of spirit ; but with ' the lamb-iike nature, w^hich the Lord our God * hath begotten in us, which is taught and en- ' abled by him both to do his will, and to suffer ' for his name's sake. And if wx cannot thus over- *■ come you, even in patience of spirit and in love '^ to you, and if the Lord our God please not to ^ appear for us, we are content to be overcome ^ by you. So the will of the Lord be done^ saith ^ my soul/ These queries have not any date. They are placed in Whiting's catalogue between the dates of 1662 and 16G3. To the former of these, belongs the piece from which the follow- ing is taken, entitled, ^ Some observations upon ' Romans xiv. 20/ It is probable that the ope- ration of grace upon a mind naturally tender ^nd compassionate, produces a display of human nature in its most amiable point of view; and it should be surveyed with due reverence to the power that sometimes permits a combination of so many pleasing qualifications. At the same time it is proper to remember;, that tempers. ( 76 ) apparently cast in a rougher mould, have their appropriate place in the church, and in the world ; and that all depends upon each exer- cising his faculties, of whatsoever kind, in sub- ordination to divine wisdom. ' I am,' says this favoured man, ' a lover of * mankind in general, and have been a deep suf- ^ ferer with, and traveller [travailer] for, all the ^ miserable. None knows the path of my sor- *■ rows, or the extent of my bowels, but he that *^ made me. It is not natural, or kindly to me^ ^ to upbraid any man with any kind of wicked- ^ ness, or ever so justly-deserved misery; but ^ my bowels work concerning him towards the ' Spring of eternal power and compassions: even ^^ as I would be pitied, and represented to the ' Father of mercies in the like condition. In- ^ deed I have been emptied from vessel to ves- ^ sel, and tossed with multitudes of storms and ^ tempests ; yet the savour of my life remain- ^ eth with me to this day, and the Spirit of my ^ God breatheth on my heart: blessed be his ' holy name for ever ! x\nd though I walk with * one sort of people, because my heart saith ^ (yea, the Spirit of the eternal God hath wit- ^ nessed unto me, and shown me in that light ' which cannot deceive, and to that eye which * cannot be deceived ) that they are the people ^ whom he hath chosen out of all the gatherings * (throughout the earth), from the apostasy, to ' manifest his power in, and his presence among; ^ I say, though I have been guided and led by the ( 77 ) ^ Spirit of the Lord to walk among these ; yet *^ I am not bounded there, either in the love or ^ in the unity of my heart; but I have unity with ' the integrity and zeal for God which is in ^ otherSj of what sort or gathering soever ; and ' I have tender bowels for all, even for those ^ w^hich hate and persecute that which is mv Hfe^ ' and hath the love of my heart for ever/ ' Oh, how have I prayed for the lost world ! ' For all the souls of mankind, how hath mv soul ' bowed in unutterable breathings of spirit be- ' fore my God, and could not be silenced; until ' he quieted my spirit in [the] righteousness ' and excellency of his will ; and bid me leave ^ it to him./ There are scarcely any particulars of Isaac Penington's second imprisonment : at least few have ofrcred themselves in the search, which the present compilation has occasioned. It is how- ever known, and this little we learn from his friend Ellwood's testimony, which has been be- fore mentioned, that he was taken out of a meet- ing for w^orship, and again confined in Avles- bury gaol for nearly the same space of time as , at the former commitment : that, is upwards of seventeen weeks. About this time a very severe law had been made, specially against Friends. The penalty, enacted by this law, on assembling for the pur- pose of religious w^orship, in a number exceed- ing four, was, for what v/as called the first offence, five pounds, for the second iQu, and for the ( 78 ) . thirds banishment: or^ in case of non-payment of the fineSj three^ and six months' imprison- ment. Soon after the publication of this law Isaac Peninoton^, with many of the friends of the adjacent country, went to Amersham^ to attend * the burial of a deceased acquaintance. As they were carrying the body along the street to the burying-ground,, they were assaulted by a ma- gistrate^ who happened to be passing through the town. Hearing of the interment he put up his horse^ procured constables and a multitude of assistants^, and came forth, sword in hand, to attack the peaceable bearers. His first command , to set down the coffin, though seconded with a blow, not succeeding, he himself threw \\ to the ground, and forced the attendants to leave it. He then caused the friends to be apprehended, and, having procured another justice to join him, committed ten of them to Aylesbury pri- son: though they were not even assembled un- der pretence of worship. It was late on the Seventh-day of the week when the prisoners were intrusted to the constable. Aylesbury was nine miles ofTj according to Ellwood's account, fourteen as they are now measured ; and the con- stable neither liked so long and so late an expe- dition, nor that the town should be at the charge of keeping the ten prisoners two nights and the intermediate day. He therefore suffered them all to return home, on their parole to attenxl him at Amersham on Second-day morning. This con- fidence in the word of Friends was not an uncom- ( 79 ) fnon thing in the thne of their persecution. The prisoners, of whom Isaac Penington was one, did not infringe upon that confidence. They came according to the appointment, and were con- ducted to gaol. Some former prisoners had been ill-treated in this gaol, and closely confined among the felons, because they had refused some fees. The gaoler was not at home when the friends from Amersham were brought in. They forbore therefore to take possession of any rooms until he should return ; and they then declared they would haye a free prison. In the mean time they had dined on the ground, in the prison-yard, on bread and cheese; in much con- cern for Isaac Penington, on account of the ten- derness of his constitution. He, on the contrary, was so liycly in his spirit, and so cheerfully re- signed to suffer, that he rather encouraged his fellow-sulTerers, than needed encouragement from them : and the gaoler, on his return, fatigued probably with the firmness of the former pri- soners, granted lodgings to these on their own terms. The assizes were just at hand; but the judge (Morton) refused to hear their cause, re- ferring it to the justices who had committed them. These therefore fined them six shiiiino-s and eightpence each, and, the payment being of course refused, committed them for one month to prison, on the a61 for banishment. It is to be obseryed that the justices had power to lessen both the fine, and the term of imprisonment preyious to banishment. Lenity mio^ht occasion ( 8d ) the first, and a desire to procure speedy banish- ment, the other. The words of the act were not exceeding five pounds, or three months, and so in the second fining and imprisonment, of ten pounds and six months. At the expiration therefore of one month, Penington and his com- panions were enlarged ; and they gratified the gaoler for his civility. Isaac Penington appeared nov/ to be at the mercy of the civil power, and it seemed pro- bable that he would not be long in passing through the second step preparatory to banish- ment. For it was not to be expected that a man who had bought his present profession at the price of so many years of tribulation, would lio-htly forsake it, or forbear to hold up a public testimony to that which he knew to be truth. But it is very remarkable, that of the many that were imprisoned on the act of banishment, and even of those w^ho were convicted of what was termed the third offence, few were actually sent on ship-board, and the greater part of those ne- ver reached the plantations ; but way was made for their return, in a remarkable manner. As to Isaac Penington, he seems to have been in some measure protected from the oppression of the civil power, by falling soon after his release . into the hands of the military. A soldier came to his house without any war- rant, and informed him that he must go before Philip Palmer one of the deputy lieutenants of the county of Bucks. He meekly attended the (81) ruclz soldier ; and was sent by Palmer, under a !E:uard of soldiers, to his old quarters at Ayles- burv. He was committed by a kind of mittimus or order, importing ' that the gaoler should re- ' ceive and keep him in safe custody, during the *" pleasure. of the earl of Eridgevv'ater/ At this time it was suspected that the plague v^^as in the sraol. It was llie year in wdiich so many thousands, fell victims to that dreadful disease^ in London. Interest was therefore made with the carl, who was importuned by a person of con- 'siderable quality and power in the county, to permdt that Isaac Penington should be removed to another house in the town, and there kept a prisoner, until the gaol should be clear of the contagion. But this nobleman seems^ to have conceived so great a displeasure against the in- nocent prisoner, that he refused to orant the re- quest : although all the while no other cause risoner in the gaol died of the plague ; on which the gaoler's wife, in the absence of her husband, permitted Penington to be removed to another house, in which he v/as shut up about six weeks. After this, bv the interest of the earl oFAncram, a release vas obtained from Palmer; and, after a confinement of nine months, v/ith danger of his life, and for no alleged oflence, I^aac Penington w^as suffered to return home. But before he had been a.2ain settled in his family a month, a p^arty of soldiers from Palmer ( *2 ) ram^f to his I\ousc, and., seizing him in "bed, con- veyed him again to Aylesbury gaol. The earl of Bridgewater was reported to have been the director of this measure. And it must probably have been during this second confinement, that the pious sufferer wrote the following letter to his unrelenting persecutor. ' To the Earl of Bnd2;ewater, ' Friendj, ' It is the desire of my heart to walk with ' God in the true fear of his name, and in true * love and good-will to all men, all my days ^ here upon the earth. For this end, I waiit upon ^ God^ night and day, to know his will and to ' receive certain instruction from him concern- * ing what is acceptable in his sight. After he * hath in any thing made manifest his pleasure, ^ I wait upon him for strength to perform it ; * and when he hath wrought it by me, my soul ^ blesseth him therefor. If this be a right course, " I am not to be condemned herein; if it be not, "^ and thou knowest better, show me in love, ■' meekness, and tenderness ; as I would be wil- ' ling to make any thing know^n to thee, for thy ' good, which the Lord hath shown me. But ' this I am fully assured of, that God is higher ' than man ; and that his will and lava's are to be * set up and obeyed in the iii*st place: and man's ' onlv in the second : and in their due subordi- ' nation to the will and laws of God. C 83 ) ' Now, friend, ^PP^y thyself to do that v/hich ^ is rioht and noble, and that which is truly jus- *^ tifiable in God's sight: that thou mayst give a ' comfortable account to him when he shall call ' thee thereunto. That which thou hast done ' to me hath not made me thy enemy ; but, in the ' midst of the sense of it, I desire thy welfare, ' and that thou mayst so carry thyself in thy ' place and actions, as that thou mayst neither ^ provoke God against thee in this world, nor in ' the world to come. Hast thou not yet afflicted ' me enough without cause? Wouldest thou have '^ me bow to thee therein, wherein the Lord hath ' not given me liberty? If I should give thee ' outAsard titles and honours, might I not do thee ' hurt ? O ! come down, be low in thy spirit be- *■ fore the Lord, honour him in thy heart and ' wavs, and wait for the true nobility and honour ' from him. Thou hast but a time to be in the ' world, and then eternity begins; and what ' thou hast sown here, thou must then reap. O ' that thou mightest sow, not to thy own will ' and wisdom, but to God's Spirit; and kno^v his ' guidance, who is only able to lead man aright! ' Indeed, thou shouldest be- subject in thy own ' heart, to that which thou arf olTended at in ' others; even that in the inner parts, which ' testifies for God, and against the thoughts, ' ways, and works of corrupt man ; that thou *= mightest feel a principle of life from God, and ' good fruit brought forth from that principle * to him ; and that the evil nature, with the evil F 2 ( 81 ) ' works thereof, mijiht be cut down In ihee 5 *" that thy soul may escape the wrath and misery ^ which attends the works and workers of ini- ^ quity. I have sent thee this inclosed in love. *" Read it ifi fear and humility^ lifting up thy ^ heart to the Lord^ who giveth understanding, ' that it may be a blessing to thee : for in true *" love was it writ, and is of a^n healing and guid- '^ ing nature. I hare formerly writ to thee, but " mv way hath been so barred ud, that I have *" not found access easy ; and how or whether this ' \n\l come to thy hand I know not. But this ' I truly say to thee, I have felt the Lamb's; ' nature under my suffei'ings from thee, where- ^ unto I have given thee no provocation, nei- ' ther for the beg-innins; nor continuance of ' tliem ; and, if thou canst, bring that thing to ^ the trial of the v;:tness of God in thy heart, ■' that will deal truly ^vith thee, blaming what ' God blames, and justifying what he justifieth. "■ And, though the Lord beholdeth, and will ^ plead the cause of his innocent ones (vrho the ' more helpless they are, the more they are con- ' sidered and tendered by him), vet I do not ^ desire that thou shouldest suffer, either from ' God or man, on mv account, but that thou ^ mightest be guided to, and preserved in that '^ which will be sweet rest, peace, and safety, ' to all that are sheltered by it, in the troublous *■ and stormy hour, in w^hich the Lord will dis- \ tress man^ and make him feel his sin and ' misery. ( S5 ) . "■ This is the sum of what I have at present to ' say, who have w^it this, not for any by-end, ' but in the stirrings of true love tow^ards thee,- ' and from a true desire that thou mightest feel ' the power of God forming thy heart aright, ' and bane^'np- forth the fruits of righteousness ' in thee : that thou mightest be made by him ' of the sejd of the blessed, and inherit the bles- ' sinp-, and find the earthly nature consumed,- ' and brought to nought in thee; to which is * the curse, and which must feel the curse, as ' God brings forth his righteous judgments in ' the hearts, and upon the heads, of the trans- * gressors. And knowing there to be a certain ' day of God's calling transgressors to account, ' and the terribleness of his wrath, and consum- ' ing pleasure in that day, I warn thee in tender- ^ ness, and in the bov^els of love beseech thee, ^ to consider thy WT^ys, and make thy peace with ^ him- that thou mavst not be irrecoverably and ^ eternally miserable; but mavst be transformed * by his life and nature, and sow to him thQ- ' fruits thereof, that thou mayst reap and re- ' ceive of him that which is the soul's iov. ' And, friend, knov;: this assured truth, it is not \2i religion of man's m^aking or choosing (nei- ' ther the pope's, nor any other man's), but only ' that w\^ich is of God, v/hich is acceptable to * him: and what wall become of that man, whose ^ very religion and worship is hateful to God ? ^ Where will he stand, or what account will h ^ be able to give when he appears before him ? r 3 e ( 86 ) * Thou hast not often met with such plain deal- ' mg as this. These things very nearly concern ' thee. O^ wait upon God for his true light, ' that thou mayst not be deceived about them ; ^ because thy loss thereby will be so great and ^ irreparable ! ^ I am thy friend in these things^ and have *■ written as a true lover and desirer of the w^el- " fare of thy soul. ' I. P.' ' From Aylesbury gaol, ' 24th of 6th month, 1G66.' The foregoing letter is taken from a late col- lection, published in 1796 by John Kendall; in which are also other letters dated from his prison- house, or durinir the time he remained there, re- plete with instruction, and serving to show the manner in which he passed his days of confine- ment. This is further exemplified by the num- ber of his own publications dated from this prison : displaying the undaunted mind, calm amidst sufferings, not cast down by oppression, and breathing for the advancement of right- eousness. The following extract of a letter to a friend, wTittcn at Aylesbury about three months before the foregoing letter, will exemplify what I have said, ^ The Lord is tender of me, and merciful to ^ me. Though, indeed, I have felt much weak- ' ness both inwardly and outwardly, yet my ' strength doth not forsake me ; but the mercies ^_ of the Lord are renewed to me, ^^ morning by ( 87 ) '^ morning/' I could almost sing to his glorious ' name, seeing (in the pure, powerful, over- ^ coming life) the death of all that troubles ' Israel. O the gates of hell^ ye shall not pre- ^ vail against the least lamb of my Father's prc- ' serving, glory be to his mercv, to his love, to *" his power, to his wisdom, to his goodness, for * everm.ore !' His health too during this Im.prisonment was greatly impaii'ed. He remained in prison a year and a half, during which time he was never brought up, to either sessions or assize; but by some illegal means continued as a prisoner on the calendar. He lay in rooms so cold, damp, and unhealthy, that it had nearly cost him his life, and sent him to the company of confessorS;, who in the reign of the second Charles, v/ere killed bv the rieours of confinement. He be- came, however, so much disabled', that he lav in a weak state several months. At leno:th a relation of his wife procured his removal, by habeas corpus, to the bar of the court of King's bench, where, with the wonder of the court that a man should be imprisoned so long for nothinir, he w\as discnaroed in the vear 16oS. Although Isaac Penington, as has been shown> had his abundant consolation, under his suffer- ings, it does not appear to have lifted him up. The following" letter to Geor2:e Fox, written from Aylesbury gaol, may serve to prove this, and to evince his high esteem for that friend, and pix)-?-:, F 4 ( S8 ) bably may be otherwise generally acceptable la the reader. ' Bear G. F. ' I feel the tender mercy of the Lord^ and ' ' some proportion of that brokenness^ fear^ and- ' humility, vrhich I have long waited for^ and. ^ breathed after. I feel unity with, and strengths ^ from, the body : O ! blessed be the Lord, who. ' hath fitted and restored nie, and brought up ' my life from the grave. I feel an high esteem ' and dear love to thee, whom the Lord hath ' chosen, anointed, and honoured, and of thy ' brethren and fellow-labourers in the y/crk of * the Lord. And, dear G.' F. I beg thy love; I ' entreat thy prayer, in faith and assurance ' that the Lord hears thee, that I may be yet ' mxore broken, that I may be yet more filled *^ with the fear of the Lord, that I may be *■ vet Doorer and humbler before the Lord, and ' may walk in perfect humility and tenderness ' of spirit before him, all my days. Dear G. F. ' thou mayst feel my desires and wants more '. fully than my own heart. Be helpfLil to me, ' in tender love, that I may feel settlement and ' stability in the Truth; and perfect sepavatioH ' from, an'd dorriinion in the Lord over, all that *■ is contrary thereto. ' -^.-^r' ^ Aylesbury gaol, ' 15th of 5th month, 1667.' " ' I entreat thy prayers for my family,- -that^ ^ the namie of the Lord-'m*iy be exalted, and hiii ( 89 ) , f Truth flourish therein. Dear G. F. indeed mj ^ soul longs for the pure, full, and undisturbed '^ reign of the Life, in me/ ' Another short efTusion of his benevolent heart, during; this imprisonment can scarcely fail of pleasing such as defrire the welfare of the Chris- tian community. It is addressed to ' Friends of ^ Amersham/ his neighbours. '^ Friends, *^ Our life is love, and peace, and tenderness, '^ and bearing with one another, and forgiving *■ one another ; and not laying accusations one *■ against another; but praying one for another, *■ and helping one another with a tender hand, *^ if there has been any slip or fall ; and waiting *" till the Lcrd give sense and repentance, if sense ^ and repentance in any be wanting. O I wait ^ to feel this spirit, and to be guided to walk * in this spirit; that ye may enjoy the Lord in ^ sweetness, and w^aik sweetly, meekly, tenderly, ^ peaceablv, and lovingly, one with another. ' And then ye will be a praise to the Lord ; and ' any thing that is, or hath been, or may be ' amiss, ye will come over in the true dominion, * even in the Lamb's dominion ; and that which ' is contreny shall be trampled upon, as life rules ' in you. So, v/atch to your hearts and ways, *^ and Y/atch over one another in that which is "^ gentle and tender, and knows it can neither ^ preserve itself, nor help another out of the (90 ) ^ snare ; but the Lord must be waited upon, to ' do this in and for all. So mind Truth, the *^ service, enjoyment, and possession of it in ' your hearts ; and so to walk as ye may bring no ^^ disgrace upon it; but ye may be a good sa- *^ vour in the places where ye live : the meek, ' innocent, tender, righteous life reigning in ' you, governing of you, and shining through ^ you in the eyes of all with whom ye con- ^ verse. ^ Your friend in the Truth, and desirer ' of vour welfare and prosperity ^ therein^ « Ayle.^buryj 4th of 3d month. ISS/.' C II A P. IV. Loss of his estate — aitacliment to his friends in Bucks — goes to loarcl at Waltliam-abheyj Essex — hij the assistance of his xvife purcha>>es a house atAmersham Woodside — she superintends the al- terations — Conventicle-act — sixth imprisoiiment, at Reading — released hi/ patent with many others ' — Ins constancy in suffering — death of his son at sea — his tract entitled 'Flesh and blood of Christ/ kc. — its occasion— a review of it^-letter to a friend. ITHERTOj on his several rel easements from prison^ Isaac Penington had returned to his house^ called the Grange at Chalfont St. Peter's; but on this releasement he had scarcely a home to which to resort. His wife relates that they had been injured by their relations, who, know- ing their conscientious scruple to swear, had involved them in a suit in Chancery, where their answer without an oath was invalid. They were also wronged by their tenants, and perplexed with various law-suits; but at length the relations were able to carry their machinations to so great a length, that, during the time that Isaac Penington lay in the last-m.ention^d cruel imprisonment. ( 92 ) hh wife and family were turned out of his housej, by the persons who had gotten possession of his estate. By these means the family was broken up. The wife placed herself at Aylesbury^ to be near her husband ; and the youthful Gulielrna Springett went for a w^hile on a visit at Bristol. Afterwards the family had lodgings in the ad- joining parish called Chalfont St. Giles's, and thence removed to more spacious ones at Am.er- sham. During their residence at the former place^ the tutor, too^ of the children, who from having been himself fostered in the family, was now become in his turn, variously useful in it, was taken from them and committed to prison, by Bennett^ the same violent magistrate w^ho the year before had committed both him and his pa- tron, as hath been alreadv related. At leno-th means were found to provide themselves with ^ suitable habitation, in the follow^ing manner. They were much attached to the friends in the neighbourhocd of the Chalfonts, whom they had been instrumental in gathering to the knowledge of the Truth, with w^hom they had suffered, and with whom, no doubt, thev had harm.onized and rejoiced. They therefore sought for a house in that neighbourhood diligently; but finding none that seemed to suit them, to be let, and not in- clining to make a purchase, the wife proposed that they should go and reside on an estate in Kent, part probably of her own real property, w'hich had not, like all her husband's, been rent aw^ay by the relatio.T^. To this^ Isaac FeningtoiA ( 9S ) ■ objected, for the reasons already mentioned^ and because the inhabitants of that part of Bucking- hamshire, in which they had so long lived, knew and commiserated their troubles and losses,, and did not expect their establishment nov7 could be any longer as it had been, or equal to the rank thev had held. They had lived in great plenty, but\vere now obliged to submit to a much lower sdle of life than that to which they had been accustomed ; and to their neighbours it was al- most matter of surprise thai they could still pay- to every one his owm. At length they concluded to go and board during one summer at Waltham- Abbey in Essex, in order that their children, who about this time lost their domestic tutor by the marriage of Thomas Ellwood, might have the accommodation of the school kept at that t6wn by Christopher Taylor.* Near the time of their departure for their new lodgings, a friend who was expressing his regret at losing their so- ciety, again proposed to them a small purchase. Mary Penington, who seems in temporals u% well as spirituals, to have been truly a help-meet to * This tras the school in which there was so extrtiordi. nary a visitation, and influence of good, among the children : as i« circumstantially related in a pamphlet published by C. T- lor, entitled, ' A Testimony to the Lord's power and ^ blessed appearance among Children, &c.'-of winch * new edition was printed by Darton& Harvey, in 17&9. H* ..as also the author of several other pieces, particularly a compendious Grammar of Latin, Greek, a^d Hebrew, eu- titled Compendium trium linguarum. &c. ( 91 ) her husband, objected much to the proposal^ and told the proposer that the circumstances of her husband and herself would not admit of it. Their friend however urged his proposal so strongly^ that Mary was induced to go and in- spect the premises. It was a small estate called Woodside, near Amersham^ of about ^30 per an- num^ v/ith an old house on it : and it had so ruin- ous and unpromising an appearance^ that Mary entirely gave up the thought of the purchase. Soon after this^, the worthy couple were disap- pointed in their expectation of procuring a house at Beaconsfield : on which proposals were again made to them^ respecting the estate at Woodside. The remainder of the story I can- not better relate than in the words of this not- able woman, to whom her husband left the entire manaoement of the business. ' Takinjr/ says she, ' some friends with me, I went to see it * again. While they viewed the ground, I went *■ into the house. The whole plan was in my *" mind — what to pull down, and what to add. * Calculating the whole expence, I judged it ' might be done by selling an estate of mine in ' Kent.' ^ Next day we went for Waltham, requesting ' our friends to act in the affair, and write [toj *' us upon it : which they did ; and informed us, "^ the title was clear. When I received the mes- ^ sage, my mind was much to the Lord, with de- ' sires that if it was the place he gave us liberty ' to settle in, he would order it for us. My hus- ( 95 ) ' band was very averse to building ; yet con- ' siderino- his all was lost, and the estate to be ' disposed of was mine, he was willing I should * do what I would in the affair, provided he had < no trouble in building : so we agreed for the ' purchase. My mind was often engaged in ' prayer that I might be preserved from en- ' tanglements and cumber; and that [the house] ' mio-ht be such an habitation as would manifest ' that the Lord was again restoring us, and had ' regard to us. When it was bought, I went in- ' dultriously and cheerfully about the business; ' but I saw many unusual incumbrances present ' themselves, which, I still cried to the Lord, that I ' mio-ht go through in his fear, and not darken ' and incumber my mind. I was, by the surveyor, ' put upon altering my plan, and raising a part ' new from the ground. My husband joining ' with him, I could not well avoid it. This ' brought great trouble upon me ; for now I did ' not see my way so well as before ; and, not ' knowing how I should compass the charge, I ' took no pleasure in any thing. At last I fell ' ill, and could not look after it. Great was my < exercise of mind : one while fearing I had not ' divine approbation upon my undertaking ; ' then reflecting that I did not seek great ' things, nor vain glory in a fme habitation; < for according to my plan it would have been ^ very ordinary. After a time of close exercise ^ and prayer/ 1 again caiue to clearness, and ' the honesty and uprightness of sny intention ( so ) I '^ was accepted^ so that I -vent en Vvithoiit ^ anxious care or disquiet^ and the building was ^ manafred bv me rather in delii>ht, throusrh the ' answer of peace which I felt ; and not by * reason of any distinguishing solicitude I had ' about it/ ( Should she not rather have said anij f articular gratifxation; for solicitude more often banishes^ than procures delight). ' When Iv ' went to meeting in the mornings I set all ^ thin 2:^ in order: and rarelv found them so ' much as to rise in my mind, when going to^ '^ or at meeting. This kept my mind very sweet ' and savourv, for I had nothing in all this which *■ disQuieted me, havins: no other care but that ' there n>ight be no waste, which I always prc- " vented by my constant inspection, so that no ' cause of fretting or anger was administered. * I laid me down and rested very pleasantly. I ' awoke in a sweet sense, and was employed all ' the day; but had no labour or disturbance in ' mv miind : which kept me in health and sweet *■ peace, till the whole was accomplished.' Let no one espouse the opinion, that spiritual direction may not be useful in the managem.ent of temporal concerns. It is certain that on va- rious occasions, by means of undertaking plans which have the semblance of practicability and usefulness, many persons are daily led into dis- appointment; and often, into increasing degrees . of '' alienation from God/' And, to come a little nearer to our present subject, it seem.s peculiarly advisable for religious people to ( 97 ) determine with great caution the place of their outward habitation. There is probably no place, in which we may not be influenced by the con- duct of those around us^ or where we may not ourselves contribute to influence that of our neighbours. For^ as we are born to be social, it is not probably saying too much of any man, that somethinjr mav be learned from him. How desirable then to be in the spot of providential allotment : which is in fact the spot of safety^j^ bencflt^ and usefulness ! Mary Penington appears to have been a person early imbued with senti- ments like these : and those who are fond of ob- s-erving character, and of tracing it through the vicissitudes of a man's life, may here recognize the same feature of her mind, which she early displayed, by her trust in Providence respect- ing outward things; as has been related in the account of her progress to religious stability. It may easily be imagined that Isaac Pening- ton's mind was active, during the latter restraints on his person, and some proof of it has been given. He had, however, recourse to the press about eleven times in the four years preceding his removal to Woodside, the habitation which the industry and property of his wife had been the means of providing for him. But Woodside did not vet become the asvlum of his latter davs : for he w^as immured for a year and three quarters, suffering under the arm of persecution, in the county gaol at Reading. ( 9S ) In the year 1670 was passed that singiilarlj oppressive law^ commonly called the Conventicle- Act. It imposed heavy fines on such dissenters as should suffer meetings to be held in their houses, and gave unusual powers to magistrates for the levying of these, and other fines which it imposed, and for the imprisonment of stich as should become obnoxious to the severity of the law. It also held out s>:reat encoura^^ement to informers, and of course the country was soon infested with that pernicious race of men. By the vigilant and seasonable exertions of Thomas Ellwood, who, in nearly the outset of the busi- ness in the county of Bucks, procured two in-' formers to be convicted of perjurv, Buckingham- shire was not much molested with this new en- gine of oppression ; but in the neighbouring county of Berks, the Friends had their full mea- sure of distress by means of the persecuting law,. The gaol at Reading was crowded with them, and Isaac Penin^lon ooino, accordino^ to Chris- es o o-' o tlan practice, to visit them in their confinement, was informed a<>:ainst before a maoistrate who had long signalized himself as a furious perse- cutor. Bv this man Isaac Penino;ton was eom- mitted to the same prison, whither he had come to sympathize with his brethren already there. We do not in this instance read of his being taken at any religious meeting, or violating any, clause of the late act. It is, however, more than y>ossibie that his visit was employed in silent re- tirement; but the current of persecution at that ( 99 ) lime raged too violently to be always confined even in legal channels. It is matter of regret that our early recorders of the sufferings of Friends^ are not so explicit in their details^ as to make it always easy to. trace a friend through the alleged offence, the law by '>vhich he suffered, the punishment, and the mode of relief. In the twenty-one months of Isaac Penington's detention, it is probable that he was^ at some of the assizes or sessions that occurred during the period, convicted of refusing the oath of allegiance, because it is related bv Ell I w^ood, in his testimony, that he was brought un- der the sentence of praemunire. It appears also from Besse's Account of Sufferings, that the magistrate had sent for him, on the information of the gaoler, had tendered to him the oath, and had made the refusal the ostensible reason of his commitment. However, w^hen Charles the Second released, by letters patent, such friends as were imprisoned on suits of the crown, Isaac Penington shared in the benefit, and left, for the sixth and last time, the confinement of a prison, A fellow-sufferer, in several of his imprison- ments, gives the following description of his conduct in those trying situations. ' Being ' made willing by the power of God to suffer " with great patience, cheerfulness, contented- ' ness, and true nobility of spirit, he v/as a *■ good example to me and otlxers. do not re- ^ member that ever I saw him cast dowii^ or de- ' jected in his spirit^ in the time of his cio^e coai G 2 ( 10D ) ^ fihement, nor speak hardly of those that pef^ ' secuted him ; for he was of that temper as to ' love enemies^ and to do good to those that ^ hated him ; having received a measure of that ' virtue, from Christ his master, that taught him ^ so to do. Indeed I may say, in the prison he *" was a help to the weak, being made instru- ' mental in the hand of the Lord for that end. ' O ! the remembrance of the glory thnt did ' often overshadow us in the place of confine- ' ment: so that indeed the prison was made by ' the Lord, who was powerfully with us, as a ' pleasant palace ! I v/as often, with many more, *■ by those streamings of life that did many times *■ run through his vessel, greatly overcome with ' the pure presence, and overcoming love of ' our God, that was plentifully shed abroad in ' our hearts.' I have proceeded so connectedly with the ac- count of the sufferings of Isaac Penington in the support of his principles; among which the loss of his estate, so far as his religious restraint from iiwearing had a share in facilitating the designs of his relations, must be accounted a great one; that I have omitted to mention in the exact or- der of time, a domestic trouble occasioned by the death of his son. It was Isaac, the second son, a youth of excellent, and very promising abilities. He was intended to be educated for a merchant; but before it was tliowght fit to en- gage him in the occupations of the counting- house, his parents consented to a proposal that ( 101 ) he should make a voyage to Barbadoes, for the purpose of passing a little time not unaptly for his future prospects, in life, of seeing the island, and gaining some knowledge of the sea. He was therefore intrusted to the care of a valuable friend who commanded a vessel in the Barbadoes- trade; and took with him a small adventure, made up by his friends. All seemed going prosper- ously on, and he was returning with his little cargo of produce, when unwarily he fell over- board while the ship was sailing before a brisk o-ale: nor could the utmost care and diligence of the master and mariners of the ship avail to recover him. The news of this, event must have reached his aifectionate parents, before the last imprisonment of Isaac Penington, and about the time of the family's entrance on the house at V/oodside, Ellwood the preceptor of this youth partook deeply of the grief occasioned by his death, and wrote some lines of condolence. He doth not often excel in poetry, though his thoughts are worthy the Christian, and on this occasion a motto which he subjoins to. his verses, seems to contain the essence of all stable conso- lation. Whence it is quoted 1 know not,^ 'Domino mens nixa quieta est. Prom the time that Isaac Penington went to inhabit the asylum of his declining years, which vas procured by the care, and at the charge of his wife, few are the occurrences related of hin^. ( 102 ) The remainder of his life must therefore prin- cipally be surveyed by occasional views of the tenour of his mind^ as it is exhibited in some of his letters^ or publications. It appears from the preface of a tract pub- lished in 1675;, entitled ' The Flesh and Blood of ' Christ in the mystery and in the outward^ brief- ' ly, plainly, and uprightly acknowledged, and ' testified to, &c/ that he had lately been in London. His business was to attend some m.eet- ings between Friends and the Baptists. About the year 1673 a baptist-minister, named Hicks, had published some invidious dialogues under the title of ' A Dialogue between a Chris- ' tian and a Quaker/ In these he is said to have made his supposed Quaker appear not a little ridiculous and profane. His way seems to have been to make his pretended Christian prove false doctrine against the Quakers by quo- tations out of their books. Among others he quotes Isaac Penington ; but he attempts to establish his charges by a mode of citation so un- fair, that it was probably on this account that Penington thought him.self engaged not only to attend some of the mei-tings; but also to vin- dicate him^self in print, by means of the pamph- let already mentioned. As it may serve to show the manner in which Isaac Penington managed controversy, and thus exhibit him in a light somevs^hat diflierent from that in which we have hitherto viewed him, though still tinned with philanthropy; as it may demonstrate i\iQ faith of ( 103 ) Triends on some deep and important points f doctrine ; and as it may hold up to view the ac- customed method of the spirit of error, in at- tempting to misrepresent when it cannot re- fute\- it may be proper to make some copious extracts From this pamphlet. Hicks had charged the Quakers with account- ing that the blond of Christ -^ as no wore than a common thing. For proof of this, he had drawn together some disjointed passages from a book of^'Peningtcn's, called ^ A Question to the pro- ^^ fosors of Christianity, whether they have the ' true, living," powerful, -saving knovvledge of ^Christ, or^no,' &c.- Therefore, says Isaac •Penington, ' having been at that meeting to ' clear mv innocency in that particular ; but ' the thing not then coming in question, u ' was in my heart— to give forth this testimony ' to take off that untruth and calumny of T. H. ' both from the people called Quakers and my- ' self, being both of us greatly injured, as the ' Lord God of heaven and earth knoweth. I ' have had experience of that despised people ' many years, and I have often heard them (even the ancient ones of them) own Christ both inwardly and outwardly. Yea, I heard one of the ancients of them thus testify, in a public meeting many years since. That if Christ had not come in the flesh in the fulness of time, to J bear our sins in his own body on the tree, and to offer himself up a sacriMce for mankind, all mankind had utterly perished/ e 4 ». ( 104 ) This allusion to the words of the ancient friend^ is strongly in point to prove^ as it is intended to prove, the high and infinite value which our pious ancestors and predecessors set on the death and sufferings of Christ. Its ac- curacy however in point of argument^, as an ab- stract position, may, I think, be questioned ; be- cause it seems to limit to one mode, the opera- tion of divine love. It is enough for us to receive and embrace the Christian dispensation, as the mode chosen by Almighty Wisdom. ' What cause then,' continues Penington, ' have ^ we to praise the Lord God, for sending his Son ' in the likeness of sinful flesh, and for what his ^ Son did therein ! O professors, do not per- * vert our words (by reading them with a pre- ' judiced mind) quite contrary to the drift of ' God's Spirit by us. If ye should thus read the ^ holy scriptures, yea, the very words of Christ ' himself therein, and give that wisdom of yours, * which fights against us, scope to comment upon ' them, and pervert them after this manner, what * a strange and hideous appearance of untruth, ^ and contradiction to the very Scriptures of the ' Old Testajiient, might ye make of that wonder- * ful appearance of God?^ For the words of ^ Christ seemed so foolish and impossible to the * Who would think that I. Penington should in 1802 b& charged with Socinianism ; or, to use the new name which persons of those principles haye assumed, with baying bee» 1^ Unitarian ? ( 105 ) ' wise men of that age that they frequently con- ♦ tradicted, and sometimes derided him.' ' Oh ! T. H. dost thou believe the eternal ' judgment at the great day, not outwardly only ' in notion, but inwardly in heart? Oh! then ' consider how^ wilt thou answer it to God, for ' saying so many things in the name of a people, ' as their belief and words, which never were ' spoken by any one of them, nor ever came ' into any one of their hearts ! Innocency in ' me, life in me, truth in me, the Christian •* spirit and nature in me, is a witness against ^ ' thee, that thou wrotest thy dialogues out of ' the Christian nature and spirit.' ' I pity ' thee, yea, I can truly say I forgive thee the in- ' jury thou hast done me (though indeed it is f very great, thus to represent me publicly; ' what thou couldst not have done, if thou hadst ' equally considered the things v/ritten in that ' book)'; and I also desire that thou mayst be ' sensible of what thou hast so evilly done, and ' confess it before God, that he also might for- ' give thee.' ' As for my particular, I had ' committed my cause to the Lord, and intended ^ to have been wholly silent, knowing my in- ' nocency will be cleared by him in this par- ' ticular at the great day; and the love, truth, and *. uprightness wherein I wrote these things owned ' by him. But in the love of God, and in the still- ' ness and tenderness of my spirit, I was moved ' by him to write what follows. And oh ! that it ' would please the Lord to make it serviceable^ ' even to T. H. himself, for his good/ , ( 105 ) The foregoing is a quotation from the pre- face; the following, from the body of the work. 'In the second part of Thomas Hicks's Dia- ' logiies, called Continuation, p. 4, he maketh *■ his personated Quaker speak thus : Thou smjesty *■ we account the Mood of Christ no more than a / common thing; yea, no mo'^e than the blood of ^ a common thief. To which he makes his per- *" sonated Christian answer thus : Isaac Pening- ' ton fwho 1 suppose is an approved Quaker) asks *■ this question, Can outward Mood cleanse? There- *■ fore, sailh he, we must inquire zvhether it was *" the blood of the veil, that is, of the human nature; ^ or the blood within the veil, viz. of that spiritual "^ man consisting of flesh, blood, and bones, winch •■ took on him the veil, or human nature. It is ^ not the blood of the veil ; that is but outward; ^ and can outward Uood cleanse? First, I answer, * these were not my words, which he hath set * down as mine ; but words of his own patching *" up, partly out of several queries of mine, and ^ partly out of his ov/n conceivings upon my que- ' ries; as if he intended to make me appear both '' ridiculous and wicked at once. For I no where ^ say or afRrm, or ever did believe, that Christ is •^ a spiritual man consisting of flesh, blood, and ' bones, which took on him the veil of human ' nature. Thus he represents me as ridiculous, ' It is true, Christ inwardly, or as to his inward ^ being, was a Spirit, or God blessed for ever^ ^ manifested in flesh; w^hich (to speak proper- * ly) cannot have fleshj bloody and bones^ as, ( 107 ) ^ man hath. And then, besides his alterationi *" at the beginnings putting in only four words * o^ ^'v Guerv, and leavin'*' out this which next ' follows ( which might have manifested my drift ' and intent in them) he puts in an affirmation, ' which was not mine, in these his own 'vvords, * It is not the blood of the veil ; that is but out- *" ward; and then annexeth to this affirmation ' of his ov. n, the words of my form.er query, ' Can outTvard blood demise? As if these words of ' mine, Can outward blood cleanse? did neces- ' sarilv infer that the blood of Christ is but a * common thing. Herein he represents me * wicked, and makes me speak, by his changing ' and addino-, that which never was in mv heart; ' and the contrary whereto I have several times * affirmed in that very book, where those several ' queries were put (out of which he forms this. ' his o'.vn query, giving it forth in my name). ' For in the 10th page of that book, beginning ' at line 3, I positively affirm thus : that CJirist ' did oifer vp the flesh and blood of tJiat bodi/- ' (though not onljj so, for he poured out his * soul, he poured out his life) a sacrifice or of- ' feriug for sin, a sacrifice unto the Fattier, and ' in it tabled death for every man ; and that it is ' upon const ier at ion (and through God's accept- ' ance)^ of this sacrifice for sin, that the sins ofbe- f lievers are pardoned, ihat God might be just, and *■ the justifier of liim who believeth in Jesus, or * la Peiiington's Works the Parenthesis ends at sin. ( i05 ) ^ rvho is of the faith of Jesus. Is this common ' flesh and blood? Can this be affirmed of com- ^ men flesh and blood ? Ought not he to have ' considered this^ and other passages in my book ' of the same tendency^ and not thus have re-« ' preached me^ and misrepresented me to the ^ world ? Doth he herein do as he would be ' done by ? 1 might also except against those * wordsj human nature (which he twice puttelh * in) not being my words^ nor indeed my sense; *■ for by human nature^, as I judge^ is understood ^ more than the body ; whereas^ I^ by the word ' veil/ intended no more than the flesh (or out- ^ ward body ), which in scripture is expressly so ' called. Heb. x. 20. ' Through the veilj that is ''■ to say, his flesh." In the next place, Isaac Penington complains of his adversary for not citing the page, or even the book;, whence he drew his pretended quo-, tation. Afterwards he o-oes on, ' Thirdly, the ' drift of all those queries in that book was not ' to vilify the flesh and blood of Christ, by re- ' presenting it as a common or useless thing; * but to bring people, from sticking in the out- "^ ward, to a sense of the inward sl^stery : with^ * out which inward sense and feeling, the mag~. ^ nifying and crying up the outv^ard doth not ' avail.' These last lines are an epitome of the work and concern of our ancient friends. In consequence of their pressing home upon men's consciences the inward work of sancti-. ication, by means of the lia-ht of Christy aja4 ( 109 ) not much urging a belief in the mere letter, V/hich in their day did not appear to ^vant to be urged, their adversaries accused them of deny- ing the outward facts of the gospel. At this day, when the spirit of infidelity stalks abroad with Greater confidence than in the days of Pen- ington, these outward facts are treated by many with unbecoming slight : Friends have therefore thought it needful more nakedly to avow their adherence to them; and the gainsaying spirit has so far shown itself to be the same which opposed our nredecessoi^s, that it still attempts to make it believed that Isaac Penington and his associates w^ere inclining to that opinion which tends to deo-rade the character of Christ, and to assign to him the rank of a mere man. '' Believe not'* therefore "' every spirit/' After much more than is convenient to be quoted in the limits of this work, Penington proceeds to his fourth head of vindication, w^hich, much abridged, runs thus. ' Fourthly, This ' query. Can outward blood cleanse the con- * science, ^c. doth not necessarily, nor indeed at ' all, infer, that the blood of Christ, as to the ' outward, was but a common thing, or useless.— ^ It was put to the professors to ansv/er inwardly ' in their hearts, who, I did believe, upon se- ' rious consideration, could not but confess-^ ' that outward blood itself (or of itself) could ' Hot cleanse and purge away the filth that was ' inward ; but that maist be done by that which * is inward, livins:, and spiritual. Then hereby ( 110 ) *■ they had been brought to see the neccsr.ity of ' the mystery, the Spirit-, the power, the life of * the Son, to be inwardly revealed in them ; * and then I had obtained rny end. And if they * could once come to this- 1 could meet them » a o-reat way in speaking glorious things of, and ' attributing a cleansing or washing virtue to ' the outward, in, through, and with the inward. * For I do not separate the inward and outward ' in my own mind ; but the Lord opened m. j ' heart; and taught we thus to distinguish ac- * cording to the scriptures, in love to them, and ' for their sakes. For that was not m.y intent, ' to denv the outward, or make it appear as a * com-mon or useless thing. There was never ^ such a sense in my heart ; nor w^as ever word * ^vritten or spoken by me, to that end.* Among the various concerns of Isaac Fenington in this year, was a letter written in answer to one which he had received, from some person whom he apprehended to be stumbling, in the path of dutv. The state is probably not uncommon ; and therefore the insertion of it may afford help to some. It seems addressed to one con- vinced, in degree, of the principles of Friends; but weak in adopting the practice, especially in some particular, and that probably of the kind which is an open confession of self-denial. Thus it begins. ' Ah, my poor, distressed, entangled, friend ! ' While thou seekcst to avoid the snars, thou ' deeply runncst into it: for thou art feeding ( ni ) ' on the tree of knowledge, in giving way to *■ those thoughts;, reasonings, and suggestions, * which keep thee from obedience to that which * hath been made manifest to thy iinderstand- * ing. And thou mayst well be feeble in thj ' mind, while thou art thus separated from Kiin ' who is thy strength, and lettest in his enemy. ' This is not the right feebleness of mind, which * God pities ; nor the right way of waiting to ' receive strength. Why shouldst not thou act ' so as God gives thee light; and why shouldst. ' not thou appear willing to obey him even in ' little things, so far as he hath given thee light? * What if I should say that this is all but the ' subtilty of the serpent's wisdom, to avoid the ^ cross ; and is not that simplicity and plainness ^ of heart tov/ards God, which thou takest it to ' be; and that thou art loth to be so poor, and ' low, and mean in the sight of others, as this ' practice would make thee appear.* ' And what a subtil device hath the enemy ^ put into thy min .1 about prayer; which hath no ' weight nor truth in it, as applied to this pre- * sent case. For prayer is the breath of life, an " effect of God's spiritual breathing, which no * man can perform aright without the Spirit':^ ' breathing upon him. Therefore the Spirit is *" to be waited upon, for his breathings and holy ' fire, that the sacrifice may be living, and ac- ' ceptable to the living God. But this' (here probably he refers to something respecting prayer mentioned by his correspondent) ' is laa- ( 112 ) * giiage, as a man or woman in ordinary converse; ' ^nd doth not require a motion of life to bring ' it forth^ no more than to bring forth other * words. And wilt thou say^ Thou longest and ' pantest after the Lord, and the way of truth ' and righteousness; and yet remain walking, ' against the light which God has given thee, in * things of this nature ?' ' O mv friend, thou and thy husband have ' dallied too long. The Lord hath shown great ' love and mercy towards you. Take heed of ' dallying any longer. Make straight paths to ^ your feet, lest that which is crooked (youf ' feet have hitherto been too w^inding and crook- ' cd) be turned out of the way ; but it is the ' desire of my soul for you, that they may rather ' be rectified and healed.* ' Thou savst, the seasons when thou findest it ' most laid upon thee, is in the hearing of * Friends, or soon after ; and when, in that ' sense, thou resolvest to enter upon the prac-^ ^ tice, thou findest an inability to keep thee ' therein ; though thy reason is not only si- * lenced, but in measure subjected thereunto. ' Kow do but mind hov/ far the Lord hath gone ' with thee; and what hinders, and whether it ' be thy duty to give way to, or to resist, that ' which hinders. Thou dost confess God hath ' laid it upon thee ; and laid it upon thee at ' those times when thy heart is most tender and ' open towards him (even when thou art in ' the hearinix of Friends, or soon after); and ( ns ) > hath brought thee into a resolution to enter ' into the praaice ; nay. to help thee further, ' hath not only silenced thy reason, but sub- ' jected it in measui-e. Kave not many entered ' into the practice, and found acceptance and a ^ blessing therein, who never were thus helped ? ' What wouldst thou have of the Lord ? How ' far hath he proceeded towards bringing thee ' into obedience in this thing ! But thou say est. ' thou findest an inability to keep therein. Dost ' thou abide in the faith, where the strength is ' dispensed; and out of the thoughts and consul- ' tations, where the strength of the strongest (if ' they intermeddle there) is broken? O! take ' heed of murmuring againt the Lord (as thou ' hast been too apt to do ) ; and consider what ' great matter of complaint he hath against thee. ^ What could he have done more for thee, than ' he hath done ? thou being no more ready to ' meet him than thou hast been ; but, upon all ' occasions, turning aside from his convictions ' and drawings, into thine own thoughts and reasonings. ^ I received thy letter last night ; and, upon ' reading of it, was greatly burdened and grieved ' for thy sake; feeling thy spirit so exceedingly *■ wrono- in this matter, and thy reasonings and * w^ay therein so crooked and provoking to the ' Lord. But this morning, m.y heart was opened ' and drav/n forth in this manner to thee. The ' Lord give a present and a future sight of ^ the enemy's working, against the working of K C 114 ) ' the love of God towards thee, and against the* ' redemption and peace of thy soul. My heart ^ breatheth to the Lord for thee; and desireth * that he may manifest to thee that nature, wis- ^ dom, and spirit from whence these things arise^ ^ and what is in thee which thev prevail upon*: ^ that the child m.av not alwavs stick in the birth, *" but at length be brought forth into the light, ''into the life, into the faith which gives victory, ' and into the single-hearted and holy obedience, ' Vv'here the pure power is met with. '^ Thy friend in the truth and in the ' sincere love. ' L P/ ' Amersham. 25th of 9th month, 1675.' CHAP. V. Goes to Astrop Wells — %vrites to the resorters t& that spot — also his tract called ' The everlasting ' gospel/ ^c. — also to the Oxford scholars — goes intoKcnt — at meeting in Canterhury — taken ill — dies at Goodnestone'Court — buried at Jordan's, Bucks — register — some account of those who •wrote testimonies of him — G. Whitehead — S. Jennings — A, Rigge — T. Zachart/ — R. Jones — T. Ezernden — C. Taylor — A.Parker — copy of his son's testimony — of his wife's. I N 1678, it appears that Isaac Penington was at Astrop, which is a place in the county of North- ampton, on the border of Oxfordshire, at one time frequented for its medicinal spring. The infirm state of his health was probably the oc- casion of the journey. At this place he wrote the following religious address to those who came thither for the purpose of drinking the waters. ^ To those persons that drink of the waters at , '^ Astrop Wells. *■ There is a great God, the creator of air ^ things, who gave man a being here in this" •^ world ; to whom man must give an account' ^ when he goes out of thk world.' ( 116 ) *" This great God, who loves mankind and ' would not have them perish, is nigh unto man, *■ to teach him the f^ar which is due from him to ' God/ ' The man that learns this pure fear of God, ' is daily exercised by it in departing from evil, ' both in t^^ ought, word, and deed, and in doing *" that which is good in his sight.' * There is likewise another teacher near man, ' who is also rtady to teach such, vho do not ^ know God or fear God, that which is dishonour- ' able to the great God : who made man, to be * a vessel of honour^ ard to be to his glory/ ' They that learn of this teacher, learn not ' to fear God, or to do good; but to please them- ' selves in doing evil, in thought, word, and ' deed/ ' Oh! what account will such give when they *■ go out of this world, and come to be judged * by the great God (who is of pure eyes, and ' cannot behold in^juityj, when their sins are *" set in order by him before them, and just ^ judgment proportioned by him thereunto ?' ' Oh! why do men forget God, their creator, * days vv^ithcut number ; hearkening to him who ^ first deceived them ; doing the will of the de- ' ceiver ; and not the will of the blessed Creator ' and Saviour ?' ' O ! hearken to wisdom's counsel, when she ' cries, in the streets of your hearts, against that ' whieh is evil, and contrary to the nature, life, ^ and will of God: lest a day of calamity from ( 117 ) < God come upon you ; and then ye cry nnto ' the pitiful and tender God, and his bowels be ' turned against you, and he refuse to show ' mercy to you. Read Prov. i. 20, to the end of ' the chapter; and the Lord give you the weight, ^ consideration, and true understanding of it, ' for your soul's good, and for the reclaiming of ' you from any thing that is evil, and destructive ^ to your souls/ ' This is written in tender love to you, from < one who pities and loves you, and desires your ^ prosperity in this world, and your everlasting ' happiness with God for ever. MP' < Astrop, 15th 6th month, 1678.' Here also he wrote a short piece entitled ' The * everlasting Gospel of our Lord Jesus Christ, ^ and the blessed effects thereof, testified to from < experience / a worthy theme for one who had all his life long been endeavouring to conform to it; and which is peculiarly emphatic from the pen of a man, who in such a pursuit, had well nio-h finished his course. It is said by the evangelist, speaking of his heavenly master, '^ Having loved his own, he loved them unto the '^ end."'' This was probably said with reference to the approaching end of that outward appear- ance which John was describing ; but I trust it will still hold good as relating to the entire life of such as have persevered in the faith and pa- tience of Jesus : consonant with that other scrips h3 C 118 ) tiire^ to be found in the Hebrews^ "^ I will never '' leave thee, nor forsake thee/' By this meanS;, his own, his faithful, his redeemeel ones (and who may not, by co-operating with his grace, become such ? ) are still bringing forth to the end, the fruits of his love. " They shall be fat ^' and flourishing,'* saith the Psalmist, '' they " shall still brino^ forth fruit in old ao-e/* This small piece does not wear the aspect of controversy, or enter into argument ; but is principally declaratory. Yet it appears that it V7as intended for the benefit of the Papists. Thus it is vround up. ' This opened in me, this '. morning, in love and compassion towards the ' Papists. My bowels have often rolled over ' them, and been pained concerning them, to ^ see how they are closed and shut up as to the ' true sense and understandino- of things of this ' nature. Oh ! that they would prize the day of ' their visitation^ that they might hear the sound ' of life, both from others, and also in their own ' hearts, and the saving arm of the Lord might ' be inwardly revealed to them, and they effec- ' tually redeemed thereby!- But here comes another touch of the love which hopeth all things, — ' I am no disdainer of Papists, or any ' sort of Protectants, nay, not of Turks or Jews ; ' but a mourner because of their several mis- ^ takes, and a breather to the God of my life, ' for tender mercy towards them all.* ^ Astrop, 13th of the 7(h month, 1678.' ( 119 ) This appears to have been the last tract pub- lished in the life-time of this industrious writer ; but we find a letter^ extant only in manuscript, dated from Oxford the 23d of the 7th month, addressed to some scholars of that university, who had behaved rudelv at a meeting where Isaac Penington was present : probably on his return from Astrop. It may be suitable to in- sert it here. ^ To the Scholars that disturb Friends, in their ^ meetings at Oxford. ' I heard such jeering yesterday, at Being ' moved hy the Spirit of God, as indeed grieved ' me ; because I was and am sensible of the ' great hurt it doth to those that give scope to ' themselves therein. Now, I entreat such to ' consider, doth not Christ say, *" It is the Spirit ^^ that quickens?* Is not man dead in trespasses ' and sins, till the Lord quicken him to life, by ' his Holy Spirit ? And when the soul is in any *■ measure made alive, doth it not feel the want ^ of God's Spirit to keep it alive, and to add life * to it ? And is not this the great thing, the soul * cries to God for, even that Spirit whereby ^ alone it can live to God, and be preserved *■ alive before him ? Did not David pray to God ' that the Lord would quicken and uphold him *^ by his free Spirit ? And again, ' Cast me not " away from thy presence, and take not thy holy ^' Spirit from me r And did not Christ say, ^ relating' to the similitude of parents, ' If yc H 4 . ( no ) '- being evil;, know how to give good gifts to '*■- your children^ how much more shall your hea- '' venly Father give his Spirit to them that ask *' him?* And they that ask the Spirit of Him, ' v/hen he gives it^ will they not gladly receive *■ it ? And when it is received^ will it not move ' them unto good, and against evil ; and ought ' not they to wait to be moved by it ? Doth not ** the natural life and spirit move in the natural ' body ; and shall not the spiritual life live and ^ move in the inward man ; and they which are •^ truly alive be moved and guided by it ? They ' that have not the Spirit of GoA, are they his? ' And they that have his Spirit, is it not a Spirit ' of light, of life, of righteousness, of holiness, of ' grace, of truth, &c. and ought not all the chil- ^ dren of the light and of the truth, to wait for ' its motions, that they may follow its leadings ' and guidings ? Did not the Christians of old *■ live in the Spirit, and walk in the Spirit, and ' not fulfil the lusts of the flesh ? And ought not *■ all the Christians now to do so also ? Mf ye '' live after the flesh, ye shall die; but if ye, *' through the Spirit, do mortify the deeds of '^ the body, ye shall live/ O ! wait, that ye m.aj ' experience those things; and do not disturb * or deride others in their waiting upon God, to ' experience those things, even now and more : ' who cannot but mourn and pray for you, while ' ye are doino: towards them that which ye oua^ht ' not. The Lord give you rightly to wait for ^.true understanding; that ye may receive it ( 121 ) ^ from him in these and all other things that ' concern your everlasting welfare.' *■ This is in true love and good-will to you, ^ from him who wisheth well to your souls: even *" that ye may know, partake of^ and rejoice in, * God's salvation.* ' L P.' < Oxford, 23d of 7th moRth, 1678.' The following year he took a journey with his wife into Kent ; and one of the lasrt meetings that he attended was in Canterbury. A friend who was present, speaks of that meeting, and of another wherein his public labours closed, as follows : — ' Glad I am that it was my lot to be "^ with him. the two last meetings that he was at, ^ the first of which was in the city of Canterbury. ' I being at that time very weak in body, and ' it lay upon me from the Lord to go to the '' mxceting, v/here I found him together Vv'ith ' Friends waiting in silence upon the Lord. And ' when I had sat down with them, O! the mighty ' power of the Lord God that descended upon ' us; so that I could say the fountain of the ' great deep was opened; and O ! the powerful, ' pleasant, and crystal streams, how did they ' abundantly fiow into our hearts ! And his cup ^ was made to overflow, to the watering and re- ^ freshing of the tender-hearted : so that God ' did make me a witness of the seal of his testi- ' mony, with many more, at those two last meet- ' ings/ ( 129 ) . The property of Mary Penington lay in that county^ and after having been among their tenants they spent some time at Goodnestone- court, one of her farms in the parish of that name.* On the day fixed for his return to- wards his habitation^ he became ill^ ard after a week's illness, was removed from this scene of suffering His disorder was sharp and painful; but the ano-uish o;ave no disturbance to that in- tern a 1 peace, which was so firmly established be- fore it attacked him ; but he died, as he had hved^ in the faith that overcomes the w^rld.f His re- mains were taken into Buckinghamshire, and in- terred in the biiryinir-ground belonging to his beloved friends of Chalfont, at Jordan's near Beaconsfield. The record of this event is to be seen in the monthly meeting register as foiiows: ^ Isaac Penington of Woodside, in the parish of ' Amersham, in the county of Bucks, minister of / the everlasting gospel, departed this life at * Goodneston, next Feversham, in the county ^ of Kent, on the 8th of the 8th month, 1679, ' and was buried at Jordan's, in the parish of ^ Giies-Chalfont, in t\\e county of Bucks/ Thus closed the life of Isaac Penington, at about the age of sixty-three. He was not what is usually termed an old man, but he was probably old in constitution, a weakly constitution impaired by * probably Goodwinstone, near Feversham, as Good^ nestone and Goodwiiistone would both by the usual ra* pidity of speech, be pronounced Good'nston, t Penn's Testimony. ( 123 ) sorrow and by sufieriiigs^ and he seems to have been peculiarly endowed with the old age of an unspotted life. '' Wisdom is the gray hair unto '' men, and an unspotted life is old age." The time he professed himself a member of the despised people called Quakers was about twenty years. That he was in much esteem with them, ap^Dcars from the number of his brethren who have commem-oiated him with written me- morials^ in testimotiy of their sense of his wcrth. George Fox, William Penn^ George W^hite- head, Samuel Jennings, Ambrose Rigge, Thomas Zachary, Robert Jones, Thomas Evernden, Chris- topher Taylor, Thomas Elhvood^ and Alexaader Parker,* all gave forth testimonies of this sort, * George Fox, William ?enn, and Thomas Ellwood, arc characters well known. George Whitehead was one of the early converts to Friends' principles. In his youth, he travelled as a minister and suffered much. Ke afterwards fixed his re- sidence chiefly at London, and was much occupied in soliciting relief from the executive government for his suffering brethren. He was also, next to Geoige Fox, the most voluminous writer; but his works have never been collected. He died in 1724, aged about SG. His journal entitled, ' The Chriscian progress * of that ancient servant and minister of Jesus Christ, George ' Whitehead,* &c. is an octavo volume of upwards of 700 pages, fraught with information, and almost indispensable for such as wish to become fully accj^uainted with the history of the Society. ' Samuel Jennings was a countryman of Isaac Penington, and resided at Aylesbury, but afterwards went to live in New-Jersey; where he was fpeaker of the Assembly. He is the author of a controversial tract or two rclalmg to the affair of George Keith. { 124 ) which Vd'e prefixed to the several editions of Isaac Penington's works, besides those of his widow and of his son. The two latter, from persons who lived as it were in his bosom, I propose to insert. It is natural for surviving relations and fri nds to dwell upon the excellencies of a departed ac- quaintance ; but it seems proper for the reader of their memorials, and the care is congenial to Isaac Peningtcn's wishes and practice, to ascribe all to the Giver of every good and perfect gift. Ambrose Rlcge was of Gatton, aiid afterwards of Reiga*^e, in Surrey, an eminent friend in ho tin"e, the author of several tracts, one of which, namely, * A brief and serious warning to. ' such as are concerned in commerce and tradi-^g,' h.is been several times prin'.ed, and is I bciieve still in print. He died in 1701. He Wris several years imprisoned at Horsham in Sussex In Surrey he was excommunicated in 1674, imprisoned in 167^, and in K-83 prosecuted in the Ex:hcqucr for 11 months' absence from the national worship, on the statute for ^20 per month. Thomas Zachary was of London, where he died in 1686. He was imprisoned, by the oath of perjured informers, on the Convcnticle-act, in Aylesbury goal, where, although the perjury was proved, he was entrapped by the oath of allegiance and lay about two years. One of the convicted iiiformeis went to him in the gaol, and on his knees begged him to intercede for the mitigation of the punishment of perjury: with which*the inno- cent man complied, showing his forgiving, Christian spirit. There are three small pieces of his writing. Of Robert Jones we know little, but that he was a fellow- prisoner with 1. P. in 1660, being arrested by armed men at -a, meeting, by order of the persecuting earl of Bridgev/ater, and committed to prison for refusing the oath. It is also possible he was the R. J. imprisoned at Newbury, in 1G84, for the same cause« ( 125 ) €e Every good gih, and every perfect gift cometh ^' down from the Father of lights and of Spirits;'^ and the best temper in which to consider the virtues of the pious, is praise to the Almighty in whose strength they were strong. The testimony of John Penington, the son^ is as follows : ^ The Testimony of John Penington, to his ' dear and deceased father, Isaac Penington. ' Give me leave also to express my sense of ^ him, seeing I have been no small sharer in the Thomas Evernden or Ererden, was probably of Canterbury. He was imprisoned there in 1660, having been taken at a meet- ing. In 1663, he was excommunicated for not attending the national worship. — Besse*s Sufferings, Vol. I. Christopher Taylor has been already noticed, at page 93. He was of Yorkshire, but afterwards kept a school at Waltham Abbey, and next at Edmonton. In 1661 he was imprisoned at Aylesbury, for being at a meeting, when probably his acquaint- ance with Isaac Penington began. It is probable he was then travelling in the south, as he is called C. T, of Yorkshire. I do not find that he was much molested during his residence in Essex. He died in Pennsylvania in 1686, having been a member of William Penn's council. Alexander Parker was also a Yorkshire man, but came t% London, where he died in 168|-. He published several tracts. He was Imprisoned in 1664 three months in Newgate, havin^^ been arrefted whilst speaking in a meeting at Mile-End Green; and ii 1664 he was fined £^Q for preaching. He was one of those liberated from the King^ bench in 1685, by James II, so that he must have been again imprisoned. He was an eminent man, and a coadjutor to George Whitehead ia applications to persons in power, for relief to Friends. . ( 126 ) loss. — A man that had known the depths of satan^ and had a stock to lose^ before he could embrace Truth in the simplicity of it ; yet came forth in clearness : which is the more re- markable, inasmuch as few came near him in those bright openings and piercing wisdom he was endued with in those days, whereby he struck at all false foundations and professions, and saw their shortness and the very thing they wanted. So that when I have taken a view of his former writings, and beheld the glory he once had, and withal reflected on his pre- sent condition, on his poverty, on his nothing- ness, on his self-denial, and self-abasement ; how little he esteemed all his former know- ledge, and sights of the heavenly things them- selves, in comparison of the more excellent knowledge, he afterwards received, and how he could be a fool for Christ's sake ; the thing hath affected me, and not a little, many times. O! he was not one that could deck himself, or xlesired to appear before men, or his very brethren ; but ever chose to be more to the Lord than to men. And when any have been deeply reached, through his tender, yet searching, lively testimony, O how great was his care that none might look out too much at the instruinent, or receive truth in the affec- tionate part ! He was also a meek man, and very loving ; courteous to all ; ready to serve his very enemies and persecutors ; .of whom ( 12t ) * some, from an ill opinion of him, were gained ' to love and esteem him. And wherever he ' entered into a friendship with any, he was " constant. Whatever provocations he might *■ afterwards receive from any of them, he could ' not let go his hold ; but ever retained a good- ' will towards them, and an earnest desire for ' their welfare. I have also observed, where ' he hath been engaged on Truth's behalf to ' rebuke any sharply, w^ho wxre declining from ' their first love, and deviating from the truth ' as it is in Jesus, it hath been with so much ' reluctancy, and averseness to his natural tem- ' per, as I never discerned the like in any : and ^ herein I am not alone. So that it may be safely ' said he never used the rod, but with bowels to ^ reclaim ; and in the love was drawn to smite ' what the purest love could not suffer to go un- ' rebuked. What he was in the church of God ' for exemplarinesSj for deep travail, for sound ' judgment, and heavenly ministry, I know, not ' a few are very sensible of. And have not I ' seen his cup many times overflow, and him so ^ filled that the vessel w^as scarce able to con- •^ tain ? O ! it was delightful to me to be with ' him (as it was often my lot) in his service on ' Truth's account ! And my cry is, that I may ^ walk worthy of so dear a parent, so unwearied ^ and earnest a traveller [travailerj for mine and ^ others' eternal well-being, and so faithful and *■ eminent a labourer in Gad's vinevard : who is ( 128 ) *^ now gone to his rest in a good day, having iirsf ^ seen the effects of the travail of his soul, and ' been satisfied in the Lord. But he hath left ^ us, his children, behind, for whom he hath often ' prayed, and besought the Lord with tears, / That ^' we might walk in his steps, and our father's ^' God might be our God, and that the blessings ^^ of our father's life might descend upon us ;' ^ and we are still, after much weakness, upon the ' stage of this world ; which, that it may be so ^ rightly improved, that we may walk worthy of ' the manifold visitations we have had from him * in particular, and many faithful labourers in ' general, is the incessant desire of him that ' hopes, with thankfulness to the Lord, to reve- ^ rence his memory, as well as that he honours ^ him in the relation of a dear and tender father, ' John Penington/ < The 9th of the 3d month, 1681.' This testimony has a postscript from which was extracted the account of Isaac Penington's de- cease already mentioned. This testimony of the son seems a plain man's tribute of sincere affection to the memory of a kind father ; and shows that the deceased had se- cured, what it should be the aim of all parents to secure, the love and respect of his children. The wife, writing under still deeper impressions, after the dissolution of a tie more than conjugal, and at an earlier period of her separation from her bosom companion, becomes almost poetic. ' ( 129 ) Iler testimony is a song and an elegy; not how- ever in the plaintive language of disconsolation, but fraught with imaoes which excite admira- tlon^ and with the consoling balm of acquies- cence in the disposition of Providence. Thus she breaks forth ' Whilst I keep silent ' touchino; thee, O thou blessed of the Lord and ' his people^ my heart burneth within me. I ' must make mention of thee^ for thou wast a ' most pleasant plant of renown^ planted by the ^ ri